Page 7 of Sparrow

“Mmm hmm. I am. I’m okay.”

For some reason...I don’t believe it at all.

***

(Amelia)

“Behind!” I shout, as I balance a tray of gyoza in one hand, weaving my way through the kitchen and out to the buffet table to replenish the food.

Catering wasn’t my dream job, by any stretch of the imagination, but Nora’s boss beckoned with a thick wallet and lots of connections. Thus, here I am; barking orders, making way too much food that will inevitably go to waste, sweating my ass off, and forcing a smile to all the rich doctors in the room.

Let’s be honest here, I don’t have to work. That’s just fact. I could live comfortably for years on the nest egg I received from my father after he died, but touching it feels...wrong. It feels like I’m shitting on his memory, and I just can’t make myself do it.

I am arranging the dumplings on the buffet line, expertly making sure they are all even and facing the same direction, before giving them a sprinkle of green onion and a drizzle of sauce, when I feel a large, looming, very gay presence over my shoulder.

“Shouldn’t you be in the back working, Tyson?” I ask teasingly.

“Now, why in the world would I do that when there are all these hunka hunka burning loves mingling out here?” He cocks his brow as if the answer is obvious.

“Well, because I’m paying you to, but by all means, gawk away.” I giggle.

“Oh, honey, I’m way ahead of you, but…ahem,” he nods his head out toward the crowd, “I’m not the only one gawking.”

“What?” I turn, following his gaze. I freeze when I see what he means.

“That man has been staring at you all night, dear.”

“He has not,” I say turning away quickly, “has he?”

“Amelia, that man looked at you like you were a piece of cake, and he wanted to get all up in your frosting.”

I swat his arm. “Perv.”

“Well, I’m right, because he’s coming this way right now.”

“He what?” I say, just as Tyson slips away, leaving me alone with Mr. Hotness.

I hear a throat clear before a deep, raspy voice comes forth, “Your friend is very obvious. If he was going to out me, I figured I may as well come say hello.”

I spin slowly, straightening my apron as I do, until I’m facing him.

“You think he’s obvious? You should have seen yourself.” I smile.

“Well, when I see a beautiful woman, staring is involuntary.”

He is, by definition, a beautiful man: tall with broad shoulders and inky, black hair. His eyes are the color of the sky, and his lips are full and inviting. He’s older than me. Much older, by at least ten years, I’d guess. He’s intimidating. I’m instantly intrigued, and so is my body. It’s been too long, far, far too long since I’ve even considered a man. I’m nearly embarrassed to say exactly how long, so we’ll just go with: I’ve seen two Christmases since my last sexual encounter.

“Does that line work on all the girls?” I arch my brow.

“Sometimes, though, right now, I only care if it works on one.” He is laying it on thick. Should I be ashamed it’s working?

“I guess that depends on if you play your cards right, Mister...” I leave the sentence hanging so he’ll give me his name.

“Doctor, actually. Dr. Jaxon Allen.” He flashes me a grin.

“That’s a little pretentious, isn’t it? Making sure you add the title at the beginning. Kind of makes you sound like an asshole.” I’m fucking flirting with him—I’ve missed being flirty. It feels nice.

I haven’t really felt much of anything like this since my dad died. I put my head down and dove into the workforce after that. I had dates, here and there, and became well acquainted with my vibrator, but I was never interested in more.

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