AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yeah.” I took a hold of his hand and tried not to behave like a bumbling idiot. He managed to get me on my feet. His hand was freezing, but that was to be expected as he was out in the chilly morning rain with no coat.
“I’m Jackson,” he said, pumping the hand that he was still holding in a very professional handshake.
“Alissa,” I managed. He let go of my hand, and I was suddenly very disappointed with the loss of contact.
Get a hold of yourself!
Right. “Thanks, uh, for helping me up.” I gave him a weak smile. I could feel my cheeks burning with my signature blush. How mortifying.
“No problem.” He gave me a beautiful lopsided grin, and I literally thought that my heart had stopped for a moment. “Let me help you with these, uh, crabs.” Oh God. My crabs!
“Oh, shit,” I said looking at the half-full crate. Several of my crab cake specials were trying to escape down the street. I caught up with them and somehow managed to get them all back in the box without hurting myself.
In accordance with my usual luck, it started to rain harder. We were both going to be drenched. “Um, I really appreciate it, but you don’t have to stand here getting soaked with me,” I said.
Part of me really wished that he’d go away and put an end to my misery, and part of me really hoped that he would throw me down in the street for a little more mud wrestling.
“I have no where better to be,” he replied, “and it sounds like you’re a little short on help.
Perhaps I can be of assistance?”
Oh, you can assist me any time.
“Yeah, Matt was late again today,” I said, ignoring my internal monologue. “He’s supposed to be here to help me bring all the stuff in each morning, but he’s kind of unreliable.” He picked up the crate and moved towards the door. “Where do you want them?” he asked.
“On the floor by the empty fish tank.” I pulled a box of vegetables from the van and followed him in. I ran my bloody hand under the tap. The bleeding had already stopped. Stupid crab.
With Jackson’s help, I had the van unloaded and the fresh ingredients put away in record time.
My usual routine for the day was to wake up about 4:30 a.m., go down to the docks and the open-air market, buy my supplies for the day, bring the stuff in, go upstairs and take a shower in my apartment, and then come down and start cooking for the lunch crowd. I felt terrible about trying to throw Jackson out into the rain though, without any form of payment, wet muddy and smelling like crabs. I wanted to make it right.
“I feel so bad that you are all muddy because of me,” I said. “I, uh, have an apartment above the restaurant here, with laundry. Why don’t you come up and take a shower, and I’ll throw your wet clothes in the dryer for you.”
He looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes, and my brain completely shut off. What was it about men with dark hair and blue eyes?
“I mean,” I stuttered, “if you’re not in a hurry that is.”
“Thank you, Alissa,” Oh God, he said my name. “I would really appreciate that.” I stood there stupidly.
Right. Upstairs.
I pulled the kitchen door shut and then led the gorgeous man up the steps to my tiny apartment. I had opened my restaurant less than a year ago, and every penny I had was poured into it. I was doing quite well, actually, for being a young small business owner, but between working so many hours and needing to buy so much for the restaurant, I hadn’t found the time or the money to really furnish my apartment. It was sparse, but it was home.
“Uh, the bathroom is right here,” I said, flipping on the light. “Just wait one second, and I will get you a towel and something to change into.”
I didn’t really have any guy’s clothes lying around my apartment, but I found an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts that I sometimes slept in, and I thought they would work well enough until his clothes dried.
“I’m gonna’ go start breakfast, but just put your wet clothes out here in the hall, and I’ll put them in to dry for you.”
“You are too kind,” he said. “Thank you for this.”
“I should be thanking you,” I said. “You’re the one who’s done all the work.” He smiled at me again and then gently shut the bathroom door. I went out to the kitchen to start breakfast, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. Usually, I just made oatmeal, but I had behaved like an incompetent fool all morning, and I was desperate to show the beautiful boy in my bathroom that I could do something right. I was going to make my signature breakfast -
stuffed French toast.
I heard the bathroom door open and close, so I went to collect his wet things for the dryer. Whew! His clothes stunk. How odd. I mean I knew we were working up a sweat bringing in the food, and the rain always made it worse, but either he was out for a jog in the rain in his jeans or he’d been in these clothes a while. I was guessing it was the latter. I had intended to just dry his clothes, but these really needed to be washed, so I tossed them into my washer along with a couple of dirty towels.
What a strange man. His jeans were an incredibly expensive brand. So expensive, in fact, that I wouldn’t even know what they were if it weren’t for Lexy. She was my best friend of fifteen years, and she made a living as a personal assistant and professional shopper. She was constantly trying to educate me in the ways of the rich and famous. Most of what she said passed right through my brain, but occasionally something would stick.
What was a man, who could afford these jeans, doing out in the rain at 5:30 on a Thursday morning with no jacket? And better yet, why did his clothes smell like a homeless shelter?
I changed my clothes and pulled my hair up out of my face, and then went back to the kitchen. I cracked a couple of eggs into a bowl while I pondered. By the time the water shut off in the shower, I had the strawberries cut, coffee made, orange juice squeezed, and toast in the frying pan. Jackson appeared a few minutes later, looking much fresher and even more amazing than before. I hadn’t noticed it, but his brown hair had these wonderful highlights in it.
I let my eyes travel over his face. Oh God, he had a split lip. How had I not seen that?
Was he in a fight?
“Something smells fantastic,” he said, and his stomach rumbled in agreement.
I laughed. “I’m glad you came hungry.”
I put four thick slices of French toast on a plate for him and told him to sit down. “Did you want coffee or orange juice?”
“Both please, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all.” I fixed my own breakfast and then sat down next to him at my tiny kitchen table. “So tell me, how is that you happened to be in the alley behind my restaurant so early this morning?” I was being nosy, I know, but I had to have some answers.
“Um, I was… I was walking down the main street out here, and I heard you scream into your phone, and I thought you might be in trouble, so I came to investigate.”
“Oh. Well, that was very nice of you,” I said, but I had a feeling that he knew that was not the answer I was looking for. “Why were you walking down the street?” He was eating incredibly fast. He was almost done with his plate, and I’d barely gotten a bite of mine. I got up and added two more slices to the pan. It looked like he could eat them.
When he saw what I was doing he smiled gratefully.
“I was in search of breakfast actually,” he said, gesturing to his plate. “And this is the most incredible French toast I have ever eaten. Is all your food this good?” His answer made absolutely no sense, and I was quite sure that he knew it, which is why he was trying to distract me with compliments on my food.
“Most people like it,” I said. I wasn’t letting him off the hook that easy though. “Are you from out of town or something?”
“Uh, no. I’m just kind of in transition right now, and I’m keeping some odd hours.” He was a master at not actually giving me any information.
He cleaned his plate quite easily and managed to get through the rest of our breakfast conversation with me still completely clueless as to who or what he was. I was beginning to think that he was really a superhero in disguise. It would explain the odd hours, the smelly designer clothes, the appetite, and his ability to keep that crate of crabs from crushing me.
“Thank you so very much for breakfast, Alissa,” he said, “but I’m sure I’m keeping you from something.”
“Oh, well you can’t go yet,” I said. “I put your clothes in the wash, so let me just throw them in the dryer. They are going to need about forty-five minutes to dry. Unfortunately, I do need to get started on the lunch prep. My other employees, who are thankfully more reliable than Matt, should be arriving soon.”
I put his clothes in the dryer. “You can come down to the kitchen if you want, or you’re welcome to hang out up here and watch TV or whatever until they are dry.”
