38. Chloe
thirty-eight
My alarm blasts at ten in the morning.
It’s too early.
Way too early.
At seven I plopped onto my bed. I’d stuffed only part of the mailboxes, seeing as dawn started shortly after four, but I’d been strategic about it. Some areas are more affluent than others. Even in the countryside, you can tell. Even if you can’t see the house. A mailbox can sometimes tell a whole story. Not every house is the target clientele for the restaurant.
After my mailbox run, I tried to do some bookkeeping from four to seven. Then at seven I nosedived on my laptop and got the hint. Time for bed.
The thinking was, three hours of sleep is two full cycles. And that should be enough. It being seven in the morning, I should be good to go at ten.
The thinking was wrong.
I drag myself into the shower, brush my teeth, and go downstairs wrapped in a towel to get the espresso machine going. I go back upstairs to get dressed, down the espresso on my way out, get in my car, get to Easy Monday.
“How can I make your day awes—oopsie! What happened to you?” Millie rounds her eyes at me and comes from behind the counter to examine me closely.
A couple of ladies lift their heads from their books.
“Work or party?” Millie asks, zooming in on my eyes. “You’re not high, for sure.”
“Um…”
“Heard you missed dinner at the King’s last night,” one of the ladies says.
“Heard she was driving around town breaking into people’s mailboxes,” the other one whisper shouts.
“That right?” her friend shoots back, not whispering at all.
“Oh yeah. Frannie saw her as she was chasing a bear out the resort’s dumpster, and Shannon on her way back from the hospital, and then Angela—you know Angela can’t sleep and she goes on her walks—and Declan didn’t deny it when he came here this mornin’.”
“Oooh,” Millie says super low so the ladies can’t hear, “see we got ourselves a little criminal. Welcome to the dark side, sistah!” She goes back behind her counter. “I’m making you a Back From Hell this morning. You’re gonna need it. And brownies to go with that. And the usual for your staff?”
The usual for my staff is beginning to cost a fortune, but they’re worth it. “Sure.” She’s already working the levers of her coffee machines.
“People are loving the pass, Chloe,” Millie says. “I’m out of brochures already.”
“How’s that possible? I left at least fifty last night.”
“What I said. They love it.”
Wow. “I’ll get you more.” I take a sip of the concoction she made for me and feel my eyes opening to their full extent.
“You do that. Great idea, by the way. I’m gonna do the same for Easy Monday. Call it the Easy Way.”
“That’s brilliant. And Mils?”
“Yeah?” she sets out a tray of to-go cups with the staff’s names neatly written on them.
I take another sip of my coffee, feeling excitement course through my veins at my new idea. “You ever thought of having reusable cups? You sell your customers the cups branded to your store, with their names on it? They get a free day-old muffin every time they use it?”
“She sells’em day olds a dollar,” one of the ladies in the back chimes in. “And they’re goooood.”
Oh. “Whatever. You’ll figure it out,” I say with a wave.
“We’ll see you tomorrow,” one of the two ladies says to me as I get to the door.
Oh? “Tomorrow?”
“At the restaurant. See you tomorrow.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about. Are they coming in for an interview? Shoshana mentioned potentially needing back up hostesses. For dinner? I guess I’ll find out. “Oh—of course, yes.”
Millie waves goodbye at me and the two ladies dig back into their books.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” Shoshana tells me the minute I walk in. “Our voice mail is flooded. I’ve been calling people back since I came in. We’re booked solid this week.”
What?! I set the tray of drinks down and look over her shoulder to our POS. “Something going on in town?” Shoshana asks.
“Give me a sec.”
I feel a cold rush, then a heat wave. Did we do it? Are people loving the Local’s Pass that much? That can’t be. It’s only been a few hours since I dropped the fliers at the stores and in the mailboxes, and announced it on Echoes.
I rush to the office and close my door. Open my computer and flip one of the brochures in my hand, marveling at how the understated, classy design advertising a super reasonable prix fixe menu on weekdays and a discount on weekends for pass holders might have just saved the restaurant.
I access our payment system and let out a happy cry, clapping to myself. A big fat number is sitting there. I stare at it for a second, then hit a few keystrokes to take care of the most pressing debt we have.
A huge weight off my back, I go to Shoshana’s station, holding a brochure. “The Local’s Pass. I wasn’t sure it would work, that’s why I didn’t tell you guys about it. People pay up front for a number of prix fixe dinners. That gets them a discount. There’s several tiers. The more they pay upfront, the steeper the discount.”
Shoshana looks at the tier levels. “People have that kind of money around here?”
“The first tier barely covers a dinner for two,” I point out. “As for the higher tiers? I was wondering about that too, and we have our answers.”
“So… is this just for locals?”
That’s the catch. It’s called a Local’s Pass, but anyone can buy it. And I may have played on the affluent second homeowners’ desire to feel like locals with the name of the pass. But there’s a part that I hope will tilt the balance in favor of real locals. “There’s a steeper discount on weekdays, when it’s only us locals in town.”
“That’s really cool.” Shoshana smiles.
“Thanks. I’m so glad a lot of people seem to think that way too!”
“I should get back to all these voice mails,” she says.
I walk back to my office, reaching for my phone to tell Justin.
And as I hear the phone ringing, it hits me.
He was the first I wanted to tell.
That evening, we celebrate at The Growler. Justin says we both need a break from our businesses, we should dance and party, and it’d be good, anyway, for people to see me, talk to me, spread the word even more.
He booked us a table at their steakhouse, a more intimate restaurant located on the third level, where tables are comfortably set apart. White linens, candles, and flowers make the setting special, while the music seeping from the lower level still promises a good party later on.
Justin pulls my chair out for me and softly kisses my hair before sitting across from me. While we place our orders—juicy steaks for both of us—the ma?tre d’ brings two champagne flutes. “From the gentleman at three o’clock,” he tells Justin.
Justin whips his head around, and a big smile spreads on his face as he recognizes a man across the room sitting with three other people. He lifts his glass, a question in his eye. The man nods toward me. Justin tilts his head, furrows his brow.
The man slides out of his chair and comes over to us. “Congratulations, Ms. Sullivan, very impressive,” he says. “I’m Scott Johnson.”
I turn my gaze to Justin.
“Scott is CEO of a community bank in the Northeast Kingdom,” Justin explains.
“Oh—NekNest?” That’s where the restaurant banks. “Yes, of course. Good evening. And thank you?”
“Like I said, I’m very impressed,” Johnson says to me. “I’d like to meet with you as soon as possible. I’ll email you.” He turns to Justin, then back to me. “Enjoy your dinner.”
“Wow,” I say when he’s gone.
“To great beginnings!” Justin lifts his glass to me. “But—need to set something straight.” He pauses, and we both take a sip.
“Hmm?” The bubbles hit my palate.
“Got all your bookkeeping done?”
“Um… that would be a no. But getting there.”
He sets his glass down and shifts in his chair. “I get why you kept this from me, Clo. You’re too proud for your own good. But now, it’s you and me together. No more secrets. No more going behind my back to fight your own battles.” He twines our fingers together, his gaze somber. “I mean it.”
“Kay,” I say softly.
“Promise me.”
My heart ba-booms as he looks deeply into my eyes, squeezes my hand. “I promise.”
“You and me together, Clover.”
Oh god. This man. How did I go through life without him?
After dinner, we go down to the room with a live band and sway to the music. Justin nuzzles my neck. “I missed you last night,” he says.
“Missed you too, baby. I still have a lot to do,” I warn him. Starting with bookkeeping.
“You’re not doing any work tonight.”
I smile coyly at him. “That right?”
He sets his hand on my ass, pulling me to his erection. “That feel right to you?”
I giggle, looking around us self-consciously.
“What?” He licks my earlobe. “You got a problem with how hard you’re making me?” He trails his tongue down my neck, making me laugh softly. I bend in his arms and press myself against him even more. “I see you don’t,” he growls, moving his tongue across my jawline, nibbling at my lower lip.
“Love the pass!” someone near us cries in my ear. “Got one for me and my girlfriend, and one for my parents.” Should I know who they are? I beam at them, feeling so good about myself. People know me! “Catch you later, Justin!”
Or rather, they know who Justin’s girlfriend is. And that’s quite alright by me. I give him a huge grin. I’m so happy my cheeks hurt.
The beats of the music engulf us, and I let Justin take the lead. Turns out, he’s an awesome dancer. “How come this is the first time we’ve danced together?” I ask as he pulls me back into him after twirling me around his finger. He steps away from me, our fingers connected tightly, and brings me into an underarm turn, then alternates twists and turns until my head spins, and he brings me back into his chest. “Because we’re trying to take some things slow,” he says, laughing.
That’s the only thing we take slow. Moose is at Justin’s, so that’s where we’re headed after The Growler. We’re barely past the door before we claw at each other’s clothes. All that dancing was enough foreplay for me. A whole evening of rubbing against each other, holding each other, necking. Justin’s hungry gaze on me almost makes me come.
There were a lot of women eying him, and I can’t blame them. But Justin’s gaze was only for me. A couple of women talked to him when he went to the bar to get us after-dinner drinks, and he barely responded. I wasn’t jealous or worried. But damn it’s good to feel secure in a relationship. I never felt that way with Tucker. Now I know why. I just didn’t know how you were supposed to feel when your partner is reliable.
We’re on his bed, naked, a trail of clothes in the living space, Justin’s face between my legs, his amazing tongue doing a slow pass. I feel my clit pulse. “Babe, please, just take me.” He lifts himself and turns me over, and I find myself with my head pressed into the bed, my arms outstretched, my ass in the air, and Justin entering me. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me.” He gives me a slow inside stroke. “Ah fuck, Clover, you have no idea how good you feel.”
He feels awesome, his dick stretching my inside, rubbing my spot, his hands at my waist pulling me to him. I’m close to coming. “Harder,” I wail.
He pounds me one, two, three, times, and I come undone, shaking under him as he grunts and stills. I feel him pulsate inside me, his hands clenching at my waist. Claiming me.
Then he plops onto his back and pulls me to his side and we catch our breaths.
Exhausted by my previous night with almost no sleep, the excitement of today, tonight’s partying followed by awesome sex, I try to resist the weight of my eyelids but can’t. I fall asleep against him, listening to his heartbeat.
Then I wake up to his cock pulsing against my thigh as he says, “Babe, there’s something I need to tell you.” His hand is playing with my hair, and it’s the most delicious feeling. I’m not sure I want to break this moment. I keep my eyes closed and snuggle deeper into him. “Clover, we need to talk.”
My body stiffens, preparing for the worst.
His other hand touches my bare arm, and his voice is low and gravelly when he says, “Clover… I’m in love with you.”
I whip up on his chest and catch his searching gaze on me. Cupping his face in my hands, I bring my lips to his and kiss him, our tongues doing their slow, familiar dance. Then he releases my mouth, wraps his arms hard around me, and flips us so I’m under him. He takes me slow and gentle, our gazes never leaving each other. “I love you too, Justin. So much.”
He continues his slow movement in and out of me. “Never thought I’d ever fall in love,” he says into my neck. Then he lifts his head to look me in the eye. “Except after Boston. You’re the only one for me. Was just waiting for you to come into my life.”
I tear up at his admission. “Oh, honey,” I whisper in his ear, and then he increases his thrusts, and we come together, our orgasms feeding off each other.
I fall asleep twirling line circles on the clover tattoo over his heart.
Then I’m dead to the world until loud bangs street-side wake me up to an empty bed.
The shower is going, so Justin can’t hear. Everybody knows Lazy’s doesn’t open until twelve. And everybody knows if you need to get to Justin, you come through the back.
Ergo, this must be a new delivery person. I throw on my tiny pajama shorts and spaghetti strap cami, run my fingers through my hair, and rush downstairs. “I got it!” I yell for Justin, in case he heard and is scrambling to come downstairs.
I crack the door open, thinking I’m going to tell them to go around the building.
A very pretty, leggy blonde is standing at the door. Her long hair falls in straight curtains around her face. She’s all cheekbones and pouty lips and eyes that totally rock the thick eyeliner and fake lashes they’re sporting, even at this early hour in the day. She has the kind of physique that makes me instantly wonder why god is so unfair.
“I’m here for Justin,” she says as my eyes fall on her very round belly.