Don’t Go Away Mad by Lacey Black
Chapter Nine
Jasper
“I brought you something, sweetheart,” Isaac sings, dropping a small white bag onto the counter in front of me.
“What’s that?” I ask, keeping my eyes focused on preparing a burger. I already know what it is. I could smell the sugar the moment he stepped into my space.
“A surprise. Maybe the sugar will help get you out of your pissy mood,” he teases.
“I’m not pissy. I just don’t like being bothered when I’m working.”
He snorts a laugh. “See? Pissy. I’d suggest maybe getting laid, but Walker says you had a little trouble with that Friday night.”
That makes me pause. “I wasn’t having any trouble,” I insist, my eyes dancing with annoyance, while his are laced with humor.
“No? Huh, it must have been someone else who went home alone, even though a perfectly good woman propositioned him,” Isaac replies with a shrug, leaning against the sink and looking a little too comfortable.
“Just because I wasn’t interested doesn’t mean I was having trouble,” I retort, returning my attention back to the burger. We’re not open yet, and I’m trying to perfect a fire-melted technique that leaves a layer of crispy cheese on top. I think it’ll be a great change-up to the Panty Melter burger we feature.
When he doesn’t reply, I turn his way, finding him grinning from ear to ear. “Keep telling yourself that, buddy.” Isaac straightens up and adds, “We get to do a walk-through of the brewery today. I thought we’d move our meeting over there.”
“Sounds good,” I reply, actually very excited to see how it’s coming along. Jameson has been working his ass off to get it opened in the first quarter. As of his last report, we’re on track to potentially open mid-February. The construction is almost done, and then comes the fun part.
Making beer.
While it’s not my area of expertise, I’m very excited about this new venture. I could see the subtle change in Jameson since we agreed to open the brewery next door. He felt like a drifter, even though he’s a vital part of our success. He wanted more, needed to feel like he was helping in a bigger capacity. I totally get and respect that. He’s overseeing the construction and setup of our new business, and will manage it, with the help of Isaac. Then Jameson will run the day-to-day operations. We’re still ironing out all the details, but we’re getting there.
“I’ll leave you to your creating,” Isaac replies, walking out the door. It’s at that moment I realize he left the white bag sitting there. I push it aside with a little too much force, causing it to tip over. A cinnamon roll falls out and my mouth starts to water.
Dammit.
I set the blowtorch down—yes, I’m using a blowtorch to melt cheese—and stare at the sweet treat. My stomach growls angrily, as if I hadn’t consumed a protein bar on my way to work just a little bit ago. Traitorous stomach is all excited at the sight of something Lyndee whipped up this morning.
And my cock is quick to follow at the vision of her making it, flour streaked down her cheek and icing on her nimble fingers.
Before I can think better of it, I reach for the pastry, ready to have my first real taste of something she offers in her bakery, not including what my asshole friends smeared across my lips last week. When I take my first bite, my tastebuds erupt. It’s still fucking warm, and I groan. The icing is sweet and firm, and the roll is fluffy and rich. I take a second bite, followed by a third, and before I know it, the damn thing is gone.
I’m a little disgusted at myself, at apparently having absolutely no self-control when it comes to Lyndee’s pastries. What’s worse, I’m damn proud of her for making such a perfect sweet roll. I want to run across the street and tell her, though I know that’s a horrible idea. She’s in the middle of her very first day of being open and probably busier than hell. But that’s not what really keeps my feet planted where they stand. I’m liable to pull her into my arms and kiss the hell out of her, and that’s a very bad idea.
One kiss is harmless, but I know I won’t be able to stop at one. I’ll crave more.
I push her out of my head like I’ve been doing for days and focus on my work. Grabbing my blowtorch, I set out to find the perfect melting technique for my cheese. It only takes me two more tries to figure out the best way, and once it’s scorched to perfection, I scrape it onto the burger and watch it slowly melt down the side. Now this is a cheeseburger.
An idea pops into my head, but I quickly push it aside.
I’m not going over there.
Not now.
Not later.
Keep telling yourself that.
***
The walk-through is great. I can see every emotion on Jameson’s face as he shows us around. For a man who hides behind attitude and a pissed-off demeanor, it’s pretty fucking cool to witness. After a brief tour and a chat with the construction manager, Derek, we head back over to the bar to finish our owners’ meeting.
“So, now that we don’t have little ears around us, are you going to tell us why you reeked of too much perfume and sex this morning?” Isaac asks, catching my attention.
“What?” I ask, glancing at Walker, who just grins.
“Our boy stumbled into Sugar Rush this morning in yesterday’s clothes, like he hadn’t slept a wink last night,” Walker confirms.
“Are we fucking gossiping now?” Jameson grumbles, taking a seat at the table.
“You thought because Lizard was there, we would forget all about that?” Isaac asks with a hearty laugh.
“Hoped,” Jameson mumbles, reaching for a glass of water already on the table.
I hold up my hand. “Wait, I have to go grab the food. Don’t say another word until I get back,” I add, practically running back to the kitchen to get the four burgers I prepared and left under the heat lamp before our tour. As soon as I’m back, I say, “Go.”
“What’s to talk about? Is that what we do now? Sit around and gossip about who’s getting laid and who’s not?” Jameson gripes, taking the plate I offer. “No, this one has pickles,” he adds with a gag.
I hand the plate with pickles to Walker as he replies, “I’m getting laid, just so we’re clear.” He gives us all a big cheeky grin, and as if he conjured her up from his imagination, Mallory walks into the room and heads for the bar. She glances over her shoulder and finds my friend’s eyes firmly locked on her ass. I’d be jealous if I wasn’t so damn happy for my friend. He deserves someone like Mallory and Lizzie in his life.
“Me too,” Isaac mumbles, clearing his throat and shifting in his seat.
“You’re what?” I ask, pulled back to our conversation.
Again, he moves in his chair. “I’m, uh, getting laid.”
My eyebrows arch sky-high.
“Seriously? Since when?” Jameson asks right before taking a huge bite of his burger.
“Well, since Savannah and I ran into each other a few weeks ago.” Isaac doesn’t meet our eyes, and I have to swallow my groan.
“Savannah? Really?” Jameson asks, apparently unable to filter his own comment.
“Yes, Savannah. What do you all have against her anyway?” he demands, glancing around the table. It’s not that we have something against her, per se, it’s that their happiness is always short-lived. They’ve dated off and on for a few years, and each time it ends the same. Isaac jumping in with both feet and Savannah stomping all over his heart.
“Nothing,” Walk insists, trying to smooth everything over. “Maybe it’ll stick this time,” he adds lamely, mostly because we all know it won’t.
Isaac nods once and turns his attention back to Jameson. “You okay with that?”
Jameson, not one to pull punches, replies, “Whatever, dude. It’s your life.”
“Yes, it is.” Isaac takes a bite and glances over at our tattooed friend. “So, are you going to tell us what happened with you last night?”
Jameson groans. “Why? You need the juicy details, Numbers?”
“No, definitely not, but we’re all curious. You haven’t seen anyone since Amie,” Isaac replies.
We all catch the way Jameson averts his eyes, a flush of guilt crossing his features.
Shit.
“Amie?” Walker asks. “Where’d you run into her?” he asks without judgment.
“Her front door,” Jameson answers with a laugh.
Jameson and Amie have been…friends for years. Hell, who am I kidding? They’re fuck buddies, and it seems to work for them. She’s got a reputation of getting around, which doesn’t seem to bother my friend. When either of them has a particular itch to scratch, they hook up. It’s been going on for years, though we can’t seem to understand why. She’s whiny and annoying when she’s in here, hanging all over any guy she can. Probably to get Jameson’s attention, but he never seems to mind.
“So, let me get this straight. You can screw Amie, who has been seeing you and half the town for years, but I can’t date Savannah?” Isaac asks, unable to mask his annoyance.
“Yes, and do you know why?” Jameson replies, giving Isaac his full attention. “Because what Amie and I do is just that. Sex. We fuck and go about our lives. But you and Savannah are like gasoline and water. You don’t mix. Every time she comes back, you jump in with both feet, only to find out she’s not really in the same fucking pool as you. She uses you, but you refuse to see it.”
Walker and I stare at each other from across the table, both of us afraid to take a breath. Jameson’s not wrong. At all. The problem is Isaac is too obsessed with Savannah to see how she treats him. The last time they dated was for about four months, and she broke it off with him when something newer and shinier came along. We hate it. We hate seeing the sadness in his eyes, because Isaac is a good man and doesn’t deserve to be treated like that. All he wants in life is to belong, to have someone to love. Has since his dad walked out on them when he was a kid. This thing with Savannah is like a merry-go-round ride that you can’t get off. Round and round they go, until the ride breaks down again.
“Well, I guess you’re entitled to your opinion,” Isaac finally replies curtly.
“So, basically, what I’m getting out of this,” Walker starts, looking for a redirect, “is Jasper is the only one not getting laid.”
“Leave me alone. I’m not a project.”
“All I’m saying is you could be, you know,” Walker states, shoveling fries into his mouth.
“Ahhh, yes, the woman across the street,” Isaac teases, smirking at me.
“Shut up, assholes,” I grumble. “That shit isn’t happening. I’m not into her. Period.”
“She asked about you earlier,” Walker adds.
My ears perk up and my eyes automatically move to the windows at the front of the bar. “She did?”
All three of my friends—or should I say former friends after this little stunt—are sitting there smiling at me.
Assholes.
I walked right into that one.
***
I’ve been done with work for an hour, but I can’t seem to make myself leave. Not because I don’t trust Ross, the dinner shift chef, who works three nights a week for me. Because when I was near the windows earlier, I noticed lights still on in the bakery, even though she was long closed.
I need to stay away.
So, I busied myself in my office and tried not to be a shadow on the wall in the kitchen. I really do trust Ross. In fact, he’s the only one I feel comfortable enough to turn over my grill to a few nights a week. In the beginning, I didn’t trust anyone. I worked them all, seven days a week, lunch and dinner. I thrived on it, really, but the guys wouldn’t let me burn myself out. We hired Ross after the first year to work three nights a week, giving me the small reprieve they insisted I needed. It does hold merit, though I’ll never tell them that.
Twice since he arrived, I casually strolled up to the front of the restaurant under the guise of checking things out. You know, making sure the servers were doing their jobs and the hostess was ready. Things I did not need to check on. Our staff is top-notch. Yet, while I was up there, I was able to see the small bakery across the street.
The lights had been on in her kitchen.
For the third time, I move from my office, this time heading for the bar. At least over there, the hostess won’t wonder why the hell I’m up front again, and since Walker doesn’t work on Monday nights, I won’t have to worry about him giving me shit for spying on our neighbor. As I approach the window, I peer through the gap of a beer sign and find the business across the street the same as I left it thirty minutes ago. Lights are on in the kitchen.
I make a rash decision and return to the kitchen. “Hey, you mind if I use a corner of that grill?” I ask Ross as I wash my hands.
“Not at all, boss,” he replies, making sure I have enough room to work.
I press two fresh patties and drop them on the grill top, seasoning them with my own special blend. I drop two big handfuls of cut fries into the grease and grab my spatula. As the hamburgers cook, I add four strips of applewood bacon to the grill and grab an avocado. I cut it easily, securing the unused strips in a container and toss it in the fridge.
Once I flip the patties, I prepare the bun. First, it’s toasted, then the top half smothered in mayo. Grabbing two slices of aged cheddar, I lay them on the meat to melt, while placing the slivers of avocado on the top bun with the mayo. When the patties are cooked, I place two slices of bacon on top of each and place them on a bun, before adding the top. I have two perfect Strip and Go Naked Burgers.
Don’t think about how much you’d like to strip and go naked with a certain woman…
I secure each hamburger with a healthy amount of fries into a Styrofoam container, clean up my mess, and grab my keys. Once my office light is off, I holler, “See you later,” to Ross and head out the back door.
The temperature is brisk and bites my cheeks as I make my way to my car and fire it up. Of course she starts right away, growling with horsepower and ready to run. Unfortunately, she’s not going to stretch her legs yet. Instead, I drive from the lot and to the street out front, pulling to a stop in front of Sugar Rush.
“What are you doing?” I whisper to no one.
I should pull away and head home, but that’s not what I do. Pulling my keys from the ignition, I hop out of my car, two burgers in hand. I consider knocking on the back door, but I noticed it’s not lit the best back there and don’t want to scare her. With that in mind, I raise my hand and tap my fist on the glass entrance loud enough to catch her attention.
It only takes a second for her to peek around the doorway between the kitchen and front room, a look of question on her beautiful face. I hold up my hand in greeting, and a smile quickly follows. Lyndee is hesitant but makes her way to the front door and releases the lock. “We have to stop meeting like this,” she greets, offering me a small grin, her delicate hand holding the handle.
“Yeah, sorry about stopping by unannounced, but I saw the lights and I…” My words trail off, whatever thought I was about to say getting jumbled in my brain. All I see is the way the light reflects off her hair like a halo. Her brown eyes are bright, almost like chocolate embers of fire. And her face, there’s a smudge of flour across her cheek and nose I want to wipe off.
With my tongue.
She looks at me expectantly, waiting on me to pull my head out of my ass and finish my sentence. This is when I should definitely walk away. My mind is all over the damn place, just like it’s been since I found out who was opening this place one week ago today. Hand her the food and go. It’s the only way to save my sanity.
But that’s not what happens. Words I shouldn’t say come out of my mouth.
“I brought dinner. May I come in?”
