“I’d better get in and get to work,” I say, handing Cash my helmet. Slowly, he reaches out to take it from my hand, eyeing me suspiciously. After several uncomfortable seconds, just when I think he’s going to make an issue of keeping our relationship (whatever it might actually be) from the others, he nods. I give him a quick smile and dart into the apartment, through the office and out into the bar itself, stowing my purse safely behind the counter.
I waste no time getting to work, uncapping liquor bottles, making sure the coolers are stocked and then setting about to start slicing lemons, limes and oranges. I see Cash cross the room to unlock the doors, but rather than going back to his office, he goes outside. It’s a good fifteen minutes before he comes back in. And the thing that irks me most? About sixty seconds after he comes in, Taryn finally makes her appearance.
And she’s smiling.
Broadly.
Now what the hell does that mean?
The lump of nausea in the pit of my stomach tells me it means nothing good. At least not for me.
I blink away the tears that sting my eyes. How could I be so wrong? Again! It felt so right. I was so close.
Taryn starts to whistle as she gets her station set up. Whistle, for God’s sake! Call me crazy, but I think she’s gloating. Can whistling sound like gloating? Um, I’m pretty sure it can. And I’m pretty sure this does.
I grit my teeth and ignore her as best I can. I’m thankful when Cash turns on the music and it drowns out her obnoxious happiness. With a ruthlessness that feels like it’s directly linked to my survival, I put every ounce of my focus into work. I can’t stand to be inside my own head for one more second.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cash
I get up and walk to the bookcase across from my desk for the third time. I’ve left my office door cracked so I can make sure Taryn is behaving herself.
When I went outside after unlocking the front doors, it was with the intention of admitting Olivia and I are seeing each other and then giving Taryn an ultimatum. I didn’t want her coming in and giving Olivia a hard time. But I think I underestimated just how big a role Taryn’s ego would play. She beat me to the punch on being the first to speak and, in the process, gave me the perfect out. Olivia’s secret is still safe.
“That girl really needs a new car,” she said cheerfully, glancing back at Olivia’s car as she walked across the parking lot toward me.
“She can’t afford one right now. And you don’t need to be giving her shit. That girl’s having it pretty rough. I feel sorry for her and if you knew what all was going on in her life and with her family, you would, too. So do us all a favor and keep the claws in, okay?”
She stopped in front of me. Looking hard into my face, she stared for at least a minute or two before she said anything. Even now, I wonder if she was looking for the truth. And what she ended up finding.
Whatever it was, she never let on that she didn’t believe me. She laughed and shook her head. “So what was it this time?”
“Spark plugs, I think.”
“I guess I could start giving her a ride, since we’ll be working the same shift for a while.”
“Yeah, ‘cause that wouldn’t make her feel worse or anything,” I said sarcastically.
“What? I can be nice.”
“You can be, but you haven’t been. That would be like rubbing salt in a wound if you offered her a ride to work because her car’s a junker and she can’t afford anything else right now. Especially after the way you’ve treated her.”
I had to grit my teeth. Just thinking of Taryn mistreating Olivia was enough to make me see red. But I couldn’t let her see that. So, I hid it all behind the mask that my face has become.
“Are you kidding me? I bought her a shot last night and offered to take her out after work. What else do you want me to do? Donate my blood to help her pay for a car?”
“Don’t be a smart ass. I didn’t ask you to be her best friend. That’s on you. I’m just telling you not to give her so much shit. She’s having it rough.”
Taryn smiled in that vampy way she has, a way that used to end up with us getting naked somewhere, but now does absolutely nothing for me. I hoped she saw that, but her next action assured me she didn’t.
“Anything for you, boss.” She leaned in toward me as she spoke. Not enough to rub up against me, but enough that her ample chest was just brushing mine.
“Now that’s the attitude I like for my employees to have,” I said nonchalantly, turning to head back into the bar.
I purposely didn’t glance at Olivia on my way back in. I didn’t want her to think I’d betrayed our secret. Well, it’s not really our secret; I don’t care who knows. It’s more her secret.
Now, as I glance out at the bar, I see Taryn smiling and tending her customers. I haven’t seen her antagonizing Olivia at all. Of course, I haven’t really seen her pay much attention to her either way. I’d much prefer her to just ignore Olivia. That would be best all the way around.
I’m sitting down at my desk when my phone bleeps, the notification of an incoming text message.
Is this the number for help wanted in the twin cities?
My pulse picks up. It’s a response to the ad.
Yes.
My reply is short. I don’t really know what else to say.
You’re lucky I’m in town. I’ll be there in 3 hours.
My first thought is to wonder how a perfect stranger would know where to find me. The only thing listed in the online ad other than my phone number was the short two-sentence blurb my father had me post.
Urgent help wanted in the Twin Cities. Stop.
It says nothing of my location. Maybe the area code of my phone could be used to get a general location, but nothing specific enough to actually find me.
Unless there is tracing involved.
You know where I am?
The reply makes me uneasy.
Of course.
I’ve deduced that people from my father’s past have been keeping an eye on us, but it seems like the group is much larger—and hopefully a lot friendlier, in some cases—than I’d originally suspected.
Of course, I have a thousand questions, things like who the hell are you, how are you associated with my father and why have you been watching me. I’m torn between asking now or waiting. In the end, I figure it’s best to wait. Dad had me reach out to them. I have to trust that he knows what he’s doing. I know he’d never get me hurt if he could help it. Still, the whole thing makes me nervous.