Fool for Love (Believe #2) (7 page)

A bag of food lands on the counter right on top of my paper, and I yelp in surprise, heart pounding.

“Sorry,” Garrett mumbles. I look up to find him removing his leather jacket.

How did I not hear him come back?

“It’s okay. I guess I was lost in thought.” I sigh and slump back on my stool, sad that my job hunting has been in vain so far. It would seem that no one in this city seems to be looking for a waitress at the moment. Well, where the wages aren’t ridiculously low, that is.

“Job hunting?” he asks me, as he moves to unpack so much food that it seems there’s enough for an army. There’s chicken, bacon, some kind of pasta, green and red peppers, garlic, a loaf of garlic bread. Oh, and there’s white wine, too. Nice.

I pick up the pasta. “Yes. I need to find a job or I’ll have to leave NYC sooner than I thought. I don’t want that.”

His movements still. When I don’t get a reply back, I look up. I gasp when I see the furious gaze fixed on the newspaper, and I take in the ad his eyes seem fixed on. The paper may be upside down, but the words “POLE DANCER” aren’t exactly hard to read.

“What the fuck is that?” he growls. I swallow the lump in my throat. Even though I’d never planned on applying for something like that, his reaction is completely uncalled for. I don’t have to defend myself to this guy.

I put down the bag of pasta and cross my arms, straightening my back.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but it’s a possible job,” I quip.

His head snaps up.

“Out of the question,” he grunts. “You’re
not
going to do that.”

I blink, completely taken aback by his reaction.

What. The. Fuck? Where is this caveman coming from?

“Excuse me?” I lean forward in my seat, trying to stare him down, knowing full well that I’m failing miserably.

He crosses his arms, visibly tense.

“They’ll eat you alive at a place like that,” he grumbles.

“You don’t know me. You don’t have the right to tell me what to do.” I stand up and round the bar to get to him, completely invading his space. He doesn’t back down. I didn’t really expect him to, but it was worth a try.

I jab a finger in his chest as I crane my head, keeping my gaze on his.

“Listen, buddy, we’ve only just met, and if we are going to live together for the next few months, I think it’s only fair that I set some rules myself.”

His frown deepens. “Is that so?” His voice has gone quiet, but there is an ominous sound to it that sends an unpleasant shiver down my spine.

I do my best to ignore it as I try to find my inner Wonder Woman.

“Yes! First of all, you’re not my parents, or my brother, or my boyfriend, so that doesn’t give you any right at all to decide
anything
for me. I’m a big girl. I do
what
I want
when
I want. Got it?”

He takes a small step forward, but I refuse to back down. I put my hands on my hips and inhale deeply.

“Now, you listen carefully to what I say next –” he begins. I don’t like the sound of that.

“Places like that?” He jerks his head at the offending paper. “They’re not for sweet, innocent girls like you.”

I open my mouth to interrupt him, but he continues, “Yes, you
are
innocent, babe, and there is no way in hell that I will allow you to work as a pole dancer. If you want a job, you’ll work at my restaurant; and if you turn out to be miserable at that, I’ll help you find one that suits you better. If you refuse to work for me…” He stops, and I frown when he doesn’t elaborate further. He blows out a breath and finally steps away. “Well, I know of somewhere else where you’ll be able to work for a much better salary, but where you won’t have to remove a single piece of your clothes.”

I sigh and rub my forehead, so tired all of a sudden. Outbursts like these are few and far between, and they always leave me feeling like crap.

“Okay, for your information, I wasn’t going to apply for that particular job, Garrett.”

He raises an eyebrow and I smirk at him. “That still doesn’t give you the right to make any decisions on my behalf.”

He frowns and I don’t like the calculating gleam in his eyes. Without saying more, he turns away from me and resumes unpacking the grocery bags.

Not knowing what to do now, I sit down and ask him, “Do you want some help with dinner?”

He stops, his head down, but his eyes lift to meet mine.

I raise my hands in the air when I notice the scepticism in them.

“Of course not,” I mutter. “You’re the cook, I get it. But will you at least let me open that bottle? I think I’m going to need more than one glass of wine to get me through the evening.”

Wordlessly, he hands me the wine before rummaging through a drawer to find the corkscrew. As I struggle a bit with the complicated contraption he just handed me, his lips twitch amusedly, but I’m determined to succeed, even if my muscles seem kind of useless against the cork.

“Do you need some help with that?” he finally asks me, hand outstretched. I quickly shake my head at him.

“No, thanks,” I puff a bit, putting all my weight into the damned thing. “I may look scrawny, but I’ve got some muscle on me.”

Inwardly, I cringe. I can’t help but overhearing the low “Liar” whispered from his mouth. I decide to ignore him, and at last the offending cork relents and the wine is ready to be consumed.

“You’re not scrawny,” Garrett says, a thoughtful look in his eyes.

I snort and roll my eyes at him. “Yeah, right, whatever you say.”

The sarcasm rolling off my tongue doesn’t hold him back.

“You’re not. You’re just…delicate. You remind me of a waif, actually.”

Completely taken by surprise from hearing those words from a man such as Garrett, I can’t do anything but stare at him, mouth hanging slightly open.

He chuckles and reaches his hand towards me. There’s a teasing glint in his eyes that I have not seen before, and I’m so intrigued by the man before me.

Who is he?

Tapping my chin twice with his index finger, he says, “Careful you don’t catch flies, babe. Now, save some of that wine, please. I need it for our dinner –
Chicken Alfredo
.”

Shutting my mouth immediately, feeling lightheaded and confused, I merely nod and then watch as he goes about his business. At least I’ll be able to admire the way his arse looks without him being aware of it.

Curiouser and curiouser…

I feel like I’m Alice about to fall down the rabbit hole. This day is the weirdest I’ve had in a long time. I’m so confused about this man and how he can go from hot to cold like that. I honestly don’t like it; but at the same time, I do.

I reach for the glass Garrett has poured for me and take a small sip.

Let the madness begin.

I
CAN FEEL
S
UZY’S
eyes on me as I prepare the vegetables for dinner.

It’s not uncomfortable, not really. Just very unusual.

I can’t remember the last time a woman watched me as I cooked – not in my own home, that is. I’m not sure what to make of it.

To break the silence, I ask gruffly, “So, Miss Suzy Christensen, where are you from?”

I look at her and wait for her to answer. There’s a puzzled look in her grey eyes.

“Didn’t you get most of my details from the agency that handled my lease?”

I tense up.

“I can’t remember,” I lie. When they sent the papers to me at rehab, I didn’t pay them that much attention. I was just relieved to find a tenant on such short notice.

“Oh. Well, I’m from Denmark, actually.”

I tilt my head at her. “So that explains the accent.”

She scrunches her nose at me, and I almost break out in a smile from the cuteness.

“Is it very horrible?” she asks me, twirling a strand of her blonde curls.

Shaking my head, I try to reassure her. “No. It’s not.”

She sighs, her lips lifting at the corners, and my eyes zoom in on the small birthmark at the corner of her upper lip.

“Good.”

Silence falls again, and I wrack my brain, trying to come up with a new topic. As I turn to wash my hands, though, it strikes me that music might work.

“Do you want to listen to some music while I cook?”

“That would be nice, yes.”

“Anything in particular that you like?”

Why do I even care?

“Oh, no, not really…”

I turn and raise my eyebrows at her. “Really?” I don’t believe her. She simply gives me a small smile.

“It’s true. As long as it’s not hip hop or rap, I’m not fussy.”

“Fair enough.”

I walk to the bookshelf where my outdated stereo system has a shelf to itself and pick up a CD with one of my favourite artists. Not only is he an incredible singer, but his voice is soothing and fits well with my task at hand.

I turn the music down a bit and then go back to my station behind the bar. I glance briefly at my
roommate
and find it interesting when I see her head tilted to the side, her eyes closed.

“Are you tired?” I tease her. She opens one eye, squinting at me.

“Hush. I love this song,” she whispers before shutting it once more.

I frown at her as I pick up my knife to cut the peppers in long slices.