Up to Me (5 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN- Olivia

I flip my head up from drying my hair and stare at my reflection.  I can see the worry in my eyes.  I don’t know if Cash can or not, and if that’s making things worse or not, but something sure is.

It seems like the tension between us is growing. And not in a good way.  The sexual tension is still there.  For sure.  But it’s taking a back seat now to whatever else is going on to trouble the waters. 

It might just be a collection of things.  I know I’m feeling a little uncertain.  About him, about the situation, about…everything. 

Damn Taryn and her stupid comments!

I know I shouldn’t pay that much attention to her, but it seems like her words snapped me out of a trance, one where I was ignoring everything in order to focus on Cash.  And look where that got me!  A kidnapped cousin and an all-expense paid trip to a luxury hotel that might as well be a prison.

It wouldn’t feel so much like captivity if Cash and I weren’t so tense around each other.  I
know
what my issues are.  It’s his that concern me.  Why has he grown distant and uneasy?  Is it just the situation with Marissa?  Does he feel guilty? Is he worried about giving up the books and losing the only means he had of helping his father?  I’m sure he’s feeling all those things.  But the question is:  is there more?  Does it have anything to do with me?

As I finish getting ready for work, I grumble silently over this strange new predicament and how selfish I am to be so focused on it when there are more important things at stake.  When I’ve threaded thin gold hoops through my pierced ears, I shut off the bathroom light and make my way to the living room.

“Okay. I’m ready whenever you are,” I say to Cash where he’s sitting on the couch, pretending to watch television. I can tell by the way he starts when I speak that his mind was elsewhere.  Deep, deep, deep in elsewhere.

He smiles.  And my heart skips a beat.  Just like always. 

“I guess it’s working out perfectly that you wanted to work tonight, huh?  Now we both have reason to be there.  You can make some money and I can keep an eye on you.”

“You don’t have to keep an eye on me.  In fact, we don’t even need to stay here probably.  They have Marissa.  You’re taking them the books.  This should all be over with tomorrow, right?”

I’m not sure what to make of Cash’s expression.  But even if I did, I wouldn’t trust that I’m interpreting it correctly.  I think I’m just too sensitive right now.  To everything about him.

He nods and smiles, but the smile is tight.  “It should be, yes.  Just bear with me a little while longer. Please.”

The last word is added with a hesitant sincerity that makes me feel bad for…something.  Like I’ve wounded him somehow.  But I can’t imagine that’s true.  Still, it seems that way.

“Of course.  Whatever you think is best.  I mean, come on.  Room service and marble bathtubs?  What’s not to love, right?”

“Precisely.”  His grin still doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“Let’s go make some money.”

Ten minutes later, as we zip through the streets of Atlanta on his bike, I revel in the feel of having my arms wrapped around Cash’s waist.  It’s the one time I can hang onto him without giving thought as to why I’m holding on or if I’m holding on too tight.  Or if I should be holding on at all. 

I wish I had a giant rewind button. I’d take us back a few days, to the day he came to Salt Springs to find me, to the day I felt like I was his and he was mine, to the day I stopped thinking about everything else. 

To before I talked to Taryn.  And she reminded me that leopards don’t often change their spots.  They’re beautiful as they are, but they should be admired from a distance. Where they can’t reach you with their claws, claws that could easily tear a girl’s heart out.

When Cash rounds the corner and Dual comes into view, my heart sinks.  Taryn is already here.  And she’s sitting in her car, no doubt waiting for someone to unlock the doors and let her in.  I heard Cash call Gavin, the part-time manager, and tell him not to worry about opening up, that he’d be in.

Holy crap! I didn’t even think about that!

As Cash drives past her car and around the building to his garage, I see her eyes follow us.  Even through the tinted face shield of the helmet, I can feel the sharp tips of the daggers she’s throwing my way.  I assume that this will bring an abrupt and likely ugly end to our truce. 

Dammit.

The garage door opens with the push of a button on Cash’s bike and he guides us inside and cuts the engine.  I hop off quickly, hoping Taryn doesn’t come around and make a big scene.

“I’d better get in and get to work,” I say, handing Cash my helmet.  Slowly, he reaches out to take it from my hand, eyeing me suspiciously.  After several uncomfortable seconds, just when I think he’s going to make an issue of keeping our relationship (whatever it might actually be) from the others, he nods.  I give him a quick smile and dart into the apartment, through the office and out into the bar itself, stowing my purse safely behind the counter.

I waste no time getting to work, uncapping liquor bottles, making sure the coolers are stocked and then setting about to start slicing lemons, limes and oranges. I see Cash cross the room to unlock the doors, but rather than going back to his office, he goes outside.  It’s a good fifteen minutes before he comes back in.  And the thing that irks me most?  About sixty seconds after he comes in, Taryn finally makes her appearance. 

And she’s smiling.

Broadly.

Now what the hell does that mean?

The lump of nausea in the pit of my stomach tells me it means nothing good.  At least not for me.

I blink away the tears that sting my eyes.  How could I be so wrong?  Again!  It felt so right. I was so close.

Taryn starts to whistle as she gets her station set up.  Whistle, for God’s sake!  Call me crazy, but I think she’s gloating.  Can whistling sound like gloating?  Um, I’m pretty sure it can.  And I’m pretty sure this does.

I grit my teeth and ignore her as best I can. I’m thankful when Cash turns on the music and it drowns out her obnoxious happiness.  With a ruthlessness that feels like it’s directly linked to my survival, I put every ounce of my focus into work.  I can’t stand to be inside my own head for one more second.

CHAPTER EIGHT- Cash

I get up and walk to the bookcase across from my desk for the third time.  I’ve left my office door cracked so I can make sure Taryn is behaving herself. 

When I went outside after unlocking the front doors, it was with the intention of admitting Olivia and I are seeing each other and then giving Taryn an ultimatum.  I didn’t want her coming in and giving Olivia a hard time.  But I think I underestimated just how big a role Taryn’s ego would play.  She beat me to the punch on being the first to speak and, in the process, gave me the perfect out.  Olivia’s secret is still safe.

“That girl really needs a new car,” she said cheerfully, glancing back at Olivia’s car as she walked across the parking lot toward me.

“She can’t afford one right now.  And you don’t need to be giving her shit.  That girl’s having it pretty rough.  I feel sorry for her and if you knew what all was going on in her life and with her family, you would, too.  So do us all a favor and keep the claws in, okay?”

She stopped in front of me.  Looking hard into my face, she stared for at least a minute or two before she said anything.  Even now, I wonder if she was looking for the truth. And what she ended up finding.

Whatever it was, she never let on that she didn’t believe me.  She laughed and shook her head.  “So what was it this time?”

“Spark plugs, I think.”

“I guess I could start giving her a ride, since we’ll be working the same shift for a while.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that wouldn’t make her feel worse or anything,” I said sarcastically.

“What?  I can be nice.”

“You
can
be, but you
haven’t
been.  That would be like rubbing salt in a wound if you offered her a ride to work because her car’s a junker and she can’t afford anything else right now. 
Especially
after the way you’ve treated her.”

I had to grit my teeth.  Just thinking of Taryn mistreating Olivia was enough to make me see red.  But I couldn’t let her see that.  So, I hid it all behind the mask that my face has become.

“Are you kidding me?  I bought her a shot last night and offered to take her out after work.  What else do you want me to do?  Donate my blood to help her pay for a car?”

“Don’t be a smart ass.  I didn’t ask you to be her best friend.  That’s on you.  I’m just telling you not to give her so much shit.  She’s having it rough.”

Taryn smiled in that vampy way she has, a way that used to end up with us getting naked somewhere, but now does absolutely nothing for me.  I hoped she saw that, but her next action assured me she didn’t.

“Anything for you, boss.”  She leaned in toward me as she spoke. Not enough to rub up against me, but enough that her ample chest was just brushing mine. 

“Now that’s the attitude I like for my employees to have,” I said nonchalantly, turning to head back into the bar. 

I purposely didn’t glance at Olivia on my way back in.  I didn’t want her to think I’d betrayed our secret.  Well, it’s not really our secret; I don’t care who knows.  It’s more her secret.

Now, as I glance out at the bar, I see Taryn smiling and tending her customers.  I haven’t seen her antagonizing Olivia at all.  Of course, I haven’t really seen her pay much attention to her either way.  I’d much prefer her to just ignore Olivia.  That would be best all the way around.

I’m sitting down at my desk when my phone bleeps, the notification of an incoming text message.

Is this the number for help wanted in the twin cities?

My pulse picks up.  It’s a response to the ad.

Yes.

My reply is short. I don’t really know what else to say.

You’re lucky I’m in town. I’ll be there in 3 hours. 

My first thought is to wonder how a perfect stranger would know where to find me.  The only thing listed in the online ad other than my phone number was the short two-sentence blurb my father had me post. 

Urgent help wanted in the Twin Cities.  Stop.

It says nothing of my location.  Maybe the area code of my phone could be used to get a
general
location, but nothing specific enough to actually find me. 

Unless there is tracing involved.

You know where I am?

The reply
makes me uneasy. 

Of course.

I’ve deduced that people from my father’s past have been keeping an eye on us, but it seems like the group is much larger—and hopefully a lot friendlier, in some cases—than I’d originally suspected.

Of course, I have a thousand questions, things like
who the hell are you, how are you associated with my father
and
why have you been watching me
.  I’m torn between asking now or waiting.  In the end, I figure it’s best to wait.  Dad had me reach out to them.  I have to trust that he knows what he’s doing. I know he’d never get me hurt if he could help it.  Still, the whole thing makes me nervous.

Putting that out of my mind, I think about how grateful I am for technology.  The online ad alerted somebody.  Fast.  Somebody my father thinks can help.  And, judging by the short, gruff text, he’s probably not the type of person most people would call a “pleasant” association.  But, that’s the nature of the business my father was in.  I’ve known it for a long time. I just never expected it to have such a profound and intimate impact on
my
life.

Pulling out the books for the club, I work on some accounting, hoping that will help me get through the next three hours.  I can’t really go out and mingle in the club—I can’t keep my eyes off Olivia— so that leaves me stuck back here.  Waiting.

Just over an hour later, something that’s been niggling at the back of my mind rushes to the front.  It’s got its unpleasant aspects, which is probably why I haven’t given it my full attention before now.  It makes it seem like I don’t trust my father.  Which I do.  But I guess I don’t trust anyone one hundred percent, especially not with Olivia’s safety hanging in the balance.

I pick up my phone and dial the one person I feel like I can trust with anything and would do whatever he could to help me out in a pinch. In the absence of my real brother, he’s stepped in to fill the void.  He’s the closest thing to family I have on the outside.

“Damn you’re needy!” comes the familiar voice of Gavin Gibson, my part-time bar manager and friend.  His words still carry a little bit of a lilt from his childhood in Australia.

“This isn’t about work, Gav.  It’s something else. I need your help.”

There’s a pause. When Gavin speaks again, all teasing is gone from his voice.

“Anything. You know that.”

“Can you come to the club for a couple hours?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says uncertainly.  “Just let me take care of a couple things and I’ll be right over.  Give me forty-five minutes?”

“Sure.  See you then.”

After I hang up, I realize this was a good decision.  I feel better about the situation already.  I need my own people, people I can trust, people I know.  Going into this alone would be crazy and irresponsible, even though my father’s directing the traffic.  Still, I need to cover all my bases.  And Gavin can be the ace up my sleeve.