Page 14 of Something Real with the Sea Monster
I can put the pieces together. I heard enough on Friday night to know she’s had a bad breakup with someone who was probably emotionally unavailable the entire time she was seeing him. I hate that.
And I hate that I hate that. It rouses something protective in me, though I’ve known her properly for a grand total of twenty-four hours. I should have backed the fuck off when she mentioned working for me. Only my stupid monster brain has latched onto the fact that she’s now my employee and there’s an instinct in me screaming that this technically makes her my responsibility.
This is exactly the reason I don’t date. I’m not the dating type. Not because I’m the guy who’s afraid of commitment. I have the opposite problem. I look for commitment the moment I meet someone, which doesn’t tend to go down well. I know it makes me look a little crazy.
When I can’t find any more office busywork to keep me occupied, I flip the sign on the door, grab my wallet, and head out the door. I need noise and distraction. I need to get my mind off my pretty human employee with her head full of clever ideas.
I decide to head to the local pub, walking up the hill and along main street to find it just the same as always. INXS playing, regulars lined up at the bar. Then I pause, nearly tripping over my own feet when I spot a familiar head of perfectly waved blonde hair among the scruffy locals.
I can’t help myself. I’m tugged over as if I’m one of those toys in a claw machine. I walk up to the bar and pull out the stool next to hers. “Hi, Tegan.”
She turns and her mouth drops open in a comical expression of horror and she gasps. “Oh Jack! I’m sorry. I totally ditched you this afternoon, didn’t I?” She leans closer to the person next to her at the bar, Tyler Mason, the local mechanic. Tyler is a few years younger than me. He was in my brother Noah’s class at school. “He’s my boss now,” she says to Tyler conspiratorially. “Do you think he’ll fire me?”
Tyler laughs into his beer, and a dark little voice inside me wonders how long they’ve been chatting for. They seem very cozy.
I sit and order a drink, pleased when she shifts so she’s turned toward me. “Of course I’m not going to fire you. You weren’t technically working today.”
She lifts her glass and drains the rest of what looks like a vodka soda. “Well that’s a relief. I can’t lose two jobs in one week.”
She looks away, and I catch the tightness of her expression.
God damn it, I hate that expression.
“Want another drink?” Tyler asks.
I glare at him. “Don’t you have something to do somewhere else?”
He just laughs. Tegan flags down the bartender, Kristen, and orders another drink. Kristen ignores all my meaningful looks and goes to make it for her.
Tegan turns back to me. “Not everyone likes to work as hard as you, Jack.”
I open my mouth to respond, but she’s right. I sigh. “No one likes to work as hard as me. I’m not even sure I like it. Sometimes I think it was a bad decision telling Mom and Dad I’d take over the Inlet Views.”
She nods. “Well you know how I’ve always cheered myself up after making a really bad decision?”
She gets her new drink and takes a long sip.
“What?”
“Keep right on making bad decisions. Kraken Cove has a limited scope for that I guess, but I’m an expert. I’m sure I could help you out.” She takes another long sip and then sets her glass down, sliding from the bar stool. I’m watching to see if she stumbles, but she’s steady on her feet.
Maybe she hasn’t been here all afternoon like I thought.
I want to ask her what she means, but she grabs my hand. “Come on. Dance with me.”
I reluctantly follow her into the middle of the room where there’s a bit of space. It’s not a dance floor, but Tegan doesn’t let that stop her. She sways her hips to the music and dances like no one is watching her.
I shuffle awkwardly in front of her, conscious that the whole bloody bar is watching, half of them with their tongues hanging out their mouths, the other half laughing at me, Kraken Cove’s worst dancer.
I glare at Tyler over Tegan’s shoulder until he turns back to the bar and minds his business.
When the song ends, I’m kinda hoping she’s done and we can sit back down, but Daryl Braithwaite’s “Horses” comes on, and Tegan throws her arms around my neck, and suddenly I’m not feeling so reluctant anymore. I’m not feeling like the worst dancer in town either.
Tentatively, I place my hands on her waist and move with her. Yeah, I’d sacrifice a whole lot more of my dignity for the excuse to have my hands on her some more. Even if it is only going to be over her clothes. Even if it is completely innocent, which I’m ashamed to say my thoughts are not while we dance. We’re pressed right up against each other, and I feel every roll of her hips. By the end of the song I’m not worried about who else is watching anymore.
The next song is another rock ballad. She stays in my arms, and I’m not complaining. She has her head on my shoulder, moving to a rhythm that no longer has anything to do with the music. Eventually she lifts her head to look up at me. “Take me home?”
Fuck.
