5. Marcus
Chapter five
Marcus
Troy pulls two chairs at my kitchen table out, sitting on one and kicking his sock-covered feet up on the other as he sets his motorcycle keys next to some papers I’ve laid out for the bar. We’d usually go over business in my home office, but I ordered Café Yumm since we’ll be here a while. I’ve been in California for the past week, resolving software issues for one of the companies I invested in a few years ago. I leave again at the end of the week to consult on the creation of a new app for a startup in Seattle that’s finally getting off the ground. So, we need to get things sorted. I have really overextended myself.
I take the seat across from him, my back facing the kitchen. “Alright. I have a few hours before my meeting.” I slip a neatly aligned stack of papers from my labeled folder.
“Perfect. I have a cake tasting tonight.”
“No luck with talking her into ice cream for the wedding?”
He chuckles. “Not yet. Hoping for an ice cream cake compromise.”
“I didn’t take Lexy for the type to get obsessed with all the details. ”
“Trust me. I was surprised too. The girl didn’t have a single picture frame on her wall when I first met her. Not even a throw pillow. But she’s all about making this day perfect. She also doesn’t want to make any decision on her own, so I’m helping her with everything.”
“You love it.”
He chuckles. “Yeah. I do. I would even if she didn’t reward me every time after.” His grin slips into a smirk. “Oh, speaking of. I was going to book our honeymoon this week. I know it’s still a ways out. You sure you’re still good if we take three weeks?”
“Absolutely, man.”
“Lexy’s been bugging me for the past year about taking a break. It’s all been a blur since we moved home, you know? Thought this might be a nice surprise.”
“You’ve been working hard. You deserve however long you want to take. Both of you. Where did you decide to go?”
“A week in Italy and two in Greece. It’ll be both our first time traveling out of the country so I thought we should go to a couple of places.”
“That’s perfect.”
“I think she misses the beach from growing up in California too.”
“Or you miss her in a bikini?”
He chucks the pen he was twirling in his fingers at me, but his smirk tells me I’m right.
I catch the pen where it hits my chest. “I got you covered.” I toss it back to him. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Thanks. Now if only we could convince you to take a vacation.”
I chuckle. “Yeah. I don’t foresee that happening anytime soon. ”
Before Troy can respond, our heads spin toward the entrance to the kitchen from the hallway. Brooke is standing there frozen like she walked in on a drug deal, but I can’t not take a moment to check her out. She’s beautiful. I thought so when I met her, even with tears streaking her cheeks, but goddamn, she’s gorgeous. Her spandex shorts barely peek out from under a zip-up hoodie that hangs off one shoulder. Her bare skin pulls my attention from wondering what color her eyes are, the purple fabric loosely hanging across her chest. It subtly highlights the soft curve of her breasts, and my hands ache to find out if they fit perfectly inside them.
“Oh. Hi. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Her voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I grip my water glass tighter. Fucking hell. Get it together, man. Being attracted to Brooke is not on my to-do list. I don’t have time for that. And even if I did, her time here is limited. Pulling my drink to my lips, I wash away all the inappropriate thoughts trying to sneak in and break my stare as I clear my throat.
Words get caught in my mouth, but thankfully Troy recovers for me. “Hey. I’m Troy.”
She gives him a slight wave with a growing smile. “Oh. You’re Lexy’s fiancé! It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Brooke.” She smoothes her hair down, retying her ponytail, and the urge to tug it loose until her wild blonde waves fall down her back is strong enough that my dick twitches.
Troy sits up, moving his feet from the chair to the floor. “Tell me, Brooke. You worked in a tourist town, right? At a bar?”
She shrugs, leaning against the kitchen island. “It was more of a hole-in-the-wall restaurant for locals.”
“Maci said something about you being responsible for keeping the place open? ”
“I wouldn’t go that far, but I helped, yes. Why?”
“We’re brainstorming, thinking of ways to drive more business to the bar. Most of our clientele are college kids, but a lot of them go home over the summer.”
“Oh. Hmm. What kind of ideas are you looking for?” She glances my way even though she’s having the conversation with Troy, like she’s expecting me to answer. But for the life of me, I can’t make my voice work. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“An event maybe?” Troy’s response pulls her attention back to him. It feels like a loss, and the way I miss her intense eyes on me has me questioning my sanity. “We have a few themed nights planned. Karaoke. Pool competition. That kind of thing.”
“Are you open in the mornings as well?”
“No.” There’s my voice. Fucking finally. “We’ve never opened before three.” Brooke's gaze catches on mine and holds it.
“Not as long as the place has been opened, as far as I know,” Troy chimes in. She hesitates before glancing back at him.
“We’re coming up on summer,” I add, unsure why I feel she needs this information. “Over half the students at the University of Oregon are not residents and many go home for the break. Seeing as most of our customers are college kids, we’re expecting a decrease in profits. I want to prevent that as much as possible. We’re hoping to come up with some creative ideas and spearhead a few projects to keep people coming in–maybe even bring in others from the community who don’t usually choose Jameson’s.” I’m fully aware I word-vomited everything Troy already said, and I’m not sure if it’s because it took so long for my vocal cords to get their shit together or just to have her attention back on me .
“Okay. I’ll see if I can come up with something to help. I’m just going to grab my tea, and I’ll be out of here.” I turn enough to see a pot of tea on the stove, barely able to make out the star anise spice floating on top of the amber liquid.
“There should be snacks in the pantry too. Help yourself to anything you see.” I cut myself off before adding “What’s mine is yours,” because that’s insane, right? What the hell is it about this girl? I feel like I know her–the way Maci has talked about her for a year–but I don’t. Yet, despite my natural ability to feel calm, confident and in control, she’s already under my skin.
“Thanks.” I turn back to Troy at her word, the unzipping of her jacket and watching it fall off her shoulder out of the corner of my eye nearly derailing me.
“Alright, so,” I start.
Troy looks like he’s about to say something I’ll want to smack him upside the head for, but the universe has my back, and his phone buzzes, jumping across the worn wooden table.
I catch our bartender’s name flash on the screen before he picks it up.
“Hey, Jess. What’s up?”
His eyes flick to mine as he pinches his phone between his ear and shoulder, readjusting to his previous position with his feet kicked up on the chair next to him.
“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.” Pause. “No, really. Get some rest. Feel better.” Pause. “Of course.” The call ends and he taps his phone lightly against the table in thought.
“What’s up?”
“Jess is sick. She offered to come in anyway.”
“Nah. Maybe I can push my meeting.” Lexy is our only other bartender. Between the two of them and Troy stepping in if needed–me as a last resort–we’ve never needed anyone else. Those two girls can rock a crowded bar like I’ve never seen anywhere else.
“No. I know this one is important for you.” It is. But this is the cost of juggling so many things at once, and it’s not fair for Troy to suffer because of everything I’m piling on my plate. “I’m sure we can do the cake tasting another day. The wedding isn’t for months.”
A throat clears behind us, capturing both of our attention. “I know this isn’t Thailand where the rules are all more like ‘suggestions,’ but I can help if you need it.” Fucking hell. Her hoodie hangs on the crooks of her arms, and I can barely make out her nipples through the thin white fabric of her sports bra. What is she saying? “I can sign a waiver or something too.”
I replay her words, catching up my brain. “You’re on vacation. We aren’t going to put you to work.” I know Maci wants her to find a job, to stay, but I don’t want to take advantage.
“I offered.” She shrugs, bringing her mug of what I’m assuming is Thai tea to her lips, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she inhales the steam. When they open again, she locks them on me. “My only plans tonight were to babysit for Avery with Maci. I’m sure she can manage on her own.”
“Thank you, but no,” I say firmly. “It’s not your responsibility.”
“That would be great actually,” Troy cuts in, then gives me a look. “You can’t do everything yourself. Let her help,” he insists.
“Whatever you guys want works for me, really. I totally understand either way.” She looks to me for confirmation. Outside of my meeting, the time it took me to find the right vintage pinball and Pacman arcade machines to add to the billiards room earlier made me more cramped on time than usual. I don’t have a better option on short notice. Conceding, all I manage is a short nod and a “thank you.”
“Alright, well, I’m going to go shower then. Let me know when and where to be.”
I watch her leave before turning back to Troy. When I do, he’s leaned back in the chair, pen twirling in his fingers, a shit-eating grin on his face. “What?”
“What do you mean ‘what?’ You were practically undressing her with your eyes.”
Fucking hell. I shake that exact thought from my head. “Do you think she noticed?” There’s no point in denying it.
“Nah. But dude! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That you’re into Brooke. Obviously.”
“I’m not.” She’s hot. That’s it.
“Uh-huh. You keep telling yourself that.”
I don’t have time to be into some girl who doesn’t even live here–not to mention one who is flighty enough to pick up her entire life and move it places she’s never been. “I will.”
I’m waiting by my car when Brooke comes out of the house. Her jeans are tight and I guarantee her tank top will ride up and show skin when she’s reaching across the bar later. If I didn’t drink for free, I’d probably go broke if she was my bartender because goddamn.
Getting out of my head in the nick of time, I half-jog to the passenger side of the car and open the door for her .
“Oh. Thanks,” she says in a combination of surprise and shyness.
I give her a slight nod, making my way back to the driver's side and sliding in, pressing the push start and bringing my car to life with a quiet hum. Brooke buckles her seatbelt without a word, and fucking hell, it’s like I forgot how to have a conversation with a woman.
Luckily, she did not forget basic adult skills. “So, what took you to Thailand?”
“Business.”
I can feel her stare on me as I back down the gravel driveway like she’s waiting for me to expand on my answer, but I won’t. My mentor taught me that the less you say the better because the more you give people, the more they can take. Apparently that rule has translated to my personal life.
“Just business?” she presses.
“Mostly. Tried a lot of street food.” Food is hands down the best part about traveling.
“Where else have you gone?”
“I do more business in the states, but I’ve been to Tokyo, Paris, and Dubai. Greece too.” I think back to the trip to Athens that I took with my parents when I graduated high school. I have a feeling Brooke would love it there.
“Ooh. That’s amazing. Where was your favorite?”
“Dubai. The architecture is insane. And there are so many things unique to that country.”
“Like what?”
I scan my memory for which part of the city Brooke would like best–based on the very little information I know about her. “They have the biggest choreographed fountain show in the world.”
“Bigger than the Bellagio in Vegas? ”
“Yup. They were actually designed by the same engineering team. But in Dubai, you can go on a boardwalk on the lake or in a boat.”
“Oh, wow. I would love to go there someday. I love nature, but the modern world is pretty incredible too.”
“Yeah, it’s inspiring. They also have ATMs that dispense gold.” Not sure why that random “attraction” popped into my head. I glance over when I’m met with silence. Her nose is scrunched and it’s cute enough it makes me want to laugh, but why does she seem so irritated by the innovation?
“Why would someone even need that?” Her voice drips with disgust.
“I’m not sure.” I chuckle, uncomfortable. “Convenience, I guess.” I’ve looked into gold investing, but it’s not a route I’ve ever taken.
“Rich people,” she mutters under her breath. Rich people? What the hell is wrong with rich people? They’re not all great, but that’s the case with everything.
“The UAE is very innovative and technologically advanced.” Why I double down on a country I have no investment in past intrigue is beyond me.
She glances at me quickly but says nothing.
Hating the awkward silence more than usual, I shift gears. “Have you traveled internationally outside of Thailand?”
She hesitates another moment. “I traveled through Europe a bit with my ex’s family the summer before college.”
“Wow.” That must have been a pretty serious relationship for her to be traveling the world with him. I’d pay a lot of money to have someone to travel with for pleasure instead of business–someone I actually connect with and not in a mail-order bride kind of way. “Sounds fun. ”
“Something like that,” she mumbles, and fuck, it’s awkward again . If I were winning money for hitting Brooke’s trigger points, I’d become jackpot rich all over again. Who knew someone who meditates as much as she does would be so bothered by some light conversation?
We drive the next few minutes to the bar in silence, and I give her a quick tour when we arrive. Mostly it’s me pointing out necessities, running her through the POS system and setting up her change drawer while she watches me.
“Well, I think that should do it.” I have an urge to stay and just be around her, but we don’t seem to be riding the same wavelength today. “Is there anything else you need?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Here.” I reach next to the terminal to print a blank piece of receipt paper and scribble a number on it. “Troy’s number. You can call him if there’s an emergency.”
“Oh. Shouldn’t I have your number too?”
I’m about to tell her that she won’t need it–I won’t be able to answer while I’m in my meeting anyway–but my better judgment kicks in. “Yes.” I write mine below Troy’s.
“Thanks. I should be good, though.” She pushes against my arm like she’s shooing me out the door. “I got this. Good luck at your meeting.”
“I’ll be back when it’s time to lock up.”
“I’ll make sure the firemen have put the fire out or their clothes back on by then.” She grins, then turns on her heel and disappears behind the bar like she didn’t bring sex to the forefront of my mind.
Seven hours later, I walk through the doorless divider to enter the bar area, stepping behind the bar. “Hey.”
Brooke looks up from where she’s dipping two glasses into the three-compartment sink behind the bar. “Hi.”
Her hair is wild in a ponytail on top of her head, stray wispy hairs framing her face. She’s hardly wearing any makeup–maybe mascara. She’s finally close enough that I can see the hint of green in her hazel eyes.
The glow of the orange light above the bar highlights her tan. If the backdrop fell away and was replaced with a beach and shorts instead of the jeans she’s wiping her wet hands on, she’d fit right in. She belongs somewhere as beautiful as she is.
“How did it go?” The whole interaction before her shift returns to thoughts, the tension of it making me want to smack myself even if I still have no idea what I said to get under her skin. It was the first time we have ever been alone together, and fuck do I hate small talk. I’m a fake it until I make it type of guy, BSing my way through a conversation without giving up any connection points until I deem you part of my very small inner circle. It’s always been like that for me. I’ve never needed or wanted it to be any different. Or do I? The circle has been consistently growing as everyone brings in the person they want to settle down with. Maybe it’s time for me to get more intentional about doing the same. Maybe I should work on my small talk skills first.
“Busy, but good. No problems except running out of that wine Maci loves. I may have recommended it to everyone.”
I chuckle. “Not you too.” I might as well buy the winery at this point with how obsessed Maci is with that damn wine. I wonder if that’s a possibility. It would be a kick-ass wedding present for Dean and Maci. Nah. My other idea is still superior.
She smiles. “It’s not such a big thing in Thailand. And way more expensive.” The look in her eyes tells me she misses being there nonetheless. “I’m almost done here. Might just need help with how you like the money dealt with.”
I nod. “I need to take care of something in the office.” I briefly scan the bar. It looks great in here. If she didn’t tell me otherwise, I would have assumed we were dead. “Everything looks good, so come back when you’re finished with those glasses.”
“Sounds good.” She turns back to the dishes, and I walk away with the clear picture of her in front of me fading from my mind, urging me to stay near her. We threw her in a Devil’s Snare pit, but I can tell by the look of this place and the security camera feed I pulled up earlier, she remained calm enough to survive it without a scratch.
I make my way to the office, sitting hard enough in the spinning desk chair that it slides along the concrete until the back hits the wall. I pull my phone from my pocket. I didn’t have time to do a full check before the shift, but a quick Google search now tells me the basics of Brooke Fields. Where she graduated, the city where she grew up. It looks like her mom works at an elite country club, and her dad is a hotel manager. I easily found a gossip article about the lawyer she worked for.
“Hey.” I glance up at Brooke’s greeting to see her standing in the doorway, the cash part of the till resting against her hip and drawing attention to the sliver of skin showing between her jeans and tank top. I place my phone face down on the desk, reaching for the drawer. Our fingers graze in the transfer, and she pulls back quickly .
“Thank you. For helping tonight.” I set it down, leaning back in the chair again and ignoring the ghost of our touch on my skin because Jesus fucking Christ. “Did you take your tips out already?”
“Yes. Was that okay?” She smooths her hands over the blonde hairs straying from her ponytail. “I’m willing to hand them over. For rent or whatever. I know I’m staying longer than you expected.” She’s been here almost two weeks now, but since I’ve been so consumed by work, I’ve only seen her a handful of times.
“No need. So, you’re staying here?”
She shoves her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, looking at her Nike-covered feet. “I don’t know,” she mumbles. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
I hate asking for help. I don’t need help. But something is pulling me to keep her here. “Do you want a job?” I blurt, surprising the both of us. For fuck’s sake, man. You were not supposed to offer her permanent employment.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want to be a bartender. There’s nothing wrong with it. I’ve just been working in the industry for a while. I’m ready to go back.”
A pang of something unfamiliar hits my chest. “Go back to Connecticut?”
“Not if I can help it. At least not yet. I meant go back to using my degree.”
“Accounting?”
She scrunches her nose a bit like she’s wondering how I know that. “Yeah.”
The perfect out. I don’t need an accountant, and I wouldn’t want her to settle for a job she doesn’t want. “How do you feel about helping me with something else?” Sure, man. Go your entire life never cashing in favors, then suddenly ask for back-to-back ones from a girl you hardly know.
“Sure. It’s the least I can do.” She rocks back and forth on her heels. Fucking hell, why does everything she does make me want to touch her?
“I have a meeting in a few days. I could use a woman to sit in with me.”
“Why a woman?” she asks with genuine curiosity.
I decide which truth to tell her for now. “Because they tend to have the magic touch. Plus, it’s a woman-run company. Just feel like your presence might help seal the deal.”
She chews her lip, her eyes full of questions, but she doesn’t ask any. “Okay. I’m in,” she says with a slight raise of her shoulders like I asked her to simply order a pizza.
“I’d pay you, of course.”
She looks like she wants to reject the offer, but something stops her. “Okay. Well, I’m done out there if you’re ready to go home.” I freeze in my processing, taking a moment to realize that right now, home is the same place for both of us.
“Yeah.” I stand, swiping my phone from the desk. “After I take care of this money.” I pull the cash bag from between the computer and the wall on the desk.
“Okay. I just need to grab my jacket.” She disappears from the doorway, and I unlock my phone, drawn back to the article I was reading about the lawyer she worked for when something catches my eye. Engaged to be married to his assistant, Brooke Fields. My stomach jolts like a head-on collision, and I curse it as Brooke peeps her head back into the office, her zip-up hoodie draped over her arm. Shoving my phone in the front pocket of my jeans, I make a mental note to investigate that new piece of information when I get home.