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  “Ow,” he yelped. “No hitting, you know I’m delicate merchandise. C’mon into the living room, but watch your step. The light switch is on the other side of the room.”

  He didn’t speak fast enough, because I slammed my foot into what felt like a giant brick. I howled in pain and collapsed to the floor just as he flipped the light switch.

  “Oh shit, I’m so sorry about that,” he said, crouching down in front of me.

  I took several deep breaths in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. My eyes shot to the floor to see what just assaulted my foot. A giant hand-weight was the culprit.

  “You brought me to your house to break my foot?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Oh stop it, your foot isn’t broken,” he said as he gingerly examined it.

  “I bet it is. I don’t think I can even stand up,” I whined. My toes throbbed, and I planned to milk this situation for all its worth. The smile on Jayce’s face showed he knew it too.

  “C’mon, you big baby, let’s get you on the couch so I can take a closer look at your foot,” he said positioning his arms around me.

  Is he about to pick me up? Oh hell no.

  “No, no, no,” I protested. “I can’t have you throwing your back out trying to pick me up.”

  Jayce of course ignored me and cradled me with ease as he carried me over to the couch. “You’re not as heavy as you think you are,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I muttered.

  He put me down and positioned himself on the other end with my feet in his lap. Within the blink of an eye, my pink sock was missing and Jayce was lightly squeezing my foot.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I said, trying to swat his hands away. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

  “Stop it,” he said. “Nothing appears to be broken.”

  “Thank you, doctor,” I teased.

  He smiled and gently continued massaging my foot. “I used to play football, I’ve seen a lot of injuries, so don’t worry, I’m a pro at this.”

  We sat there in an awkward silence as the mini-rub down continued. I enjoyed his hands touching me more than I probably should have.

  I hope my feet don’t stink.

  “I’ll be right back,” he announced. “I’m going to order the food and grab some beers from the fridge.”

  I nodded and slid my legs off his lap so he could get up. Fifteen minutes later, he came back with two Bud Lights in tow. He handed one to me as he sat back down on the other end of the couch motioning for my foot. I didn’t bother with protesting this time. I put my legs back where they were and allowed him to continue rubbing the pain away.

  “Listen, here’s the thing,” he said. “I have a small problem and I need your help.”

  “Okay, what is it?” I asked after taking a big gulp of my beer.

  If he says he needs help taking his clothes off, then I’m all in.

  “Vivianne and I are going through a rough patch. Rough patch is an understatement. The truth is we broke up.”

  Yes, yes, yes!

  “ … and I need you to help me get her back.”

  What? Nooo!

  “Get her back? What caused the breakup in the first place?”

  Not that I care.

  “These last few months have been a little rocky and we just weren’t seeing eye to eye. She wants more than I’m willing to sacrifice,” he explained.

  I frowned and took another swig of beer. “Wait, if you aren’t willing to sacrifice, then why do you want her back?” I asked.

  “Because the things she wants are superficial. I need to make her remember why we fell in love in the first place. I want you to help me figure out ways to do that. At first I thought we were just having a spat and she’d get over it, but I realized it was serious when she moved all of her stuff out.”

  “Damn,” I muttered under my breath.

  “So that’s the favor I wanted to ask. Are you willing to help me?”

  “I have just one question before I give you an answer. Do you love her?”

  “Yes,” he replied firmly. “I do.”

  His response wasn’t one I wanted to hear, but I wouldn’t stand in the way of love. “All right, I’ll help you,” I sighed.

  Chapter Ten

  “I thought you hated Vivianne,” said Kirsten.

  I watched her expertly glue on a pair of fake eyelashes and add several coats of mascara. Kirsten was always putting makeup and accessories on herself or whoever was close to her. She said it was because she needed to practice her craft at all times. Personally, I thought she just liked playing in makeup, but I guess it was worth it since she’s made a career out of it.

  “What’s the point of the mascara on top of the fake lashes?” I asked.

  Mentally, I was taking notes, but I already knew any attempt I made would probably result in my eyes being glued shut.

  “It helps add dimension. I’m going for a super glam look right now. Quit trying to avoid my question. Why would you volunteer to help Jayce get back together with that evil witch?”

  I sighed and grabbed one of the makeup brushes to sweep over my eye. “It’s complicated. He helped me when I was at my lowest point. That douchebag Connor, made me feel like trash, and Jayce was there to pick up the pieces. I feel like I owe him,” I explained.

  “I’ve told you over and over, don’t apply the same eye shadow all over your entire eyelid. It makes you look like a clown. You need to add a highlight and a crease color too,” she said. “And then you need to blend. Blending helps bring it all together.

  I rolled my eyes and put the brush back with the others. If I had to spend over an hour like Kirsten putting makeup on, I would probably shoot myself. The way I saw it, you only need a little eyeliner, mascara, and some lip gloss.

  “Have you heard from Connor at all?” she asked.

  “Nope, and if he’s smart he won’t contact me,” I growled.

  She finally seemed satisfied with her face and came over to join me on the bed. “I wish you would let me call my cousin. Ricky would set Connor straight and make him apologize too,” she said.

  Yeah, and Ricky would break the man’s legs, and I wouldn’t have to pay him extra to do it. Wait … maybe that’s not such a bad idea.

  “No, Kirsten,” I said firmly. “I’m a big girl. We can’t run to Ricky every time something goes wrong.”

  “Fine,” she huffed. “But the option is out there … I’m just saying.” She rolled off the bed and jumped to her feet. “I think we should get dressed and put on our dancing shoes since I’m all glammed up.”

  My lips pulled back into a scowl as I groaned. “I can think of a million things I would rather do other than go out. For example, I have a few books I’ve been dying to read lately.”

  Kirsten grabbed my leg and started pulling me off of the bed. “Books? Seriously, Bri, where’s your sense of adventure?” she asked.

  Probably between the pages of one of those books.

  “Please,” she whined. “I’m always on the road, and we never get the chance to go out and do anything. If you say yes, I promise not to keep you out past midnight.”

  A defeated sigh crossed my lips and Kirsten smiled at her mini-victory. This was one argument I knew I couldn’t win.

  I ended up changing clothes four times before Kirsten gave me her official stamp of approval. She also wouldn’t let me leave without a full face of makeup. I glanced over to my friend and zeroed in on the short skirt and halter top tight enough to look like she had painted it onto her non-jiggly body. I was the fat friend. I knew it, she knew it, and everybody in Club Flame knew it. For once, I wanted to wear a sleeveless shirt and not have batwings whenever I lifted my arms.

  Kirsten immediately headed to the dance floor and I found an open seat at the bar. My job, no matter where we went, was to watch our purses and drinks. I wanted to dance, but I found myself over-thinking the rules of dance floor etiquette. What if I walked up to someone to dance and they shot me down? I wished Kirst
en would consider doing some of the things I wanted to do, like sipping on glasses of wine while laughing through a horror movie because I think they are absolutely hilarious. The killer was always in the closet and everybody knows if you fall, you’re screwed.

  “Hey, what’s up?” shouted a familiar voice. I immediately snapped out of my scrambled brain and came face to face with Jayce.

  I was surprised to see him, but it was a happy kind of surprise. “I’m here with my friend,” I yelled over the blaring music.

  “Why … ” he asked frowning.

  I missed out on the rest of the question. I shook my head and leaned in for him to repeat it. The music suddenly got louder and I still had no clue what he had said.

  His lips are moving again, but I couldn’t hear him. All I heard was a guy in the DJ booth yelling for all of the ladies to drop it low. I shook my head again, shrugged my shoulders, and pointed to my ear. My hands reached for my purse as I fished around for my cell phone. If I couldn’t hear him, then I could at least see whatever he’s saying through a text message.

  Before I was able to retrieve my phone, he was pulling me to my feet and out onto the dance floor. I snatched up our purses as a look of horror flashed across my face. I attempted to dig my heels in to stop myself from going any further. Jayce stopped in the middle of the floor and turned around. He started dancing, but I stood there frozen in place.

  I can’t move … I can’t move.

  He stopped moving and cocked his head to the side. Instead of allowing me to return to the safety of my seat at the bar, he planted his hands on my hips and guided me to the beat of the music.

  Awkward. This is awkward. Move, Bri! Move something, anything, so you don’t look like an idiot.

  I took a deep breath and slowly allowed my body to do what I knew it could do. A playful smile lingered on Jayce’s lips as I finally found the right rhythm. Before long, I was a hot sweaty mess and my shirt was sticking to my body. Kirsten danced her way closer to us and gave me two thumbs up as she nodded her approval of him. I would have kept dancing if he hadn’t pulled me over to a reserved table in the corner. Since we were further away from the DJ it was much easier to hear now.

  “Look at you,” he teased. “To be such an unwilling dance partner, you went out there and danced circles around everybody.”

  “Yeah,” I shouted. “I’m usually too freaked out to dance with strangers. I actually love dancing; I do it all the time at home.”

  He leaned over, wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and gave me a light squeeze. “You’re good at it; you should do it more often. Listen,” he said, dropping his arm away from me. “I’m going to see Vivianne tomorrow. Do you have any tips or ideas I can use to get back in her good graces?”

  Ughhh. You just killed my vibe.

  “Where is she?” I asked, reaching for the menu. If I was going to be forced to discuss the Wicked Witch of the East, I’d need a few drinks in my system first.

  “She’s at her mom’s house recovering from surgery. I’m a little nervous to see what she looks like because Vivianne believes in going big or going home. The chances of her having two giant watermelons on her chest are significantly high.”

  I tried very hard not to laugh, but I couldn’t hold it in. My mind instantly painted a picture of Vivianne’s tiny stick figure body with two huge orbs for breasts.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, trying to choke down the rest of my chuckles. “Take her some flowers, maybe a card, and a few balloons,” I suggested.

  That’s what I would want.

  He shook his head and waved the waitress over. “Jack Daniel’s please. How about you, Bri?” he asked.

  “Amaretto sour,” I said, handing the drink menu to the girl. “Why did you shake your head no? What’s wrong with my suggestion?”

  “Vivianne likes gifts. I think she’ll like shoes or a purse instead of flowers and balloons,” he explained.

  Wow, materialistic much?

  “You definitely need to pick whatever you think she’ll like. But, I thought the whole point of asking for my help was so I could help find ways that don’t feed into her greedy side. We are supposed to be reminding her that your relationship is built on more,” I said.

  Jayce paused and seemed lost inside his thoughts for a moment. He was almost in a trance when the waitress returned with our drinks. I sipped mine slowly and waited for him to come back to reality.

  “You know what? You’re absolutely right. Flowers and balloons it is,” he announced. He grabbed his cup and finished his drink in one gulp.

  “Hey, I’m going to go ahead and call it a night. We have a truck coming in the morning with new supplies and I need to be there to unload it,” he said.

  I glanced at my watch and was shocked to see it was nearly two o’clock in the morning. “Wow, I didn’t realize how late it is. I need to find my friend so we can head home too,” I replied.

  “Yeah,” he smirked. “You need to get some rest. I heard your boss can be a real asshole if you show up late.”

  “Tell me about it, he’s the biggest asshole ever. He actually let me keep my job even after I put salt in the sugar containers. Can you believe the nerve of that guy?” I said with a lop-sided grin.

  Jayce’s smile spread even wider, creating deep dimples in his cheeks.

  Aww dimples. Now he’s ten times cuter than before.

  “Don’t worry about the check,” he said, reaching for his wallet.

  I thanked him for the drink and watched him make his way through the throngs of people still dancing. Kirsten must have been waiting on him to leave because she suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

  “That guy was hot! Please tell me you got his number,” she said. Her hair was damp with sweat, but her makeup was still flawless. I wondered what she put on to make it stay like that … glue?

  “Of course not,” I replied. “I already have his number. That’s Jayce, my boss.”

  Kirsten’s eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights. “No way! Mr. Coffee Shop is sexy! Instead of helping him get back with his ex you need to find a way to take her spot.”

  I laughed at her suggestion. Leave it to Kirsten to always have some type of plot going on in her brain.

  “Are you ready to go?” I asked. “You know I have to go to work in the morning.”

  “Honey, I don’t blame you for wanting to go to work especially if I had him to look forward to,” she said.

  She was right. I wanted to be there bright and early, just to see Jayce.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jayce burst through the office doors with an arm full of stuff as I sat trying to make the balance sheet actually balance.

  “Oh wow¸ what’s all this?” I asked, catching a bouquet that was about to hit the floor.

  He made it to the desk and dropped everything in a pile. “I plan on taking this stuff to Vivianne and I wanted to get your approval first.”

  The man had splurged and picked up every flower known to mankind. “Are you sure you want to take all of this over there?”

  “Do you think I should?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the faux garden spread across the desk.

  I zeroed in on my favorites and scooped them up. “I love lilies and calla lilies. They are so elegant and tropical at the same time.”

  Instead of paying attention to me, Jayce was holding up a bouquet of roses. “I think she’ll like these a lot better,” he mumbled.

  The twisted look on his face spoke volumes. He really wanted to make a good impression on Vivianne and I still didn’t understand why.

  “Roses are so cliché, trust me. Take her something she won’t expect,” I said.

  His eyes bounced back and forth a few times between the different flowers and his brow buckled into a look of concentration.

  “Yeah,” he said slowly. “You’re right.”

  He grabbed a vase from the pile on the desk and shoved the flowers into it. “How’s this?”

  I rolled my eyes and shook my he
ad. Something told me I should have explained the right way to arrange the flowers. “It looks a mess. Scoot out of the way and I’ll fix them,” I ordered.

  The vibration from my phone drew my attention away from my Martha Stewart moment. “You mind if I take this? It’s my mom,” I said.

  “No, go right ahead. I have some stuff to do in the front anyway,” he replied. He walked … no sauntered out of the office.

  Is that what sauntering looks like? I never thought I would actually see someone saunter.

  His stride had a lazy pace to it … a sexy, lazy pace. I noticed more and more things about him with each passing day. Today, it was the way he walked, yesterday it was his ass, and the day before that I found myself staring at the noticeable bulge in the front of his pants.

  “Hey, Mom, how’s your vacation?” I asked, trying to refocus my attention.

  “Hello, sweetie, my vacation is excellent. It would be nice to sit on the beach drinking mimosas every day if I could. How are things at home?” she asked.

  “Things are great. In fact they’re so good, I managed to snag a job,” I said, just as I accidently broke one of the lilies by trying to shove it into the already full vase. I didn’t want to throw it away and let it go to waste, so I stuck it in my hair, right above my ear.

  “That’s wonderful, honey! I’m so proud of you; I knew you could do it. You’ll have to tell me all about it when I get home. Listen … are you going to be busy later?”

  Here it comes. She’s going to ask for a favor. Mom only asks if I’m busy when she wants something from me.

  “No,” I said slowly, waiting on her to get to the point.

  “Well, here’s the thing, I need a favor,” she said.

  Bingo. I knew it.

  “Gram-Gram called and you know how she goes on and on about being lonely and bored. I felt bad, so I told her you would take her to dinner tonight,” she explained in a rush.

  “Mommm,” I whined.

  “Honey, I know … I know. But she’s your grandmother and it won’t kill you to see her and spend a little time with her,” said Mom.