7. Nicolette #2
“Wash. Cut. Tray.”He pointed to the fruit on my left, the giant cutting board in front of me then to the large metal serving tray to my right.
Riot picked up a butcher knife, and I grimaced sarcastically, leaning away.
He frowned at my reaction but there was a twinge of surprised amusement.
He spun the knife, handing it to me handle-first.
“Yes, Riot,”I said, taking the knife. His eyes fluttered to me at the sound of his name.“I may be from the big city, but I know how to cut fruit. ”
He shot me a look of doubt.“Once the tray is full, bring it out. Rush starts around seven-thirty.”
And he wasn’t kidding. The doors had been open since five a.m. but around seven twenty-five, people began to stream in by the dozens. Once I was done cutting the fruit, I graduated to the serving line.
My stomach grumbled. I had snuck a few pieces of cantaloupe while I was dicing it up, but my pride was too afraid of the judgment I’d get if Riot caught me taking advantage of the charity I, myself, was doling out. I don’t know why it bothered me so much that he thought I was a resident here.
But wasn’t I?
I looked around at the harrowed faces of our guests.
As I took them all in, one by one, I started to pay attention to the families.
Had I gone to school with kids like these?
I couldn’t remember it being this bad twelve years ago.
There were poor kids and rich kids, sure, but these parents’ faces had the poverty-stricken years painted all over them.
If less than thirty years ago, the impoverished population was refreshed with new homes and new jobs, how had things ended up this badly?
When the rush began to slow down, Riot's warm body sidled up beside me and started to wipe down the counters, sliding scraps of food into the garbage bin he held in his left hand. His forearms flexed and I watched his shoulder muscles ripple as he reached under the sanitary partition.
“Miss, may I have another scoop of eggs? They were simply delicious today!”a woman interrupted my ogling. She was probably in her mid-fifties but didn’t look a day younger than sixty-five.
My stomach growled, the eggs had looked good.
I reached for a scoop just as Riot slid his hands under my elbow, reaching for a sausage stuck between the warming tray and rider.
His forearms brushed my elbow, and my body hummed, leaving a trail of heat where our skin touched.
His eyes flicked up to me but I ignored him, unwilling to let him see the reaction he’d caused.
But I couldn’t ignore his scent. It was this strange mix of masculine sweat, leather, motor oil, and clean citrus. I found myself taking a deep inhale. Realizing his eyes were still on me, I jerked away, knocking the eggs off the spoon, and sending them rolling down his shirt.
“Sorry,”I said under my breath before piling the last spoonful of eggs on the woman’s plate. I stole a glance at Riot who was still looking at me with narrowed eyes. I wondered if he thought I was afraid of him. Was that better than thinking I found his scent invigorating?
I felt a greasy piece of sausage hit my arm.
“Sorry,”Riot said, mimicking my tone, one corner of his lips tipped up. I picked the sausage off and flung it back at his chest. It bounced off his hard stomach and into the garbage bin in his hand.
What a fucking child .
I glared at him, but he met my unwavering gaze. His eyebrows separated, amused. Was this Riot Asher’s attempt at flirting? And why did his attention feel so good ?
The two-dimensional human in me knew I should be wary of him.
He admitted to killing a woman. Not just a woman.
His mother. I should be afraid. But the distant, unfamiliar look in his eyes didn’t strike me as guilt.
It doesn’t mean he didn’t do it. Nor does it mean that he wasn’t capable of it.
Still, something inside me couldn’t help but find him intriguing. Compelling.
I hated the way Cherry looked at him. The way she spoke to him.
Like his mere existence offended her. Like he was a danger.
Perhaps Riot Asher had me fooled. Maybe he was dangerous.
But as he stood next to me, fighting a grin when I wiped away the grease mark the sausage had left, I felt more kindred toward him than I had with anyone else in a long time.
“Nicolette Parker, as I live and breathe!”A male voice bounded up to me from behind. I spun around and my stomach dropped.
Jeremy Blackwell .
Where Riot had been the All-American football hero, Jeremy, a year older than me, had been the class do-gooder; student body president for two years running, organizing recycling drives and the like.
He had a crush on me on and off throughout high school.
I frequently interviewed him for his various community efforts for my broadcast journalism classes.
He was cute and nice, but I found him incredibly dull.
If I was being honest, I found all the volunteer stuff a little phony.
It was almost too much, but he was Pastor Blackwell’s son.
I guess the Good Boy thing was in his blood.
After a barrage of asking, I let him take me to his senior prom.
Later that night, the entire group spent the night at his parent’s camp on the other side of the lake.
I hadn’t wanted to sleep with him that night.
Or any night, really. But I had gotten drunk and when he virtually confessed his undying love for me, it had struck a chord.
Either way, it was easier to go along with it than to say no and have it be awkward the rest of the night.
When he went to college, I hadn’t even said goodbye to him.
And now here he was, like a ghost of my past, clad in shiny new sneakers, sucking on an iced coffee that had way too much cream in it.
He lifted his sunglasses to his head, stopping about six inches too close to me.
I took a step back, brushing against Riot’s arm.
He didn't waver and I was surprised to acknowledge that his presence provided something akin to comfort.
“Jeremy. Been a long time...”I pressed my lips together with a thin smile. Riot’s eyes moved between us.
“Yeah, no kidding.”He smiled and dragged his eyes over me, sucking up the last bits of the iced coffee. The way it slurped up the straw made me cringe.“What are you doing here?”
I took a breath and shrugged.“Oh, just… volunteering. What about you? What brings you to the Center?”I stole a glance at Riot, worried he might blow my cover, but he only stood taller, his eyes boring holes into Jeremy’s head.
Jeremy’s eyes danced between the two of us.
“Dad asked me to drop off a check. Monthly donation of some sorts.”He gestured to an envelope in his hand before taking another step closer to me.
I leaned backward, his coffee breath assaulting my face.
“You know, I asked you to volunteer with me hundreds of times in high school and you never once joined me.” He flashed a million-dollar smile, his white teeth perfect and straight.
He was like a fish out of water in this room filled with people the town had chosen to forget.
“Yeah,”I forced a laugh.“I wasn’t much for volunteerism, was I?”
He tilted his head and gave me a smug grin. He reached out and put a hand on my elbow.“Most ambitious people aren’t.”He gave me a wink and I could almost hear Riot snort under his breath. Jeremy looked up as if just noticing him standing there.“Oh, hey, man…”he said, as if talking to a child.
“Jeremy.”Riot nodded his head.
“Good to see you, Riot. Looks like you’re doing well here.
Katie mentioned the yard work wasn’t your speed,”he crooned.
Riot didn’t reply or look up. Jeremy widened his eyes at me as if saying, What’s his problem?
“Anyway… what are you doing back here? I never th ought I’d see the day that the New York-famous Nicolette Parker would return to our little hamlet. ”
Ugh, I wanted to hit him. I hadn’t lived in New York for almost a decade now.
“I’m just here for a few weeks.”I tried to turn and help Riot with the cleaning, but it was already clear.
“Well, I’d love to catch up. What do you say I take you out to breakfast?
”My stomach growled again, and I thought about the diner and a giant pile of steaming hot frittata.
I clutched my gut to mask the empty mumbling.
“Looks like things are winding down here. I’m sure Riot wouldn’t mind if I stole you away a little early. Right, Riot?”
At the same time Jeremy said his name, he tossed the empty iced coffee cup into the garbage bin Riot was still holding. It landed on the bottom with a noisy plunk, sending flecks of watery ice droplets up his forearm.
Riot froze. His knuckles whitened with the grip on the garbage can. I held my breath, expecting a hideous reaction from the burly man. But, to my surprise, he blinked and stood taller, not meeting my gaze. He started to walk back into the kitchen.
“I don’t care what you do with her,”he tossed over his shoulder. My throat burned with the sting of his words.
What an asshole. I glared after him before returning my attention to Jeremy’s hopeful expression.
“Sorry, Jeremy, but I had a big breakfast before I got here this morning.”His shoulders slumped and out of the corner of my eye, I could see Riot’s head turn toward us. My face burned with the indignity of him knowing I was lying about such a basic necessity as breakfast.
“Another time then.”It should have been a question, but it wasn’t, almost like my interest should be inherent. I didn’t have the energy to fight him.
I nodded once.“Sure, I have to start washing dishes. Good to see you.”
As I picked up the empty egg tray, I brushed past him and got a whiff of his cologne. God, he even smelled the same. I had a flash of his young, teenage face on top of me and I let a disgusted shiver roil my empty stomach.