Page 16 of Corrupting Ivy

“You said to help myself.”

“Uh, hmm.” I nodded. “Yes, I did. I just assumed you left when I saw you weren’t there.” I turned towards him, my hand left on the counter to balance myself from the sudden lightheadedness afflicting me. “That’s what I get for keeping the door shut, right?” I laughed, and my skin flushed as I fought the urge to bolt.

He stepped towards me, my personal bubble no longer existing, with his eyes locked onto mine. Then placed his hand on the counter, our fingers so close I could feel the heat emanating from his skin.

I chewed on my lip as my stomach took off in a fit of fireflies, his chest mere inches from my face. This man made me as nervous as a schoolgirl speaking to her crush for the first time. But something else I wasn’t expecting bubbled to the surface and overtook the nerves… anticipation, maybe even curiosity. Anticipation for his touch, curiosity to see what he’d do with me.

Would I bend to his will? Which I was certain he’d demand of me. Or would I run away scared to death because it was all too soon?

I couldn’t move as I waited with bated breath for him to do something, staring up at him.

His hand moved closer, sliding along the countertop. And just when I thought he’d finally touch me, did I realize what he was reaching for.

He pulled up my affirmation card and read the words, his lips moving in tandem with the words in his head. His brows raised as he bobbed his head while scrunching his chin, then put the card back on the counter with a snap.

“Thanks for the shower.”

He stepped away from me, raked his hands through his hair in a way that I yearned to do, then walked to the coffee table and picked up his shirt I had overlooked.

Once he covered the bewitching ink across his skin, the trance surrounding me broke. “You’re welcome. Did you want breakfast downstairs? I start in…” I glanced at the clock. “Oh, shit.” Scrambling to my dresser, I threw off my nightclothes and dressed in blue jeans, a plain gray t-shirt. I tossed my hair into a bun suitable for the diner, then sat on the edge of my bed to put my socks and shoes on.

Just as my ass hit the bed, the front door slammed, causing me to jump in place. I glanced up, finding Randall had left.

I looked around in confusion as I put on my tennis shoes. Did I do something wrong—say something wrong? Why did he leave? How many times I had apologized to this man since only meeting him last night. I’m sure I didn’t have enough fingers to count them. It was mortifying to be so apologetic.

I rushed downstairs with my apron in hand, making it in time for the clock to strike eight.

“Good morning, Mr. Jensen.”

“Mornin’, Ivy.” He turned and frowned as he caught sight of my rushed appearance. “Your shirt is on backwards.”

I cringed while pulling on my shirt collar and saw the tag sticking out of the front. “I had a rough night. Got locked outta Remy’s place, then I forgot to set my alarm,” I said as I pulled my arms back inside my shirt and spun it around to the correct position. “There, right as rain.” I smiled and finished tying my apron while glancing at the crowded diner through the narrow pass-through window.

“We’re quite busy today. A private bus of tourists arrived early this morning, and they were waiting outside the door for breakfast.” He flipped a dozen eggs, one at a time, with expert hands.

“I see that.”

They occupied every single chair in the small diner with clamorous conversations vibrating the windows. The Montgomery’s sat in their traditional seating along with Otis and his girlfriend Rachel at one end, where she kept running her eyes over me.

The rumors of Otis and I went around like wildfire in a drought, and she was none too impressed over it. At one point, she confronted me until I set her straight that there has never been, nor never will be, an Otis and I.

Either she didn’t believe that long since failed conversation, or there was something else wrong with my clothes.

I handed the Montgomery’s their coffee and a biscuit to tide them over until their food made it out, then shuffled over to Otis to take their order.

Filling their obligatory coffee cups, I made a mental note as he rattled off his biscuits and gravy order while she continued to stare at me.

“And for you, Rachel?” I smiled, pulling out my pencil and order paper, then scratched down his order with abbreviations.

“Eggs Florentine with hollandaise sauce. Whole wheat toast, the leanest bacon you have, and orange juice without pulp.” She placed her menu down. “And, Ivy, don’t let my eggs touch my bacon.”

I scratched my temple with the end of the pencil, pinching my brows together. People around here were just not that picky, and I don’t recall a time that she has been either.

Otis stared at her with a blank look, which meant I wasn’t the only one experiencing the twilight zone.

“Since when do you order that?” Otis frowned, but she refused to look at him.

“I’m trying new things,” she shrugged, turning her gaze at him, “just like you.” She narrowed her eyes, then glanced back at me.

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