8. Amber
CHAPTER EIGHT
amber
I ’ve always liked a healthy mix of routine and spontaneity.
Since Jana’s passing, maintaining a strict routine seems to be the only thing keeping my head above water.
My mind and body staying busy allows me no time to break down and wallow in my pain.
My alarm chirps at five, drawing a groan as I fumble to shut it off.
This used to be when I enjoyed the peace and quiet before my day started.
The quiet is something I used to take for granted.
However, my new neighbor seems to have a penchant for getting on my last nerve and disrupting my serenity.
For the last four evenings, he’s left the bay doors open to his workshop, so the sounds of his tools and music echo down the alleyway.
Apparently, my studio has thin walls, something I never noticed before, and Jake works until ten at the earliest. Even worse, his loud motorcycle rumbles through the alley as he comes and goes, adding to the noise.
It’s cutting into my sleep and relaxation time, and I’m exhausted.
If I wasn’t avoiding him like the plague, then I might ask him to keep his shop closed or not work so late, but that would require talking to him.
Lily stopped by yesterday and mentioned he may need my help with something, and it took everything I had not to snort a laugh.
I would love to see him on his knees begging for my help.
With heavy eyelids, I pull on some leggings and a sports bra for the gym.
My pre-workout is no longer an aid but a necessity.
I grab the rose I picked up last night and head out for the gym.
My workout routine is strict, with Mondays and Thursdays being leg day and the days I stop at Jana’s grave with a fresh rose.
Her headstone still hasn’t been delivered, so I keep the spot marked with her favorite pink flower.
At some point, I’ll have to change it up when these are no longer in season.
My legs fight against the heavy weights, but I push through anyway.
Thankfully, no one talked to me this morning, which might have something to do with the permanent scowl on my face.
If I had adequate rest, my body wouldn’t protest so much.
Jake’s late nights need to be addressed sooner than later, but that means no longer avoiding him.
After a crap workout and a thirty-minute venting session at Jana’s grave, I make my way home for a shower and breakfast. With a fresh mug of coffee in hand, I mosey over to the space out back to start organizing inventory.
I have most of my summer fashion picked out and will need to place the order in the next week to get it all on time.
Unfortunately, that means I need to clean out everything in here, recheck inventory, and start marking sales on the website.
Thankfully, Natasha is opening today, which gives me extra time to spend on this.
Each of the side rooms in Jake’s workshop has a door that leads straight to the alley and one that leads into his main workshop.
I have a key to the lock on the outside door, but not one to the shop.
I haven’t ventured into his space, and as far as I know, he hasn’t come into mine either.
Today, though, the door is cracked between our spaces, and I decide to leave it because I need to talk with him anyway when he gets in.
The portable speaker in the corner plays Bad Omens while I mark off inventory and combine boxes to make extra space.
It’s on my list to figure out a better way to store and organize everything, but I just don’t have the time right now.
Natasha works twenty hours a week for me, and Lauren works a few weekends and mornings when her kids are in school, but otherwise, everything falls on my shoulders.
Jana and I used to trade off working most days, sharing the responsibilities of keeping the store running, and we had two high schoolers to help on the evenings and weekends, but both are in college now.
I need to hire another person to help with online orders once I figure out a foolproof system.
The downfall of a small town is there isn’t an abundance of people looking for a job, but I’ll figure it out.
A rumbling from Jake’s shop draws my attention.
I was certain the throaty sound of the Harley would alert me to his presence, but this is the bay doors opening.
Worried it might be someone else, I peek my head through the door between our spaces right as Jake struts in.
He looks sinfully good in scuffed work boots, dark-wash jeans, and his classic black tee stretched tight over his broad chest and shoulders.
Swirls of dark ink travel down both arms to his hands, adding to the alure of the mess of dark hair on his head.
It’s shorter on the sides but long on top, and his beard looks like it’s been growing since Thoren and Lily’s wedding.
His deep chuckle is smooth as honey as he strides over to the doorway. “Did you need another glimpse of the best you’ve ever had, or are you trying to get a repeat?”
“Easy to be the best when you’re the only.” I smirk at his arrogant face. “I didn’t hear your bike, so I wanted to make sure you weren’t getting robbed. You’re welcome.”
Hot or not, I can’t stand his attitude. I will never understand why all my friends love him and think he’s this great guy. He’s an arrogant ass who needs a reality check .
“I took my truck today. What are you doing in there? I assumed that was just storage for you.”
I roll my eyes because of course he didn’t care to ask previously; he’s selfish through and through.
“I do use it as storage. I just also use it to fulfill online orders since this is where the majority of my inventory is.” I put my hands on my hips, readying myself for a fight.
“Look, we need to talk about your hours. Your music and tools are keeping me up at night, so if you insist on working so late, can you at least close the doors?”
He crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe, making me step back. “Last I checked, I own this building and can do as I please. I’ve been gone by eleven most nights, that’s not that late. Your store opens at nine, that’s plenty of time to get your beauty rest.”
Arrogant prick. I’ve had people talk down to me because I’m a young woman.
It’s always the same garbage: I’m too young to know what I’m doing and don’t work as hard as others, the shop was handed down to me and not earned, blah, blah, blah.
Most people don’t know I was practically raised in this store.
I was here every day after school, most weekends, and I learned how to run it inside and out.
“I’m not sure you’re aware of this, but running a business means working way beyond the hours of operation. This is my third activity of the morning. I’m asking nicely, Jake. If you stay late, please close the doors and turn down the music.”
A slow saccharine smile spreads over his mouth. “Activities? Now that you’ve been fucked, you’re an addict? Found anyone who can make you come like I do yet?”
My morning with the cold hard earth beneath my knees as I sat next to the grave of the woman who held me together for over half my life flashes through my mind.
I wish more than anything she was still here to talk me through all these interactions with Jake.
She would have loved him with his bad-boy take-no-shit vibes.
We spent so many nights watching Sons of Anarchy where we both drooled over Jax Teller.
I finally cracked this morning and told her I slept with him.
The sun emerged at that very moment, its rays caressing my skin like a bittersweet hug, a reminder of the happy moments now lost to time.
And it would have been happy, the joy on her face so clear in my mind.
She was always encouraging me to put myself out there, to not let life pass me by.
My throat is thick with emotion, and I try to swallow it down.
With my eyes downcast, I take a few deep breaths to keep the tears from falling.
When I finally pull myself together, Jake’s smug smile slips as he assesses me before he kicks off the door and heads deeper into his shop. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The door between us stays closed the rest of the morning, but I hear him tinkering around in there.
I would like to say I don’t give him another thought, but that would be a lie.
There’s no denying that he has an incredible talent I would have loved to use to fix up my boutique.
He might even be able to build something to help with my organization.
Would he even consider it if I asked him again?
My stomach grumbles around noon, so I head out the front door to check on Socks and grab some lunch.
My kitten is waiting at the door for me, his little meows brightening my mood instantly.
Natasha loves him, and I hate leaving him alone, so I scoop him up, grab my purse, and head down to the store.
Unsurprising, Natasha squeals with delight over having Socks being her partner in crime today.
I inform her I’m going to grab food and will be back in an hour to cover her lunch break.
What I don’t tell her is that I’m going to get lunch for Jake and kindly ask him again to make me shelves and tables.
He just bought a store, there’s no way he can be turning down business, right?
With two burgers, fries, and shakes in tow, I put on my big girl panties and march into Jake’s shop.
He has his back to me, wiping down a table with a stinky varnish.
It occurs to me that he may not be keeping the bay doors open to annoy me but to prevent the fumes from becoming too strong.
I still don’t feel bad about asking him to close them in the evenings.
Clearing my throat, I hold up the bag and drink carrier when he turns to look at me. “I brought a peace offering,” I state. He nods to his desk in the corner and goes back to his project, ignoring me. “I was hoping we could eat together and talk. I have a job for you, if you want it.”
His ocean-blue eyes find mine again, and he holds eye contact past the point of comfort, then drops his rag and stalks over to me. Pulling out the food, I set out a burger and fry box for each of us, nodding to the drinks. “One is chocolate, one strawberry, take your pick.”
He surprises me when he grabs the strawberry, wrapping his lips around the straw and sucking down the shake. It’s oddly erotic, so I pull my eyes away and open my wrapper.
“Thanks.” His deep voice is as smooth as dripping honey. “What’s the job?”
“Cedar and Sage needs a bit of a revamp. Half the shelves are chipped and worn, and the tables are a mix of thrifted items or the cheap plastic foldout ones. Would you be able to replace them all with something custom made?”
He chews his bite of the burger which is already half gone. I try not to wither under his stare, but his eyes never feel like he’s just looking at me, more like they are reaching down into my soul to poke around, and it’s unnerving.
“I’ll do it on one condition.”
I can’t stop the eye roll—this man and his damn conditions. “What?”
“You help me with my website and marketing. Lily said you’re a whiz at that stuff, and I don’t have the time to do it.
If you can make me a whole new site that people can order from and I can track it all easily, then I’ll do your shop for free.
It will have to be in between other projects when I have time, though. ”
So this is what Lily was talking about. I think it’s more he lacks the skill than doesn’t have the time.
Probably not smart to needle him about that though when we are forming a sort of truce.
Honestly, I’m all too happy about the trade.
Making websites is fun, and getting to put my degree to use is what I’ve been dying for.
Ideas are already floating around my brain for both, a thrum of excitement buzzing through me.
“You have yourself a deal. Do I have free rein, or do you have ideas already?”
He shakes his head, slurping the last of his milkshake.
“Nah, you can have access to my old one and anything you need. My mom will be working in my store starting next week, and she can show you some of my popular items and get photos for you to upload. As long as it can take orders and link to my email, I’m not picky. ”
His words aren’t meant to hurt, but they do. One day, I will be able to listen to people talk about their parents without a pain ripping through me; today is not that day. My mom should be working at the store with me. “Okay,” I mumble, packing up the rest of my food, no longer hungry.
Tossing it in the trash, I slip out and back to the store.
I feel his eyes on me like a caress and almost expect him to say something, but he doesn’t.
When Natasha comes back from her lunch, I take Socks and retreat to my apartment instead of continuing with the inventory like I should.
The rest of the day passes in slow motion as I watch The Office without really seeing it.
I do, however, notice there is no noise from the alley after eight.