“LET ME GO GRAB SHADOW’S leash.”
Remember those words, because they were the ones leading to a shitshow of epic proportions, sponsored by Pam Morgansen, directed by yours-fucking-truly.
Here’s how it happened: I stood in the foyer next to the oldest dog in the world. Not an exaggeration. Shadow flashed me a tired I-don’t-trust-your-ass glare, and I answered him with an I-wouldn’t-trust-my-ass-either smirk. It was the first time I visited her house in daylight, and it was luxurious, silent and empty. It was like putting a designer dress on a corpse. Beautifully depressing. I scanned the huge paintings on the walls and tried not to think about the fact that Jesse thought that I smelled good. Usually, I didn’t give a shit. That’s not to say I smelled like it. But I wasn’t used to making an effort.
Anyway, I was trying not to think about that moment in the maze. Instead, I focused on how Shadow’s breath smelled eerily similar to a dead body. Not a good sign. I heard rustling from the kitchen’s direction. My ears perked. If Darren saw me here, he’d see the progress I’d made with Jesse. Only it wasn’t Darren. It was, or should I say that was, a human Barbie doll.
The lady of the manor.
Her hair was too bleached, her skin too tanned, too leathery, too much. Her blue eyes were vacant. An overpainted marionette with the strings cut off. Pretty, but hollow in all the important places. She wore wedge shoes and a bright green caftan. Her fake tan was the exact shade of a KFC chicken thigh.
“A stranger in the house.” Barbie slid her sunglasses down, gasping theatrically, but it was flirtatious. “I’m Pam. And you are?”
Not interested.
“Roman.” I leaned back—boot against the swan-hued wall—my charming smirk on full display. She was of zero interest to me, but I didn’t need her causing trouble with her daughter. Best to be civilized, for now.
Pam shifted closer, offering me the back of her hand for a kiss. I took her palm, lowered it, then shook it. Her blindingly white beam collapsed an inch.
“This is not very chivalrous,” she commented.
“It is also not the seventeenth century,” I informed her, snapping my gum in her face.
“That’s all right. I’m not too fond of gentlemen, anyway.” Her pale eyes scanned my body with hunger I knew too well, because I satisfied those cravings. “I didn’t know Jesse hung out with the tattooed, tall, handsome types.”
I was starting to feel increasingly sorry for Darren. His stepdaughter didn’t care for him much, and his wife actively tried to screw men who weren’t him. All the money in the world and not an ounce of respect. I refrained from answering Pam, lowering myself down to pat Shadow.
“How did you meet Jesse?” Her bare thigh was suddenly thrust in front of my eyes.
“She had a flat tire. I had hands. The rest is history.”
“Classic Jesse. She’s a total mess sometimes.” Pam laughed, but there was no humor in her voice.
I kneaded Shadow’s fur. How long did it take Jesse to grab a goddamn leash? I wanted to get out of there. Preferably before my potential investor found his wife trying to grind her groin all over my face, which was starting to look like a plausible scenario.
“So…are you guys…?” Pam left the question hanging in the air. It was time to smash her little black heart. I straightened my spine, looked her in the eye, and delivered the news.
“Dating? No.”
“Oh.” She licked her lips, staring at me through her extended eyelashes. “That’s good to know.”
“Not for my lack of trying,” I said after a calculated pause, making sure the sentence left the desired impact I was looking for. I stared through her, the way I did when I wanted to dismantle people with egos bigger than their mansions. In my experience, the more insecure you were about holding onto what you had, the bigger your ego was. “She’s not too hot on buying a cow that every farmer in town has already milked, and I can’t blame her. I only attract a certain type of woman. Not the picky ones.” I cocked my head sideways, giving her a thorough scan.
If Pam had balls, they would have shriveled in my fist. But she didn’t, so she simply tilted her chin up in mock defiance, batted her eyelashes when she realized she’d chosen the wrong person to talk shit about her daughter with, and stepped back. Jesse selected the exact same moment to drag her ass back downstairs, skipping two steps at a time with a black leash in her hand. I successfully suppressed the mental image of collaring her with it and taking her on a nice, lengthy stroll inside her fancy bathroom before fucking her in front of what I bet was a Jack and Jill mirror. And by ‘successfully’, I meant not really.
Same. Fucking. Difference.
“Ready?” I asked. Jesse’s eyes darted from her mom to me, her face rippled with concern. I offered her an easy smile that hopefully conveyed she had nothing to worry about. It was the first time I truly felt sorry for Snowflake. Because even after everything she’d been through, she was tough as nails (and just about as friendly). But being betrayed by your own parent…that’s a whole new level of fucked up. I knew because I wanted to be sick in my mouth every time I thought about who I came from.
Pam’s eyes finally flickered to Jesse. “So. Bane Protsenko, huh? Least now we know you’re my kid.” She snort-laughed, shaking her head.
Of course Pam knew who I was. I was an official gigolo, the Lululemon housewives’ favorite toy. I spun around to stare at Jesse’s mom, this time without the coat of indifference and fake politeness, but with my real expression. The one I saved for people who overstepped their boundaries.
“Is there a problem, Pamela?” I didn’t call her Mrs. Morgansen because I didn’t want to show her respect, and ‘Pam’ felt too friendly. Pamela was a nice fuck-you way to address her without using the b word.
“You tell me.” She took a step toward us. “I just want to make sure your intentions for my daughter are nice and pure.” She tongued her lower lip again. “I would like to discuss your relationship with Jesse privately.”
What she wanted was for me to dick her down until she was buried in orgasms. I smiled tightly. I was going to play her little game. I needed to make it perfectly clear to her that I’d never touch her. It would also put Jesse’s mind at ease.
“Tomorrow afternoon,” I said dryly.
“Perfect. I’ll meet you at your café.”
Bitch knew everything worth knowing about me, apparently. It was perfectly possible she’d tried to hire me sometime the last couple years, and I’d just never noticed, because I didn’t take any unknown calls since I’d closed my list of clients.
“Perfect,” I echoed, my tone implying it was anything but.
Jesse and I were out the door a minute later. She helped Shadow climb up the back seat of the Rover, then rounded her vehicle and slipped in. I started walking over to my Harley across the street.
“Where to?” I asked over my shoulder. She rolled her window down, her brow worried and her eyes inquisitorial.
“What was all that about with Pam?” With Pam? What the fuck kind of family was that? My mom would club me with a jar of pickled cabbage if I referred to her as Sonya and not Mamul.
“Guess she’s worried about you.” I shrugged, turning to face her. I wasn’t going to add that she’d hit on me. I was in the business of saving Jesse, not hurting her. And she was a smart girl. She didn’t need me to spell it out for her.
“She is worried about getting laid.” A flame kindled in Jesse’s eyes. “If you take her on as a client, I won’t hang out with you anymore. It’s not an ultimatum. I know you have a business to run. I’m just letting you know.” Her voice was firm and resolute. It was the only time I could recall that the idea of punching a woman—Pam, in this case—felt somewhat appealing.
“There you are.” I grinned. She cocked one eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. “The old Jesse. I was waiting for her to make a cameo.”
Snowflake shook her head, pretending to be exasperated, but I knew she secretly liked that I saw her as more than just her reputation.
“So. Where to?” I repeated my question. I wasn’t going to address her question seriously. We were friends. We hung out. She was supposed to trust me not to bang her mom.
Snowflake gave me the address, but she still looked hesitant, tapping her fingers over the edge of her opened window.
I flipped my keys in my hand. “Meet you there.”
“So. About my mom…?” She trailed off. I stared at her like she’d tried to rub a hedgehog on my cock.
“Of course I’m not going to fuck your mom, Jesse. What kind of asshole would do that?”
“Nolan would,” she muttered, then amended. “Did.”
I stopped on my tracks. Nolan had been in high school when he and Jesse were still on speaking terms. Was he a senior or a junior when he’d sampled Mrs. Morgansen? I turned around to the girl with the Pushkin tattoo.
“Is that a figure of speech all the cool kids are using nowadays?”
“Nope, it’s the figure zero in loyalty when it comes to Pam Carter. My mom likes them young. So please excuse my suspicion.”
“You’re shitting me.”
She gave me a pointed look then sighed. “I really hate men.”
“As a species or as a concept? And does that include me?”
“As everything. And unless you have a secret vagina, yes, you’re included.”
“Pretty sure I’d know if I had one. It’d make a great place to stash pot.” I groomed the tip of my beard with my fingers, something I did more and more when Jesse was around. Normally I didn’t care what people thought of me. With her, I didn’t not care.
“Too bad. That would mean eighty percent of the women of Todos Santos were lesbians, and that would explain why all the guys here are such angry douchebags.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. It was the lightest thing she’d ever said to me. In fact, I nearly toppled over laughing. Jesse Carter had been burned, but that only made her hotter than hell. She wasn’t emo about what had happened to her. She was angry. And rightly-fucking-so. A weird, stupid regret slammed into me—for never properly meeting the girl she’d been before the attack.
She was good, and funny, and broken. But it was only the last part that defined her. In her eyes, anyway.
“Know what, Snowflake? I think you officially graduated from creeper to a mild weirdo. You’re ready to give me a ride. Least you can do for dragging my ass through a fucking maze.”
“Did I win you over with my lesbian talk?” She batted her eyelashes, plastering a hand to her cheek.
“Yes. I want to hear all about lesbians the entire ride to the vet, please. And make it graphic.”
“Not happening, and no thank you.”
“Look at us, bantering like old friends.” I opened my arms wide. Shadow barked from the back, a gentle reminder that he was feeling like crap. “See? Even your dog agrees.”
She redenned, and that was my cue. I circled her Rover, getting into her car, into her realm, and under her skin. She stared ahead as she reversed and slid back from the roundabout parking area. Shadow whimpered, and Jesse twisted slightly, reaching back and patting him. Her scent hit my nostrils and sent my head tipping back against the seat. Ever been punched in the face? I had. Plenty of times. The first few seconds, you’re disoriented. Not really sure what time of the day it is. Where you are. That’s what Jesse smelled like. Like a punch in the fucking face. And, honestly, women should find a way to bottle it as perfume. Very powerful stuff.
“What are you so happy about?” she asked, suspicious of my smirk.
I shook my head. “Green apples and fresh rain.”
Experience had taught me that there were a few types of silence.
Embarrassed silence. Intense silence. Sexy silence. Mysterious silence. Sorry-I-fucked-your-wife-she-said-you-were-cool-with-it silence. Jesse and I had settled into a new type—companionable silence. It felt like her variation of small talk, and sat between us like your favorite uncle who always made great fart jokes.
I got it. She was slowly getting used to hanging out with someone new. Not just someone new, but an actual man, who smelled and looked and acted like a guy. It couldn’t have been easy. Her life story was like a bitter winter, one that covers everything in a thick layer of ice you need to crash your way through. It was in the air, crackling between us. I was working my way to the flame that danced inside the old Jesse.
After the ride, I carried Shadow out of the back seat, because Old Sport, as she’d called him, was damn heavy and didn’t seem to be getting around very well. The forty-something receptionist at the vet looked between us, obviously half-worried that I’d kidnapped Jesse, before buzzing the intercom on her desk. Two minutes later, Snowflake walked into the examination room with Shadow. There was a glass window overlooking the reception area, so I could see them both, along with the vet, Dr. Wiese.
Dr. Wiese was a man.
A man who didn’t know Snowflake.
A man who therefore tried to shake her hand, and watched how she very awkwardly pretended not to notice, talking in fast spurts of words and turning fifty shades of red. She took desperate steps away from him as she helped Shadow hop onto the metal examination table, all while Dr. Wiese—oblivious to her condition—kept on getting closer to her to show her a batch of Shadow’s fur that he plucked out, or something in his ear. I paced the reception like a wild animal in captivity, trying not to think about how her discomfort resulted in me feeling like a pile of shit.
Not your problem.
Not your issue.
Step away from the crazy train, Bane. That shit is moving way too fast and doesn’t have a return ticket.
Sometimes, when you know you’re in too deep, you try to give yourself excuses. Mine was that it wasn’t about Jesse. I wouldn’t have wanted any girl to feel sexually harassed, even if by a handshake. I braced my arms over the back of a chair in the waiting room, shaking my head. The receptionist wrinkled her nose, her eyes still on her monitor.
“Sir, can I help you with anything?” She cleared her throat. The bright glows flicking against her face told me she was playing Candy Crush, and that she really didn’t give a damn about Jesse, Shadow, or even her job.
“I need to get in there.” I raked my fingers through my hair.
“Why?”
“Because he doesn’t know.”
“Doesn’t know what?”
That Jesse isn’t like the rest. Dr. Wiese was going to touch her, and she was going to freak out, and everything was going to go down the shitter. That was my only angle, really. Dude was going to ruin my progress with Snowflake. I would be back to square one trying to lure her out to the land of the free and independent. Right? Right?
Whatever. Fuck. Yes. Of course that was it.
“I need to get in there.” I slapped my palms over her desk, and she finally looked up from her screen, her fingers hovering over the mouse, her jaw slack.
“I’m not sure…”
“She doesn’t let anyone touch her,” I said, fast. “And he’s trying to. He doesn’t know, but she’s freaking out.” I was hoping I could communicate it to her with my gaze alone that Jesse could cock-punch Dr. Wiese if she felt too threatened.
Our eyes met and she nodded, swallowing. “I…uh…”
I didn’t bother to hear the rest. I stormed inside. The first thing I noticed was Jesse’s posture when her head whipped to look at who it was. It relaxed at my presence, and that wasn’t a stroke to my ego, but a full-blown hand job. Dr. Wiese was a couple feet away from her, explaining something about Shadow’s teeth that she probably couldn’t decipher because she was too busy having the mother of all internal meltdowns. I walked over to them, placing myself between her and the vet, leaning my entire body against a wall. A human shield.
“And you are…?” Dr. Wiese scratched his meaty cheek.
“Jesse’s bodyguard,” I said, reaching out to shake his hand. Dr. Wiese remained professional and got back to examining Shadow. I buried my hands in my pockets, and when Snowflake shot me a look, I answered back with a smirk. The old vet frowned, then said that he wanted to do blood work for Shadow, already washing his hands and putting his blue gloves on.
“Whatever for?” Jesse’s back straightened, her eyes widening. Wiese shook his head, patting an apathetic Shadow, still on the steel table.
“It’s just…here.” He took her hand and directed it to Shadow’s throat. Jesse’s hand jolted violently, but I stepped in, removing Dr. Wiese’s hand, placing mine on hers instead. Her palm was on Shadow’s fur now, and mine was covering hers. My heart pounded so fast I thought it was going to jump out of my throat, and I didn’t even know why. Her skin was hot and silky.
Perfectly gorgeous.
Perfectly damaged.
Perfectly ruined.
Did I mention perfectly forbidden? Because that shit should be at the top of the list. And since when did I care about how people’s skin felt like? Seriously, what the hell was happening to me?
I knew I needed to remove my hand from hers, now that I’d saved her from Dr. Wiese and mostly from herself, but decided to wait for her to give me a cue. The cue that never came. I felt her fingers trembling with excitement and fear under mine. No one talked. No one moved. No one breathed.
The Untouchable had been touched. And she’d survived.
Dr. Wiese swallowed loudly beside us. He was finally picking up on the context clues. “That’s it. Now, move her hand around, so she can feel the lump. It might be nothing, but we don’t want to take any chances. Shadow is not a pup anymore.”
Her hand froze on Shadow’s fur. I began to move it in circles under my palm. It felt…weird. Intimate. More intimate than fucking a girl to a near-death experience, somehow. I began to realize that maybe I wasn’t as immune as I thought I was to illicit pussy. Because all I could think about was directing her hand into the inside of the waistband of her jeans and have her fingering herself with my hand on top of hers.
“Blood work,” she echoed, as we both found the lump Dr. Wiese was talking about. Her eyes fluttered shut, and I squeezed my fingers between hers, lacing them together, tightening my hold on her.
My mouth was nearly pressed to Jesse’s ear. I was behind her, enveloping her, almost.
“Is he going to be okay?” I asked.
Asshole pled the fifth. I wanted to leap on Dr. Wiese and strangle the words out of his throat, but I wanted to keep my hand on Jesse’s more. Shadow began to move around, sniffing and whimpering, asking to be taken down. Jesse’s hand went rigid under my own. She turned around and looked at Dr. Wiese.
“I can’t lose him.”
“He’s in good shape, Jesse. We just need to run some tests.” He tried soothing her, rubbing Shadow’s cheek again. Must have been a nervous tick.
“No, no. I can’t lose him,” she repeated, her eyes filling with unshed tears.
“Jess…”
“He’s my only true friend.”
“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured nervously. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
But it was. There was Old Sport, Mrs. Belfort, and then there was me. And I didn’t count because she was nothing but a business transaction to me. Sup-fucking-posedly.
Shadow was aimlessly pacing back and forth on the table, his nails making a click-click-click sound that matched the tick behind Jesse’s left eyelid. Dr. Wiese gave me a look, and I pulled Jesse away from her dog, again, surprised at how she had let me touch her, even though I kept shit as PG as possible, my fingers fluttering over her arm. Dr. Wiese took Shadow’s blood—a few tubes of it, at that—while Jesse looked the other way and cried silently.
“When are we going to get the results?” I shoved my hands into my front pockets.
“It’s pretty busy here this time of the year. We’ll call and send the results by mail, so watch out for them,” Dr. Wiese said as he placed all the tubes in the test tube rack. I gave Jesse a look to confirm she’d heard him, and she nodded faintly.
“What are we thinking about?” I walked over to stand by Dr. Wiese, watching Shadow, who looked exhausted and kind of spent. I’d never had a pet. Not for lack of wanting. Money had been tight, and a pet meant spending more money. Also, my mom had worked ridiculous hours the first ten years of her career, and I’d learned early on that in order to survive, I needed to hang out at other people’s places after school to eat home-cooked meals, so I hadn’t been around much, either.
I didn’t know what it felt like to lose a dog, but I had a feeling that for Jesse, it was also ten times worse, because he was more than just a pet. He was another piece of old Jesse she was never going to get back.
“All done.” Dr. Wiese snapped his elastic gloves off and dumped them into a stainless steel trash bin, turning around to wash his hands again. “Give him plenty of water and make sure he eats. Wet food, if he doesn’t have any appetite. I’ll prescribe him antibiotics right now, but we’ll be in touch.”
“Okay,” Jesse managed, still sniffing.
I grabbed Shadow and helped him down just when she turned to the doctor and said, “This is all my fault, you know.”
The silence that followed made me want to throw up a little.
I thanked the doctor, booked the follow-up appointment for Shadow myself with Miss Candy Crush, and paid the bill, because Jesse was busy shivering in the corner of the reception, mumbling empty promises and apologies to a lethargic Shadow. I carried the smelly furball to her Rover, put him in the back seat, and made sure that he was all curled up and comfortable. Then I turned around to face her.
I was going to say something. I wasn’t really sure what. Usually I just tossed a lie or two to make uncomfortable shit go away. But as I swiveled, I realized Jesse was right beside me, her green apples and fresh rain scent filling my nostrils once again.
“What?” I furrowed my brows.
She shook her head, taking another step closer to me.
“You’re entering creeper zone again,” I said. She didn’t smile. She didn’t talk. It didn’t register at first, when she rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to my cheek.
Now, here’s the part I wasn’t so crazy about admitting: I didn’t do any of my usual moves. I didn’t smirk or rake my eyes over her body or gather her into a one-arm hug like the tool they had taught me to be at All Saints High. I just stood there like a damn fool, feeling her kiss soaking into my cheek like poison. Why poison? Because it was going to kill me if I wasn’t careful.
This girl was an apple, all right.
But it wasn’t green. It was red and lethal and not worthy of six-fucking-million dollars.
Shadow broke the moment by barking from the back seat. Jesse stepped away. Old Sport cheek-blocked me. After everything I’d done for him. Now I knew generosity didn’t pay off.
We both hurried into the vehicle, our seat belts clicking in unison. Jesse drove us back into downtown Todos Santos, and I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t fucking up the deal, because kissing on the cheek was like a shoulder-punch in some cultures. There was nothing sexual about it, a statement that my throbbing dick didn’t agree with, but since when was I listening to his opinions? He liked everyone. That fucker and his hippie mentality.
“He’s going to be fine.” I said something aloud so that the voices in my head would stop urging me to do shit like putting my hand on hers again. Note to self: check if you did actually grow a vagina today. It started to look like I might have.
She answered, “I hope so, because he is the only one I have.”
“Flattered,” I quipped.
She laughed. “Stop doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Offer me hope. Faith is a dangerous thing. It drives you to try, and when you try, you fail.”
I wondered if she realized that our knees were nearly touching. That we were closer than we’d ever been. That not only could we smell each other, but we could also study every individual freckle and blemish on each other’s skin.
“Aren’t you a bundle of sunshine and unicorns,” I remarked.
“My dad is dead, my mom is a bitch, and I have zero friends. My dog is dying because I was too much of a coward to take him to his annual checkups. I have no ties to this world. Setting up roots, getting out of the house…” She took a sharp breath, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel as she drove. “For the past two years, I’ve been waiting for the sky to fall on me. Wishing for it, really. I didn’t plan on giving this whole life thing another shot. That’s why I didn’t want you to give me a job.”
“But that’s why you need one,” I countered. She was rolling onto Main Street, heading toward El Dorado, and I wasn’t ready to part ways. Not on that note. “A reason to wake up in the morning. I need a barista, Snowflake.” I didn’t, but someone was going to lose their job. Probably Beck. He needed to concentrate on his surfing, anyway, and the sponsorships had started pouring in, so it wasn’t like he was going to go hungry. “It’s the easiest job in the world. A chipmunk can do it. Even worse—Beck can.”
“As much as the offer flatters me—and make no mistake, proposing I should do the job of a chipmunk flatters me beyond belief,” she paused for a second, allowing the fact she’d handed me my own ass seep in, “I’m not going to work for you. Have you been to Darren’s house? Money is hardly an issue in my family.”
“Don’t work for the money. Work for the sweat. Work for the power. Work to feel needed, and independent, and goddamn fucking productive. Work to show the motherfuckers who did what they did to you that you’re strong. Illegitimi non carborundum.”
“Is that a Kama Sutra position?” She sighed loudly. I chuckled. She was slowly peeling off her layers of fear. Now she was just annoyed, and I could work with that.
“It means ‘don’t let the bastards grind you down.’ ”
For a second there, it looked like I’d gotten to her. She nodded, agreeing with the sentiment. Then she said, “I don’t even know how to make smoothies.”
“Neither do I,” I answered. “What’s the worst you can do?”
I put my hand on the wheel and steered it to the left, toward the promenade, toward Café Diem. Jesse swiveled her head and stared at me hard.
“Don’t be late to your own job interview. Officially, we started five minutes ago, and you’re already sassing.”
She smiled to herself.
This time it reached her eyes.
Another win for me.
Another win I didn’t want to share with Darren.
I let Jesse park in my spot since I didn’t have the truck or the Harley. Then I helped Shadow out on autopilot. He seemed in better spirits, but still looked like he needed a dog spa retreat or something. Jesse trailed behind us into the coffee shop, because even though she didn’t mind my proximity, she was much more comfortable without me all up in her business. Side bonus: Shadow had stopped looking at me like I was the Gestapo, so I guess we were getting places.
You still cheek-blocked me, asshole.
We got in.
Skateboarding teenagers, young professionals, tattooed MacBooks, and skinny lattes and green shakes. Café Diem was hipster heaven, and it was full of regulars, so I knew a lot of people here had witnessed the shitshow that was Jesse storming out on me mid-date a couple days ago. Date, hang out. Whatever. Darren said I could date her but not fuck her. Wasn’t that the definition of marriage?
I waltzed behind the counter before Jesse had the time to object. She was going to get the job. It was in my contract with Darren. She could pretty much burn the place down trying to make coffee, and I’d still hire her. Not that it was that bad a deal, to be honest. I hated to admit that it wouldn’t be the worst thing to look at her tight little body, luscious raven hair, and ocean eyes.
Ocean eyes.
Okay, now I was ninety-nine percent sure I’d grown a pussy and actually contemplated going to the restroom to check that my dong was still intact. And Snowflake wasn’t only nice to look at it. She was one funny chick, too.
“This is Jesse and Shadow. Don’t shake her hand or pet him. They’re both rabid.” I jerked my thumb toward them, my voice as grave and serious as always. “Jesse, this is Beck and Gail.” I motioned to my bald-by-choice emo chick and surfer friend baristas. Jesse snickered and I didn’t turn around to see it, even though it was rare. I knew better than to fuck myself over like that. I sauntered toward the smoothie blender and tapped it.
“Hi!” Gail chirped. I wasn’t sure what she was trying to prove with the shiny, shaved head. If it was an attempt to look a little less girlie, Beck didn’t get the memo, because he nudged her away with his ass, doing a little wave of his own.
“And I’m Gail’s better half, Callum Beck.”
“You’re not half of me. You’re not even half a man,” Gail retorted.
Beck snickered. “I could easily prove you wrong, if you’d just go on a date with me.”
“Anyway,” I stressed, not wanting Jesse to think this was some kind of a HormoneHub where everybody fucked everybody, even though it wasn’t that far from the truth. “Most of our customers are surfers, skateboarders, or beach bums, so we mainly focus on smoothies, not coffee. Make me one now and we’ll see how we go from there.”
“I don’t want the job,” she repeated for the thousandth time. To make her point, she stayed rooted to the floor, but it was in the business side of the counter, right along with us. I was the first one to admit my experience with the other sex was usually just that—sex. I’d only had one girlfriend in my life, Edie, and although she was feisty and brave, she was never so angry. I seemed to have brought out the red in Jesse, and I couldn’t lie—it turned me the fuck on like Christmas at Bethlehem.
“But you do want me to take Shadow for his follow-up appointment. Correct?” I asked, smiling nonchalantly.
She opened her mouth to say something then snapped it shut.
“That’s what I thought. I’m happy to play nurse Protsenko to Old Sport as long as I gain a new employee.”
She shifted her gaze, swallowing hard. I knew I’d won this one, and it felt good.
Snowflake marched over to the blender. She waved her little hand at me, her face a brewing storm. “If I make you a smoothie, do you promise to drink it?”
My eyebrows dove down with suspicion. “Are you gonna put jizz in it or something?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. I have it handy in my purse.”
I grinned. Like it mattered. I’d lick the sweat between her ass cheeks after a hot yoga class if it wasn’t for the contract I’d signed.
“I promise everything I put in there is legit. I’m just not sure if the combination will be to your liking.”
I humored her. “I like my employees innovative. Let’s see what you got.”
Now she was smiling. Really smiling. I looked away and led Shadow to the far corner of the café, giving him a bowl with fresh water. It was going to be a long-ass six months if every time she grinned, my dick wanted to give her a mouth-to-mouth.
I leaned against the counter, Gail and Beck by my side, as we all watched Jesse dumping banana pieces, strawberries, vanilla yogurt, coconut water…then spinach, kale, avocado, cream cheese, ginger, cayenne, tofu…
“Easy there, Jesse,” Gail said, taking a step toward Carter. I watched closely for any signs of distress from the latter, but found none. She was less uncomfortable with women. “I’m not sure everything goes together.”
Jesse slammed the blender shut and offered Gail a sweet smile. “You think? Gee, I can’t imagine what would happen if I don’t get this job.”
“There’s no way Bane’s gonna drink that.” Beck chortled from behind me, and I imagined him blowing his stupid, long brown hair away. Stupid because I had long hair, too, but at least I kept mine in a bun.
It was only then—with Beck behind me and Gail lined up with me, but not anywhere near Jesse—that I noticed that I was blocking people from Jesse. It had become second nature to me at this point.
See a person that’s not me ➔ put myself between him/her and Snowflake ➔ make sure he/she doesn’t get anywhere near her until we are out of the room.
Jesse started the blender and I watched in disgust as every single thing we had in stock swirled together into a smoothie from hell. Once she was done, she made a show of biting her lower lip, leaning forward, plucking a large slushie cup from the pyramid of cups and pouring the smoothie into it, as the entire room watched her with awe mixed with disbelief. I guessed she was oblivious to the fact that everyone was watching her. Or maybe she knew, and for a moment there, she was the Jesse prior to what had happened to her. Confident and feisty and a lot of fucking fun. She slid the cup across the counter and tilted her head sideways, batting her eyelashes.
“Here, Mr. Protsenko. I truly hope this will be to your satisfaction and will result in my employment.”
Silence. A guy at the far end of the room stood up from his chair and slapped his table repeatedly, shouting, “Drink. Drink. Drink. Drink.”
Seconds later, everyone was standing, balling their fists, urging me on to down that fucking nightmare of a smoothie. Take it from someone who’d visited Russia often enough to remember the small details—this shit could only happen in America. The way people unite to see someone do something completely stupid is uplifting, if not downright inspirational. Hell, Jackass made millions off that concept.
“You’re funny,” I said flatly.
“And you’re stalling.” She grinned.
Hot. Fucking. Damn.
But, really—was that my thank you for dragging her ass back to civilization? At the same time, I couldn’t ignore how fun it was to finally be challenged, and, yes, even ridiculed. Beck drummed the counter, and Gail clapped her hands excitedly, woo-hoo-ing like an extra in a nineties high school movie. Jesse’s eyes clung to my face, so I picked up the cup, my eyes locked on hers as it touched my lips.
“You’re going to regret it,” I hissed into the brown foam on my lips.
“So are you,” she whispered, her eyes holding mine.
I downed the whole disgusting thing without breathing through my nose once.
People burst into applause, like kernels of popcorn exploding in a microwave bag, and Jesse laughed so hard she had to brace herself against the counter. I pretended to launch at her, and she pretended to run, her shoulder brushing mine. Instead of flinching or running, she just straightened back up, wiped a happy tear off her face, and smiled at the brownish-greenish foam that clung to my upper lip.
“You’re hired,” I growled into her face.
For a second, it looked like she might just wipe the foam off with her thumb.
For a second, it looked like old Jesse would bulldoze her way into the room.
But in reality, she turned around and moved away, calling for Shadow.
That was fine by me, because even though I didn’t get the old Jesse, I’d still managed to do something monumental that day.
I’d killed The Untouchable. And for the first time in a long time, her sky wasn’t going to fall.