So I had to wonder if Caleb had ever been like this with a woman before, or if our sheer need to pleasure each other just made us more exceptional than ever.
The reality was that our physical appetite for each other felt dangerous to me.
I didn’t want to admit out loud that sex with Caleb had confused me, considering the sensible part of my brain knew he was still rude and unappreciative to people. A huge personality no-no for me.
But still, I needed to talk to my best friend before my brain exploded with overthinking. Harper was contracted to work five days a week at Canterbury, but sometimes she worked extra days when she was helping train new apprentices. She worked twelve-hour shifts in the kitchen doing everything from devising dessert menus to developing and testing new pastries and desserts, from overseeing the pastry department budget to procuring ingredients and maintaining the inventory of supplies, as well as overseeing the training of new staff members. I knew all this because I wanted to learn what I could about her job, why she was there for twelve-hour days, and what it was about it that made it worth it to her.
She had a passion for it, but I worried that the sixty-to seventy-two-hour weeks were going to cause her to burn out quickly.
Having such a demanding job meant she and I had to fit in our time together whenever we could. I called her as I was leaving Fred’s and asked if she had a moment to spare.
“I’ll make time,” she said, sounding concerned. “I’ll take a quick lunch break early. You okay to meet me at the restaurant or do you need more privacy?”
“Grab one of the booths in the back and we’ll be good.”
“Okay, babe. See you soon.”
Canterbury was on Pearl Street in the Financial District, and Russo’s was on the corner of Washington and Waltham, so I decided to jump in a cab. Kelly, the daytime hostess at Canterbury, recognized me and led me to Harper.
My friend was dressed in her chef whites and ripped black jeggings with a pair of black and silver sneakers. She loved her biker boots, but running around a kitchen for twelve hours required comfortable footwear. Harper got out of the booth to hug me in greeting and then we settled down.
She gestured to the small samples of the lunch menu sitting on plates that covered our table in the back of the restaurant. Canterbury had a modern rustic design; it was all glass, heavy dark woods, Spanish brick tiling, and copper, wire, and naked lightbulbs. Jason was from Canterbury in England and the style of the food was British gastropub. “Eat,” she said. “And talk.”
So I did, cutting into a miniature gourmet burger. I told her everything that had happened with Caleb yesterday, wondering how only a day had passed from the moment Patrice had “introduced” us to now.
“Holy shit. I want to meet him.”
“No,” I said adamantly. “He’s only here for a week or two and this is nothing serious. Meeting my family does not scream ‘casual.’ ”
She squeezed my arm at being referred to as family. “Okay. Whatever you want. But can I ask something?”
“Shoot.”
“You wanted to talk to me about this because you needed to tell someone, or you wanted to talk to me about this because something about it is bothering you?”
My smile was reluctant. “You know me so well.”
“So what do you think is bothering you?”
“Why? Are you going to tell me what you think is bothering me?”
“You know me so well.” She grinned cheekily.
“Okay, you first.”
Harper sighed. “I think that you try to control everything in your life because your parents were flakes when you were a kid and because you couldn’t control your life falling apart after college. Controlling everything now makes you feel safe. But you can’t control this guy. And you can’t control how he makes you feel. And that freaks you out.”
My heart thumped hard at her words and I felt an uneasy roiling in my stomach. “You should have been a psychologist, Harper.”
She glared at the bite in my tone. “You asked what I thought.”
I studied my glass of water, unable to meet her eyes, because for some inexplicable reason I wanted to burst into tears. Why couldn’t I just enjoy being with this guy without overanalyzing everything! I wiped at a nonexistent smudge on my glass and said softly, “I don’t even like him, Harp. How can I possibly want him this much and not even like him? What does that say about me?”
“What don’t you like about him?”
I looked at her, recognizing the curiosity and concern in her gray-blue eyes. “He’s arrogant. He’s rude to people in service—never says please or thank you. Just treats them like servants. There’s a coldness to him. Not in bed. Not at all. But outside of it, yes. And sometimes … he looks at me like he can’t stand me and hates himself for wanting me.”
She was quiet a moment, her brows drawing together at my last sentence. “Maybe you’re right to be uneasy about this, then. Casual sex is supposed to be uncomplicated. He sounds way complicated.”
“You say that … and it makes total sense.” I nodded. “That’s what I think too … and then I’ll think about not seeing him again and I feel …”
“Yeah?”
“Agitated.” I smirked as I encountered the right word. “Like an addict would.”
Harper—adventurous, grab-life-by-the-balls Harper—didn’t tell me to just ignore my concerns and go for it. Instead, she touched my arm and said, “I thought sex with this guy would be a nice distraction. That it would maybe shake off the shadows in your eyes. The ones Gem’s death put there. But they’re not gone, Ava. Maybe you should quit it with this guy and find someone else to do the casual thing with.”
Her concern made me pause.
If Harper was telling me that, then I should listen. I nodded and looked away, my gaze skimming distractedly across the restaurant.
Wait. What?
My eyes swung back toward the hostess podium, where none other than my Bastard Scot was standing with a group of three other men. He was wearing a different suit but wearing that same brooding, intimidating expression.
“How is this happening?” I groaned.
“What? What is it?” Harper’s eyes followed mine.
“He’s here.”
“Who’s here?”
“Caleb,” I snapped, turning to her with what I was sure was a look of horror. “Seriously. Some omnipresent being is playing with us. No two people can keep bumping into each other like this without the help of some twisted Fate.”
“Oh my God.” Harper’s lips parted in awe. “Is he the tall blond who hasn’t shaved in a few weeks?”
“Yup.”
“I thought you said he was a biker Viking dude?”
“He wears suits for work. He’s the CFO for Koto, remember. But yes, biker boots, jeans, and tattoos are his usual deal. None of which matters because they’re on the move. Oh God, please don’t see us.”
However, my pleas went unheard as Caleb’s eyes came up from the man he was walking beside as they were shown to their table. He scanned the restaurant and his gaze promptly snagged on the sight of me.
I saw them widen a little as I schooled my expression to neutral.
I gave him a nod, not wanting to be rude, but hoping he would just nod back and otherwise ignore me.
Apparently, Caleb didn’t feel like being his usual rude self. He excused himself from his group and began making his way over to us.
“Oh my God, he’s gorgeous,” Harper said under her breath.
“Shut up.”
A smile played around his beautiful mouth as he slowed to a halt in front of our booth. “I’m really beginning tae think you’re stalking me, Ava Breevort.”
I rolled my eyes. “I was here first, Mr. Scott.” I gestured to Harper. “My best friend is the pastry chef. Harper, this is Caleb Scott. Caleb, meet Harper.”
Harper reached out her hand and he shook it. “Pleasure.”
She grinned. “You too.”
Her grin gave away too much about her knowledge of him and he shot me an entertained, knowing smile. “Lunch break?”