Page 44 of Some Kind of Forever
“Oh, Bert? Naw, he’s always here this late. He comes in early too. Patti pays him in free food to make sure no one causes problems.”
“So he’s a bouncer?”
Stifling a yawn, she nods and walks in his direction.
“Hey, Bert, you can head out early tonight if you want. Chase will stay with me while I clean up.”
He whips his head over to me, eyes narrowing as I give a little wave. “Alright, Kayla, but you call me if you need anything. I’m just around the corner.”
She nods, giving him a thumbs-up.
“Any more pie left?” he asks, craning his neck to look at the dessert display.
“Fresh out. That last group took the rest of it to-go,” she tells him, grabbing his empty cup and plate.
“Ah, well, I can’t say I blame them.” He stands, places the bowler on his head, and strolls right over to me before putting a hand on my shoulder. With a pointed look, he tells me, “She walked today. You make sure she gets home safe.”
“You got it, Bert.” I nod back at him, and he claps my shoulder twice before walking out the door.
Kayla’s already gotten to work, wiping down appliances and countertops, flipping display light switches off as she goes. She stifles several more yawns as she makes her way to my end of the bar. When she gets close enough, I grab her hand, slipping the wet cloth from herfingers.
“Let me do this,” I say, reaching for the spray bottle in her other hand. She steps back, just out of reach.
“No, Chase, I got it. It’ll take me fifteen minutes, tops.” She reaches forward to grab the towel, and it’s my turn to lean back.
“You’re tired. Let me help you so you can get home and sleep. It’s my fault you were up so late anyway.” I smirk.
She stares at me, exhausted and exasperated to be losing this battle of wills, and hands over the spray bottle slowly.Grabbing more towels from under the bar, she directs me to the booths and tables while she tackles the dishes. Fifteen minutes turns into seven, and before I know it, she’s locking the front door. She places a box of dirty towels in my arms, andI follow her to the back to dump the towels in the washing machine.
“Let me just grab my stuff, and I’ll be ready to go,” she says, slipping thePattyapron over her head. She throws it in the washer with some detergent, preparing it to be run in the morning.
I wait for her by the back door, and when she finally reaches me, my arms can’t go around her fast enough. Lifting her chin, I graze her lips with mine.
“Thank you for helping me.” She nuzzles her face into my chest.
“Of course.” I rub her back.
It’s a short drive to her house, through the neighborhood across from Patti’s Place. Even in the darkness outside, I see a large tree beside the small, rambler style home. After parking in the driveway behind her silver sedan, I turn to her.
She looks down at her hand in mine, rubbing her thumb over my index, and quietly asks, “Can you come in for a little bit?”
“Thought you’d never ask.” I raise her hand to my lips before getting out of the car.
She leads me up the path to her front door and flips on a tall floor lamp as soon as we enter. I take in the overstuffed mahogany leather couch next to a low, glass-covered coffee table in the living room. Beyond the couch is a round dining roomtable, big enough for four, with a speckled granite countertop separating it from the kitchen.
“Let me take a quick shower before you tell me I smell like pie again,” she teases, patting my chest and handing me the remote to the TV. I flash a smile and sit on the supple leather couch as she disappears down the hallway. She makes it back to me in under ten minutes with a blue silk scarf wrapped around her hair. Green shorts peek out under the oversized black T-shirt hitting her thighs as she maneuvers around the room. Carrying a bottle to the coffee table, she sits on the couch and spreads the vanilla scented cream over her arms and legs.
“That explains the vanilla…” I say, drumming the hand on my leg, wishing my fingers were the ones traveling across her skin.
“The apples are from my shampoo,” she says, rubbing the last bits of lotion into her hands. She bites her lip and pulls me toward her end of the sofa. Noses touching, I breathe her in before diving to find her lips. They’re soft and warm, greedily wrestling mine in a whirl of resolved anticipation before she pulls back, yawning.
“I’m sorry…” She scrunches her face before yawning again.
“Sweetheart, you’re tired.” I smile down at her before sitting up and grabbing the lotion from the table. “Lie down,” I say, placing her foot in my lap.
“What are you—ahh, mmm.” She moans as I rub the lotion across her sole, making concentric circles with my thumbs. She makes a halfhearted attempt to take her foot back before sinking into my hands again.
“Just relax and let me do this for you,” I say, grabbing her other foot. “Besides, you’ve been running through my mind all day. These things must hurt.”
