*
Cameron
It was in my notebook. That’s the excuse I’ve been feeding myself since I pulled into the parking lot of Eve’s restaurant. I stick to what’s written and never diverge. Simple as that.
None of me showing up like a fucking stalker is about me needing her. I don’t need. I want. I enjoy. I even enjoy a lot, but need? Never.
So walking into the Peppermill with Eve under my arm and the sweet smell of her hair scrambling my senses, I remind myself that this is a fun-for-now kinda thing. I’m sure whatever pull that powers through my veins when it comes to her will someday fade. But why focus on the end when the now is so much fun?
“This place is crazy busy.” Eve tilts her head back, the length of her sleek ponytail brushing against my arm across her back.
“Food’s good. They’re open all night. Makes sense.”
“Do they have cheeseburgers?” Her eyes are bright, and studying her in better light, I notice she looks . . . something. Tired or . . . I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something about her face that seems unwell.
I slide her out from my arm and face her head on. Brushing her bangs aside, I study her face. “You feelin’ okay?”
Her eyes dart everywhere but to me. “Fine.” She shugs and finally gives me her eyes, forcing a smile.
“I’ve got a teenage son, Eve. You think I don’t know when I’m being bullshitted?”
Her eyes grow wide for a split second before she catches herself. A few steely seconds and then she drops her shoulders on a sigh. “Fine. You want honesty?”
“Fuckin’ appreciate it, yeah.”
“Well, first I’m tired. I’ve been working ten hours on my feet, and I don’t know why, but it seems like tonight was asshole appreciation night, seeing as every fucking person who walked in had at least one asshole in tow. Some three or more.” She ticks off a finger on one hand. “Although this is not unusual, it sucked huge donkey balls seeing as our GM’s little troll spy was up my ass all night, following me around like I had magical dick-growing pills stapled to my back.”
I’m already pushing back the urge to laugh, and I can tell she’s just getting started. I rub my upper lip to hide the smile that’s breaking free and nod for her to go on.
She moves to another finger. “That little pecker corrected everything I did, one time in front of a customer.” She stomps her foot and throws out her arms. “Who does that?”
“Assholes.” I’m sitting hard on my urge to keep my amusement in check.
She points at my face. “Exactly. And finally, we were so busy that I never got a break. No biggie, I work without breaks from time to time, but this means that I didn’t get dinner and hence the fact that I could eat the ass out of an alligator right now.” She’s done, staring while waiting for me to say something.
“Alligator ass.” My throat aches from trying not to laugh. “Gross.”
“What?” She throws her arms out to her sides. “You asked!”
A laughter born from deep in my gut explodes from my lips. The force of it sends my head back and then forward where I almost double over. I’ve never been around a woman like this, one who can look as though she belongs on the runway but speaks as if she were raised in a gym with a bunch of guys.
On that thought, my laughter fades. From the little I know about her, I can probably assume her way with words was probably a defense mechanism she came up with early on. She’d mentioned the night her dad cleaned her out that he left with a few parting words. My guess is he’s not thanking her for her generosity. Fucking prick.
I suppose after years of being shit talked to, she’d learn to defend herself with words. The cramp in my side, from laughing, moves up to my chest. As hot as I find her attitude, it sucks to know how she came to have one.
I often wonder what it would be like to have my daughter back: seventeen years old, hanging with her friends, making college plans, dating. What kind of woman would she have been? Tender? Outgoing? Athletic? I swallow back the emotion bubbling to the surface. No use dwelling on shit that’ll never be.
I grab Eve’s hand and lead her to the hostess. There’s nothing I can do that’ll bring Rosie back, but if my taking care of Eve can soften the blow of all her shit-for-brains dad has done to her, well, that’s something.
Twenty
Eve
I’m standing in front of the coffee maker, tapping my fingernails and waiting until there’s enough in the pot to fill my cup. It’s seven-thirty in the morning, and I can already feel the heat of the day coming through my kitchen window, which means summer’s in full swing.
Warmth hits my back, and I jump in surprise but calm when two huge hands slide around my belly.
“You been up long?” His lips at my ear remind me of his hot mouth between my legs last night, and a shiver races down my spine.