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“I’d like to stay with you,” he said.
Forever, I thought. You can stay with me forever.
Chapter 6: Who am I?
Jackson
Her French toast was incredible. She was incredible. And she was going to think that I was completely insane. There was no possible way that I could explain this to her.
Yeah, I’m a really rich and successful guy, who just got his ass kicked in a homeless shelter, and I helped you carry all that stuff in here because I think you’re beautiful and because I’m hoping that you’ll give me $16 so I can work tonight and win a bet against my brother. Oh, and thanks for the shower, by the way. It was great, but I’m going to be sporting a hard-on for the rest of day because the shampoo that I used smells like you, and it’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever smelled – well second only to your French toast, of course.
I was so fucked.
One of the problems with having money was that you never knew if the girls were after you or your cash. Truthfully, it had never mattered that much to me either way. I had no interest in most women, other than a natural physical attraction; I found them to be shallow. Alissa was no ordinary woman. She wore no makeup, and her clothes were not expensive, but she was all the more beautiful for it. She made it look effortless. She struck me as a really genuine person—
nothing fake about this girl.
When this week was over, I was going to eat here, in her restaurant, every damn day.
After breakfast, I followed her downstairs so she could start her work. I was still wearing her clothes, which were too tight and probably looked ridiculous, and I was barefoot, but I didn’t feel the least bit awkward. I had a feeling that I would always be comfortable in her presence.
I decided to drill her with as many questions as possible. I wanted to know everything about her. And, if we kept the conversation about her, I could keep the spotlight off of myself.
“So how long have you owned this restaurant?”
“Just under a year I guess,” she said.
“What made you open it?”
She went on to tell me how it had been her childhood dream to be this great professional chef, and she spoke about it with such passion that I became truly envious. I liked my job, and I was good at it, but I didn’t have a tenth of the passion that she did when it came to my work.
This place was her life.
I sat on a stool in the corner and watched in amazement as she handled the live crabs with practiced skill. Her hands quickly and efficiently moved steaming pots, juggled sharp knives, and avoided danger after danger. All of the clumsy fumbling that I had witnessed earlier was banished from her kitchen. In here, she was a force to be reckoned with.
I asked about her family, her hobbies, her favorite color, food, flowers, everything I could think of until she finally told me that I wasn’t allowed to ask any more questions and sent me upstairs to check on the clothes in the dryer. I was reluctant to leave her, but I was reminded of reality. I needed to get that social security card today.
Several of her employees had arrived while I was captivated by the sound of her voice, and her kitchen was now bustling with activity. I paused in the stairwell to watch her interact with the others. Her easy conversation and playful teasing were punctuated with instructions to her crew. She would be a wonderful boss, despite the fact that she was too nice. It would probably break her heart to fire someone–that Matt she was on the phone with this morning for example. I would have fired him the first time he didn’t show up. I had never shown mercy in the corporate world. I was not cruel, but I did have very high standards. People who disappointed me were not around very long. It was just business, but here, in her kitchen, it didn’t feel like business. It felt like family.
My clothes were dry so I changed back into them, folded the towels that she had also dried, and left the clothes that she had lent me on her bed.
I took the opportunity to snoop around her bedroom while I was here alone. She had a couple of photos. I assumed the man in the police uniform was her father–she’d said he was a police chief in small town not far from here. Please don’t shoot me, sir, but I am extremely attracted to your daughter.
I contemplated that for a few minutes. I wanted to meet him, everyone… everyone who had ever been close to Alissa. I was shocked to discover that I was considering a real relationship with this woman. I’d only known her for a couple of hours, but I was already helpless in her presence.
So what the hell was I doing? I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t. Of course, she didn’t have any idea who I was. I had seen to that, but I knew I wouldn’t get away with avoiding her questions forever, and truthfully I didn’t want to. I wanted her to know who I was. The real me—not the billionaire businessman that society thought I was, not the homeless man I was pretending to be—just the Jackson that got to sit barefoot in Alissa’s kitchen.
I made my way back downstairs in time to catch the end of her conversation. I was eavesdropping, and I knew it was wrong, but I was desperate for as much information as I could possibly get about this woman.
“Ty, it is none of your damn business who he is,” she said.
“I’m just looking out for you, ‘Lissa. I mean, sure, you can sleep with whomever you want, but he was sitting in your kitchen, in your clothes, and he didn’t even know what your favorite food was. Every other person in this room can answer that question. I never thought of you as the type to sleep around, but you don’t know that guy at all.”
“I’m not sleeping with him, you asshole. He helped me, and he got muddy in the process.
I let him use my shower, and that’s it. That’s also the end of this discussion, and if you ever imply that I am easy again, I will so fire your ass. I don’t care if you are the best dessert man I’ve got working for me.”
I came around the corner in enough time to watch her hurl an empty crab shell at him.
She missed by a mile, but it was still adorable.
“Yeah, because you make that signature French toast of yours for every random person who uses your shower,” he smirked at her. “And for the record, I’m the only dessert man you’ve got working for you.”
So that was a special breakfast that she made for me. My heart was delighted by that news. I cleared my throat to alert them to my presence and shot Tyler a dirty look. I was grateful to him for inadvertently letting me know about the French toast, but I was pissed at him for implying that Alissa was anything less than a lady, even if it was meant to be playful. She hadn’t taken offense, but she still deserved better.
“Thank you, Alissa,” I said, “for a delightful morning, but I should be on my way now.” She looked as disappointed as I felt. “I’d like to see you again sometime, if that would be okay with you?”
The smile that lit up her face warmed my heart, and it took every ounce of willpower that I had to not pull her into my arms. “I’d like that,” she said quietly. The beautiful blush was back on her cheeks.
I wanted to leave her my number, but I didn’t have my phone. At least I knew where she lived, and worked, for that matter, so it wouldn’t be hard to find her again. I started for the door.
“Wait! Let me pay you for your work this morning.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” the standard refusal fell from my lips before I even thought about it. I needed the money, but I really didn’t want to take it from her. I also didn’t want her to see me as an employee.
“I insist,” she said. She ducked into a closet for a moment and returned with a $20 bill in her hand. “It’s the least I can do.”
I mumbled a thank you, and reluctantly took the bill from her. She walked me to the backdoor.
“Have a wonderful day, my beautiful Alissa.” I lifted her hand and placed a kiss just above her knuckles, hoping to dispel any further thoughts of me as the hired help, and then I walked into the alley and away from the most amazing creature I’d ever met.
Chapter 7: Running the World
Jason
Why did Jackson have to be such a morning person? I was at the office a full hour earlier than I had ever been before. When we made this stupid bet, I had not planned on doing Jackson’s job in addition to my own, but as soon as Shelby found out, everything changed. She personally saw to it that this week would be a living hell for me.
I wouldn’t have told her about the bet at all, but she overheard the second half of my phone call with Ben on the night that we made the bet, and she freaked out on me as soon as I hung up.
“Where exactly is Jackson?” she asked.
“Uh, well...” I scrambled for an excuse.
“You sent him out into the city alone with no keys and no money at midnight so that he could pretend to be homeless? Are you insane? Exactly how fucking drunk were you?” She’d gone on like that for a full fifteen minutes, not allowing me to interrupt. When she finally ceased her ranting, she schooled me on how this week was going to go in lieu of Jackson’s disappearing act. She made it clear that I would handle all of Jackson’s responsibilities at work. If I failed in any way, I would not be sleeping in the same bed as my own wife... for a month.
