Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
IVY
Ifeel like I need a nap, a drink, and a Xanax, all at the same time.
I survived the first day.
If I was able to get through that, I can get through all the other days too. I can. Really. Probably.
I was so nervous. I’m working up close and personal, hands on, with Xander Hendrix. The guy who defended me against the bullies in high school and made me feel like I wasn’t a complete loser. The one person who would say hello or give me a nod.
And the best hockey player of all time. Yes, that’s my own opinion, but mine is the only one that matters right now.
He’s sexy as hell, with muscles for days, a voice so smooth that he’s not even trying to say sexy things, and yet, hello, wet panties.
I’d better invest in all kinds of battery-operated boyfriends because this is going to be the test of all tests on my libido.
I’ve worked with handsome, successful men before, but I’ve never reacted this way. Ever. I’m professional and good at what I do. I pride myself on doing an excellent job and keeping it strictly, well, professional.
How many times can I say professional? Until I believe it.
Because I wanted to climb that man like a tree today. And I know for a fact that my boss would not be impressed by that.
I barely have time to stop by the house to change, put on makeup, and pet Cally before I have to go to the bar to place a liquor order and check in on things.
I haven’t seen my mother since the fiasco in her apartment on Friday, and that’s for the best. Because I hate the way my mom makes me feel. Small. Insignificant. Useless.
It took me a long time to realize that I didn’t deserve the way she treated me. That I’m worth so much more than that.
However, because I’m the dutiful daughter, absolutely to a fault, I trudge upstairs to check on her.
When I get there, I discover that not only is she not in the living room, but she’s also nowhere in the apartment.
This could mean that she ran out for groceries or she skipped town for God knows how long.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
“Hey, Ivy,” Ben says with a quick smile when I walk behind the bar.
“Hi there.” I wrap the half apron around my waist and loop the straps to the front to tie it off. “How’s it been today?”
“Pretty slow. It’ll pick up tonight.”
I nod and immediately reach for the notebook to start writing down what I need to order.
Three hours later, the ordering is done and Ben is gone, and I’m working the evening shift by myself.
Again.
I’ll get home around two thirty, and I need to be at Xander’s by ten tomorrow morning, so I’ll just resign myself to being tired as fuck for the foreseeable future.
Which honestly isn’t anything new. I’ve been running on little sleep for months now.
Our regulars come and go throughout the early evening, and around eight, when I’m watching a football game on the screen above the bar, the door opens and in walks none other than Xander with his brother Easton.
Do I really have to endure being in his presence twice in one day?
Not that I don’t enjoy being around him. I enjoy it too much. The more he’s around, the more likely I am to make a complete ass of myself. And between all the bullshit with my mom and being around Xander all day today, my anxiety is already about to knock me on my ass.
My hands want to shake. My heart knocks on my chest.
You can do this.
I take a steadying breath and paste a smile on my face when the two men—both stupidly handsome and catching glances from other women in the room—stride to the bar.
Xander lifts an eyebrow, and his eyes sweep up and down my body. I’m not in scrubs anymore. I’m in a tight white tank with black jeans, wearing makeup, hair up in a high ponytail. This outfit seems to inspire heavier tipping.
“You still work at the bar?” Xander asks as he leans on a stool.
“Yeah, it’s a family business,” I reply, keeping it vague. “What can I get you guys?”
“Two Cokes,” Easton replies. “I’ll go rack the balls.”
He smiles at me and then walks away, but Xander stays put. He doesn’t even leave when I set two glasses of Coke in front of him.
“Did you want anything else?”
“Why are you working two jobs?” he asks, and I frown at him.
“I just . . . do?”
“Student loans?” he asks.
“No. I just do, Xander.”
His eyes narrow, and I can see he doesn’t like that answer.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine for our sessions every day.”
Xander shakes his head, lifts the drinks, and nods at me before joining his brother at the pool table.
And those jeans look like they were custom made for his ass.
Jesus. I need to get a different hobby. One that doesn’t involve ogling my patient. The patient that has absolutely zero interest in me.
I refill two beers for the couple at the end of the bar, and then my mother walks through the door, and everything in me goes on high alert.
Fucking fuck.
She’s laughing, obviously drunk off her ass, hanging all over some guy I’ve never seen before and who looks to be about my age.
Her blouse is unbuttoned to her navel, showing off a black bra that’s barely holding her tits in.
Of course, the guy has his hand in her shirt, and they look like they’re about to fuck at any second.
I’d like to poke my own eyes out.
“Mom, you need to go upstairs.”
She stops laughing and turns her glare on me, making me want to shrink back the way I’ve done since I was a little girl.
But I lift my chin and hold my ground.
“This is my place,” Mom reminds me. “Pour us a couple of vodkas.”
“You need to go upstairs,” I repeat, and now the guy’s face sobers up too.
“Come on, let’s go have our own party,” he says, but Mom shakes her head, her eyes going hard with sheer stubbornness, and this is about to go very badly.
“Fuck that. This is my fucking bar.” She turns to me, malice lining her face, and pushes her finger in my chest. “Pour the motherfucking vodka, you little piece of shit, or you’re fired.”
“Great. I don’t work here anyway.” I huff out a laugh and realize that the whole bar has gone silent and Xander is standing a few feet away, his face a mask of pure anger.
Perfect.
“I fucking hate you,” Mom snarls, but by now the drunk guy is pulling her away from me, toward the stairs to the apartment. “You’re such a waste of air! I never should have had you!”
When she’s gone, I blow out a breath and shake my head.
“Show’s over.” I wipe down the bar and then get busy cutting fresh lemons, but Xander hasn’t moved. “Your brother’s waiting for you.”
“Ivy—”
I shake my head and look up at him, unflinching.
“Your brother’s waiting for you, Xander.”
Of course, the one time my mother decides to come into the bar, she’s wasted and makes a scene in front of about twenty people, all of whom I know and who are now looking at me with pity.
It’s fine.
I’m fine.
Pretending that nothing at all is wrong, I go about my business filling drinks and cleaning to stay busy. People stop looking at me, and before long, I can take a deep breath.
Xander slaps a hundred-dollar bill on the bar as he and Easton leave, and it only makes me mad.
I don’t want his money.
“I don’t need this,” I say, holding up the bill.
“It covers the tab,” he replies.
“The tab is eight dollars.”
He shrugs. “Plus tip.”
“Xander—”
But he’s already out the door, and I shove the money in my pocket with the intent to give it back to him tomorrow.
By the time I walk into my house, take a shower, and climb in bed, curled up with Cally, I’m so freaking exhausted that I slide right into sleep.
Sunlight shines in on my face, pulling me out of one hell of a dream, featuring a naked Xander, a shower, and orgasms.
My body hums as I roll over to check the time, and then I bolt upright, accidentally kick Cally, and groan.
I’m late.
I should have been at Xander’s house an hour ago.
“How did this happen?” I say to the ceiling, but no answer comes. I must have shut off the alarm and gone back to sleep, and now I need to simply die because I’m late.
And I’m never late. Not for work.
I see that I missed three texts from Xander.
Xander: Hey, Red, you okay?
Xander: Hopefully you’re getting some sleep, but just let me know if we’re going to meet today.
Xander: Don’t make me call my brother to do a wellness check.
“Christ,” I mutter as I tap his name and listen to it ring on the other end of the line.
“There you are.” His deep voice comes through the line, sending tingles down my skin. “You okay?”
“I’m so sorry. I overslept, and I’m so embarrassed—”
“Don’t be. You worked late. I’m home all day, so just come over when you’re ready.”
“I’ll be there in less than an hour.”
“See you then.”
I hang up and flop back on the bed in despair. Not only am I mortified over how completely fucked up my mother was at the bar last night, but now I have the humiliation of ghosting my one and only patient this morning.
This is not who I am.
I hurry into the bathroom to take a quick shower and blow dry my hair enough so it’s not sopping wet in the braid I plait it in.
I haven’t had the chance to do laundry, so there are no clean scrubs in this house.
Instead, I pull on some leggings and a Denver Flurry T-shirt, feed the cat, and then rush out the door.
It’s only been forty-five minutes since I called Xander when I pull into his driveway. Just like it did yesterday, his house takes my breath away. This place is unreal. A true mountain mansion with views that hit me right in the chest, it’s exactly what I would build if I won the lottery.
Or were a hockey megastar.
When I hop out of my truck and grab my computer bag, Xander’s already standing in the doorway, his hands in the pockets of his black sweats, his T-shirt hugging every bulging muscle on his torso as if it’s painted on, and damn.
Down girl.
“Xander, I’m—”
“No apologies,” he insists and steps back when I get to the door so I can walk inside. “It’s really fine. Do you need some coffee? Breakfast?”
My stomach growls, and he grins.
“Come on, I have some premade breakfast burritos that my sister dropped off.”
“Ava randomly made you breakfast burritos?”
I follow behind him, watching his ass in those sweats.
I’m going to hell.
“No, Harper brought them over. She makes the best ones, and she knows that I’m hopeless in the kitchen.”
“You don’t have to share your food with me, Xander.”
“Are you always a pain in the ass?”
My mouth drops and my eyes go wide as I stare at the man currently bustling around the kitchen, popping a burrito into an air fryer.
“I’m trying to not be a pain in the ass,” I say when I’ve recovered.
“Well, it’s not working. It’s just breakfast. Coffee?”
“I don’t drink it.”
Now his jaw drops. “Are you an alien?”
I’d forgotten how funny Xander is. I can’t help but laugh as I take a seat at the island.
“I can’t do caffeine. It makes my anxiety . . . well. I just can’t do it.”
He’s quiet as he watches me, the only sound coming from the air fryer. It already smells good, and my stomach rumbles again, making his lips tip up in the sexiest smile ever.
Xander plates my breakfast, and I chuckle as I stare down at it.
“I’ll never eat all of this.”
“Good, I can have half.” He takes his share and bites in, watching me as he chews, and I do the same.
Oh God, that’s good.
“I’d like to hire Harper to make these for me for the rest of time,” I say with a mouthful.
“I’ll share,” he says with a shrug. “I’m glad you got some sleep. You must be tired, pulling two jobs.”
I clear my throat and then take another bite because I don’t know what the hell to say to that. Then, I pull his hundred-dollar bill out of my pocket and set it on the countertop.
Xander lifts an eyebrow.
“For the breakfast.”
He shakes his head. “No. That’s yours.”
“No, that’s yours. Seriously, it makes me uncomfortable, Xander. I don’t want your money.”
“We bought drinks.”
I blow out a breath. “Now who’s being a pain in the ass?”
He licks his lips, but also doesn’t put the money in his pocket. Why do I think this is going to end up being a fight?
“How often do you work at the bar?”
I shake my head. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
It’s so much better if I don’t talk about it.
His face sobers and then he nods. “Got it. Well, if you change your mind, you can talk to me.”
He frowns as if he didn’t mean to say that, but I appreciate the sentiment because I don’t think that anyone has ever offered to be a sounding board for me before.
“I’ll let you know,” I reply softly. We finish eating in silence, and when the dishes are cleared away, I realize that I forgot my water bottle at home.
Because of course I did.
“Can I use a glass for some water?”
“Forgot your emotional support water bottle?”
I snort out a laugh. “Yeah, I did.”
“You can use anything you want. I have some up here.”
He reaches up above the fridge and comes down with a water bottle similar to my own, fills it with ice and water, and passes it to me. His hand brushes mine when I take it from him, and a shiver skitters along my skin.
“Thanks. I feel bad. I haven’t been terribly professional today. I’ll be better tomorrow.”
“You’re completely fine,” he replies. “Maybe I can keep distracting you from putting me through more wall sits today.”
“Sorry, hockey star, you’ll do the wall sits. It’s good for strength in the joint.”
His eyes bounce down to my T-shirt and then back up to my own gaze.
“Did you just call me hockey star?”
“That’s what you are.”
I turn, ignoring his smug smile, and head for the gym.
“And am I your favorite hockey star?” he asks from right behind me. He’s walking so close, I can almost feel the heat from his body.
“I’m not telling you that,” I reply as I push the door open and step inside. It’s cold in here today. My nipples pucker from the chill in the air.
Or maybe that’s from Xander standing so close to me.
When I glance to the corner of the room, I pause.
“What’s that?”