Chapter 10
Ruthie has stayed far longer today than she has in all the years she’s worked here.
It was my first thought when I came back from my doctor’s appointment and found her moving like a turtle in the kitchen.
Already annoyed with having to go into the clinic for something as small as getting my birth control refilled just so that I could be lectured by an old man about getting an IUD instead, I was a bit of a bitch to her.
My concern showed itself in a less than kind way before I could control my frustration and try to ask her what was up without biting her head off.
She didn’t like that I immediately assumed something was wrong, as if I had committed a crime by wondering why she suddenly couldn’t complete her tasks by the usual time. It’s not like she’s the closest thing to a grandmother I have now and I want her to be healthy or anything.
The fresh muffins on the silver racks made my stomach growl furiously, and she all but shoved the biggest one into my mouth before telling me to take my worry elsewhere. I inhaled crumbs and, for a long moment, worried I’d wind up coughing them up all day. Clearly, that was her plan to shut me up.
“You’re still hovering, Quinn,” she says sharply, the bite in her tone less jarring now than it was an hour ago.
“If something’s wrong, you can tell me. I think I deserve to know.”
“You’re making me feel old and broken.”
“We both know that’s not my intention.”
Her grey hair is bright beneath the brown hair net wrapped tightly around it.
It’s styled perfectly, with the slightest curl that I know she uses thick hot rollers to achieve.
There’s a soft outline around her eyes from her usual silver liner and a thin layer of concealer blended beneath them.
Other than her slower-than-usual pace, nothing about her seems misplaced.
“You’re worrying too much. I’m sure there are things out there for you to busy yourself with,” she says, waving at the door.
“You promise you’re fine?”
“I promise.”
“Alright then.”
I fold my muffin wrapper into fourths before dumping it into the garbage and heading out.
It’s quiet this morning after the initial rush earlier.
A few tables are still shifted a bit out of place, with some garbage left on the tops of them.
Taking a cloth from the sink beside the blender, I get it warm and soapy before making my way out past the counter.
I busy myself with cleaning the crumbs and garbage, then readjusting the tables and chairs before retying the cushions on the bottoms of them.
Mostly, the fabric stays pretty clean. Our weekly wash and stain remover ritual helps with that, I’m sure. Stretching my neck, I wipe up the last table and blow loose pieces of my hair off my forehead. The bell above the door chimes, and I look over my shoulder, unable to help myself.
The slight shimmer in the black paint of Beck’s expensive car catches my eye through the window, but I ignore it, unable to look away from the sight of him stepping inside.
Frustration wells up so thick in my throat that I try to cough to clear it.
It fails to work, and the next moment, he’s raising the corners of his mouth, smiling brightly.
His tank top looks like he ripped it with his bare hands, exposing at least an inch of skin above his jeans.
The ball of frustration quickly melts away, replaced with something hot and sticky instead.
The dark trail of hair is like a giant beacon flashing and encouraging me to stare at his abs.
Fuck, he’s even got those lines in his hips like an arrow pointing to what I know has to be a huge—
“Good morning, beautiful.”
I yank my eyes up to where his watch me, crinkled at the corners. “It’s not busy enough for me to need a dishwasher.”
“That’s a shame. I even brought my own gloves this time.”
I’m about to call his bluff when he turns and pulls a pair of neon green rubber gloves from the back pocket of light-wash jeans. He toys with them between his long fingers, and I scowl, forcing my spine into a rigid line.
“Sorry you wasted your money on them.”
“It wasn’t a waste. They can go in the back until the next time you need my help.”
“Do you always have an answer for everything?”
He takes the slightly barbed question in stride, not missing a beat. “Sometimes. Not always. I’m just lucky that I have a million things I want to talk to you about.”
“You’re doing it again. The whole flirty, flattery thing,” I mutter, dropping my head so I can focus on tying the strings of a chair cushion that were already perfectly tied.
“If I stopped, I guarantee that you’d find me boring.”
I make a low huffing noise.
“You don’t agree?”
When I look up from the chair again, he’s standing closer.
There’s barely a foot between us, and I know that if I inhaled deeply enough, I’d smell him.
From the lack of stubble on his jaw today, he must have shaved this morning, and I cannot afford to like both the smell of his cologne and the aftershave I just know he covers himself in.
I’d probably go up in flames, and that would be a fucking nightmare.
“I have no past experiences to go off of. You’ve been this way since the first time you were here.”
By the way his smile has blown into a full grin, I know I shouldn’t have said that.
“You remember the first time I came here?”
“No. I don’t know why I said that.”
Liar, liar, liar.
“I could remind you. Everything about that day is up here,” he drawls, tapping the tip of his finger to his temple. “You had your hair tied back by a thick yellow scrunchie and were wearing this tight long-sleeve that—”
“I don’t need to relive it. But I do need to get back to work, so what do you want today?”
The snip in my voice is unsettling. It’s rude, and even if I don’t particularly like this guy, he doesn’t deserve it. For once, he’s not the male that I’m pissed off at. That honour belongs to the old fucker who pushed me to schedule an IUD implantation when I’ve avoided doing so for years now.
Never wanting kids wasn’t a sudden choice for me.
I’ve had a feeling from the ripe age of fifteen that kids weren’t really for me.
That’s always been my belief, and I’ve never swayed on it, so obviously, an IUD makes sense.
My pills had been messing with my weight since my teen years, and the shot only led to me bleeding all over the place with no rhyme or reason behind it.
My doctor finally seemed to have had enough of listening to my complaints and requests for other options and pushed me into a corner.
That doesn’t mean I want someone shoving an implant into my uterus, though.
And it absolutely doesn’t fucking mean that I want to go through that pain without something to numb it, either.
That’s just the way it is, though. Being a woman means we don’t get offered the same luxuries as men do for less invasive procedures. It’s toughen up or suffer.
Figure that.
“I’ll have whatever is easiest for you to make,” Beck says, saving me from my thoughts.
I force myself to relax, even if only a bit. “That would be a bottle of water, then.”
“I’ll take it.”
My palms are slick with sweat when I reach behind my shoulder to tighten the elastic keeping my hair out of my face. Beck’s eyes follow my movements, clinging to me like he’s afraid I’ll just . . . disappear. It’s odd to feel an almost stranger regard you with such obvious concern.
Is he a stranger, though?
I make a move for the open cooler beside the counter before he’s reaching for me, his large fingers curling around my wrist. It’s a light hold. I could shake him off without issue. Yet, I don’t. And once the pad of his thumb strokes my fluttering pulse, I lose the ability to move at all.
His eyes sweep over my face, searching and searching the way they always do. Like he’s hoping that this time, I’ll let him see something he never has before.
That would be the worst-case scenario, though. Because I have no doubt that the moment he learns something, he’ll turn into a hound who’s just caught a fresh scent. I’ll never escape him.
Blinking, I give my hand a tug and sever the connection he’s worked so hard to build.
Focusing on the window, I glare at the car parked in the same place as it was yesterday, even after my scolding.
It doesn’t matter that the coffee shop is on the quieter side today.
I’m not about to let him get away with parking like a douche.
“You’re still parking in that spot.”
He blows out a breath. It fans the tip of my nose, and I quickly realize how close we’ve gotten.
With a jerky step back, I build some space between us and take another look at the car.
The deeply tinted windows have got to be illegal.
Did he get them done like that after he bought the car? For privacy, maybe?
“You can’t park in two spaces. It makes you look like a selfish dick. Especially on this street.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll remember next time.”
Guilt pinches my chest. I give the chair I’ve been fiddling with a rough shove beneath the table. “It’s okay. Sorry—I’m usually bitchy, but today, I seem to have cranked the dial up a few notches.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks without hesitation.
The genuine worry in his tone forces my eyes to his, whether that’s where I want them or not. The green is more muted than usual, which doesn’t help with the whole guilt thing.
“Just a bad morning. Girl things. Stupid, stupid girl things.”
“Where’s Eli?”
“He’s not in until noon. Why?” I ask, nose scrunching.
His chuckle floats through the gap between us. “I’m just wondering if you have help here. Do you need some time away from this place?”
“Trust me, I’d be worse if I was at home doing nothing. This is better.”
“In that case, is there anything that you need?”
“Don’t you have balls to throw or something?” I retort, not willing to answer his question or the offer.
Even if he doesn’t really mean it, it’s made me feel all fluttery.