Nine

Dahlia

 

“I promise,” I said to Patty, the cleaning lady. “I’m sending you home. Full pay.”

The old woman sniffed and rubbed at her nose with a tissue. “You don’t need to do that.”

I touched her shoulder. “Go home, go to bed, and call your son to bring you some soup and tea, okay? You’re sick, you crazy lady. Did you drive here?”

She shook her head.

“Let me get Fergus to take you home. Sit down.” I directed her to a chair and walked back to where Fergus was rifling through resumes for Abby’s perusal.

My assistant manager was a twenty-nine-year-old, blond, god of a man. He had muscles on every inch of his body thanks to a love affair with the gym, but it didn’t look out of place on his tall, lean frame.

My favorite thing in the world was watching him get hit on at the bar. It happened five times a night and watching the look on women’s faces when he said, “Sorry, darling, I’m gay,” never, ever got old.

“Hey, Ferg?” I leaned against the doorframe. “Can you drive Patty home? She’s sick.”

He wrinkled his handsome face up as he lifted his attention from the desk to me. “I just got back from vacation. I don’t have time to be sick.”

“Nobody has time to be sick. Stop being a drama queen, or I’ll make her sneeze on you.”

He sighed, closed the folder, and stood. “Fine, but you know she lives only a block away from Reggie. If I see him and I cry the entire day, it’s on you, and I’ll need extra breaks.”

I rolled my eyes so hard I saw my brain. He and his long-term boyfriend, Reggie, were constantly breaking up and getting back together. I had whiplash from the whole thing, honestly.

This time, they’d gone on vacation to the Bahamas for two weeks, and while there, Reggie had eyed up the cabana boys the night before they came home. If Fergus was to be believed—he had a flair for the dramatic—they’d fought the entire flight home to Vegas and promptly broken up the moment Fergus had taken him home yesterday afternoon.

That was twenty-four hours ago.

This morning, I’d texted Abby. I had fifty bucks that said they’d be back together in three days, and she said this one would be a week.

“I saw you rolling your eyes at me.” He tucked his shirt back into his waistband as he followed me to the bar.

“Good. Then, maybe, you’ll understand how ridiculous it is.”

“He was eying up the cabana boy!”

I leaned against the bar, noting even Patty was covering a smile. “Honey, of course he was. He was bringing you drinks! Where else was he supposed to look?”

“At me.” Fergus sniffed. “Come on, Patty, darling. Let’s get you home.” He went to put his arm around her before thinking better of it. “You’re not contagious, are you?”

Patty answered with a cough. When he jumped away from her, she shot me a wink.

I dipped my head to hide my laughter, only letting it go when I heard the door shut behind them. If Fergus knew I’d laughed at him, I’d never hear the end of it.

Seriously, he’d be reminding me about it in ten years.

I pulled a packet of new coasters from beneath the bar with the intention to set them on every table, but the phone ringing beat me to it. Glancing at the clock, I picked up the phone and answered.

“Good morning, this is The Scarlet Letter, Dahlia speaking.” I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder. It was a little awkward, but it enabled me to tear the packaging on the coasters open.

“Good morning.” The deep, now-familiar tone of Damien Fox stopped me in my tracks. “Are you able to talk?”

“I’m sorry, who is this?” I kept my tone light and airy.

“You know who it is.”

“I know it’s not Damien Fox. He doesn’t do calls before one in the afternoon, and it’s barely past eleven.”

He laughed.

I shivered.

I suck.

“I’m his long-lost twin brother,” he said.

“I hope you have better manners than he does, in that case.” I grinned as I put three coasters down on a circular table.

Coughing came from his side. “Exponentially. Lunch, Ms. Lloyd?”

“My treat,” I insisted.

“I can’t.”

“Then, I’m busy.”

“Does twelve-forty-five work for you?”

“I’ll see you at one.” I clicked off the call.

I hated that I grinned like a wild child. I had no place smiling at that man. I was so mad at his earlier antics—madder still that I’d partaken in them—but still, here I was, grinning like a freaking idiot.

Then again, I’d just been really awkward. And awkward was my favorite thing to be.

I put the phone back on the bar and took a drink from my glass of lemonade just so I’d stop smiling. It worked, for the most part. I was able to kill the smiles and focus on setting out all the new coasters. Which was a good thing, because I didn’t want to read into what it meant that I was smiling after a phone call with Damien.

As a rule, I’d been wildly pissed after every conversation we’d ever had. He could probably walk into the bar and walk right back out again and I’d still be annoyed.

He just had that effect on me.

Fergus returned thirty minutes later. I was humming along to Justin Bieber as I wiped down the leather menus from the tables along the back wall, and apparently, that was different enough that he came over, stopped me, and rested the backs of his fingers against my forehead.

“Oh. You don’t have a fever.” He dropped his hand. “You look happy.”

“I’m wiping down menus. How can I possibly be happy?” I brushed off his words and moved to the next table with my damp cloth.

Fergus pursed his lips and leaned against one tall table, propping himself up by resting his forearm on the flat surface. He studied me, even when I turned away from him. Then, just as I flipped over a menu, he gasped so loudly I dropped it.

The slapping of the leather against the tiled floor made me gasp and jerk in response.

“What?” It came out snappier than I’d intended.

“Damien Fox called you!” Fergus jabbed a finger in my direction, accusation furrowing his brow. “And you’re happy about it! You’re a traitor.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out, so I closed it again and settled for blinking aimlessly at him.

How did he get—Abby.

Abby had told him all about Damien at some point between him getting home and coming to work.

“Yes, he did, but I’m not happy about it,” I answered, picking up the menu. “Believe it or not, I don’t like the man.”

“Then why did it take so long for you to respond, hmm?” He waggled his finger that was still pointing at me.

“I didn’t know you knew anything about him.”

Fergus sniffed. “More than you want to know, darling.”

For the second time, I opened my mouth to speak, but this time, my silence wasn’t from a lack of words.

It was from Fergus pushing off the table and disappearing into the back room, leaving me standing alone.

I inhaled deeply and let the breath go. If Abby had told him that Damien was interested in buying the bar, and Fergus knew him, it only stood to reason that they both knew something about the man that I didn’t.

But what?

And why did it dilute Fergus’ normally jubilant demeanor into something so flat?

 

***

 

I didn’t see Fergus for the entire hour between his disappearing act and Damien’s—early—arrival to the bar. We’d only just opened at twelve-thirty, so while I wasn’t surprised at all that Damien was early, I wished the bar was still shut.

If it were, I wouldn’t have to feel his eyes on me the entire time until I could leave at one.

He might have been early, but that didn’t mean I would leave early for him.

Damien took a seat at one of the booths right as I fired up the coffee machine for a customer. I didn’t often work behind the bar—people weren’t exactly my favorite, well, people—but today was an exception. Not all the wait staff were trained, and getting Fergus out here before necessary seemed like a stupid idea.

He was on the emotional side of the scale today, after all. If he were a woman, I’d put a hundred bucks on him suffering from PMS.

“Ferg?” I lightly knocked on the door. “Are you done? I have a lunch meeting.”

He looked up, flicking his hair away from his face. “Yeah. I’m coming.” Standing up, he put his phone in his pocket and followed me out.

“I refilled the coffee machine, and Riley and Gia are working the floor. Sven’s out in the kitchen terrifying poor Quinn.” I snatched my purse up.

“That’s nothing new,” he grunted, slipping behind the bar.

“True.” I checked my phone before tucking it inside my purse and slinging the strap over my shoulder. “I won’t be more than an hour.”

He waved me away with his hand. “Your date is here.”

“He’s not my date.”

“You’re dressed like he’s your date.”

“I’m dressed for work, you little douchebag.” I tapped his upper arm. “And wipe that scowl off your face. I don’t want this tantrum scaring off customers.”

That only caused him to glare at me more. Something I wholeheartedly ignored as a customer came to the bar. The dark look on Fergus’ face was quickly replaced by a wide, beaming smile that hid any trace of annoyance he was feeling.

If he weren’t so good at his job…

I ran my hand through my hair as I approached Damien sitting in the mini booth. “Let’s go. As you can see, I’m already working.”

His full, pink lips curled to the side. The stubble that coated his strong jaw was thicker and more unruly than usual like he hadn’t had a chance to shave this morning. “Efficient. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t keep you long.” He stood up with one smooth movement and raised his hand to Fergus.

Turning my head, I saw Fergus’ barely-raised hand returning the acknowledgment.

Hmm.

Damien touched his hand to my lower back. “Come on. My car is waiting outside.”

“Is there anyone you don’t know?” I asked, stepping away from him. And do you drive anywhere yourself?

“I didn’t have the pleasure of knowing you until a couple of weeks ago.”

“That would be smooth if I didn’t think you were avoiding the question.”

He smirked and opened the door, spearing me with his dark eyes. “You’re too smart for your own good.”

“Ahh, but if I were any more stupid, you’d own my bar.” I flashed him a grin right as I stepped onto the sidewalk.

He laughed. “That’s exactly why you’re too smart.” He held the car door open for me the way he had the bar door. “How is Fergus?”

I slid inside the jet-black, shiny Bentley and eyed him speculatively. How did they know each other? My curiosity was spiking, nudging at me to ask that very question. So, of course, I did. “How do you know him?”

“The same way I know everyone else. Through business.” He joined me in the backseat.

“Gee, that wasn’t vague at all.”

“Not everything needs a clear-cut answer, Dahlia.”

“Only because you don’t like to give them.”

He sighed and leaned back in his seat. “Remind me why I asked you to lunch?”

Something tickled me in the pit of my stomach as I met his gaze. “Because I’m more fascinating than I am annoying.”

“You think you’re annoying?”

“No. I know I’m annoying—especially to you. I’m the puzzle you can’t figure out, and it’s driving you crazy.”

The steadiness with which he held my gaze was all too intimate. Every blink seared the memory of his hypnotic stare deeper into my mind. Even the barest twitch of his lips that curled in amusement was all too familiar.

Too amusing.

Too endearing.

Too…him.

“You know what? You’re right.” He stretched his arms out in front of him and then shrugged. “I’m not even going to pretend that I don’t want to figure you out, sweetheart, because I do. Believe me when I say, nobody is more annoyed about that than me. I tend to avoid people as a rule.”

“The more time I spend with you, the more I realize we have in common. Not enough to be happy about this time with you, but enough that you’re tolerable now.”

“Good to know.” His eyes sparkled. “I took the liberty of picking somewhere for lunch. Do you mind?”

“Actually, yes, but I suppose it’s too late now.”

A grin stretched across his face. “You can choose next time.”

“You assume there will be a next time. Then again, given that you’ve picked both dinner and lunch, assumption seems to be a part of your character.”

“Correct.” The car came to a stop, and Damien opened the door. “Shall we?”