Flea pulled the door to the shop open and yelled, "Grace and I are headin’ to lunch."
"Grab so Kung Pao," Hatch yelled back.
"Beef broccoli," Hatch’s brother, Cullen called. "And noodles."
"Shoulda kept my mouth shut," Flea grumbled.
"Hey, can you grab cashew shrimp?" Train asked as he walked to the front desk. He handed Flea a twenty. "I’m up here ’til you get back."
"I won’t rember all this shit," Flea complained.
"Don’t worry." I waved a notebook at him. "I’m writing it down."
Flea stuck his face back through the door and yelled, "Anything else? Keep in mind, I’m not your fuckin’ secretary."
I didn’t hear words from anyone, but chuckles resounded as Flea closed the door again. "Let’s get out of here before they add to the list."
I grinned and nodded. "I’ll just grab my purse."
"Don’t need your purse, babe. Co on," he said, holding the front door open.
I rushed to follow him, and we walked a few doors down to the tiny, literal hole-in-the-wall Chinese food restaurant. There were only about six tables inside and I kept thinking that if they moved all the buddha statues, they’d probably have room for more.
The hostess led us to a table in the corner and I slid into the booth, setting the piece of paper between the soy sauce holder and the salt. I opened my nu, glanced at it, which was silly because I always ordered the sa thing, then set it down again and smiled at Flea.
"Why are you called Flea?" I asked.
He grinned. "Hatch said that I asked so many questions, it made him itch."
I chuckled. "What kinds of questions?"
"All kinds. Never had a dad, Mom was kind of a nut, so I used to grill him about everything."
"It’s nice you had that."
"Yeah. He’s the big brother I never had."
"He’s like that." I smiled. "He’s the dad I never had."
Flea raised an eyebrow. "You not close to yours?"
"Not really, no."
"You wanna talk about it?"
"Not really, no," I said again.
He leaned forward slightly. "That changes, you let know."
I nodded. "Thanks. Sorry, I didn’t an to bring the mood down."
"You didn’t, babe."
A server ca to our table and brought us tea, and we gave him our order, which ant I had a minute to pull myself together.
I don’t know why I blurted out everything I was feeling to Flea. It was like he gazed into my soul and saw everything anyway, so I guess I felt like it was futile to keep it hidden from him.
"What’s with the toothpick?" I asked once the server walked away.
He pulled it out of his mouth and slipped it into his pocket. "Quit smokin’ about a year ago. This helps."
"Gives your mouth sothing else to do, huh?"
"Yeah." He grinned. "’Course, there are better things I could do with my mouth, but the toothpick works in a pinch."
"I bet." I rolled my eyes in an effort to hide my shiver. I bet he could do amazing things with his mouth.
"How did you feel about this morning?" he asked.
"Overwheld, but good," I admitted. "I’m not sure I’ll rember everything."
"Once you get in the groove, it’s not hard. You’re already ahead of the curve."
"You think?"
"Yeah, Grace. You’re doin’ great."
I blushed. "Thanks."
"So, what’s this ballet thing?"
"You an, my life?"
He chuckled. "No, I an the reason you might leave the shop."
"Oh." I smiled. "I was offered a position with the San Francisco Ballet, but since I’m not ready to leave, I’ve auditioned for PBC as well."
"Would it be a better deal?"
"In San Francisco?"
He nodded.
"Probably," I said. "More money, more prestige."
"Why don’t you go?"
"It’s complicated."
"Uncomplicate it for ."
"That would give you a level of access to my life that scares ."
"Why does it scare you?"
I didn’t have to answer because our server arrived with our food, so I busied myself with my chopsticks and focused on my plate.
"Grace?"
"Hmm?" I muttered to my plate.
"Baby, look at ."
"I don’t want to."
He reached over and gently pushed my chopsticks down. "Why do I scare you?"
"You don’t scare ." I t his eyes with a sigh. " telling you my deep, dark secrets scares ."
"What’s the difference?"
"No one knows, Flea," I whispered. "Not even Poppy."
His eyes got soft and he smiled gently. "Okay, Grace. I hear ya."
We focused back on our food and Flea changed the subject, giving my privacy, but I had a feeling it wouldn’t last for long. This man was worming his way into my soul and I was doing my best to stop it, but I had a feeling any walls I might erect, or emotions I would stuff down deep, would prove futile.
One week later, I was on my own for the first ti and I actually felt pretty confident about it. For about an hour. Then I was sure I was screwing absolutely everything up.
"Grace?" Flea called as he walked into the back office. "Got folks up front."
"I know. Sorry." I handed him the receipt of the last custor. "I think I’ve fucked sothing up."
"You go help them and I’ll look at this," he said, taking the paperwork.
Hatch was off delivering parts, so I was glad Flea hung around in case I needed help. He’d worked a ten-hour day, so he should have been gone by now.
But he’d stayed. Because he was sweet.
And I liked him.
Which was a problem.
I helped the final custor of the afternoon and locked up after they’d left, heading back to the office. Flea was on the phone, so I waited for him to hang up before stepping to the desk.
"How bad did I screw it up?"
He smiled, standing and slipping the receipt in the tray. "You charged her about a hundred bucks more than she should have paid."
"Oh, crap," I said, covering my mouth with my hands. "I’m sorry."
"It’s all good. I called her and let her know we’d be refunding the difference and I sent her an updated receipt."
"What did I do?"
He walked through how I’d added a zero to the labor and I made notes, so I wouldn’t do it again. "Was she pissed?"
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