16. Amber
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
amber
Y esterday, I worked seven to seven in the storage space unpacking and organizing all the boxes.
Natasha and Lauren agreed to work the weekend so I could focus on this project, and I’m beyond grateful.
Jake was holed up in his shop the entire time, and when I finally called it quits for the evening, he was still over there working.
He left the door between our areas closed, which kind of annoyed me until I heard his sander going.
The growl from his Harley as he left didn’t sound until almost nine, and I promptly passed out after.
I slept past my alarm and am moving slowly to get ready this morning.
My body aches from all the bending and lifting I did yesterday.
It seems I’m not the only one taking it easy this morning, as Jake is rolling in when I pull open my back door.
He’s hot all the time, but damn, watching him pull off his helmet and unzip his leather jacket while running his hands through his hair really does it for me. So effortlessly sexy as he slings a long leg over his bike, stepping off, and heads straight for me.
He stops painfully close, nudging my chin with his knuckle and closing my mouth I didn’t realize had popped open.
Embarrassment heats my cheeks as Jake winks at me, then moves around me like I’m nothing and opens up his workshop.
That would have been the perfect opportunity for him to make a joke at my expense, and it floors me that he didn’t take it.
I’m half tempted to float after his scent like in a cartoon, the leather he’s wearing mixed with something clean that will be overpowered by the smell of wood as soon as he gets in his shop.
Something is subtly changing between us. I don’t know if it was the vulnerability behind his eyes when he asked if he could keep Socks with him Friday or the fact he’s showing me his softer side, but the hostility isn’t so apparent.
Hell, he apologized to me Friday evening.
He actually said the words “I’m sorry,” which I didn’t think he was capable of.
Granted, he should have been sorry. Who the hell steals someone’s cat?
Now he’s not taking shots at me when he can, and it makes me feel even more unnerved than when he was rude. At least then I knew what to expect.
After pulling my keys from my pocket, I unlock my side door and head in for another long day.
With everything organized-ish within my limited storage options, I get to work on photos, pricing, and uploading the inventory to the website.
After thirty minutes, I realize my speaker is upstairs and the quiet is driving me crazy.
I rush across the street to get it from my apartment, and decide to bring Socks back with me too.
He spent all yesterday alone, and I can’t do that to him again.
Sleep Token is calling my name today, so I put Socks on the floor in a cardboard box for him to happily destroy with his tiny claws, and allow myself to get lost in the tasks at hand.
I’m so ingrained in the music and steps of putting the garments on my mannequin dress form that I don’t hear Jake come in, so my heart leaves my body when I turn around to find him crouched next to Socks’s box, petting him .
His deep chuckle rumbles through the space as I glare daggers at him. “Jesus, say something next time.”
He slowly stands, eyes raking over every inch of my body. “I knocked, but you must not have heard. Then I didn’t want to disrupt your dancing and got distracted by my little friend.”
Cheeks heating, I turn back to my project.
I wasn’t dancing, at least I hope I wasn’t.
I’m tired of embarrassing myself in front of him.
There used to be days when nothing I did or said mattered.
No one’s opinion of me could have been lower than my own, so I did what I wanted and let the cards lie where they may.
That also may have been part of why I had no friends before Lily staked her claim on me.
“What do you want?”
The room is silent as I wait for his reply.
Annoyed when he says nothing, I spin on my heels to find him with sights locked on me.
His casual stance of leaning against the doorframe with his muscled and tattooed arms holding my cat makes my mouth water.
A slow smile spreads over his face as he holds my stare.
“There she is,” he mutters with a slight lift of his lips.
“I was hoping you could turn up your music or put your speaker in the doorway. It’s too much for us both to have music on, and your choice isn’t horrible.
” He’s in another tight shirt today, this one gray, with black pants and his signature work boots.
His beard is slowly growing back, and his hair looks recently trimmed, giving him a clean but primal look.
“Yeah, okay. You have to leave your bay doors closed then in case Socks wanders to your side.”
He nods, pushing off the wall without breaking eye contact. “You look good today. That slutty pinup look is really doing it for me.” Turning, he walks back to his shop, Socks still nestled in his arms, and calls over his shoulder, “Oh, and I’m taking my new friend.”
My shock doesn’t last long and is quickly masked with anger.
His words hit hard, but I’d be lying if I said they didn’t send tingles to my core.
There’s no AC in here, and it gets hot quickly with all the maneuvering I’m doing, so I’m wearing jean shorts, a red tank, and combat boots.
Okay, the bandana in my hair might have given that impression, but it keeps my hair out of my face.
My phone vibrates from the table when I move the Bluetooth speaker closer to the open door.
Triple Threat Group Chat
Michele:
How much work do you have left today?
I know she’s talking to me since Lily is waiting on her next round of feedback for her novel.
Amber:
I’ll be here half the night. Have over 40 items to photograph, price, inventory, then upload. Have orders to pack too.
Lily:
Cool, we’ll be there at noon with lunch. What sounds good?
Amber:
You guys don’t have to do that.
Michele:
You know we will anyway, so might as well get the food you want.
Amber:
Smoothie and salad place down the road?
Lily:
Omg yes, I would kill for a smoothie. See you in 2 hours.
Around noon, they pull up, hands full of food bags. To my surprise, Michele walks right through my space and into Jake’s. I help Lily set down the drink tray and grab the salads, when Michele comes sauntering back, closing the door between our spaces.
“Sorry, I picked him up something too. He has your cat asleep on his worktable.”
I snort. Of course my traitorous little fuzz bucket is lounging happily over there. “Yeah, they seem to be friends now. I’m sorry, I don’t have seating in here besides an old stool.”
Neither seem to care as they dig into their lunch standing at my foldout table.
Lily wolfs down her food in half the time we do, then starts digging through the mess of clothes.
She sneaks some pieces into the corner, claiming them for herself.
Hell, for all the help these women have given me, they could each take one of everything for free, and I would still feel like I owe them.
After we finish eating, I dish out projects for everyone.
Lily starts packing online orders while I work on inventorying everything onto the website.
Michele, our little fashion expert, starts on the photos.
My eyes wander to her frequently, always surprised at the things she pairs together on the mannequin that end up looking chic and trendy.
An hour in, Lily gets antsy, looking over at me every other minute. Michele’s pointed stares between us don’t escape my notice either. With a lighthearted huff, I close my laptop and stare them down.
“Out with it.”
Lily flushes, squeezing her fingers together in front of her. “How are you doing?”
Her simple question takes me by surprise. With their behavior, I expected them to demand a play by play of everything that has transpired between Jake and me. “I’m finnne …”
“Oh, bullshit,” Michele says, moving to stand next to Lily across the table from me.
Their looks mirror each other as they stand like sentries, not backing down.
“Talk to us, Amber. You’ve been running yourself ragged since the funeral, you’re always in your head, and you hardly make time for us anymore.
You can’t keep running from your feelings. ”
Quieter, Lily adds, “We hate watching you suffer alone. You need to talk to someone. We’re your best friends, and we hardly know anything about you. We want to be your support system, but we can’t do that if you don’t let us in.”
Shit, I was not expecting this today. They aren’t wrong.
For the last five and a half months, I’ve been moving through each day with the mindset of if I don’t stop moving, my feelings can’t catch up .
You can’t grieve if you have no time. Every day I miss Jana, and every day, I tell myself today will be the day it hurts a little less.
It never does.
They have done so much for me and continue to despite my brush-offs and closed-off demeanor. I want to let them in. These two would be the last people on earth to judge me, but opening up is hard. Trusting is hard.
“Tell us something about your past. One thing. You can’t keep your whole life bottled up. It’s not healthy,” Michele says.
One thing about my past. That’s easier than facing my grief at the moment.
“I, uh, it was just me and Mom growing up. She never told me who my dad was, and she never mentioned other family. We struggled; she liked to self-medicate and couldn’t hold down a job, so we often moved from one shitty apartment to another.
” I look to them for any signs of judgment, but they are simply listening, waiting for me to continue.