The Running Series Complete Collection: 3-Book Set plus Bonus Novella (179 page)

“Sure you can.”  She hops off her barstool and slips back with me behind the bar.  “I’ll take over until you get back.”

“Really?  Are you sure?”  I’m already taking off my red apron and tossing it to her.  “I’ll be quick as a flash.  I promise.”

Before Jette can say anything else, I hurry back to the kitchen to find Reese who’s keeping herself busy prepping some fresh vegetables for the dinner rush. 

Reese listens as I explain my dilemma and ask for her help.  “I don’t want to bring home leftovers tonight.  I want to make something fresh with my own hands.  I’m not helpless in the kitchen, but I do need something easy that I can’t screw up.”  I grab a piece of the red pepper she’s slicing and take a crunchy bite.

She finishes her task and quickly cleans up her workstation.  “Alright, let’s think about this carefully.  For a protein, you should go with a simple steak or fish. I can help you pick out a nice cut and tell you precisely how long to cook it.”

“I don’t know exactly what time he’s coming home.  I haven’t heard from him all day,” I explain.  “If I let the steak sit too long, it will get ruined, right?”

“Maybe not ruined exactly, but I wouldn’t want to serve it after it’s been sitting around a while,” she confirms.  “Hmm, maybe a simple shrimp scampi would be better.  You can toss it in a pan with some white wine when he gets home and it will be ready in just a few minutes.”

Reese finds a sheet of paper and makes me a list of the ingredients I’ll need.  I cross off the ones I have at home and in no time at all, I have a romantic dinner for two all planned out.  Reese insists that I get fresh shrimp from Spike’s Fish Market in Point Pleasant on the way home.  They have local shrimp fresh off the boat and if I tell them what I’m making, they’ll pick out the perfect size for me. 

As soon as Derek arrives to relieve me, I grab the dessert box that Jette had Natalie prepare for me and head out, excited to reward my man with a special meal made with my own two hands.

A few quick stops at Spike’s and the supermarket, then I’m home.  It’s only five o’clock and I’m guessing Adam will be home sometime around seven.  That leaves me two hours to shower and cook.  More than enough time if Reese’s directions are right, and I have no doubt that they are.

My usual M-O after a full day behind the bar is to come home, take a shower, and put on a T-shirt and a nice, comfortable pair of yoga pants; nothing else fits like it used to.  But not tonight.  Instead, I opt for a simple cotton wrap dress.  It’s soft and comfy, but not at all schlumpy.  I take a final glance in the mirror.  The low-cut V-neck shows off just the right amount of cleavage, which seems to be getting more and more ample recently.  “Perfect,” I say aloud to absolutely no one, smiling.

My first mission is to set the right mood.  I wish I could start a fire in the fireplace, but Adam forgot to bring home new firewood.  But since I can’t, I scurry around the house searching.  I find all the candles we own and spread them around the house in clusters creating the perfect ambiance of soft, gentle light.  I know that when I turn out the lights and ignite the candles, there will be small pockets of sparkling light, just like I want.

I put away our usual placemats and opt for a rich, red tablecloth.  Our simple white plates look much more dramatic and classy. 

All that’s left is to prep the rest of the food.  Before I start, I send Adam a text asking him when he’s coming home for dinner.  By six thirty, I still haven’t received a reply, but I’m pretty sure he’ll be here by his usual seven o’clock.  If he’s in the car driving, that would explain his silence.

I boil the linguine, clean and trim the asparagus, and measure out the scampi ingredients.  Once that’s done, the only thing left to do is to devein the shrimp.  It’s kind of gross and really messy, but fairly easy to do once I get the hang of it. 

I honestly don’t know why anyone would want to go to all this trouble every night of the week.  Cooking dinner is a lot of work.  I wonder if Adam will expect me to do this every night if I decide to stay home with Bean.  I’ll have to remember to ask him about it.

By seven o’clock, the pasta is cooked, the asparagus is roasted, and the shrimp are all prepped and ready for the frying pan.  All I need is someone to serve it to. 

Time to send another text to Adam to check in.

It only takes me a few minutes to clean up while I wait, leaving me with nothing to do except check my cell phone for a call or message.  I walk around the house checking on the candles and fluffing pillows.  I want everything to be perfect.

As the clock nears eight, I flip through the channels to find something to watch on television.  If Adam were here, we’d sit and watch the new episode of Big Bang together.  But since he’s not, I get to watch my sinfully shameless favorite show, The Vampire Diaries instead.  I could rationalize my obsession by reflecting on the dramatic plot twists, the nail-biting cliff hangers, and the complex characters.  But the real reason why I love it is simple – Ian Somerhalder’s smoldering blue eyes and wicked smirk.  Adam doesn’t like to hear about it, but Ian is high on my freebie list. 

With the remote in hand, ready to switch the channel the moment the door opens, I pull out a fluffy blanket and curl up in front of the television to get my weekly vampire fix.

Another hour goes by as the show comes to an end and the candles continue to wither away, inch by inch.  By now, a few of the tealights have completely burned themselves out. 

I refuse to send out another desperate text message, even though my fingers are itching to call him.  He’ll be home – eventually.  I try to look at the bright side.  He must be having a wonderful first day.  He’s probably so focused on what he’s doing that he’s completely lost track of time.  I’m sure there’s a lot to learn and take in. 

As I walk around the house blowing out all the candles and putting away the table settings, I ruminate over the fact that I have no one to blame but myself.  We didn’t have any dinner plans and Adam isn’t breaking any promises.  I made assumptions and frankly, I should have known better.  The first day at a new job is unpredictable at best.

I pick on the pasta and asparagus as I clean up from my unappreciated celebratory meal.  When the last pot is washed and the final piece of linguini properly bagged and refrigerated, I notice the chocolate pudding cake sitting there and I swear I hear it calling my name.  Unable to resist, I grab a plate and fork, and carefully remove the scrumptious treat from the box. 

Sitting back down in front of the television, I quickly realize that there’s nothing worth watching.  Maybe it’s my foul mood.  Maybe it’s not.  Out of desperation, I check the DVR to see what’s recently recorded and discover last night’s unwatched episode of American Horror Story.  Adam and I usually watch that together, but then again, we usually eat dinner together, too.  So I resign myself to the fact that for the near future at least, I’m going to have to get used to being alone again.  So I hit ‘play’, put my feet up, and take a big heaping forkful of the moistest chocolate cake in the world.

As the show ends, my eyelids are feeling heavy.  I turn off the television and the lights, lock the doors, and tuck myself into bed as soon as the show ends.  I’m not going to wait up for him any longer. 

I toss and turn until well after midnight when I hear the unmistakable sound of Adam’s footsteps coming down the hallway.  I pull the sheets up to my chin and close my eyes tight.  I’m not mad, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I was disappointed.  I don’t really want to talk to him right now.  I’m just glad he’s finally home.

He tiptoes into the bedroom without turning on a light and begins to strip down to his boxers.  After depositing his dirty clothes in the hamper, he gently climbs into bed, careful not to make too much noise or unnecessary movements.

I feel the bed jostle as he cozies up to me, fitting himself perfectly behind me.  He wraps a long arm around my waist and gives me a sweet kiss in the tender spot just below my ear.  Instinctively, I press myself back against him and smile.  His touch is at once calming and soothing, and any negative thoughts I had are immediately released.

I turn over so we are face-to-face.  “You’re late,” I whisper.  “Did you have a good first day?”

He opens his mouth to answer, but a yawn slips out instead.  “Really good,” he finally answers.

He kisses my temple and drags his fingertips up and down my arm and over the ink on my shoulder, sending goose bumps across my skin.

My hand wanders just a bit, enjoying the closeness that I seem to suddenly crave. 

Staring down on me, he shakes his head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but can we just cuddle until we fall asleep? I just want to be close to you for a while.”

Shifting my fingers to brush some stray hair from his forehead, I search his eyes. “Of course.”

Adam stretches out his arm, and I cuddle up into his warm embrace.  He wraps his long leg over mine and laces our fingers together.  Kissing my knuckles, he sighs softly. “I love you, Emmy,” he whispers.

I rest my cheek on his shoulder and welcome the feeling of his body sprawled across mine. We stay that way, cuddling and silently comforting each other, until we both drift off into a deep sleep. 

Somewhere in the fog of sleep, I hear an alarm ringing.  Why isn’t Adam turning it off?  I reach over to nudge him awake and my arm falls onto an empty bed.  He’s not here.  I shake off the haze and crawl across the bed to silence the God-awful appliance torturing me.

The house is eerily quiet.  I don’t hear the shower running, the microwave humming, or the talking heads on television blabbing.  A quick peek out the bedroom window tells me all I need to know.  Adam’s car is gone and so is he.

I wander out into the kitchen to start making myself a hot cup of tea.  Waiting for me on the kitchen counter is a note.

There’s no two ways about it – this sucks monkey balls!  The minute I get to work, everyone is going to ask me how Adam’s first day was, and I’m not going to be able to tell any of them a frigging thing.  I have no idea what happened other than the fact that he came home late and he left early.

Sure enough, Reese and Marcus barrage me with questions the minute I walk in the door.  “He didn’t have much to say,” I explain.  “By the time he got home, he was exhausted and went straight to bed.” 

“Well, when you see him tonight, tell him he better get his ass down here and give us all a full report,” Marcus pronounces as he returns to work, getting ready to open for the day.

Reese, however, pushes for more information.  “How was dinner?  Did you get the shrimp like I told you?”

“Actually, I was hoping you didn’t have any plans after work today.  I thought we could go back to my place and you could let me practice cooking for you.  The shrimp will still be good, right?”

Reese suddenly looks at me with pity.  God, how I hate that.  “Oh, honey.  Of course I’ll come over after work.  What happened?”

She follows me as I make my way back to the bar.  “Nothing happened.  It’s like I said, he didn’t get home until close to midnight.”  As I’m tying the bar apron around my waist I tell her, “I had everything cleaned up and put away by then.”

“What an ass!”  Reese repeats as she shakes her head in obvious dissatisfaction.  “I hope you read him the riot act.”

Her reaction surprises me, so I have to ask, “Why would I do that?”

“You have every right to be mad, Em.  Has he ever missed dinner with you before without the courtesy of a phone call?”

“No,” I reluctantly admit.  “But then again, he’s never started a new job since I’ve known him, either.  I’m not going to make a big deal out of this, Reese, so don’t try to get me all worked up.  I have a list of all the things I need to worry about right now, and I don’t remember putting
drama
on that list.”

The minute I finish talking, I regret being so harsh.  Maybe harsh isn’t the right word.  Direct.  I was simply trying to be blunt and honest.

Reese immediately apologizes.  “I’m so sorry.  I shouldn’t have said that, Emmy.  Is that invitation for dinner still open?”

“Of course,” I tell her.  “I haven’t gotten any better at cooking in the last five minutes, you know.”

“Are you sure Adam won’t be home for dinner?” she asks.  “I know you two have a lot to talk about.”

“Oh, no – not tonight.  He told me to go ahead and eat without him.  He’s definitely going to be late again.  We have all weekend to catch up.  I’m not worried.”

“Sounds like a plan, then.”

The rest of the crew arrives and we all set about getting ready to open for the day.  Derek shows up just before the doors open for lunch.  He has his clipboard in hand and he immediately starts checking the stock and inventory.  “It’s going to be crazy today,” he tells me.

“And how do you know that?” I ask as I prep the condiments for our shift.  “We haven’t even opened yet.”

Derek ambles over to me and smiles.  Tall, light brown hair, and fairly good-looking, Derek pulls in just as many tips as I do – maybe even more.  He’s a perennial flirt and he’s very good at it.  It’s very hard to not like Derek Lattimer and he knows it.  “Trust me,” he teases.  “I have a sixth sense about these things, Em, and I can just tell.  Hope you took your vitamins today.”

He’s probably right.  It’s Friday and the snow has finally melted away.  The temperature outside is warmer than it’s been in weeks.  The Super Bowl is just two days away and people are going to be out today shopping for their party supplies.  “Are we all stocked up for Evan’s Super Bowl Extravaganza?” I wonder aloud.

“Yup – I’ve got it all under control,” he answers as he busily counts and checks our stock. 

Sure enough, within an hour, the restaurant is bustling and brimming with customers.  Not only is the Super Bowl just two days away, but the semester has started again at Monmouth University, bringing with it a fresh influx of young patrons.