Heels of Love (G Street Chronicles Presents From Love to Loathe Series) (4 page)

“Yes, I am,” was all I said. The elevator door started closing, and Lil Samson placed his hand in the door to stop it. D’Artagnan finally shuffled out of the way, and with my hand still in Lil Samson’s, we stepped into the elevator. As the door shut, D’Artagnan was still staring at us. On the lobby level, we walked out the front doors. As soon as we stepped outside, the big clock at the top of the building chimed signaling that it was noon.

“Do you like sushi?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Banzai has the best sushi, and it’s not far from here.”

“Okay.”

We walked over to a sleek, black Ford pick-up. The chrome wheels were shining and massive. Although the truck looked luxurious, I could tell that if this truck needed to climb a mountain, it could do it without a sweat. While still holding my hand, he opened the door. I stepped up on the running board, and he finally let my hand go.

I pulled my seat belt on at once and took a quick peek at the back seats. They were leather and the color of red brick. The truck looked brand spanking new. The carpet had obviously been freshly vacuumed, and the whole thing smelled great.

He climbed in and ohhhh…watching him climb into that truck with those jeans and those boots made my toes tingle. He put his seat belt on, and we pulled out of the parking lot. The radio station was playing Beyoncé’s,
Video Phone
, and I busted out laughing. He whipped his head over at me with a strange expression on his face. I waved it off and explained that it had been a long day.

When we arrived at the restaurant, we sat down, and he ordered a sampler platter. I ordered sake while he had coke. We both had the soup.

He watched me, not saying a word, and the silence was killing me. “So, what do you do for a living?” I asked.

He smiled and then he took a gulp of his soda. “I’m a fisherman,” he answered. I couldn’t help but think of the killer from
I Know What You Did Last Summer.
Then, I shook that image off and thought of the Gordon’s fisherman picture on the frozen dinners.

“What?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

“You got this look on your face,” he answered.

“I’m trying to picture you fishing, and I can’t see it,” I explained.

He wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin. “I go out into the deep waters on a boat. I normally wear a tank top, shorts, and fishing boots,” he explained.

I got a very steamy image in my head of him. His tank top was stuck to his skin and he wore khaki cargos with black work boots. “Oh yes, I can picture that.”

He gave me a smile. Then, his phone rang. He looked down at the screen, then he told me what he wanted to eat, and then he excused himself from the table.

I sat there feeling a little uneasy. I didn’t take him to be the type that stayed on his phone all day. I waiter came to take our order and I told him what we both wanted.

When he returned, the waiter was coming over for our refills. He sat down and apologized to me for being rude. He explained that the call was urgent and he had to take it. I asked him about life growing up on the reservation. I told him if it was private, I understood, but he brushed that away. He told me I could ask him anything I wanted to and that gave me chills. He seemed so open like a book and that made me a little nervous. The waiter came with our food and we dug in. Jyme explained how fishing in the ocean was and how they call him the “Fish Whisperer.” He told me his mother use to tease him by saying whenever he came into the kitchen when she was cooking fish that they would try to jump out of the frying pan to get near him. His eyes were soft when he spoke of his mother. I listened to his smooth, velvety voice. I think I could listen to this man if he read the phone book to me. The waiter came back over when we were just sitting there talking and gazing into each other’s eyes to give him the check.

“Do you want dessert?” he asked.

“No, I didn’t see anything I wanted,” I said.

“What’s your all-time favorite dessert?” he asked.

“Um, I guess cheesecake.”

“Cheesecake? Okay, I know a place.” He held his hand out for mine, and then we were off.

When the radio came on and One Republic was crooning in our ears, Lil Samson Jyme looked over at me cautiously, and I had to control myself from busting out laughing again. He thought I was crazy; I had to stare out the window and bite my lip.

“What is your name Lil Samson or Jyme?” I asked.

He grinned. “My name is Jamison, but my friends call me Jyme.”

“What do you want me to call you?” I asked.

“You can call me whatever.”

We pulled up at a place called The Confectional. He turned the truck off and told me to stay put, so I did. He walked over to my side and opened the door for me. He held my hand as I got out and he didn’t let go. We walked hand in hand on the small sidewalk. I could smell the yummy goodness from the around the corner. He let my hand go when he opened the door for me. Then he captured it again when we got on the inside. He made these small circle movements inside the palm of my hand and I felt tinkles in those tingling spots. He ordered for me and I was pleased. As soon as my fork touched my tongue, I felt little tingles in my mouth.

Jyme laughed and asked, “You’re feeling that one, aren’t you?”

“Mmmm. Yes, I am. This tastes so good that it should be illegal. This cheesecake would mend any broken heart,” I answered.

“Huh, I beg to differ,” he whispered. I looked over at him and he was looking down at his cheesecake. He seemed like he was far away now. I didn’t want to say anything to him, but this mud god sitting across from me is absolutely scrumptious. What woman in her right mind would let him go? I really hope he doesn’t own a machete.

I had a bite of my caramel slice, and Jyme took a bite of his Mochaccino.

“So, have you had many broken hearts?” I asked with a smile.

“No, just one.”

“Well, I’ve had a few, but you know what they say. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

“How many boyfriends have you had?” he asked.

I gave him a wide-eyed look and then said, “Do you mind if I finish my dessert before we discuss our sex partners,” a little fire in my tone. How dare he ask me a question like that on our first date?

“What?! I just asked you how many boyfriends you had. I never mentioned anything about sex.”

“Boyfriends, sex, what’s the difference? I was annoyed now.

“What?”

“Look can we go? I need to get back,” I said.

“You told the girl at the desk you were taking two hours; you still have forty-five minutes.” he frowned at me.

“I need to prepare for a meeting,” I answered. He looked me over once and then sucked in a breath before getting up and holding out his hand for mine.

I ignored it and walked towards the door. We both put our seat belts on again, and then Jyme placed his hand over mine. “I’m sorry if I offended you in some way, but I’ve only had one sex partner. I’ve only had one girlfriend. All this is new to me, and I’m trying not mess this up,” he stated.

I looked at him closely. He didn’t seem to be lying; he seemed ashamed of something. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something was there. I nodded my head.

He removed his hand from mine and started up the truck. When we got back to the office, he left the truck running and walked over to hold the truck door open for me.

“Have dinner with me tonight?” he asked this time.

“May I ask you something?”

“Yes.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty -seven.”

“I’m older than you,” I explained.

“So? I’m sure it’s not by much.”

“Well, let’s just say, I was in kindergarten when you were born.”

“So what?” he asked.

I smiled at him. “See you tonight then.”

When I made it back to the office, O was grinning like the cat that caught the canary. “What?” I asked with a laugh.

“Oh my, he looked scrumptious.”

“I wouldn’t know. He was not on the menu,” I answered. I passed her desk and started down the hall.

“I got a feeling he was,” she called out.

I sat down at my desk and pressed the message button. I had two messages from Mr. Crain. The first: “Ms. Hooper, please contact me at your earliest convenience,” and the second: “Cricket, please see O about your company phone.” I picked up the desk phone to call Mr. Crain, but before I could finish dialing, he walked into my office.

“I asked you to call me back,” he snapped.

“You do see the phone in my hand? Actually you asked me to call you back at MY earliest convenience,” I answered.

He sat down across from me, and I could see him transforming from Mr. Crain to D’Artagnan. He stiffened and I could see the veins in his neck bulging. His jaws were locked, he held his lips tight, and his body was mimicking a statue.

“Did you have a good lunch with your friend?” he asked.

“Who said he was my friend?”

“Well, you two were holding hands like you were teenagers.”

“Did you have something you needed to speak with me about? You called me twice,” I asked.

“We need your mobile number in the system, and you need to activate your company phone.”

“Alright.”

He sat there watching me, and I stared right back at him. “D’Artagnan, is there anything else?”

“Well, you’ll start in the field tomorrow. I’ll let you start with five locations in town.” he explained. He sat there in a long awkward silence again.

“Alright then, is there anything else?”

“Just make sure you check with me after each shop, and I will need your company number as soon as you get it from O,” he explained.

“Alright, I will get right on that,” he still sat there, saying nothing.

I got out of my chair and went straight to the receptionist, leaving D’Artagnan sitting in my office.

I explained D’Artagnan’s request. She opened a drawer at her desk and handed me a brand-new Blackberry.

“I thought you were going to use your personal cell?”

I thought about that for second, in my acceptance letter, it said for me to change my personal voicemail on my cell and that the company would split the bill. I had already changed my voicemail on my phone to include the company address, my office phone, and my work email.

That was it. That’s how Jyme knew my work address. He had called my phone and gotten my voicemail.

O gave me the instructions for setting up my company voicemail and gave me the number to call for setting up my teleconference user name.

I went back to my office, and there was no D’Artagnan in sight. My phone chimed, and I recognized the number that I still had not saved.

“Hello.”

“Italian?”

“Sure.” We both sat there not saying anything. I didn’t like it. “Where?”

“A restaurant called Mondello. What time do you get off?” he asked.

“I start out in the field tomorrow, so I will need to prepare for that. I will just meet you there, let’s say, seven.”

“I will pick you up,” he demanded.

I swallowed hard and then stammered, “Let me get back with you on the time and the pickup place.” I sounded like he was making an order for fresh meat.

“Okay,” he answered, sounding confused.

I hung up without a goodbye. He made me so nervous.

I rushed up to reception area, “O, is it okay if I stay in corporate housing tonight?” I whispered.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to give you the keys. I’m sorry things have been crazy around here. We have you down for ninety-one days and those days will start today,” she advised.

“WOW!”

“I know, right? SWEET,” she crooned. She handed me the keys and gave me the printed out instructions. She told me the condo was fully furnished and that they already had fresh sheets and towels stocked. The condo was three blocks from the office.

I texted Jyme my address and got right to work preparing for tomorrow. My desk phone rang, and I pressed the speaker button since my door was shut. “This is Cricket.”

“And this is Michelle.”

“Hey roomy.”

“How does Pizza and beer sound for dinner tonight?” she asked.

“Oh, Honey. I’m sorry. I already have plans, and I won’t be coming home tonight either.”

“What, Bitch?” she asked.

“I’m starting my territory tomorrow, so I will stay in the corporate housing tonight. And I actually have a date.”

“WHAT?” she yelled.

I yanked the phone from its cradle and pressed it to my ear. “I was going to call you and give you with all the details, I swear.”

“Rewind and start over!” she yelled into the phone. I brought Chelle up to speed on everything. She “uh-huhed”, gasped, and OMG-ed in all the right places. Chelle was such a great friend.

“Hey! What reservation did you say he was from?”

“The one over by Amanda Park,” I answered.