Too Much to Lose (6 page)

She turns, a half smile on her
lips and I note all her make-up is in place too. She’s stunning but I don’t
like her putting on a front with me. It bothers me for more reasons than it
should. Of course, little does she know, make-up can’t hide the truth from me.
I know she’s a crook.

I hold up the deli bag and
thrust it toward her. “I wasn’t sure what you like,” I lie.

Jess takes the bag, pulls out
the sandwiches and unwraps them before putting them on plates. “This is great,
thank you. Is this mine?” She holds up the chorizo.

“Yeah. Good guess.” I nod
toward the flowers. “You should get those in water.”

“Oh I forgot those. They came
this morning while I was still sleeping.”

“Do I need to worry about a
jealous boyfriend?” I ask casually, digging for more information.

“Oh no, not at all. I thought…
well, no there’s no one. I’m not even sure who they’re from.”

I grab them and feign looking
for a label. “Here.” I hand her the card.

The colour drains from her face
and her hands tremble marginally. It means something to her. But what?

Jess smiles weakly and flings
the card aside. “Weird.” She motions to the couch and grimaces. “I don’t have
anywhere to eat but feel free to sit down. Sorry, I know it’s a dump. I don’t
really have guests.”

Watching me as I sit, she waits
until I begin eating and sits gingerly next to me. The couch sags so much that
her weight brings our legs together and lightning streaks through me. I’m galvanized
by her touch. Pink slashes of colour sit high in her cheeks and I know she felt
it too.

“So, um, thanks for coming,
Hunter. I know I was rude last night and—”

“It’s okay, you don’t need to
say anything.” I take a mouthful of sandwich and resist groaning. “God, this is
good.”

Jess laughs. “Marco’s is the
best. Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you… you really didn’t need to—”

“It’s fine, honestly. I’m glad
I could help. I was a dick last night. I can’t say I wouldn’t do it again but I
understand why you were pissed.”

A relieved smile lights her
face and makes me want to kiss those curving lips into submission. “Good.” She
nods. “Thanks.”

“Thank me properly later.”

“What?”

I can tell there’s a few dirty
thoughts running through her mind. There’s a slight flicker of a pulse at the
base of her neck and she draws in a heavy breath.

“I mean you can thank me by
going out with me.”

“Oh.”

Is that disappointment I see?
‘Cause God knows I’d happily have her thank me in many other ways. She could
thank me on top, or on her knees or—shit.

“You don’t want to go out with
me?”

“It’s not that, it’s just… it’s
not a good idea, okay?”

“Princess, I rarely have good
ideas but trust me, a date is an awesome idea.” I place the plate on the arm of
the couch and grab her hand. She doesn’t protest when I loop my fingers through
hers but nor does she sink into me like I want. “You, me, maybe somewhere
secluded.” I lower my voice unintentionally. “That would be a very, very good
idea.”

I watch her throat move and
bring her hand up to mine so I can kiss her fingers. I’m acting purely on
instinct now. I’m not even playing a game. I should be, but I’m not. One finger
at a time, I lay my lips on them. Her barely audible gasps are music to my
ears. My damned jeans are trying to kill me again but it’s worth it. I didn’t
even know just kissing someone’s fingers could be a turn-on but I think it’s affecting
her just as much as it is me.

 Something changes. She catches
sight of something behind me—the flowers perhaps—and her expression shutters.
Tugging her hand from mine, she stares at her sandwich. “You don’t want to get
involved with me. I really appreciate your help but I’m just not looking to
date.”

Damn it. I lost my focus and
now I’m losing my chance with her again. I’ve got to stop acting so rashly. Kissing
someone’s hand? Fuck, that’s not me at all. Always in control. That’s how I
like to be. I’ve seen how being out of control can fuck up your life. My dad
did that. And took the rest of us down with him. No way in hell am I going down
that road.

I flick on a grin. “Jessie,
give me one chance. That’s all I’m asking. I’ll be the perfect gentleman I
swear.”

Her expression is pained when
she lifts her head. I can practically see the war going on inside her. Poor
girl. I’m not the only one suffering an insane attraction. Problem is, she’s
the only one with genuine intentions.

“One date,” I murmur as I give
in to temptation and skim a finger across one bare shoulder. “What’s the worst
that can happen?”

She laughs unexpectedly and
gives me a wry smile. “Many things, I suspect.”

I chuckle. She’s probably
right.

Jess

My head is still fuzzy by the
time I catch the bus to work. I’m not sure if that’s the after-effects of the
migraine or a symptom of having been in Hunter’s company for most of the
afternoon. I rest my head against the window and watch the lights go by.
Cyclists weave dangerously close to the bus and horns beep, rattling my fragile
head.

I don’t know how he does it.
Every time I think I’ve got my defences in place, he smashes through them.
Somehow I managed not to commit to a date with him but now my phone burns a hole
in my pocket because I’m aware his number is there. The migraine brought me low
and broke my restraint but I can’t let that happen again.

I get off the bus and force my
way through the people on the pavement. Slipping around the back of Murphy’s, I
pause before knocking to be let in. I smooth my palms down my jeans and
straighten my jacket. Hunter has ruffled me. I can’t remember the last time I
enjoyed the company of... well, anyone really. I had friends once but when my asshole
ex, Pete, found out about my past and told everyone, that was it. No one wanted
anything to do with me. Heat flares in my cheeks. I shake my head and knock on
the door.

After a few moments, the lock
clicks and Eddie thrusts his head out. With salt and pepper hair, he’s easily
old enough to be my dad but he keeps himself in shape and is attractive for his
age. Thankfully his attentions have only ever seemed fatherly. He likes young girls—my
age usually—but maybe I’m too reserved for him.

“Jess.” He grins. “Come in.”

He ushers me in and I slip off
my jacket and hang it in the staffroom. I glance around. “Where is everyone?”

“Jo called in sick and Seb
isn’t in until seven.”

“What about Katy?”

Eddie shrugs. “The rota got
messed up I think. She’s not in until later too.”

I scowl. We’re at our busiest
on a Saturday and it’s the first I’ve heard of the rota being messed up.
Murphy’s runs pretty smoothly. Eddie is normally on the ball.

“Just the two of us for a bit,”
Eddie says with a chuckle.

I let my frown deepen. I really
don’t feel up to dealing with a lot of customers on my own. “We’ll never
manage.”

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll
come out from behind the bar when needs be.”

I shake my head and follow him
out to the bar. “Yeah right.” A flash of pink on the bar catches my eye and I
freeze. “How did those get there?” My voice is tight.

“Oh, the flowers?”

“Yes, Eddie, the flowers.”

“They were delivered earlier.”
Eddie steps around behind the bar and begins nonchalantly wiping down the
surface.

“For you?” I ask hopefully,
even though they’re exactly the same roses that were sent to my place this
morning.

“I don’t think anyone has ever given
me flowers. Why don’t you have a look at the note?”

Heart thudding, I approach the
roses, my footsteps heavy. Hunter had made me forget those other flowers. Maybe
it was a mistake, but something plays in the back of my mind, telling me they
were very deliberately sent to me with the cryptic message. Someone wants me.
But why?

Am I paranoid?

I peer at Eddie who’s watching
closely and smile weakly. Can he see my nervousness? The sweet fragrance turns
my stomach as I reach for the note stuffed in between the blooms. It’s a pink envelope
this time with my name on it. Has someone figured it out? I shake my head. No,
no way. I left that world far behind when I quit my job, moved to London and
changed my appearance.

Gulping, I peel it open and
draw out the folded letter. The paper is thick and expensive. Proper writing
paper. Someone’s put thought into it. Written in careful handwriting, the words
make me shake.

Whores like you should stick to
what they know best.

“Everything okay?”

I jerk my head up and nod
hastily before stuffing the letter in my pocket. “Yeah, yeah. Just a… just some
guy I turned down.” I force a laugh. “Guess he didn’t know how to take no for
an answer.”

Eddie shakes his head. “They’re
expensive flowers. Looks like someone is trying to charm you.”

“Yeah looks like it.” I snatch
the bouquet. “I’ll just stick these in water.” I lie and head toward the
kitchens. “Hey, Eddie, who delivered these?”

“I don’t know, Jess. I wasn’t
really paying attention. I just took them and left them here.”

“Did you sign for them?”

“Probably. I was busy trying to
get the place ready for tonight. Don’t have time to be dealing with your
admirers.” He says this casually enough but it still sounds defensive. I can’t
figure out why.

I fling the flowers in the
trash in the kitchen and pause to take a breath. What the hell am I going to
do? I’ve finally got a good job. I can’t start again. Am I in danger? Whoever
this person is knows where I live and where I work. And what can I do? I can’t
go to the police. I don’t know anything and I’m not willing to draw attention
to myself. What if I end up in the papers or something? The thought of being
exposed brings bile into my throat.

Pain and humiliation swamps me.
Memories of being
physically
exposed in front of strangers swim through
my head. Gripping the kitchen table until my knuckles hurt, I concentrate on
breathing and trying to forget. At times, I used to self medicate and it’s so
tempting to fall into that trap again—the empty ache throbs in my chest and
begs me to give in. I still have the pills from earlier in my bag. Strong
painkillers often helped when working for hours on end. No one cared if it hurt
or if you were exhausted. As long as they got their shots, that’s all that
mattered.

But my life is different now.
I’m strong, I can deal with this. I was only eighteen when this all hit—still
raw from running away from my aunt’s home and my uncle’s behaviour. It probably
is just someone I’ve blown off, like I said to Eddie. Guys do come onto me at
work but I never give in, no matter how charming they are.

Until Hunter, that is.

Pressing my fingers to my
temples, I attempt to shake myself out of my thoughts. Now is not the time to
be thinking about Hunter or this mysterious flower giver. I rub my forehead and
straighten. Time to get to work and forget either person exists.

***

At three a.m, the streets are
quiet enough but my head bangs as I wait for Eddie to lock up. Though the other
staff came in eventually, it was a busy night and having only just recovered
from a migraine, this shift took its toll. I dodged a few overly amorous and
drunk customers while trying not to remember when Hunter had come to my rescue.
Regret swirls in the pit of my stomach. Funny how I kind of miss him being my
alpha male now.

Eddie stuffs the bar keys in
his pocket and I check the locks, a duty that falls to me since I seem to have
become second in command recently. Mostly because I will work at short notice I
think.

“See you next week, Jess.”
Eddie heads off to his car with a wave and I wave back.

A shiver wracks me and I pull
my jacket tight. Spring might be considering giving way to summer but it’s
still cold at night. Yeah, that’s why I’m shivering. As I turn and head toward the
bus stop to catch the night bus, a shadow catches my eye. There’s people
around—party goers, workers like me, tourists—but something has me on edge.

I breeze past a laughing tipsy
couple and keep my head down until I reach the traffic lights. Fighting the
urge to tap my feet as I wait for them to change, I barely suppress a scream
when a hand curls around my shoulder and I whirl around.

“Hunter!”

His lopsided grin makes my toes
curl.

“Princess.”

I frown. Why does he keep
calling me that? I am nothing like a princess. “What are you doing here?”

“Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

I hold my jacket around me.
“It’s three a.m.”

He lifts a shoulder. “Couldn’t
sleep.”

The implication he was
concerned about me hangs in the air between us, crumbling another brick of my
resolve. That migraine has a lot to answer for. His hair is slightly dishevelled
as if he might have been tossing and turning or running his hands through it
repeatedly.