Alone with You

Chapter Nineteen

Gwen

I stared at the stack of papers in front of me, willing myself to pick up the first one. It was just past three o’clock, and all I had accomplished for the day was walking through the front door and turning the lights on.

I hadn’t replied to the vendor emails that had been in my inbox for days, checked the budget spreadsheet for the week to make sure I was still on track—or no more off track than usual—or even dived into finalizing the menu.

What I had managed to do while sitting in Truett’s booth was think about the man who had somehow managed to set my head spinning all over again.

“I’ve been waiting all fucking day for you to ask me that.”

That sentence had been echoing in my head all day. Well, that and what had happened after.

His mouth on mine.

His beard deliciously scratching my chin.

His massive body engulfing me, setting me on fire in ways that I had forgotten were possible.

The way it felt so good, so natural, so…everything.

I’d not only let him kiss me, I’d asked him to.

And if I was being honest, I wanted more.

It was that realization that had me reeling.

I hadn’t been thinking straight. I was no longer using any form of logical thought when it came to Truett West. And that was terrifying, because I’d barely survived the first time he ruined me.

“Sugar, whatcha doin’ just sittin’ there?” Lucille asked, snapping me out of my Truett trance.

“Jesus H!” I jerked, clutching a hand to my chest.

“Whoa. Somebody’s jumpy today. You wanted me to stop by at three, right?” She walked across the restaurant, a gorgeous emerald-green skirt brushing her knees, and slid into the opposite side of the booth. She dropped her ridiculously large purse onto the floor beside her.

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m just a little out of it today.”

Her shrewd gaze appraised me, but she didn’t press any further. Flicking her gaze to the stack of papers in front of me, she asked, “You started without me?”

“If you count gathering the papers, then yeah. Otherwise, no.”

She slid the stack of applications toward her and snatched the first one from the top of the pile. “Jenny Cooper. Nope.” Tossing the application to the floor, she picked up the next one. “Mabel Dean. Absolutely not.”

Just like the one before, that paper fluttered to the floor.

“Ah, Eddie Jackson. He’s not bad. Maybe.” She set that application to the side, and then a hearty laugh escaped her throat. “This is a joke, right?” She waved a paper toward me. “Shawn Tully? No way in hell.” She crumpled the paper into a ball before throwing it onto the ever-growing pile of rejected applicants.

“Stop,” I protested. “You’re not even reading their experience. We don’t exactly have a ton to choose from.”

I’d put a “help wanted” ad in the paper and a sign on the door a few days earlier, and while the first day had me excited thinking I’d be fully staffed in no time, the applications had trickled off since then. With Lucille’s automatic rejections, it was looking like she and I were going to be running the whole place by ourselves.

Just add that to the world’s most overwhelming to-do list.

“I don’t need to read their experience. I’ve lived it. Jenny job hops. That girl has worked at every single restaurant in this town, including this one. Twice. She’ll schmooze ya, make you think she’s gonna be the best employee ever. Then one day she’ll have some drama with her oldest kid’s baby daddy and not be able to come in. The next day it’ll be the same thing, except with the baby’s dad.” She lifted her finger in the air to amend. “Not the same man, either. Then it’ll be her middle kid causing trouble at school and she has to leave to go pick him up ’cause he got suspended. That one has a different daddy too and he works outta town, so he’s no help.”

“Single moms need jobs too,” I told her. “Us women need to stick together.”

“Correct. You didn’t let me get to the part where she steals money from the register and gives out free food to every person she so much as went to preschool with.”

“Say less.” I bit my bottom lip.

“And then there’s Mabel. She’s at least a hundred years old. That woman has lost all of her marbles if she thinks she can do anything in a restaurant other than sit at a table and aggravate the customers while she talks about her bunions and her ancient cat that refuses to die.”

I couldn’t help my giggle. “How is that any worse than the story you told me about your last colonoscopy?”

“Girl, I’m just letting you know what you have to look forward to in a few years. Besides, you weren’t trying to eat breakfast when we talked about that. You think anyone’s gonna want an order of pancakes with a side of cat vomit stories?”

I cringed. “Okay, pass.”

“Exactly.”

I chuckled. The best thing about Lucille was that it didn’t matter what the hell she was saying. She said everything with a straight face and more conviction than a preacher on Sunday morning. Whether she was talking about bodily functions or space travel, she just said it matter-of-factly and then acted surprised when you were shocked. She had no filter and I kind of loved that about her, because I could trust that she’d always give it to me straight.

She continued to explain her rigorous hiring techniques. “And don’t even get me started with Shawn. That man is a whack job. Conspiracy theories, baby goats, and baseball are his entire life. With a side of being an ass to his ex-wife and his oldest son. I’d sooner set myself on fire than work alongside him.” Her lips set into a firm line as she crossed her arms over her chest and settled back in the booth.

“And another pass.” I grabbed the remaining papers and counted them. “That leaves us with six people. That’s not enough to operate a food truck, much less an entire restaurant.”

She pulled the papers from my hands, flipping through them before quickly discarding four more. “Nope, that leaves us with two. Don’t worry though. These two could probably run this place with their eyes closed.”

I let out a frustrated sigh and dropped my forehead to my palm. “Great.”

Lucille dug her phone from her purse. “Let me make some calls. I know a few people who might be up to a little change of scenery.”

Oh, wonderful. We were poaching employees from other restaurants now. Surely that would endear me to the rest of the local businesses.

I didn’t stop her though.

As she paced around the restaurant with her phone to her ear, barking like she was collecting money for the mob, my mind drifted back to Truett.

He’d be back the next day to help again, and there was so much to be done, but all I could think about was that the only work I wanted him to do was on me.

“Earth to Gwen.” Lucille snapped her fingers inches in front of my face as she slid back into the booth. “Where’d ya go?”

“Nowhere,” I muttered.

Her sharp eyes roamed my face for point two seconds before she blurted, “You get laid last night?”

“What? No!”

“Well, what happened, then? And don’t even try to tell me you’re thinking about renovations. No paint has ever made a woman get stars in her eyes like that.”

I had stars in my eyes? Fan-freaking-tastic.

“I do not have stars in my eyes. I don’t even know what that looks like outside of cartoons.” I looked away quickly, my cheeks heating.

“Mmhm, sure.” She leaned across the table and used one finger under my chin to turn my head back to face her. “Stars. Blush. And a glow. Don’t tell me you didn’t get laid.”

I swatted her hand away. “I didn’t!”

“You know butt stuff still counts, right?”

“Oh my God!” I groaned. “Can we drop this?”

“Sure,” she chirped. But she didn’t move on or change the subject. She just sat there staring at me, tapping her pink fingernails on the table.

I did need somebody to talk to. A woman who called herself Cooter was probably a horrible choice when it came to the romance department, but she was there.

“Let me ask you a question.”

Her whole face lit. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

I rolled my eyes. “You ever been married before?”

“Three times.” She settled back in her seat and crossed her arms over her bust. “First one was when I was eighteen. Lasted about eight seconds. Realized that I didn’t really enjoy ironing a man’s pants while studying for an algebra test. Though I didn’t really learn my lesson, either. Four years later, I was walking down the aisle again. This time to an older guy who I thought hung the moon. Turns out he was just a good actor until he got that ring on my finger.” She made a sour face and stuck her tongue out. “He gave me my babies, but besides that, he was a nasty, miserable man. Nothing I did was ever right. Meals were overcooked one day, undercooked the next. House was never clean enough. I wasn’t ever dressed up enough for him. Blah, blah, blah. The list just went on and on and on. Then, one day he just keeled over, right there in the plate of lasagna that he’d just complained didn’t have enough sauce. Dead as a doornail.”

All I could do was blink at her. She’d just told me a lifetime of trauma like she was recapping a movie. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

She waved a hand in my direction and laughed. “Oh, please. Nothing to be sorry about. It was a long time coming.”

I swallowed hard. “When you say long time coming, you didn’t…like, off him, did you?”

She barked a laugh. “I mean, I probably had a hand in it. Cooking up all that greasy bacon he demanded. But to answer your question, no I didn’t off him . It was a heart attack.”

I let out an audible sigh of relief, making her laugh again. “What about husband number three?” I asked. “Third time the charm?”

At the mention of her third husband, her face softened, and for the first time since I’d met her, I caught a glimpse of the vulnerability she seemed to keep hidden.

“Lewis,” she said softly. For several moments, she didn’t speak, her gaze fixed over my head, dreamily. When she brought her attention back to me, the softness was replaced by her quirky grin. “That man was a pain in my ass. Cantankerous, loud, and annoying as hell. Don’t even get me started about how horny he always was. That man couldn’t keep his hands off of me.” She waggled her eyebrows and chuckled. “I can’t blame him. I’m a card-toting member of the AARP, but I still got it.”

“You do,” I agreed wholeheartedly.

Her face got serious. “But I miss him every single day. He passed away a few years back. Left me a mountain of money, but I’d give it all away to have my Lewis back.”

“That’s really sweet.”

“Yeah. He was a good one. I had to look past a lot of flaws, but he treated me like a queen. My biggest regret was that I didn’t meet him when I was younger. He didn’t have any kids, but he always treated mine as his own. He left them each a gas station when he died.”

“A gas station?”

“Yup. He owned a string of them. My kids all got one. Then he left the others to me.”

“Wait, you own gas stations? As in plural?”

“Nah. I sold them all. What was I gonna do with ten Texacos?”

My jaw slacked open. “Ten? What the hell were you doing working at The Grille?”

“I liked to keep myself busy even before I lost him. You heard the part about him being cantankerous, loud, and annoying as hell, right?”

I nodded. “I guess it’s good that you’re not in this for the money. At the rate I’m going, I may end up having to pay you in IOUs and eternal gratitude.”

She grinned. “You gonna tell me what the sudden interest in my personal life has to do with why your head’s been in the clouds today?”

I chewed on my bottom lip, my mind jumping back to Truett. “Hypothetically speaking. Let’s say you started spending time with your ex.” I paused and held up a hand. “Just casually. Except, then it became not so casually and you started to feel a spark. Let’s call it chemistry, maybe? I don’t know.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “You have my attention.”

“So, let’s pretend that this ex kissed you.”

Her eyes flashed wide, a playful grin splitting her mouth. “Now, you’re talking.”

I shot her a glare, and she rolled her eyes before motioning for me to continue.

“What if when that happened—you know, when he kissed you—you liked it? A lot . So much so that it freaked you out and now you can’t stop thinking about it or him and focus on anything you’re supposed to be doing?”

“Well.” Her lips twisted as she tried not to smile. “Hypothetically speaking, ’cause that’s what this is, right? Just a pretend scenario that didn’t actually happen?”

“Right. Exactly. Did not actually happen.”

“Okay, then. Hypothetically, if ex number one kissed me, I probably would like it. He was a great kisser and a decent guy.”

“Mmhm. Okay.”

“And, hypothetically , if ex number two kissed me, I would probably assume I was in hell, since he’s dead and that is surely where he is. So I would be pretty upset, ’cause I’m no saint, but I don’t think I’m headed down south.”

I grinned. “I dunno. Maybe you’ll be the first ever Saint Cooter.”

Her laughter erupted from deep in her throat. “Wouldn’t that be a trip?”

“What about ex number three?” I pressed.

That soft smile returned. “I’d give anything to kiss Lewis one more time. He wasn’t perfect, but he was mine.” She propped her elbows on the table. “I guess what I’m saying is that I can’t answer this hypothetically . ’Cause I’ve heard some stories from Dylan, and she will run over me with her car if I condone you making out with your kid’s dad.”

My stomach churned at the thought of ever kissing Jeff again. “No. Not him.”

Her eyes bugged out of her head as she animatedly slapped the tabletop. “I knew it! You kissed the hot gargoyle! Holy shit, girl. I need details.”

I groaned as I squeezed my eyes shut. “It was good. I mean… It was better than good. It was incredible in every cheesy cliché you’ve ever thought. Toe-curling. Heart-stopping—”

“Panty-melting?” she interrupted.

Truett’s mouth could definitely be defined as panty-melting.

“Yes. That. But what am I thinking, opening that can of worms again? My life is a mess right now. I don’t have time to add a train wreck on top of that.”

“That’s fair. But I guess you need to figure out why that chemistry is still there. Why did you two get divorced anyway?”

I sat there for a minute. A dozen reasons sat on the tip of my tongue, but that was just it. I knew the reasons. I knew the circumstances. I knew the trauma. But I had no idea why leaving me had been the answer to all his problems.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

She leveled me with a side-eye. “You don’t know? All these years and you never asked?”

“Oh, I asked. A million times. Over and over until I could barely breathe. He just never answered me.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Then I think you’re talking to the wrong person here. Clearly that mouth of his is working now. It might be time to throw a few hypotheticals his way.”

I sagged in the booth. She had a point, but a part of me was afraid of the truth.

Had I been too cold after he had come back from his deployment?

Had the sight of me reminded him of everything he’d lost?

Or had I meant so little to him that discarding me had been easier than letting me in?

My old friends, Anger and Resentment, flickered inside my chest.

Damn, how was I right back in a situation where I was willing to take whatever scraps of Truett he was willing to give me? One ounce of affection and I was a teenage girl again, lovestruck and smitten.

“You’re right. This is dumb. I shouldn’t even be entertaining something with him.”

“Girl, stop putting words in my mouth. I didn’t say all that. I’m just saying, you have to figure out if he’s your version of husband one, who you didn’t give a fair shake; husband two, who was a total shitbag and doesn’t deserve to ever taste you again; or husband three, the one who slipped away far too soon and you’d give anything to have him back. Because I’ll be honest, if there is even a speckle of a chance that he’s your husband number three, it’s worth a conversation to figure it out.”

I stared at her. This woman was crazy on every level, including the one where she doled out sage relationship advice by using her three ex-husbands as examples.

But she wasn’t wrong.

I wasn’t sure she was right either, though.

“I’ll talk to him,” I relented.

“Good. And don’t be chintzy on the details next time. I should have gotten a call the second his tongue exited your mouth.”

I laughed until the sound of the door caught my attention. I’d forgotten to lock it when she’d arrived, but luckily it was only Nate who came barreling inside.

“Mom!” he shouted, a huge smile on his face and his bookbag bouncing on his back.

“Hey, buddy! What are you doing here?” I checked my watch, worried that I had the day wrong. Nope. Definitely Friday.

He launched himself into the booth, tackling me with a bear hug.

I managed to wrap my arms around him, catching us both before we fell against the wall behind me. I kissed the top of his head, his brown hair smelling of grass and sweat. “Ew, you stink.”

He giggled as he pushed off of me. “We got extra recess today for winning the school fundraiser. And then when Dad picked me up, he opened the sunroof. It was sooooo cool.”

Right on cue, Jeff waltzed in the door, wearing his signature polo shirt and penny loafers that had gone out of style at least twenty years earlier. Brushing his blond hair to the side to cover his receding hairline, he stated, “That parking lot is horrendous. I scraped the shit out of my car on the way in. Good luck not getting sued over that when you open up this dive.”

“And hello to you too,” I mumbled. I patted Nate’s thigh. “Lemme out, buddy.”

He slid out and dropped his bookbag onto the floor. “I’m hungry! You have any chips in the kitchen?”

“I think so, but so help me God, if you touch any of the tools in there, you will be bedazzling the ribbon for our opening ceremony. There’s a thousand-piece gem set I’ve been eyeing with your name written all over it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he grumbled.

I grinned as I watched him disappear into the kitchen.

My smile fell as I turned back to face my ex. “What brings you two by?”

He acted as though he hadn’t heard me as he made a lap around the dining room, his lip curled into a sneer.

I couldn’t quite explain it, but when he stopped in front of me, it made my skin crawl. Actually, that was completely explainable. My skin crawled whenever I so much as heard his voice. Though, my reaction this time was due to his proximity to that booth—Truett’s booth.

“This place is a fucking wreck. What half-bit contractor did you hire? Did you even check his references? The primer is sloppy and this tile is awful.”

My blood began to simmer as I stared at him, irritated at his unannounced visit and downright pissed at his appraisal of the hard work Truett and I had put in. But this was not a fight I was interested in starting, so I swallowed the frustration in the name of ending this conversation as quickly as possible. “Is everything okay? What are you and Nate doing here?”

Still ignoring my questions, he planted his hands on his hips. “I told you they weren’t going to take a woman seriously. I’ll put in a call tomorrow. It looks like you’ve been condemned from outside with all the newspaper on the windows.”

I ground my teeth. He had always been an asshole, but hearing him insult the newspaper Truett had carried down the street, just to ensure that I was safe from Folly’s prying camera lens, sent me over the edge.

“I do not want you to call anyone,” I seethed. “What I want is for you to tell me what the hell you’re doing here and then leave.”

He eyed me with his own secret recipe of arrogant disgust. “Why are you always so dramatic? Mind cooling it with the cusswords? My son’s here.”

My back shot straight. He cussed like a sailor, but oh yes, me saying hell was going to corrupt our son who was in the other room. I could not roll my eyes hard enough.

Lucille cleared her throat. Sticking a hand out, she said loudly, “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Cooter.”

Like the complete prick he was, Jeff looked at her outstretched arm before tipping his chin up, refusing to shake her hand. “Your parents should be arrested for naming you that.”

When her mouth fell open, I quickly took a step between them, hoping to end the violence before it started—though I made a mental note to circle back around to that comment should I ever find myself in a room with the two of them while my son was not in earshot.

“For the last time, what’s going on?” I snapped.

Jeff plastered on a condescending smile, evil Hyde morphing into Jekyll. “I was just trying to look out for you. I could have this place ready for you to open in no time.”

“Thanks,” I said dryly. “But I’ve got it under control.”

“Suit yourself. Look, I’ve got a last-minute business meeting in the city. I’ll be back in time for a late dinner. So don’t let him eat too much junk.” He tucked a hand in his pocket and shouted toward the kitchen. “Nate-man. Be back in a bit.”

“Wait. What?” I looked around, projects I needed to tackle evident in every corner of the room. “You can’t just drop him off. I have a lot to do today and he’s going to be bored out of his mind here.”

Jeff had the absolute gall to look confused. “Are you saying you don’t want him?”

“I didn’t say that,” I hissed.

“That’s what it sounded like to me. Funny, I’d do anything to spend more time with my son. He’s always my first priority. My mistake for assuming he’d be yours too.”

The sheer hypocrisy of Jeff dropping Nate off with me so he could go to work while expecting me to cancel work to spend time with my son was astounding. But this was nothing new. Hypocrisy and gaslighting were his preferred methods of communication.

“Of course I want to spend time with him. But I’m not on call for you twenty-four-seven. I’m working here too.”

He arched a challenging eyebrow. “I’m not sure we can call sitting on your ass gabbing work, but sure. Whatever you have to tell yourself.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’ll call my sister. I’m sure she’d be happy to help you out today.”

Help me out?

Help me out?

It took everything in me not to explode on this prick. But I’d learned he feasted like a tick when he was able to set me off. Cool, calm, and firm was the only way to fight his toxicity.

I painted on a smile. “Nate can stay, but I want him overnight too. I’ll drop him off on my way to work tomorrow. And maybe next time, give me a little heads up before showing up here out of the blue.”

He barked a laugh. “You might want to reread our custody agreement. It’s my night with him, Gwen.”

“And it’s your day with him too. But here you are, asking me for a favor. If I’m sacrificing a full afternoon of work, I’m going to make the most of it and take him to do something fun on a Friday night.”

He scoffed. “Like hanging out with Dylan and her spawn?”

I shrugged, knowing that keeping him in the dark would drive him up the wall. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

He stared at me for a second, and I just smiled, giving nothing away. “Fine. But don’t forget I have him on Monday and Tuesday. I don’t want you popping up with some excuse and screwing up our plans.”

Lucille snorted, and I began to make my way to the door before Jeff could engage her again.

“I already agreed and put it in my calendar.” I pushed the door and held it open for him.

He took his time leaving, his eyes roaming the space, no doubt looking for something else to comment on. Sure enough, just as he stepped across the threshold, he paused to say, “You’re not putting in more booths like that, are you? It’s outdated and frankly, looks like shit.”

It took every ounce of restraint I had not to kick him in the dick. “Have a good night, Jeff.” I pulled the door closed with probably more force than was necessary. “Jesus,” I breathed, twisting the lock on the door.

“Wow, the hot gargoyle must have really screwed up. You went from Mr. Tall, Quiet, and Tattooed, who is a solid twelve on a bad day, to marrying Mr. Shrimpy Loafers, who is about a negative three on his best day.”

“Shhhhhh!” I whisper-yelled. “Nate’s gonna hear you.”

She shrugged but dropped her voice. “Kid’s gonna have to learn his dad’s an ass sooner or later.”

Right on cue, Nate rounded the corner of the kitchen, his arm elbow-deep in a bag of kettle chips. “Who’s an ass?”

“Don’t say ass,” I scolded.

“What? She said it.”

“She’s an adult. You are not. Now, quit being rude and go introduce yourself.”

He eyed her for a second, then walked over and offered her his crumb-covered hand fresh out of the chip bag. “Hi.”

She didn’t bat an eye before shaking it. “Hey, little man. I’m Cooter.”

I sighed. “Nate. This is Miss Lucille and she’s going to be working with me. Please don’t repeat anything she says.”

“That’s probably best,” she told him before pinning me with a glare. “Uh uh. No way. I’m not Miss. Or Lucille. I’m Cooter. I only let you get away with calling me Lucille because you’re my boss. Though, if you need him to be more respectful or whatnot, he can call me Saint Cooter.”

Nate roared with laughter as I choked at the thought.

Before I had the chance to argue or come up with a better alternative, Nate shouted, “Nice to meet you, Saint Cooter!”

The two dissolved into a fit of laughter, and as I watched an unlikely friendship bloom between them, I decided I had bigger fish to fry than what my son called the crazy lady who’d taken a liking to me.

“I’m starving,” I announced. “Let’s get out of here and grab a pizza. Saint Cooter, you’re welcome to join us for a large pepperoni with extra pineapple.”

Lucille made a face like I’d just offered her a bowl of dog food, but she wrapped her thin arm around Nate’s shoulders. “Kid, you ever had hot wings before? We’ll leave that nasty pizza for your mom, and I’ll introduce you to some real food.”

I quickly gathered my things, racing to catch up to the two peas that were already in a pod, vowing to get there early the next day so I could actually check something off my to-do list before Truett arrived.

Or, more than likely, just sit around and obsess about our kiss until he showed up and I could obsess about him in person.