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I scoff. He must not be talking about the same Carina because the one that haunts me is drop dead gorgeous.
“Must not be the one we know,” Conner says, voicing my thoughts.
“Too bad I don’t have a fucking delivery guy tonight. He called in sick.”
“I’ll take it,” I say without thinking, and the bartender eyes me warily.
“Why would you do that?” he asks.
Conner turns toward me, grinning like a fool. “Yeah, why would you do that, boss?”
“I was trying to be helpful, fuck. Forget it.” I wave my hands at them both, downing another shot of Saki, wincing as it burns down my throat.
“I mean…she’s usually the only order I get this late, so it would be helpful. If you didn’t mind, that is.”
I nod too eagerly, and he eyes me.
“I’m not going,” Conner says.
“No one asked you to go,” I reply without even looking over at him.
“I was saying.” He shrugs. A blonde, leggy woman walks up, laying her hand on his arm and talking too low for me to hear. I roll my eyes. Conner has a face that could melt the panties off a fucking nun. It’s nothing new for him to get approached while we’re out. I’m no slack, but the scar, mixed with my broody features, usually keeps women from approaching me.
The bartender arrives with two bags, dropping them down onto the counter next to me. “I bagged your food too, since I didn’t know if you were coming back to eat,” he tells me.
“Thanks,” I grab my wallet and pay for our dinner as I slide off the stool.
“Will you be needing a car sent for you?” I ask Conner, breaking up low whispers between him and legs-for-days.
He looks at her, as if assessing. She meets my eyes and shakes her head. “I can get him to where he needs to go.”
I bet you can.
I move outside, sliding into my car and rattling the address to Carina’s house on the slip the bartender gave me off to my driver. The wafting scent of the food has my stomach grumbling. Excitement wells in my gut at the thought of seeing her outside the office. It’ll give me an opportunity to apologize for my behavior earlier. Each passing moment has my body doing anxious summersaults.
“This is it, sir,” Tim says from the driver’s seat. I peer out the window at the old, Victorian style house that looms to my right.
“Okay, I won’t be long. I don’t think,” I say.
“Take your time. I’m on until the morning,” he says.
He has a lot of faith in me. A lot more than I do.
I set the bags down on the porch, ringing the doorbell with my gloved hand. It’s fall, but winter is quickly coming for us and the cold wind bites through my thin, tweed jacket. I blow into my gloved hands, smelling the sake that still lurks on my breath.
The door swings open and what stands in its fissure is the version of Carina I haven’t met yet. It was, in fact, the same Carina who works for me. But this version, the clocked-out version, is in a robe, sweatpants, fuzzy socks, and thick, dark-rimmed glasses. Her face is bare of her make-up and her hair is in the sexiest tousled messy bun. My mouth waters, forcing me to swallow.
The smile she’d had on her face meant for the bartender fades as she takes me in, eyes falling to the bags of food I’d forgotten at my feet.
I snatch them up, fumbling for the receipt. I told the bartender I’d return the money she paid me after I delivered her order, promising not to abscond with it altogether. I should’ve paid for it, but things between Carina and I are weird enough and she seems like a woman that would find my paying for her a bit strange and inappropriate.
Like you showing up with her food instead of the delivery boy inappropriate?
“That’ll be $47.25,” I tell her.
She smirks, trying to steel her face. “You hard up for work lately? I thought Stanner Enterprises kept you booked to the brim, but I guess you found some downtime, hmm?”
She hands over sixty dollars and says, “Keep the change.”
