CHET BURIED HIS HEAD in the curve of her neck and stayed there for a long while, still and silent. Chloe had her arms around him and she kept him close to her, her hands doing lazy rubs up and down his smooth skin. It was soft and she loved the feel of it. Her eyes were closed in a daze, and her thoughts rambled.

But eventually, her body started to cool down. Her lower half started to tingle. Not aching, but enough to make her aware she hadn’t done that in a long time. She cringed now as the harsh reality started to slowly settle back into her consciousness.

What the fuck had she done?

And with Chet on the same day she honored and formally said goodbye to her murdered sister? What the hell was wrong with her? Imagining what her parents were going through about now made her feel even more guilty. And here she was, lying naked and satiated beneath a man she never dated or really even spoke to.

Crazy. That was her only conclusion. Her grief made her temporarily lose her grip on sanity. She would have never done something like that under normal circumstances or on a normal day, not even when her life was “normal.” She must have lost her mind. Grief must have drained all of her sanity and logic. She was reaching out for life and the living, and what was more defining in life than sex? Sex was how all life started. Could that explain why she did this?

Chet sensed something was wrong because he slid off and lay on the other side of her. He eventually got up and walked into her adjoining bathroom. Having never once set foot in this house, he walked naked into her bathroom. She sat up, panicked. What had she done? How could she?

He came out with one of her big, white towels wrapped around his waist. He splashed some water over his face and into his hair and she saw the beads of moisture clinging to the top strands. Tugging the covers over her, she slid up to cuddle against the headboard and stared at him while he stared back at her.

She shook her head. He was gorgeous. He was hot. He was all male.

He was also her busboy.

Her gaze lingered on his upper body before finally lifting to his face. He was watching her stare at him. She was ogling him really. His hair with its unique coloring at the tips was shaggy over his collar. A wispy piece dropped, almost as if it were styled, over his forehead, although it was just a natural cowlick, Chloe decided. His tattoos were brightly colored and she couldn’t take her eyes off them. She would have liked to spend a long while figuring out all the elaborate drawings on his skin. Chet was unlike anyone she’d ever been with. Well, considering she’d only ever been with black men, that was not surprising. But more than just his skin color being a contrast was his style. His punk look was the opposite of her conservative fashion. And she suspected that he might be quite a bit younger than her. She didn’t know for sure. She didn’t know his age or hobbies or likes or dislikes or if he were married with five kids or had… The list of what she didn’t know was endless. She knew nothing about this man. Even if they could have talked. Because he sure as shit never talked… so maybe they couldn’t…

“Do you—do you speak fluent English?” Chloe nearly slapped her hand over her mouth. It just popped out but she had to know. She couldn’t take this moment, or the pressure of it, or the stress she felt while staring at him.

He tilted his head, jutting his eyebrows upwards before scrunching them together in obvious surprise. Okay, probably more like shock. He must have been because his eyes flashed with something close to anger and he folded his arms over his chest. Chloe felt the heat rising in her chest. Well! Excuse the hell out of her for questioning it since he never spoke. Not even while having sex with her. She sighed, her shoulders drooping.

“Do I speak English? Are you kidding?”

Her breath rushed out of her mouth. Yes. He did. And quite clearly. No accent. Not that she cared at all if he did, of course. It really surprised her because she had almost convinced herself he couldn’t.

“You never speak at work. Not to me. Not to anyone actually. I never hear you.”

“You’re the one who hired me. Shouldn’t you know the answer to that?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t. Your mother asked me to give you a job so I did. We didn’t even interview you or anything and Dok showed you what to do.” She dropped her gaze as the blush heating her face wasn’t from embarrassment now, but shame. “I think my sister had just disappeared about that time and I was distracted. Not functioning at my best or as I usually do when running the café.”

“She actually disappeared a month before I arrived. And you’ve heard me speak before.”

“I’ve heard you answer a few things. You only speak in sentences while conversing with your mom and that’s in… Thai, right?” She burned up more, realizing she didn’t actually know what language it was. Perhaps they spoke Chinese. She honestly had no idea.

“Yeah,” he grunted, standing at the end of the bed. Anxiety bubbled in her chest, threatening to overtake her. Oh, God, now what had she done?

“Why don’t you say anything to me about my sister? Give me some semblance of sympathy? How come you don’t comment on what is going on? You say nothing, yet you—you do this?”

“Because there were no words that could help, were there? Sorry? Does it help you if I say I’m sorry for you? Feeling better yet?” His sarcasm was thick and Chloe licked her lips. Holy shit. She must have offended him. He was justifiably upset with her.

“No,” she whispered.

He nodded, dropping his hands. “I’m not the chattiest person.”

“You think?” she cried out as she glared at him with her jaw clenched.

“No. I only speak when I have something to say or to add to the conversation. There wasn’t anything to say about this.”

“There’re about a hundred things to say or… or try to explain… what this…” Shaking her head, she dropped her gaze back down. Nervously, she plucked at the comforter with her fingers, grateful for the distraction. “But you thought… this could be helpful?” She waved her hand towards the bed.

“It was.” His tone sounded final. Done. No wavering or uncertainty.

She kept her gaze down. Exhaustion overcame her and she couldn’t think and didn’t know what she felt. “It happened during my sister’s funeral.”

“Yeah, and you were pretty inconsolable. Almost catatonic, Chloe. The only choice was to either stay there and watch you go after Tara some more or leave. You could have said no at any point.”

“You heard me and Tara?”

“No. Not Tara. I heard you. Everyone did.”

She pursed her lips. She didn’t realize that. But she also didn’t have the wherewithal to pretend to feel sorrow when she didn’t right then.

“You were looking for me?” Sucking in a deep breath of air for courage, she lifted her head up to find his gaze already fastened on her.

“Yeah.” He stared right at her.

Why? Why did he come after her? And bring her here?

“How did you get my garage door opener?”

“Took it off the visor in your car.”

“Why though? I mean, how did you know it was there? And how did you know where I live?”

“I came here once before. You had a holiday party here a few years ago and invited the staff.”

Her brain went numb before it flatlined. “Oh. Yeah. I did. But why? Why did you go after me and use my garage door opener and bring me here and then…?”

“Have sex with you?”

Her eyebrows scrunched up. Wasn’t Chet painfully shy? He so rarely made eye contact or spoke up. So how come he was so comfortable with this? She kept her head down.

She felt him move closer until he was right beside her and next to the bed. His knee sunk into the mattress as he leaned forward. Sucking in gulps of air, more tears began sliding down her face. She wasn’t even aware they were there. That kept happening. “How could I do this? Especially today? She’s dead.”

“Doing this doesn’t make her any less or more dead. Think of it as something you had to do to get through today.”

“That’s cold, although it’s kind of true. Why were you there? I mean, at the funeral service? You didn’t even know Ebony.”

“For you.”

For you. That’s all he said. No qualifying statement. Gulping, Chloe wondered how to speak to him and get satisfying answers and why every conversation felt so awkward. Suddenly, a shiver went down her spine when she realized something about Chet made every word he said seem genuine and sincere. Maybe because he didn’t say much, the words he did say held more weight.

“Me? What?”

“You’re the reason why I was there.”

Chloe shook with annoyance. But her energy was depleted and she couldn’t find the logic to figure that or him out.

“You answer in riddles.”

“I answer whatever you ask me.”

“Why have we never had a conversation before?”

“Because you never asked me anything.” The statement was so dry, she jerked her eyes up, unsure if he were being serious or not. Nothing on his face told her either. He remained neutral.

“And now? Am I asking you plenty of questions now?”

“No. That’s why I didn’t try to have a long, drawn-out conversation with you. I think hearing all that was being said to you was only making it worse.”

“How did you arrive at that conclusion?”

“By watching your reaction. Not hard for anyone to see.”

Chloe shivered, wondering if it were creepy to know he watched her secretly and she never had a clue. However, it was rather intriguing he’d been able to gauge her reactions and feelings so well, with absolutely no input from her.

“How old are you?” she blurted out, although it deviated from what they were discussing.

“It’s on my employment application. Didn’t you even read it?”

“No.” She didn’t fail to realize her short-sightedness in not doing her due diligence. “I trusted Dok.”

“Twenty-four.”

She frowned. He was almost six years younger than her. Not what she was expecting. And he was her employee. She shuddered. Still lying naked under the bed covers, she just had great sex with her employee. And he wasn’t even a weathered employee, but the youngest hire in her restaurant.

“I don’t do this. Ever. You should already know that,” she whispered while sliding down further and rolling off to her side.

“What? You don’t have sex? Why not?”

She flinched. There he goes again. Boldly stating what happened again, and being so out there with it. “With—with my employees or people I don’t know. In fact, I never do that.”

“Okay. That’s fine. But it’s no big deal if you did. I wouldn’t judge you for it.”

“Chet?” she whispered, “I need—”

“What?”

You. Someone. Something to take the pain away. But she knew that was impossible and irresponsible. There could be no repeats of this. This blunder. This shameful, slutty act. Done on the very same day she was honoring her sister. She left her parents in the lurch too. “I just need to sleep for a little while.”

She curled up, tugging the pillow under her head and drawing her legs up higher. He leaned over, kissed her on the forehead and retreated, getting off the bed. She held her breath. What was she waiting for? Something more. Something prophetic. Something rational. Something that could rationalize her actions. But he gathered his clothes and walked out of the room without a glance backwards. Wow. He really took her at her word. No questions. No warm fuzzies. No clinging vines. No trying to convince her otherwise. He did exactly as she asked.

The thing was, she really wanted him to do exactly the opposite.

****

Chet slipped his pants on, leaving his shirt untucked and partially unbuttoned. He threw his jacket into the back of his car and flopped down on the driver’s seat. Starting his car, he stared up at Chloe’s house. It was small, a single story with one garage that was probably built thirty or forty years ago. The style was updated and freshened with new paint and interior remodeling. The yard was rather small with huge, mature shrubbery and a privacy fence on one side. The setting sun seemed to blaze on the roof of the house.

His heart tugged at him. He tried to forget her flippant brush-off. He had to go back in there. She wasn’t okay. Chloe hadn’t been okay since the moment Ryder showed up with that terrible look on his face. Chet didn’t know what the news was at first, but her sister’s death… Scratch that. The discovery of her identical sister’s murdered body hit her pretty hard. Was it any wonder Chloe collapsed on the bathroom floor?

Ryder tried to comfort her. But he had Tara now. It resulted in huge changes as to how he treated Chloe and how much time he spent with her. Chet suspected Ryder was fucking Chloe all these years, that is, until Tara showed up. Then he expected some kind of huge catfight when he figured Ryder was doing it with Tara. But no. Chloe actually seemed happy about it. She even discussed it openly.

It was only then that he realized the woman he’d been crushing on for the past three years was actually not in love with someone else. He erroneously believed, right down to his marrow, that Chloe was in love with Ryder. It never occurred to him that it could have been otherwise. He’d never seen adult males and females remain just “friends.” One or the other always wanted more, and it was usually just a matter of time. Especially when two adults were as close as those two were. There were plenty of nights spent together at both households. She cared for Wyatt as if she were his mother. Well, almost. Ryder came into the café nearly every day and they always talked and chatted, but it was so much more than just friendly. They had daily check-ins with each other. Asking how the other one felt and how their days were going. They discussed the best ways to raise Wyatt. They acted like a couple in every way but fucking. Chet just assumed they were waiting the appropriate length of time, considering the twin sister factor. Actually, he assumed they were and had been for a long time. He thought they were just practicing restraint and discretion since her parents and his often came into the café and he ate with both of them.

Chet fell for Chloe the first time he walked into the café to see his mom at work. After taking one look at the petite, curvy café owner who was smiling at him, he was smitten. Chloe was always smiling and ceaselessly interactive, energetic, and happy. Actually, that was it. She was so optimistic and freaking happy in all of her interactions, from the customers to the staff to her family. And she was hot. He wasn’t blind. She had a smoking hot body, and endowed new meaning to the hourglass figure. She was tiny too. So small, he could have lifted her up with his pinkie, at least that’s what it felt like. And yeah, he liked towering over her.

She had a few years on him, a prosperous business, and a house. She owned her own business. Fuck, she was also his boss. The only thing he had over her was his physical height.

Not that his height or muscles could intimidate Chloe Carrington. She was a fucking pistol. Shit, she’d take on anyone over anything if her temper blew. Which didn’t happen often. She seemed to switch from either being happy and even-tempered or losing it and going off. It was always quick, volatile, and over. Once it was over, she was done. She held no grudges. Everything was said and done before she swiftly moved on, never to revisit it. Chet had watched her go toe-to-toe with men a foot taller than her and some of them outweighed her by more than two hundred pounds. She simply tilted her head back as far as she needed to and in a calm, cool, and collected voice, she explained her point. Chet stayed close at hand during times like that although he never found it necessary to step in because she didn’t need his help. She was a master at finding the most cutting words when necessary. But every once in a while, Chet worried how her victims took her tongue lashings. So far, they said nothing. Not much could have intimidated Chloe.

He respected that about her. Fuck. He respected everything about her.

But after her sister’s body turned up, it broke something inside her. Perhaps it was that spirit that made her so indomitable, despite her five-foot stature.

It killed him to watch her at the funeral, especially the moment she bent forward as her grief obviously overwhelmed her. Streams of tears coursed down her face and she struggled to hold them back despite her need to release them. He recalled something he heard coming from the restaurant’s ladies’ room that day. It sounded like a cry of anguish, one that even he couldn’t miss. He knew Chloe’s expressions well enough and her ensuing behavior to predict her reactions pretty well. But that sound he heard haunted him. It broke his heart and overwhelmed him with her grief.

She never saw him.

He knew that. He didn’t have any delusions about her possessing any interest in him. Mostly because he worked as her janitor, dishwasher, and busboy. She always looked right past him for that reason. He also didn’t talk enough for her. Case in point, her wondering if he even spoke English. He shook his head. Damn. Where did one go after that? She was full of life and emotions and he wasn’t. He didn’t know how to express himself like she did, or how she’d want him to. Like fucking Ryder, with all his authority and easy smiles and conversation. He always talked so easily to anyone. That was why Chet believed they were much more than just in-laws who often took solace from each other. It seemed like they were taking too much solace from his viewpoint. But with Tara’s arrival, it became pretty obvious there wasn’t anything sexual going on between Chloe and Ryder. It didn’t make much difference to Chet. It wasn’t like he could finally announce his lustful, secret thoughts about Chloe. He doubted if he should call them feelings or a crush. All he knew was that he noticed her.

And the ordeal she was going through now made it impossible for Chet not to notice her. However, she obviously never expected that.

He pulled into the small studio where he lived. It was no more than a two-room guesthouse located on the backside of an older couple’s acreage. The views it offered of the river were what drew him there. It was far from the main house and obscured from any other neighbors. Only the river, trees, coastline, and the Oregon coast mountains were visible. It provided him with a roof, cheap rent, and enough space to enjoy what he cared about. Working was a means of making ends meet to him. He wasn’t particularly ambitious, but whatever he chose to do, he followed through with full effort and care. So his life worked for him. It made sense to him.

What he never had, however, was Chloe. From the first time he met her, he felt something inside him shifting. He accepted most people just as they were. He didn’t feel any pull or magnetism towards them, or hold anything against them either, for that matter. They just were. Unless he shared their interests or something in common or they were family, he didn’t reach out to other people. Sex was a physical need that had to be fulfilled. He liked sex a lot. It wasn’t hard for Chet to have sex with girls his age who also wanted a good time and considered sex something to be enjoyed. Without any emotional attachment, he always made sure that any woman he slept with felt the same way as he did.

But with Chloe? No. From the start, she interested him. No, she intrigued him. He liked being around her. She smiled so easily and visibly took pleasure in all the people around her, from strangers to old friends and family. She received strong emotional connections and reactions from everyone around her. Although Chet didn’t want that from anyone—strangers and friends alike—he enjoyed seeing her so happy. Social settings made Chloe happy, so he liked watching her. There was plenty of life and joy that surrounded Chloe, and it seemed to bubble out to those around her. Oddly, it affected even him, something which never occurred before.

But upon hearing the news of her sister’s death, when he found her curled up on the floor of the bathroom, something shifted deep down in his gut. It pained him physically to see how badly she hurt. Although he might have felt compassion at times for others, no one else’s emotional pain had ever struck him so severely or hurt him as Chloe’s did. That sound she made. The only comparison would have been to a wild animal caught in a steel-jawed trap, with its leg crushed and being unable to escape or find any consolation. That was Chloe’s grief.

And there was nothing Chet could say to change that. He understood that even if he didn’t know how to help her. He did the next best thing: he distracted her. He tried to release that trapped feeling if only for just a few minutes. Maybe that would be enough of a respite to make sure she survived the long term. He doubted anything he did would develop into something more between them but he knew he needed to be there to comfort her now. That was his end goal. She was suffering and he just might have been able to help her. That was his sole intention. And the end of the story, most likely.