Exposed to You (10 page)

“You can start training this weekend,” the assistant
manager said, not bothering to ask whether or not I have serving experience.

“I work at my other job tomorrow, but I can come in on
Saturday.”

“Yeah okay. Just show up at 4 and we’ll find a gal for
you to train with. We’ll give you your uniform then too.” As I was about to
leave, he added, “We’ll start part-time, but if we need you more, you might
have to quit that other job.”

He was looking at me in a way that sent shivers down my
spine.

“Okay,” I said before leaving the office.

On the ride home to Brooklyn, I texted Jackson the good
news. Then I settled back in the seat and let myself feel good about it. Sure
I’d have to put up with a lot of creeps like those managers, but in the end,
I’d be making money, and that was the goal. My grandfather had once told me
that a job was a job, no matter what level. I didn’t have to feel ashamed just
because I was working for tips at a sleazy bar; I was doing what I had to do.

And I was doing it on my own. I was taking care of
myself.

By the time I got home, I was feeling better than I had
in the last few weeks. I had a steaming hot shower and then curled up in bed to
read and watch movies. My mom called, but I let it go to voicemail. There was
no point in risking losing this good feeling by hearing her negativity toward
the serving industry and how I could do so much better.

I did feel a bit bad about having to leave the café, but
when I told Michelle the next morning, she was very understanding.

“You told me it was temporary,” she said, shrugging.
“We’ll make do.”

“I’m not even sure how much I’ll have to cut down my
shifts; I just wanted to let you know in case you want to start looking for
someone else.”

Michelle smiled. “I appreciate that. Actually, a High
School student was in the other morning looking for work and Simon talked to
her. He left her resume in the back, so maybe I’ll give her a call.”

Jackson arrived and Michelle said goodnight and left us
to our shift.

“So, how’d she take it?”

“Good. Sounds like there’s someone that can fill my
position.”

The dinner rush was busier that day, which was good
practice for my new position. I found myself running around like a chicken with
its head cut off. Usually we tried to bring drinks and food to the customers’
table, but on busy days we had to call out the names. Customers didn’t like
this and some of them could be rude, but that night I took it to heart even
less, happy to gain experience dealing with jerks. If I was going to last at my
new position, sweet Amy was going to have to take a hike.

The rush finally died down and I collected all the empty
dishes from the tables that had piled up while Jackson worked the cash and I
put together the orders. When I placed the dirty dish bucket on the counter
above the dishwasher, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I’d heard
the expression before, but I’d never experienced it.

Slowly, I turned around to find Dallon King standing by
the door that led into the wash area. Even though it was a weekday, he was
dressed in black jeans and his black leather jacket, his hands shoved in the
pockets of his jeans. There was a seriousness about his demeanor that was
different than the last time he was at my work; the playful arrogance was gone.

“Hey,” I said, surprised to see him there.

“Glad to see you made it home safely.”

I was confused for a moment, and then I remembered. “I
forgot to respond to your email.”

He ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “It’s been
a week and I haven’t heard a word.”

This was surprising. He’d claimed that he cared about
me, but it was entirely different having him here worrying about my wellbeing.
It was actually kind of... sweet.

Wetting a cloth, I walked back to the tables to wipe
them down. Dallon followed.

“I decided not to get Internet at my place and I dropped
my data plan to save money,” I said, wiping a table. “I buy a few minutes at an
internet café and look for jobs.”

Dallon’s mouth fell open. “How poor
are
you?”

And then he ruined it. I shot him a dirty look and
shoved by him to move to the next table. “I won’t be for much longer; I got a
job.” Before he could respond, I added, “I’m going to be a server at Mix.”

“No.”

I blinked and turned around to face him. “No?”

“No, you can’t work there.”

I balked at him before throwing down my rag and crossing
my arms. “You’re telling me I can’t work there?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

I glanced over at Jackson, but he was busy restocking
the pastry fridge. “And why the hell not?”

“Because I know the types of creeps that go there,” Dallon
said in a low voice. “I don’t want you working there.”

“Because you’ve been one of those creeps?”

Half of his mouth turned up.

“It doesn’t matter—you don’t have a say,” I said,
striding past him to wipe down the pastry fridge, where Jackson was still
pulling the goods. Dallon appeared at the counter.

“That’s not my choice. I
want
a say.”

We stared at each other until Jackson cleared his
throat. “I’m going to go count the money in the back.”

Great. I’d approached Jackson on purpose and he’d taken
off.

“I don’t want you working there,” Dallon repeated, his
face hard. “The place is full of assholes. Why would you even want to work
there?”

“I don’t, I need money!” I responded, my voice growing
shrill. “It’s not a big deal and really none of your business!”

Dallon narrowed his eyes and sweat broke out on the back
of my neck. I’d never seen him this angry before. “So you’d rather work there
than take the job I offered you. You’d rather let a bunch of drunk creeps grope
you and talk to you like you’re a piece of meat than let me photograph you.”

“It’s temporary and can hardly be compared to the
prostitute position you offered me!”

He snorted. “Yeah wearing the tight little outfits they
give their servers isn’t prostitution at all.” He leaned forward on the counter,
placing his weight on his palms. “I’m going to say this again, Amy. Do not work
there.”

I crossed my arms. “You really don’t have a say, Mr.
King. You’re not my employer or even my friend.”

He frowned momentarily, but in a flash, it was gone. “I
would if I was your boyfriend.”

My mouth went dry. He continued to stand there with an
unreadable expression.

“But you’re not,” I said eventually, my voice a whisper.

He came around the counter and stopped in front of me.
He was standing too close and looking down at me with those intense eyes.

“I’ve been thinking a lot over the last few days, since
we went for drinks. I didn’t hear from you. I…” He cleared his throat. “I
missed you, and it surprised me. It didn’t make any sense and wasn’t what I’m
used to. And then it hit me: I haven’t done it in a while, but I could try
having a relationship. With you.”

“You want to… date me?”

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I thought you wanted me to work for you.”

“I did.”

I reached up and put a hand to my head. Dallon King was
really starting to confuse me. Who was this man, and what was he about? First
he’d come off as a con man looking to take nude photos of unsuspecting women
and asking them to move in and be his plaything. Then he’d let me delete the pictures
and continued to pressure me to take his job offer. Now he was asking me to
date him.

“Look,” I said, turning away and putting soap into the
dishwasher to put some much needed distance between us, “I think you have an
idea of me from your fantasy woman or something. I’m not her.”

Dallon sighed loudly and ran a hand through his hair.
“Are you seriously this difficult? I’ve tried everything with you, Amy. I’ve
bent over backwards trying to make you happy and see that I’m not some jerk,
and you’re determined to believe otherwise.”

I closed the dishwasher and hit the button to run it
before responding. I knew that part of what he was saying was correct, and
there was definitely a part of me that was more than interested in dating him.
His caring side led me to think there could be a future between us, and his
dangerous side... Well, as much as I hated to admit it,
that
side kind
of excited me. So why was I acting like this?

Because you don’t trust him
.

“Amy.” Dallon approached me, gently reached out and
tucked some loose hair behind my ear. “What are you so afraid of?”

I swallowed, unable to look at him.

“I know you’re attracted to me. I can see it in the way
you blush and I felt it the first night we met.” He smirked at the last
sentence, and my cheeks heated. “What’s the point of denying it?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “Because I know I’m going
to get hurt.”

Dallon frowned and put his hands on my shoulders, his
eyes searching mine. “How can you be so sure?”

Just then, Jackson walked back in. Dallon straightened
and flash a smile at him. “Hey man, if I give you a fifty, will you do the
cleanup yourself? Amy and I need to talk.”

I turned red again, but this time out of anger. “You
can’t just throw money at people!” I seethed.

I turned to Jackson. “Just ignore him, I’m not going
anywhere.”

Jackson looked back and forth between us before settling
on Dallon King. “It’s okay, you two can take off. I get it.”

“Thanks man,” Dallon grinned at Jackson and then looked
down at me, serious again. “Get your stuff.”

I was beyond mortified. I stood there for a moment,
debating my options, until Dallon raised an eyebrow at me. I was ready to ream
him out, but I wasn’t going to do it in front of Jackson, so I stomped to the
back, where I grabbed my purse and jacket. When I returned to the front, Dallon
and Jackson were chatting happily.

Unbelievable.

“Let’s go,” I muttered.

Dallon reached out and slapped the fifty on the counter.
“I mean it. Take it. And thanks.” Then he turned and put his arm on my back,
steering me toward the door.

“I can’t believe you just did that!” I turned on Dallon
the second we were away from the café. “Do you know how embarrassing that was?”

Dallon rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. He was
more than happy to take the money, and it’s better than us continuing that
discussion in front of him, don’t you think?”

The Audi SUV was idling on the street. Arnold jumped out
and opened the door for us. I climbed in, still reeling about what had happened
with Jackson. I was going to have to talk to him about loyalty where Dallon was
concerned. Why was everyone around me so intent on helping Dallon out?

“Home please, Arnold,” Dallon said before climbing in
himself.

“We’re going to your place? No way.”

My hand reached for the door handle, but Dallon pulled
me back against my seat, putting a firm hand on my leg. When he spoke, his
voice was low. “I’m going to make us dinner and then we’re going to talk.
Nothing more.”

I crossed my arms. His lip turned up at the gesture and
I realized how silly I looked—like a pouty teenager. I uncrossed them and
looked out the window.

“How do you do that?” I asked, still looking out the
window.

“Do what?”

“Charm everyone into being your friend.”

“Oh, that.” He shrugged. “I’m a nice guy.”

I turned to him and he raised his eyebrows playfully. I
couldn’t help but smile, so I looked down to hide it.

He chuckled softly and stretched an arm over the back of
the seat, played with some strands of my hair. His touch sent shivers down my
spine and my heart rate instantly picked up. He was right; I was attracted to
him, more attracted than I had been to anyone in my life. Even if I’d thought
I’d loved my past boyfriends, the excitement I felt at their touch paled in
comparison to the simple act of Dallon King stroking my hair.

His fingers moved to the back of my neck and then he was
massaging it gently. I closed my eyes and held my breath, afraid to move in
case the feeling stopped. The seat shifted under his weight as he leaned over
to whisper in my ear.

“The things I’d like to do with you, Miss Clair. If only
you were mine…”

My eyes flew open and he chuckled and leaned back, his
fingers leaving my neck. I sat there trying to catch my breath for the few
minutes it took to arrive at Dallon King’s residence.

“Thank you, Arnold.”

Like before, Dallon stepped out first so he could open
the door for me. We were greeted at the door and again by the elevator. When
the doors closed behind us, the tension between us became palpable, as if the
small space couldn’t contain it all. Dallon leaned against the wall as if
trying to appear casual, but his hands were grasping the rail behind him
tightly and his eyes were fixed on the lights above the door as the elevator
rose at what felt like a snail’s pace.