Chapter 15
RAUL
My phone alarm goes off, reminding me it's time to pick Olivia up for the special event.
After talking it over with my dad and with Olivia offering to split the tips with me, it was a no-brainer.
Tonight, I'd be her barback and her extra layer of security.
I also offered to pick her up so I'd know exactly where to go and what to do.
I'd never barbacked before, and I was excited to learn a new trade.
That's what I tell myself, anyway.
It's just work, right?
It has nothing to do with the fact that I want more time with her.
The Cadillac XT5 purrs beneath me as I turn down a narrow road. The car is my baby, one of the few things I've ever been proud of owning on my own. I glance at the street signs, scanning the neat rows of identical houses with their manicured lawns and polished driveways.
Suburbs.
I've never seen a neighborhood so clean in my life.
I pull up to the address she gave me and reach for my phone.
Hey, I'm outside.
My thumb hovers over send, but I can't bring myself to do it.
For a second, I hear my mother's voice in my head, scolding me for not going to the door like a gentleman.
Fuck.
I park the car, step out, and walk up the front path, passing potted plants and decorative metal flowers along the walkway. I knock twice.
The door opens almost immediately.
An older man answers, and I know right away this has to be her father. Without thinking, I extend my hand.
"Hi, sir. My name is Raul. I'm here to escort Olivia to the event tonight."
"Ah, yes." He smiles and steps aside. "She was just telling us. Come on in."
He glances over my shoulder toward my car. "Will Pike. Or just Will."
"Nice to meet you," I say. "Your house is lovely."
And it is.
My eyes move over the tile floor, smooth and spotless, not a crack in sight. The front door opens to a lowered living room, and it's so big that it might be larger than our entire trailer.
The space is all clean lines and soft light, polished enough to make me feel like I've stepped into somebody else's life by accident.
A long cream-colored couch sits against one wall, flanked by matching chairs and a glass coffee table that looks like it's never had a single fingerprint on it.
Framed photos hang neatly above the mantle, every one of them straight.
There are no loose cords, no crooked rugs, no chipped corners, no clutter.
Everything has a place. Everything has been chosen on purpose.
It smells faintly like lemon cleaner and something warm from the kitchen, maybe cinnamon or vanilla.
A lamp in the corner casts a soft yellow glow over the room, making it feel lived in without making it feel messy.
There's a bookshelf near the far wall packed with hardcovers and a few family photos tucked between them, like the whole room is trying very hard to look calm and ordinary.
I stand there for half a second too long, taking it in, and the size of it hits me all over again. This room alone might be bigger than our entire trailer. Bigger than the kitchen, the living room, my bedroom, all of it stacked together.
"Thank you for watching out for her last night," Will says, pulling me from my trance.
"It was nothing. People are creepy and unpredictable."
"You've got that right."
Then I feel it.
A presence behind me.
I turn.
And there she is.
I gasp loud enough that her dad lets out a low chuckle.
Olivia is wearing a light green dress threaded with glitter, and it hugs her body like it was made for her. Her hips, her thighs, the warm olive tone of her skin. All of it hits me at once. Her hair is pinned up in a loose bun, soft strands falling around her face.
"Hi," she says, awkward in a way that somehow makes her even prettier.
I lose my voice completely.
All I can do is wave like an idiot.
She puts me out of my misery by hugging her dad and announcing that we have to leave.
Her father walks us to the door, and then watches as I open the car door for Olivia. He nods his head and gives a gentle wave before closing the front door.
I turn my car on and Jack Harlow rattles my subs. I instinctively turn the music down, hyperaware of my surroundings and feeling entirely out of place.
"Why did you turn it down?" Olivia giggles.
"I… I actually don't know," I tell her honestly.
"Then, may I?"
I nod, haphazardly.
She turns the volume up, immediately getting into the music. Singing off-key to "First Class," she makes my heart dance. She's so fucking pretty, I bet she makes a killing in tips bartending.
I don't speak a word the entire drive, but my eyes keep pulling back to her. It's a struggle to keep them on the road with this curvy goddess next to me. Maybe driving her wasn't a good idea after all.
"Oh! Turn right here!" she announces.
We pull into the parking lot of a dimly lit venue. It looks like a rundown bingo hall.
She turns to me, as if she can feel my glare and read my mind.
"It's a 50th birthday," she tries to explain. "They were regulars at my old bar."
"Oh hell yeah. So just a little party?"
"Something like that," she giggles.
We walk in, music blasting even louder than the club. There's already a bar set up and stocked. They provided all of the alcohol and setup, opting to just pay her an hourly wage to bartend.
We immediately get to work.
We're cleaning up empty plastic cups around the venue after most of the patrons have already left. The birthday girl and her husband keep chasing after us, insisting we don't need to bother, but Olivia and I refuse and keep helping anyway.
By the time everything is said and done, Olivia is handed the jar full of cash, along with an envelope from the couple. I watch her accept both carefully and thank them again for thinking of her and hiring her for their special event.
We walk back to my car with her arms wrapped around the glass jar, the envelope tucked inside.
I open the door for her and help guide her in so she doesn't bump her head or drop the jar. She sets it at her feet once she's buckled in, and I slide into the driver's seat.
"Should we count it?" she asks, one eyebrow lifting.
"Wait until we pull away," I say with a laugh. "What if they're watching?"
"You're right." Her mouth curves. "Then let's get the fuck out of here."
She nudges my arm against the steering wheel, and I grin before pulling out of the parking lot.
We don't even make it far before she starts pulling cash from the jar.
I become painfully aware of the pressure building in my pants.
I shift in the seat, adjusting my seatbelt and trying to hide the obvious reaction I'm having to the sight of this gorgeous woman counting hundreds in the passenger seat of my car.
"One, two, three," she starts counting out the hundred dollar bills in the envelope. "Three twenty, three forty, three sixty…"
I watch her sort through the smaller bills, fingers moving fast and sure.
"Holy shit," she says a moment later. "Okay, so with the small bills too, we're at $534 in tips for tonight."
I cough and almost choke on air.
"You okay, Raul?"
"Yeah, I just… Damn." I clear my throat again.
She laughs and hands me a wad of cash. "Here you go."
We're stopped at a red light.
"Don't count it in front of me," she says with a playful wink. "What if I see?"
I smile, feeling something warm and dangerous settle in my chest.
Then she leans over and kisses my cheek.
Soft. Quick. Sweet.
"Thank you again for helping tonight," she says.
"Of course, I was happy to —" I don't get to finish.
She kisses me again.
This time it's real.
My lips part on instinct, and hers open against mine. The kiss is warm and uncertain for half a second, then deeper, more deliberate, her mouth moving against mine with a kind of confidence that makes my whole body go rigid.
I kiss her back before I can think better of it, my pulse kicking hard as the world narrows to nothing but her and the feel of her hand brushing close to my shoulder.
A horn blares behind us.
The light is green. The car behind us is not patient.
I pull back, clear my throat, and drive her home with my entire body still buzzing.