Company Ink Page 8

  Violet decorated cake after cake, unable to get her mind off of Ben. Their chance meeting, impromptu date, and the events that followed certainly seemed like kismet, at least to her romantic soul. Steve absolutely did her a favor by standing her up—in hindsight, she couldn’t believe she’d even considered meeting up with him. But her momentary lapse of judgment combined with his typical douchebag behavior had resulted in one hell of an outcome. She couldn’t remember ever having a night like that—not even with Steve, the guy she’d once called the love of her life.

  She was going to have to be extra careful to avoid dropping a cake today.

  She managed to keep herself from dropping anything, but there was nothing she could do about the smile on her face. Eventually, Jay approached her again, this time more determined than ever to get a playful rise out of her.

  “I’ve got it!” he exclaimed. “It was that hot, Tasmanian-devil type that came in to visit you earlier this week.”

  Violet paused while inscribing a cake, giving Jaya confused look. “What?”

  “The guy, the glow. It was him, wasn’t it? The guy practically hanging over the glass to talk to you—weren’t you guys chatting near the fountain across the street? It looked pretty intense.”

  Violet rolled her eyes, going back to her work. “It was definitely intense, and not in a good way.”

  “So who was it? Come on, tell me. No one just comes to work at six in the morning looking that radiant!”

  Violet laughed. “Jay, let it go. We’ve got buttercream to worry about, remember?”

  “Aw man, you suck right now, Vi,” he said with an air of playful disappointment, traipsing away with a spring in his step. “But you watch, I’ll figure it out!”

  Violet exhaled deeply, nervous pangs rattling her tummy. I hope not …

  • • •

  Ultimately, she was able to get away with dodging Ben for most of the day until, of course, the time came to do production for the next day. She gathered the stack of advanced orders that had piled up in the corner of her station and headed downstairs. To her surprise, Ben was not in the office at all. She snorted at the slight wave of disappointment that washed over her. As she pulled up the online account manager, her eyes slipped in and out of focus while her brain made her relive every moment from the night before.

  The office door opened mid-fantasy, and she pulled herself together. Her body went rigid, and she cleared her throat. She shook the proverbial cobwebs from her head and forced herself back into the here and now, hoping she didn’t look too much like a goofball wearing a smile that she could feel stretching from one ear to the other. She kept her face trained on her computer screen, knowing it was Ben by the sound of his footsteps and the smell of his cologne.

  His voice was playful. “Good afternoon, Violet.”

  “Ben,” she replied with a nod, a smile tugging hard at the corners of her mouth.

  She pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to laugh out loud as he took his seat a few feet away. The sound of the office chair’s groans told her that he was positioning himself in front of his own computer. She could’ve sworn she heard him chuckle.

  “What time will you be home?” he asked, his voice deep and quiet.

  Violet replied, “I should be home by five.”

  “After-work plans?”

  “Just a trip to Michael’s.”

  He paused; she turned and saw his back stiffen. She giggled and went back to her computer screen. “The craft store, you weirdo.”

  “Yeah, that was weird. I didn’t mean to lay that at your feet.”

  She turned and stared at his back for a moment, half amused and half creeped out that they were even having this conversation after a single night. “You mean the whole my-wife-cheated-on-me-so-now-I-don’t-trust-women-in-general thing? Yeah, you don’t have to.”

  He turned toward her, embarrassment etched on his face. “I just came off like a lunatic, didn’t I?”

  She grinned. “A little bit.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not good at this. I’ve been with one woman in the last seven years, and I just found out that she spent five of them cheating on me. I guess I just got ahead of myself.”

  “Don’t worry,” she replied. “I know what it’s like to heal and get back in the game. You don’t have to do this with me—we’ve only spent one night together and, like you said last night, I’ve got no reason to lie.”

  “Got it.”

  “Good. Because I think everything that happened last night should definitely happen again.”

  “I’d be happy to oblige, sweetheart.”

  There was that mischievous grin of his again. Mmm, butterflies. “I should probably, um … get back to work.” Violet turned her chair back toward her desk to finish her day’s work. From behind her, Ben chuckled.

  “And I’ll call you at six,” he replied.

  • • •

  An hour and a half later, Violet was up the stairs and on her way out of the bakery, giddier than a teenage girl revved up for prom. The faster she could get to Michael’s and pick up the piping bags, tips, and cake boards she needed to complete her baking project, the faster she could be on the phone with the guy who was rapidly becoming her new favorite person. Going from strained to delightfully compatible wasn’t exactly the change she’d expected, but it was definitely tingle-inducing.

  She was about to cross Sixth Avenue and head to the train when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned her head to the right and, with one glance, felt the sense of giddiness deflate instantly. Steve was staring back at her, his eyes apologetic.

  “Vi, I’m sorry. I got caught up in something and—”

  “No, no—it’s fine,” she interrupted, her voice just loud enough for him to hear. “People get stood up all the time. I’m sure it wasn’t rude at all for you to flake out and not even bother calling.”

  “But my dad needed me to do something for him; I couldn’t get out of it.”

  She shook her head dismissively and crossed the street without another word; her strong legs took lengthy strides, forcing him into a slow jog to keep up with her.

  He hopped onto the sidewalk on the other side of the street. “I literally had no choice.”

  Violet stopped suddenly and turned to face him. “Oh, you literally had no choice. Is your dad sick?”

  Steve paused. “Um, no.”

  “Is he dead?”

  Steve’s eyebrows knitted together as he gave her a bewildered look. “No!”

  “Okay,” she said evenly. “Well then, was your phone broken? Were there no working telephone lines in the whole of Co-op City?”

  Steve tilted his head to one side. “Okay, Vi. I get it.”

  “Good. Because humans call other humans to give them the heads up when they can’t make it somewhere—you might want to file that away for your next date.”

  She began walking away again and, much to her disappointment, Steve followed.

  “Come on, Vi, wait!”

  She sucked her teeth and stopped, staring at him expectantly as she impatiently shifted her weight to one hip. His entire body language changed quite suddenly, and she was actually able to see the moment his charming switch flipped to the “on” position. Pre-collegiate Violet would have turned into mush. Even pre-Ben Violet might’ve melted a little. But this Violet—“Post-Steve, New Man, New Life” Violet? No way.

  He took a step closer and smiled carefully. “Are you really not going to give me a second chance?”

  She raised an eyebrow and sniffed. “No, I’m really not.”

  “Come on, hun,” he replied softly. “We have a history together.”

  Violet nodded, softening her expression. “You’re right, we do have history. One that includes you emptying my bank account, cheating on me, and leaving me without so much as a Post-it. Forgive me if I’m not willing to fall at your feet anymore.”

  “Sweetie, you can’t honestly believe that I’m—”

  “It’s fine.
I don’t know what possessed me to make the date with you in the first place because, the truth is, I moved on a long time ago. And, honestly, you standing me up was pretty much the best thing ever.”

  Steve blinked a few times; she knew he was trying to process what was definitely the strongest statement she’d ever made to him.

  Violet retreated, refusing to make a scene as she held her back straight and kept her smile pleasant. “Take care of yourself, Steve.”

  Steve’s eyebrows were back in the knitted position; he clearly couldn’t understand what she’d said and the fact that she was backing up in preparation to leave. “But maybe this weekend … ?”

  “I’m seeing someone else,” she replied gleefully. “So, have a safe trip back to the Bronx.”

  And with that, she walked away; she was about as proud of herself as she’d been when she walked into Wynne’s Kitchen with nothing but the determination of a warrior and came out with the job she wasn’t entirely qualified for. After all these years, she finally saw Steve for what he was: an opportunist who used people and things for what he needed and moved on when they no longer served a purpose. She didn’t know what he wanted with her now, and she didn’t care. Let him find some other doe-eyed, gullible twenty-something to fall for his nonsense. I’m not that girl.

  • • •

  Violet walked through her door at 5:45 p.m., her arms laden with bags from Michael’s, her favorite place to shop for baking supplies. Her landline was ringing. She let the door slam loudly as she tossed her bags onto the couch before throwing herself into the bedroom and picking up her cordless.

  “Hello?”

  Ben’s voice was sort of awkward but, somehow, still sexy. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t wait.”

  Violet sat on the bed. “I’m so glad you thought of my landline, then. My battery died on the way home.”

  “So you’re saying my impatience is actually well-timed?”

  “I’d say it’s timed perfectly.”

  “Good, because I was wondering what you had planned this evening,” he replied, a hint of that charming smile apparent in his voice.

  “Buttercream. I’m making a cake for a friend who’s picking it up the day after tomorrow. I figured getting a head start on the icing might be a good idea.”

  “Well, I looked at your schedule and noticed you were off tomorrow.”

  “That’s right,” she answered. “It’s baking day.”

  “Well, thanks to a last-minute request, I’ve had to switch days with one of the managers. So, I’m off tomorrow, too. I was wondering, would you like some company?”

  “If you can handle me baking in a tank top, apron, and a pair of boy shorts, I would love some company.”

  “Your choice of uniform concerns me,” he replied, invoking a laugh from her. “And I can’t promise I’ll be able to keep my hands off of you.”

  “You’ve got a one-track mind, mister,” she teased.

  “Not true. And to prove it, I’d like to pick you up and take you to a movie, maybe have some dinner. Think you can spare a couple of hours tonight around nine?”

  “Make it nine thirty and I’m yours,” she answered as she organized her stand mixer, butter, and powdered sugar. “This shouldn’t take me more than a half hour, and I’ll still have time to shower.”

  Ben was silent for a moment. She waited for him to speak, even pulling the handset back and giving it a “Well?” look before putting it back to her ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Okay, you’re right,” Ben admitted. “I have a one-track mind, and let’s just leave it at that. I’ll pick you up in a couple of hours.”

  Violet tilted her head back and laughed.

  • • •

  They didn’t get out of the movie theater on West Sixty-Eighth Street and Broadway until just after eleven o’ clock. She’d spent the entire movie trying to avoid gasping as Ben consistently snuck kisses and nibbles on her shoulder blade. And she was willing to admit that she’d caused her fair share of trouble: her hand may have accidentally grazed his semi-erect shaft as she reached for the popcorn, very strategically placed on the other side of his lap.

  They held hands as they strolled down Broadway in the direction of Lincoln Center, always gorgeous and serene at that time of night.

  “Having fun?” he asked.

  She nodded. “This was a great idea.”

  “I can agree with that. And it’s a nice night, so we can sit by the fountain and … ”

  His voice trailed off, taking on an edge of unease. Confused, she looked up to find him staring intently at a spot over her head and across the street. A woman who looked to be shorter than Violet stood on the other side of Broadway, frozen like a deer in headlights as she stared at them; Ben’s grip on her own hand slackened. Was she about to be thrown in the middle of a stand-off?

  “Is that Elena?”

  Ben didn’t answer, so she turned to get another look. Sleek, brown waves cascaded around the woman’s shoulders in sharp contrast to the ruby-red crop top that clung to her torso. Combine the wildly sexy top with her black, faux-leather, boot-cut low-riders and sky-high heels, and for half a second the entire ensemble left Violet feeling a bit inadequate. She made a point to stand a little straighter—while she might have been bigger in size than the tiny bombshell across the boulevard, she still looked like Wonder Woman come to life. And I don’t have to climb on a stepstool to kiss Ben.

  That last thought produced a smug grin, and it just so happened that the woman she assumed was Elena caught it. Her eyes widened, and Violet could’ve sworn lasers were about to shoot out of them.

  Ben grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”

  “What about this girl?” she asked, gesturing in Elena’s direction.

  His brow furrowed. “What about her? Let’s go. I don’t want her following us.”

  Seemingly on cue, little Elena stepped into the crosswalk as if she were heading their way. Elena’s eyes remained on Violet the entire time.

  “It looks like she might have something she wants to say to me.” Frankly, Violet wanted to hear it.

  “She’s nuts, Vi,” Ben replied, stepping into the street with his arm extended. “And I promise you I’ll tell you everything if you get in a cab with me right now and walk away.”

  Violet gave him a semi-shocked expression. “There’s more than what you told me last night?”

  A red flag waved in her mind’s eye. She was already playing with fire by messing around with Ben; contending with a crazy ex-wife didn’t make this situation any less complicated. For a brief moment, she wondered if coming out with him tonight was even a good idea.

  “I think so.” Ben successfully hailed a cab and pulled open the door for her. “Can we please get in a cab and talk about this at my place?”

  “You’re not worried about her, are you?”

  He shifted his weight, the look on his face becoming more urgent as he waved his hand toward the open car door. “Please, Vi.”

  She tilted her head to one side and eventually sighed. “Okay, fine.”

  Within another half minute, Ben was in the cab next to her and giving stern instructions to the driver. Violet looked out the back window as Elena stood on the traffic island in the middle of Broadway staring daggers while the cab sped away.

  • • •

  When they arrived at Ben’s house, his mood had changed entirely. His expression had hardened and his eyes had darkened, though Violet could tell he was trying to keep it together to salvage what was left of the night. She was tempted to leave immediately, not really in the mood for the extra drama; after all, if tonight could be considered anything, it would only be their first date. She was definitely worried that this situation with Ben, whatever it was turning into, was already becoming too much. Still, a tiny part of her wanted to see if the night could be saved, and she couldn’t decide if it was because she was genuinely interested in Ben or if she was just a glutton for punishment.

  Violet took slow step
s into the condo, taking in its simple and comfortable vibe as Ben locked the door behind them. Ecru-painted walls with navy blue borders in the hallway and living room set a warm feeling in the apartment that, until a night ago, she had thought to be uncharacteristic of Ben. She took a step into the living room, enjoying his modern decorative taste as his couch practically beckoned her to give its overstuffed cushions a try.

  “Nice place,” she said as she glanced at the black-framed prints on the wall. “It’s huge.”

  Ben just tossed his keys onto the table, a now hopeless expression on his face. His voice flat, he simply said, “Thanks.”

  “Should I just go?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered. She appreciated his honesty … sort of. “I don’t want to let her ruin the evening, but … ”

  “Well, then don’t let her ruin the evening. Problem solved.”

  Finally, Ben smiled. “I owe you a talk, don’t I?”

  “You don’t owe me anything.”

  “You know what I mean,” he said. “I just feel like I should at least tell you as much as I can so that you have the option to run screaming if you want.”

  She kind of already wanted to run screaming. After one night, she believed she could tell where their connection was gravitating, and it bothered her. Ben wasn’t some guy she’d met randomly—he was a co-worker, a manager, a boss. She knew last night hadn’t happened for any reason other than the fact that their initial attraction was given a chance to heat up, but no one else knew that. Staying involved with him had the potential to destroy her chances with Wynne’s Kitchen if anyone found out. But, against her better judgment, a tiny voice inside urged her to move forward.

  “Why don’t you show me around?” she suggested, wanting to break the tension that had begun to rebuild between them. “Maybe we can have coffee—assuming your ex-wife didn’t take that, too?”

  Ben laughed and grabbed her hand. “Ah, so you were paying attention when I mentioned that last night. Come on, I’ll walk you through.”

  He led her down a long hallway decorated sparsely with photos of his family that varied in size. Violet was charmed by the love with which he spoke.