Chapter 23
“You sound suspiciously cheery, Juju,” Clara says.
“I do?”
I turn the key in the lock to Viv’s. It’s finally Sunday again and my turn to work.
“Yeah . . . You almost sound like . . . You’ve had sex? Like, mind-blowingly good sex?”
“What? No.” Wow. Not even I believe my own words. Why am I such a crappy actress?
“You most definitely have. Who is he? Wait, is it the vet? The grumpy vet?”
“No.”
“So, it is. Tell me everything. What’s his name?”
The thought of his name makes a swarm of warm butterflies rise from my belly up to my chest.
“Clara, there’s nothing to tell.”
“Well, it really is when you say it isn’t.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Yeah, it does. When it comes to you it does.”
I snort with an eyeroll, turning on the lights.
“I’m so happy for you, Juju.”
“There’s nothing to be happy about.”
“Yeah, there is. Having amazing sex is a human right and something you really deserve. I know how crappy your previous boyfriends have been in bed. Did they even know where a clitoris is? Or what it is.”
Okay, they haven’t been that bad (but kind of in comparison with Benjamin . . . ). “Yes . . . !”
“I’m so sorry for you. What a waste.” She sounds genuinely sad.
“It hasn’t been that bad.”
“It shouldn’t be bad at all. But then, of course, it helps if you like someone.”
“I don’t like him!”
I hear the smile in her voice and want to kick my own shin. “So, there is a him. And you have had amazing sex. I knew it.”
I sigh. “Okay, so I’ve had sex, so what?”
“Mind-blowingly good sex?”
“Yeah, okay, it was mind-blowingly good,” I admit, turning on the cash register.
“And he knows where a clitoris is?”
He knows a lot more than that. For example, he knows how to . . . shut it. This is not the time, or the place, to get turned on. Well, kind of too late.
“Yes.”
Clara shrieks with delight, and I smile against my own will. Only a really good friend—or a really good sister—would shriek like that at the news about you getting good sex. Really good sex.
“Please tell me his name. Please. I am, after all, your sister. I deserve to know. Please. Let me hear the name of the man who’s making my sister sound so sunny.”
I roll my eyes again. “Fine. His name is Benjamin Reyes.”
Clara wolf-whistles, and I glare at her through the ocean and time difference between us. But I’m also biting back another smile. “That is a sexy name.”
“But he’s an arrogant son of a bitch.” Who’s also kind of thoughtful, kind, and funny. But I’d never tell him that. Especially not that I think he’s funny. Wow, that would make him smug.
“They’re the best.”
“Maybe. But we’re only sleeping together. Or we have been two times. It’s not like I’m falling for him or anything.”
“Sure.”
“I’m not.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“I’ve sworn off men. They’re boring.”
“Sure.”
“I have.”
“I know you have.”
“Good.”
“Good. Are you gonna sleep with him again?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you wanna sleep with him again?”
I’m quiet for a beat, feeling my heart picking up pace and my cheeks getting heated. “Yeah,” I admit finally. “I think I do.”
Saying it out loud feels weird. I’ve thought about him a lot over the last couple of days.
Like, a lot. But admitting it out loud feels scary.
And what’s scarier is that every time I think of him, I feel something very similar to longing alarmingly close to my heart.
It’s dangerous, and I push it away immediately every time.
But the fact that I haven’t heard from him in a few days makes the feeling strike me more often—a fact I’m trying hard to ignore.
“I’m glad for you, Juju. I really am. Enjoy that feeling and . . . take care of it.” She sounds serious now. The playfulness is gone.
“Yeah . . . I’m sorry, but I need to hang up now and vacuum the store, I’m supposed to open in twenty. And you should stop watching documentaries this late and go to sleep.”
“I know but I have to finish this. Did you know horned lizards shoot blood from their eyes?”
“What?”
“Kind of cool, right?”
“Go to sleep!”
“Soon. Love you.”
“I love you.”
I shake my head, putting my phone on the register, smiling. Clara has always been interested in the weirdest of things, and I absolutely adore her for it. But she should sleep. I need to talk to her about it the next time we speak.
I turn up the volume, making Taylor Swift’s voice fill the whole place, and start vacuuming. And while I do, it hits me once again how much I love this: pretending I own my own workplace, pretending this store is mine.
Thanks to the half-bad weather, people aren’t so into the idea of spending the day at the beach, so they come shopping instead.
I brew a big pot of coffee and offer it to everyone who comes through the door, and judging by their big, surprised smiles, people seem to appreciate it.
Even Dave smells it and comes by, gossiping about the dinner he and his boyfriend went to last night.
Apparently, the host was once a famous child actor who spent all his money on a collection of exclusive porcelain dolls and now runs a restaurant where the dolls are seated at every table.
“I cannot say that I recommend his restaurant,” Dave says with a wrinkle between his eyes. “The dolls are kind of spooky.”
“Yeah, I’m not a fan of dolls either,” I say diplomatically when I’m in fact screaming on the inside. I hate dolls. Why are they so freaking creepy?
“But they serve a good crème br?lée.”
“Really?” Doesn’t matter—I’m not setting foot in that horror house.
“Yes. Do you want the name of the restaurant?”
“Um, but I thought you said you didn’t recommend it?”
“But a good crème br?lée is a good crème br?lée.”
Hard to argue with that apparently, because ten seconds later I have a piece of paper in my hand with the name and address of the horror restaurant. Then Dave leaves but not without refilling his cup.
Another great thing about the weather is that it makes people want to buy the Pre-Fall Collection—or “Pre-Fall Collection”.
So, by the time I wrap up the day, I do so with fewer sweaters left than when I unlocked the store that morning.
To say I’m pleased would be an understatement.
If we keep selling at this pace, there will be room for a real Pre-Fall Collection in a couple of weeks.
I’m honestly dying to know what pieces Viv has planned for fall.
I’m assuming there will be some real goodies because her taste is great.
I lock up the store but don’t feel like going home. Cactus is spending the day and night at Margot’s so there’s nowhere I need to be right now. And I am feeling cheery.
Iris picks up after just two signals. “Hey, babe.”
“Hey! Are you busy?”
“Nope, I’m up for it.”
I smile. “You don’t even know what you’re up for yet.”
“But I know I’m up for it.”
“Lost & Found?”
I hear her moving, a pair of keys clattering and a door closing. “I’ll be there in nine.”
I start up the street, steps feeling even lighter thanks to the salty wind carrying me forward. “Perfect. See you soon!”
Exactly seven minutes later, I push open the wooden door of Lost & Found. Jake welcomes me with a slow smile, his signature bar towel thrown over one shoulder. It’s a calm afternoon at the bar, just a couple of patrons drinking beer, and a group of guys playing pool.
“Wine?”
“Yes, please,” I say with a smile, landing on one of the bar stools. After standing the whole day in heels, it’s a relief to finally sit—just ask my feet. “Make it two because Iris is here any minute.”
“Coming right up, honey.”
I relish the sound of the crispy white wine being poured into two glasses. Jake fills them generously and pushes them over the bar.
“You’ve been working at Viv’s today?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Been a good day?”
I nod again, taking a sip of the wine. “Thanks to the weather.”
“Not only I believe,” he says and offers me one of his wolfish grins. He’s handsome, Jake. Tattooed arms, short dark hair, and brown eyes that are up to no good. But he does nothing for me. He’s not my type. I like green eyes. Dark blonde hair. And a teasing smile.
His next question snaps me back from wherever I just was.
“You’re going back to New York?”
I don’t know why his question startles me. Maybe because I haven’t been thinking much about New York lately. Actually, I haven’t been thinking about it at all. And for some puzzling reason, his question makes me uncomfortable. New York never makes me uncomfortable.
“Eventually, yes.” I do my best to sound unfazed.
Jake nods slowly as he sweeps off the bar counter with a dishcloth. “Be gentle with him, June.”
“What do you—”
He interrupts me, meeting my eyes with a look that I can’t decipher. “Just be gentle with him. He’s more vulnerable than you think. He’s been through shit.”
I watch him for a second, prepared to tell him that I don’t know what he means. That I don’t know who he’s talking about.
But I do. I do know who he’s talking about.
So instead, I dip my chin slowly. Jake nods again, giving me another one of those looks I don’t know how to interpret.
And from out of nowhere, I feel confused.
Benjamin is vulnerable? He’s been through things?
Tough things? I want to ask Jake, but I know he won’t give me any answers.
“Hello!” Iris’s happy voice disrupts whatever it is that Jake and I are doing. His wolfish grin is back, and he nods at the wine glass next to mine. “June already made sure you won’t go thirsty.”
Iris throws herself down on the barstool next to me, smiling from ear to ear. “Isn’t she the best?”
“I guess so,” he says, slowly tilting his lips upward as he goes to take another order.
I watch his back for a moment. I like Jake.
He’s a good person. One who’s sticking up for his friend.
Making sure Benjamin doesn’t get hurt. But I can’t possibly hurt Benjamin.
Because you can’t hurt someone who doesn’t have feelings for you.
I freeze when I hear the small voice in my head, wishing that it wasn’t true. Wait, do I want Benjamin to have feelings for me?