Best Laid Plans Page 4

  “Nate didn’t what? You been keepin’ tabs on me, Small Fry?”

  She rears back, trying to look angry. Hard thing for her to do, though, when we’re so close she has to crane her neck to make eye contact. “Absolutely not. I…just…”

  “It’s all good, girl. I’ve kept tabs on you. Hear you got a little one?” The mention of her kid has her pushing away from me as if I’m fucking Michael Myers.

  “Oh, uh…um…yup. N-Nate told you about her?”

  It still blows my mind that she has a daughter. I’m not sure the world can handle two of her. She inhales sharply, and her cheeks redden. “What did he say? H-have you s-seen her?”

  Weird questions, but okay. “Let’s see, he says she is bossy and smart and cute as hell. Which, from the handful of pics he has sent over the years, I’d have to agree.”

  Sweat beads along her hairline. “Oh, okay. Good. Great.” Her words are choppy, and she’s acting a little psycho.

  Natalie’s reactions are so foreign, so fucking strange, that I feel like we should stick a pin in this topic and save it for when it’s just the two of us. Sure as shit not on my first day as her boss, in front of all of her coworkers.

  “Let’s grab coffee one day this week and catch up.” I know she’s going to turn me down, so I pivot and saunter back to the front of the dining room in hopes of getting this meeting back on track. Though, judging from the whispers among the staff, I can see there’s a fat fucking chance of that happening.

  * * *

  Nate and I have been trying like hell to get together, and tonight our schedules have finally aligned. We’re hitting up Bennet’s for a few drinks. It’s pretty chill, seeing as it’s a Monday night. Honestly though, after today’s orientation meeting, a laid-back atmosphere works for me.

  I stroll in at a quarter after seven and damn if this place doesn’t look exactly the same as it did when we used to sneak our underage asses in here. I scan the space looking for Nate, and sure enough, he’s seated at the bar sipping on his drink. He sees me and tips his chin in greeting. I cross the room and he stands, reaching out to shake my hand, but I pull his ass into a hug.

  “It’s been too long,” I tell him as we break away.

  “That it has. Catching up here and there wasn’t working.”

  “I’m home and have no plans to leave.”

  “Look at us, living out our dreams.”

  I chuckle at his words, but damn if he isn’t right. For as long as I can remember, Nate’s wanted to be a cop. The desire to protect and serve flows through his veins the same way food flows through mine.

  “How is it, being the local bacon?”

  “Oink, oink, motherfucker. I’m living the dream.”

  “Glad to hear it. I will be, too, once I get Bayside up and running how it should be.”

  “Got big plans?” he asks, drumming his nails on the wooden bar top.

  I flag down the bartender and order a Jack and Coke and pass him a ten-dollar bill. He returns with my drink and change, which I leave for him—if there’s one thing the food industry has taught me, it’s not to skimp on the gratuity.

  “Hell yeah. You remember Carlos?” I ask, knowing it’s a toss-up whether he will or not.

  “I…I think so. He was a grade behind us, right? Always up at the café?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. His mom worked there, and he went up there with her since she was a single mom. My grandparents kind of took him under their wing. Dude is as invested in Bayside as I am, and the minute he heard Don wanted to sell, he tracked me down on Facebook and that was it.”

  I sip at my drink. “I was already stateside, visiting my parents in Florida until I figured shit out, and this was just too good. The timing was perfect—I mean, shit, I came into the trust fund my grandparents left right as the café goes up for sale. Fucking kismet.”

  Nate signals for another round of drinks. “Please God, tell me you’re fixing the menu.”

  “Hell yes. The minute I signed that paperwork I started crafting it. Gonna start implementing it as soon as I get my kitchen sorted.”

  “Glad to hear it. Natalie will be too.”

  “Speaking of, she’s all grown up now, huh?”

  Nate eyes me a little oddly. “Yeah, that’s what happens. Time passes, we grow old, we die.”

  I bark out a laugh. “Jesus. Morbid much?”

  He shrugs that classic Nate Reynolds shrug.

  Our conversation turns from the here and now to reminiscing about the past, and I can’t help but smile. Especially when Nate brings up one of my favorite memories of life here—even if it is for all the wrong reasons.

  “You been to the river yet?”

  “Nah, not yet. Man, we used to tear it up out there.”

  He lifts his drink to me, and we clink them together. “Hell yeah, we did.”

  “And Nat was always begging to tag along like the little pest she was.”

  “Nah, she wasn’t that bad.” Especially not when she was in her teeny little bikini, but I keep that thought to myself, seeing as she was fifteen, and I was headed to college.

  “Bull. She’s cool as shit now, but you’ve always had a soft spot for her, huh?”

  If only he knew how he right he was. I’ve always been protective of my Small Fry, but as she grew and matured, so did my feelings, as wrong as they were. The heart—and body—want what they want, and from practically the day she grew tits, my body wanted hers. My mind joined the party a little later, but I never acted on it. I mean, hell, everyone knows your best friend’s baby sister is no-fly zone…not to mention our age difference.

  And good God if she isn’t sexier now than she was then. Time has been good to the girl. And apparently so has childbirth. Her once-slim hips now have a delectable flare to them—the kind that’s just right for gripping when I plow into her from be—

  My inappropriate daydreams get cut short when Nate waves another Jack and Coke in front of me. “You all good, dude? You looked like you were somewhere else.”

  I choke back a laugh, because really, I was—but I’m definitely not telling him I was envisioning myself inside his sister. So, I lie. “Just thinking about work.” An idea pops into my head. It’s probably the alcohol, but fuck it, I’m gonna run with it. “Hey, speaking of work…you wanna let me get Nat’s number?”

  Once again, he cuts his eyes my way, really studying me. “For work, huh?”

  I nod, not trusting my voice to sound convincing.

  He hesitates, and I’m worried he’s going to shoot me down. But then he slips out his phone and fiddles around on the screen. A few seconds later, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I check it, and sure enough, he sent over her contact card.

  “Thanks, brother.”

  He’s about to reply when a brunette with killer curves approaches us. “Hello there boys,” she says, eyeing us both up and down like we’re juicy, USDA Prime steaks.

  Nate tips his chin to her, much the way he did to me. “Evenin’.”

  I lift my brows in a friendly gesture.

  She twirls a lock of hair around her neon-pink-tipped finger. “My friend and I couldn’t help but notice you boys were over here all alone.”

  “And did you ladies want to give us a bit of company?” Nate asks, his voice dropping an octave or so.

  Brunette Barbie signals to her friend—who happens to look like an actual Barbie—to come over and join us. Objectively, they’re both beautiful, but damn if my dick doesn’t even take a lick of notice. Hell, after the shit Mia put me through, I can’t say I’m surprised. Especially since she was so much like these two girls—sexy but calculating. Don’t ask me how I know they are—I just know. Thanks to Mia, it’s like a sixth sense now.

  I stand from my stool and toss down a few more crisp bills. “Nate, I’ll leave you to it; I’ve got an early morning.”

  He smirks, not minding one bit that I’m leaving him in the company of two beautiful women. “Talk soon.”

  By the time I Uber hom
e, my buzz has mostly worn off. Not completely, but mostly. It’s definitely still present enough that I’m fully blaming it for what I’m about to do…

  ME: So, about that coffee?

  She doesn’t answer immediately, and I toss my phone down onto the ottoman, resting my head on the back of the chair. My eyes fall closed and almost instantaneously visions of Natalie filter through my head. And not just how fucking tempting she looked today in her black skinny jeans and black button-down. Hell, how tempting she’s always been.

  But shit like when she was eleven and broke her arm in a bike accident. Nate and I were riding down to the gully, and she was dead-set and determined to follow us. I remember suggesting to Nate that we should slow down and let her catch up, but like the know-it-all fourteen-year-old he was, he simply pedaled faster. So did Natalie. Her little chicken legs furiously pushed the pedals. She was so focused on catching up to us that she took the curve in the road too sharply. Down she went in a sickening crunch of aluminum and skin scraping across asphalt. In that moment, I felt fear like never before.

  Fear that she was seriously hurt.

  Fear that her mom and dad were going to kill us.

  I remember pulling my handle brake so hard that I skidded to a stop. I threw my bike down and hauled ass to her—thank you, JV track—where I gave her a quick once-over before dropping down beside her and scooping her into my arms while Nate raced back home to his parents.

  Her arm was bent at an unnatural angle, and I know she must have been in so much pain—hell, it hurt me to even look at it. But even still, she buried her face in my chest and cried quietly until her parents arrived.

  I guess you could say I’ve always been protective of Natalie. Even when I was with Mia, I found myself checking up on her through social media. She never posted too much, but each and every picture she did post was like a man being stranded in the desert and finding an oasis. And seeing her today and knowing she’s a single mother to what I’m sure is a sweet little girl has me feeling some kind of way.

  The sound of my phone pinging draws me out of my thoughts, and I rush to grab it, hoping like hell it’s her.

  NATALIE: Uh…who is this?

  ME: It’s cute that you’re acting like you don’t know.

  Like I said, we’re blaming the alcohol. I try and convince myself of that as I wait for her reply. When it doesn’t come as quickly as her first, I wonder if I pushed her too far. But then…the typing bubbles appear.

  Then they vanish.

  Appear.

  Vanish.

  Too impatient to wait for her reply, I fire off another text.

  ME: How about tomorrow? Around ten.

  NATALIE: I have to work. Sorry.

  ME: Nat, come on. I’m your boss. I know the schedule. You gotta do better. Let’s meet at the little shop near the café.

  NATALIE: Make it eleven and you’ll have yourself a deal.

  I pump my fist in victory, considering this round won. With our plans in place, I weave my way through my unpacked moving boxes toward my bedroom, more than ready for bed.

  10

  Natalie

  The thought of meeting Alden for coffee has termites swarming in my stomach. Or at least that is how it feels. My insides are a jumbly mess, and it feels like my nerves are eating away at me from the inside out.

  Now that he’s back, I have to tell him. However, the million dollar question remains…how?

  Oh, and when?

  I’m torn between ripping off the Band-Aid and easing into it; I also know the longer I wait, the angrier he’ll be. And seeing as I’ve already kept him in the dark for four years…let’s just say I’m not expecting him to be super understanding.

  My only true hope is for me to be able to persuade him to see things from my point of view—to get him to see that I was a teenaged girl with a serious case of hero worship, who was terrified and embarrassed.

  Over the years, I thought about reaching out. Especially after Tatum was born looking just like her daddy. I was tempted again around her first birthday; I even wrote him a letter, but when I asked Nate if he knew his address, he looked at me funny before informing me Alden has just moved to Europe and he didn’t know his mailing address.

  Shortly after that news of his engagement broke, I made the decision—as stupid and shortsighted as it may have been, especially now—to say nothing. What man wants to celebrate his upcoming nuptials with the love of his life by getting a card in the mail saying: Congrats, and, oh, you’re a dad!

  No man, that’s who.

  Now, though, I wish I would have tried harder. Partly because I’m terrified to tell him now, but mostly because he truly had the right to know. For so long, I thought I was protecting him, but really, I was only protecting my heart.

  Gotta love hindsight.

  * * *

  I stroll into the coffee shop at ten till, thinking that if I get there first I’ll have some sort of advantage. Only, Alden’s already seated in a cozy wingback chair tucked away into the corner. He locks eyes with me and pats the seat cushion of the identical chair next to him.

  With a shaking hand, I gesture to him that I’m going to order first. Lord knows I’m going to need some caffeine to get through this. I wonder if they serve Irish coffee?

  At the counter, I order my usual hazelnut iced latte with a pump of vanilla before moving down toward the pick-up area to wait. The entire time I keep sneaking surreptitious glances at Alden. Age has certainly done him well. His once-lanky frame is now sculpted with lean muscle. His boyish and shaggy hair is now cropped close on the back and sides with just enough up top for me to run my fingers through. His jaw is cut from granite and covered in stubble so sexy it causes my thighs to involuntarily clench.

  In fact, I’m so caught up in cataloging all of his yummy physical changes that I completely miss my name being called for my order. Naturally, Alden doesn’t miss it, nor does he miss the way I’m gobbling him up with my eyes.

  Sometime between imagining his scruff leaving my skin pink and my name being called out, he must’ve walked over to me. His oh-so-yummy and familiar scent invades my senses, and I jump when I feel his hand land on the small of my back. I break out into full-body shivers when he leans down and whispers in my ear. “You wanna stare at me, I’m not gonna stop you. But the ice in your latte is melting.”

  A rock to crawl under would be really nice right about now.

  I open my mouth to reply, and close it—twice. I’m positive I look like the damn goldfish Nate won for Tatum at the county fair last year. Alden slides his hand from my lower back and slips his thumb through my belt loop, snagging my sweating latte with his other hand before tugging and guiding me to the little alcove he’s claimed as ours. The action catches me off guard, as it’s hands-down the most intimate we’ve been since that night

  Whereas I’m an awkward, fumbling mess, Alden’s the picture of cool, calm, and collected, slouched back in his chair with his beverage balanced on his knee. The silence stretches out between us, his eyes fixed on me, burning me from the inside out. I’m embarrassed he caught me staring, but more so by my apparent loss of motor skills after he caught me. I mean, come on! I’ve practically known Alden my entire life, so there’s no reason for me to be acting so nuts—you know, other than the massive secret threatening to spew from my lips at any moment.

  Alden lifts his cup to his lips—his luscious, kissable looking lips—and takes a few sips, his eyes never leaving me, even over the rim of his mug. Finally, he speaks, but I really wish he wouldn’t have. “This weirdness between us isn’t gonna work for me, Small Fry.”

  Deny, deny, deny! my mind demands. “Weirdness? Pssh. What weirdness?” I wave my left hand in the air as if I’m shooing away a fly.

  He smirks. “That weirdness.” He leans toward me, placing his coffee on the table, and grabs my hand, effectively halting my fidgeting. “Seriously, who are you, and where’s my Natalie? You’re acting like you’ve been body snatched. What gives?” />
  My brain trips over the my Natalie, and I know my cheeks have to be crimson. Sure, his voice sounds sincere, but the gleam in his eye shows me he’s enjoying himself, even if it is a little at my expense. “I-I guess it’s just nerves.” I release a long exhale.

  “Why? What’s there to be nervous about?”

  Well, mostly because you’re the father of my child, and the secrets and lies are slowly driving me insane. Speaking of insane, I pull my hand back from him, because why are we still holding hands anyway? “I don’t handle change all that well. And even though Don’s an asshole, he’s always been good about working around my schedule.” I nibble on my lower lip, drawing his eyes. They dilate; I pretend not to notice.

  “Natalie, if you’re worried about—”

  I cut him off, not wanting to elaborate any more on Tatum—I’m already near my breaking point and hearing him speak her name will surely rupture the dam. “I don’t expect special treatment. I want you to treat me like any other employee. So, if my schedule has to change or you have to let me go, I get it. It’ll epically suck, but I get it. Business is business, and your friendship with Nate shouldn’t change anything.” My words come out so fast and jumbled that by the end of my tirade I’m breathing heavily. I probably sounded like a freaking auctioneer.

  I’m not sure what type of reaction I’m expecting from Alden, but it certainly isn’t laughter. All the same, his low, husky laugh meets my ears, sending tingles down my spine, all the way to my toes.

  “For real, girl?” He crosses his right leg over his left, propping his ankle on his knee. “First off, my relationship with your entire family, not just Nate, has no effect on your continued employment—your job performance, on the other hand, does. You do your job and do it well, and you’ll stay on the staff. It’s that simple.” He leans forward, assessing me. “As for your schedule, I don’t see any reason for it to change. So, we good?”