Taking Charge (15 page)

“She’s good, Robyn, fast too, and the guys like her,”
Milo chipped in.

“What about the kids? Can you serve them chicken and
fries without scaring them half to death or suffocating them with
your perfume?” Robyn wanted to know.

“Give me a trial. I don’t come up to scratch, you can
let me go,” Nancy replied unfazed.

“Why are you doing this?” Robyn asked, looking at her
suspiciously.

“I love Eddie and you’re his blood. What can I say?
I’m a sucker for a heart-warming reunion story. That and the fact I
watched him eat a whole plate of salad at lunchtime. I’ve no doubt
that was your doing,” Nancy told her.

“He’s never eaten salad on its own! You must have
missed the fries. He hid them. Did you blink, like, at all? Did you
check under Max’s sheets?” Robyn asked.

“So do I get the job?” Nancy wanted to know.

Robyn looked at Milo, who was vigorously moving his
head up and down like a rocking horse.

“We have a uniform now. Let me know your chest and
waist measurements. I want no biker gangs, no drugs, no funny
business at all. And you answer to me and, when I’m not around, you
answer to Milo. Can you handle that?” Robyn asked her firmly.

“Yes, ma’am,” Nancy replied.

“And no sarcasm, at all—none,” Robyn retorted.

“Who was being sarcastic? So, shall I call you Boss
Lady?”

That afternoon he’d received a report from Chicago,
results he’d been waiting on for weeks. He’d been so sure of this
trial, so convinced this was a breakthrough. When he read the
findings, he’d wanted to weep. Maggie and Aaron had both watched
him read the email, although she had made a good effort at
pretending to clean her workstation. He’d wanted to cry and smash
everything on the counter. But he’d chewed the inside of his mouth,
shut the email down, and retreated to the bathroom with his dignity
intact. Once alone, he’d lost it. He’d punched the mirror, leaving
a fist sized crack in it, and then taken the rest of his anger out
on the hand dryer. He needed this to work. He needed to know that
he was worth something. But it wasn’t just that. It was what Robyn
had told him, too. The mirror and the hand dryer weren’t just the
unoptimistic results, they were Jason, this man who had hurt her.
The man he would gladly pulverize.

Now he was home and he could hear Robyn in the
kitchen. She was singing something country. She had a God-awful
voice but he liked it. He couldn’t face her yet. His hand was still
bleeding and he needed to take a breath and recollect himself. He
sat down on the stairs.

“Listen! I’m opening beer. This is because I have
something very awkward to tell you. Well, a couple of things,
really, but one is definitely worse than the other, but I’ll let
you decide which is which…to be honest, I’m not quite sure myself.
And I’m making dinner, although it’s been a while since I had
pasta, so I’m probably burning it. Can you burn pasta?” Robyn
called from the kitchen.

There was no reply.

“Cole Ryan! Don’t you dare leave because you know I’m
cooking! If it goes really wrong, I’ll send for takeout or I’ll
barbecue!” Robyn shouted.

There was still no response.

“Cole! Is that you? Or did you give someone else a
set of keys?” Robyn called as she went toward the hallway to
investigate.

When she got there, Cole was sat on the stairs, his
head in his hands.

“Look, I know I’m not Michelin standard, but there’s
no need to have a breakdown over it. I’ll get Chinese,” Robyn said,
looking at him with concern.

He stood up, took hold of her hands tightly in his,
and kissed her. She returned the kiss with as much passion as he
gave and backed him up against the stairs. She sat astride him,
dropping the wooden spoon she was holding to the carpet.

“The random kissing is supposed to be my thing,” she
said, laying another kiss on his lips and slipping her hands
underneath his t-shirt.

“Have you patented the idea? Am I infringing on
copyright?” he asked, taking her face in his hands and drawing it
to his.

“Do you care?”

“Not right now.”

He kissed her again, this time for a long time, until
she had to pull away to breathe.

“This isn’t a date,” she clarified, trying to get her
breath back and ignore her racing heart.

“I know,” Cole answered with a smile.

“So, what’s up?” Robyn asked, getting off him and
standing up.

“Just a bad day at work, when it was so close to
being the best day ever,” Cole replied with a heavy sigh, sitting
up on the bottom step.

“How does that happen? Man! Look at your hand! Did
you hit someone?”

“No.”

“So what happened?”

“We created a new vaccine. We thought this was it,
the closest thing we could get to a cure for something we’ve been
working on for over a year. But it hasn’t worked as well as it
should have. It’s only shown regression in fifty-two percent of the
cases,” Cole explained.

“Fifty-two percent is impressive, though, yeah?”

“Not impressive enough for anyone to do anything
about it,” Cole replied.

“So what do you do next?”

“Go back and look again. Try and work out why it
didn’t perform better. And, if we can’t find the answer, we start
all over again,” Cole said, shaking his head in frustration.

“How did you get so smart? I mean, I barely know the
difference between penicillin and Prozac,” Robyn told him.

“I’m not that smart, just determined,” Cole
answered.

Robyn looked at him, sensing there was more to
come.

“I lost my dad to cancer. Before that, I had no idea
what I wanted to be. If he hadn’t have died, I probably would have
tried my luck as a pro ice hockey player. But losing him to
something like that, it blew my mind. I had to try and make it
better somehow. Does that sound really lame?” Cole asked her.

“No, it sounds very noble and grown up and
sensible.”

“You mean boring.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You thought it, though.”

“I would not be living with you if you were boring,
believe me.”

“You didn’t have anywhere else to go apart from the
basic room at Psycho Mike-o’s,” Cole reminded her.

“And there was that, too. So what did you hit?
Nothing containing anything viral, I hope,” Robyn said,
smiling.

“Bathroom mirror,” Cole admitted.

“The janitor’s going to be pissed at you.”

“I’ll pay for it.”

“So, Cole Ryan beats up on things and then settles up
for the damage. I like that,” Robyn told him.

She leaned forward and softly kissed his lips, taking
hold of his injured hand and gently running her fingers over the
wound.

“I’ll get some ice,” she whispered.

“So, about those things I wanted to tell you. Well,
all the bartenders who came for interviews were useless, except
Nancy, and she gave a rousing speech about togetherness and blood
and family, so I gave her a job. Then Aunt Pam came in and she
wants to meet you, so I kind of had to accept an offer of dinner
tomorrow night at six before we all hang out at Taboo,” Robyn spoke
quickly.

“Okay,” Cole answered, unfazed.

She watched him drain the pasta. His t-shirt rode up
a little, giving her the slightest glimpse of his flesh. She
swallowed. She had to stop this fantasizing or things were going to
get complicated.

She cleared her throat.

“Okay? Did you hear everything I said? I gave my
trampy future step-mom a job at the roadhouse I kicked her out of,
and we have to go to dinner at Aunt Pam and Uncle Bob’s and sit
opposite the satanic twins,” Robyn repeated.

“I heard, it’s all good,” Cole answered, putting the
pasta onto plates.

“Really?”

“Sure. Free dinner, what’s not to like?”

“Trampy step-mom?”

“I’m sure you’ll keep her in line.”

“Hopefully.”

“So who else did you hire?”

“Hmm, yeah, well, she was it. I’m going to have to
contact agencies next, and that’ll cost more.”

“How about me?” Cole asked.

“How about you, what?”

“I could work the bar,” Cole offered, stirring a pan
of gray looking sauce.

“You already have a job.”

“Not in the evenings.”

“Yeah, but you have hockey.”

“Not every night. We agreed practicing every night
was over the top, remember?”

“You haven’t ever worked a bar.”

“Sure, I have. I worked a bar in Chicago to help pay
tuition fees. Do you need references?”

“Is there no end to your talents?”

“I’m pretty hot, right?” Cole replied with a
laugh.

Robyn’s cheeks flushed as she looked back at him. She
wanted to see more than what was under his t-shirt. She was
dangerously close to thinking about what lay beneath his jeans. He
looked at her again and she felt her whole body flush. He had the
darkest eyes, like pools of oil. It would be all too easy to give
in. But if she gave in, what happened next? She had no idea.

Suddenly her mobile rang. It jolted her out of the
daydream and back to reality. She took her phone out of her pocket
and looked at the display.

Clive—again.

She should have called him by now. She’d promised to
call him as soon as she’d arrived, and it was days now.

“Who is it?” Cole asked, watching Robyn just staring
at the ringing phone in her hand.

“Oh…it’s my work…back in England,” she answered,
hiding her eyes from him in case her expression gave her feelings
away.

She was saved from having to say anything else when
the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it. It’s probably one of your neighbors
with chicken and rice. That would save you from the pasta!” Robyn
called as she ran up the hallway.

She opened the door to Brad.

“Hey,” he greeted sheepishly.

“Hey.”

“Look, um, I wanted to apologize for the other night,
being a jerk and sounding off,” Brad began, looking down at his
feet.

“How did you know I was here? And what’s so good
about your shoes?”

“I called over to Bob and Pam’s. She said you were
here on Woodhams. I saw the Mustang,” Brad admitted, raising his
head.

“D’you wanna come in?” Robyn invited.

“No, I can’t really. I’m about to go on duty and…”
Brad began.

“Come in. Come and eat some pasta with us. I made it,
it looks terrible, but Cole’s trying to fix it,” Robyn said,
ushering him in.

“I don’t want to put anyone to any trouble,” he said,
reluctantly stepping in.

“Cole! Get another plate out, Brad’s here! And don’t
worry, he basically had an olive branch between his teeth,” Robyn
called as they made their way into the dining room.

“Look, about the way I reacted last night. I care
about you, Robyn, I always have and I just…” Brad began, taking off
his hat.

“I overreacted, too. Of course I eat dinners—you
surprised me, that’s all. We’ll have dinner, I promise, just as
soon as I have the roadhouse up and running.”

“Hey,” Cole greeted, entering the dining room with
the food.

“Hey, Cole. Listen, I apologize for last night. I
acted like a tool. Can we put it behind us?” Brad asked, offering
him his hand.

Cole looked at the offering but made no move.

“Cole, come on. I promise, he’s not usually a
fruitcake like he was last night,” Robyn said.

“I mean it, man, sincere apology. I was out of line,”
Brad told him.

Cole took his hand and shook it.

“She looks like a great car, by the way. Does she run
good?” Brad asked as they all sat down at the table.

“Don’t ask
him
, I haven’t let him drive it!
She runs just fine. She needs a tune up, but I intend to sort that
out this weekend,” Robyn informed him.

“Wow, pasta looks…interesting,” Brad remarked,
observing the gray colored sauce.

“Yeah, what is in the sauce?” Cole asked Robyn,
preparing to take a mouthful.

“Not telling. It’s a secret recipe,” Robyn said,
spooning some into her mouth.

Brad looked at Cole and Cole looked back at Brad.
Both waited to see who was going to sample the food first.

Cole opened his mouth and put in a large forkful. Not
to be outdone, Brad followed his lead.

“It’s anchovy, pepper, mushroom, dill pickle, and Bud
Light,” Robyn informed them.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Brad announced,
leaping up from the table and hurrying to the kitchen.

“What’s his problem?” Robyn asked with a shrug.

“Damned if I know,” Cole replied, piling up his
fork.

“Good morning, Max, raisins for you. They’re full of
goodness and taste like sweets, remember,” Robyn announced the next
day, depositing a large packet on the old man’s bed.

“Huh! You said that about the grapes and I’ve been on
the bedpan all night long,” Max grunted, picking up the packet and
putting it on his locker.

“Cinnamon doughnut, Dad? Or a nice bag of low sugar
popcorn? I’ll let you choose. Doughnut or popcorn? Popcorn or
doughnut?” Robyn asked, swinging both items in front of Eddie’s
face.

“Take the doughnut, Eddie, we can share it,” Max
called gruffly.

“I promised Nancy a wedding when I get out of here,
gimme the popcorn,” Eddie said, grabbing the bag from his
daughter.

“Ah ha! I knew there was a reason she’s being nice to
me. You’re really going to marry her. You’ve set a date?” Robyn
asked.

“Three months’ time. Did you give her a job?” Eddie
wanted to know, pouring popcorn into his mouth.

“Did I have a choice?” Robyn replied, sinking her
teeth into the doughnut.

“She’s not like you think, Buttercup,” Eddie
insisted, popcorn tumbling out of his mouth as he spoke.

“You called me Buttercup,” Robyn remarked, stopping
chewing.