The man swivels his head around, taking in the kitchen. “This is where the magic happens, huh?”
“I guess you could say that…at least it was for us tonight.” Stepping away from him, I turn around and grab a dish towel to start cleaning up. “As long as you guys are feeling full in your bellies and fulfilled, I’ve done my job.”
Only when I turn back around, he’s standing right on top of me, swaying.
“That’s cool you brought your hockey-playing boyfriend with you,” he slurs. “Didn’t see that happening when I left home to come over for dinner. My brother is always full of surprises.”
A quick calculation using this information, and I realize this has to be the wild-card brother John mentioned. A shudder runs across my body.
“Jake’s a good guy who put his hand up to do something for charity,” I explain, taking a step away from this man. Only, he doesn’t get the memo and takes a step to stay in sync with my movements.
“He’s a pretty boy who got kicked off his team,” he says matter-of-factly. “You know, I’m a fan of the Jersey City Blades. Been to a lot of games. Never liked him being on the team.”
“Well, I’ll put that note in the suggestion box for next time.” I keep my tone light, hoping that this guy will get the hint. Why does he think I’m the person to talk to about hockey right now? And where is Jake?
He steps closer, so close I can smell the wine on his breath. We’re entering a territory that I didn’t know existed for a private dinner, and I’m starting to get spooked.
“I guess when you’re a hockey player, you’re able to get all the chicks, huh?”
Looking into this man’s sneering face, a cold chill races through me. His intentions are unknown at the moment, and it’s freaking me out.
“I don’t know, but I’m sure if you want to know you can ask him yourself.” I continue our dance: step away, to my right, getting some space between us as I clean up, only to have him step my way and close the gap so he’s hovering beside me.
“I don’t want to ask him.” His tone is clipped, and when I snap my head to look at him, he grabs my wrist and pulls me hard against his body. “I’m asking you if the reason you’re with this guy is because he’s on a hockey team?”
There’s a moment where you can act, and there’s the moment you let pass, where you wait for the other person to maybe change course. You want them to right their ship and fix the boat they’re on, but when you realize they’re not going to do it, you have to be the one. The one to be the submarine that sinks the ship, and what this guy doesn’t know is that I’m prepared to do it.
Pulling my wrists away, I snap my hand back to my side and pick up my whisk, holding it in between us. “You need to get out of this kitchen before I—”
“Before what? Before you whip me?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “I’m curious, that’s all. You’re just a local girl from here, right? Born and raised in Sweetkiss Creek, I bet. Guys like him get all the girls, but the rest of us mere plebs are left out here in the wind.”
“Your issues need a therapist, not a chef.” Using the whisk, I point toward the door, but as I do, the door flies open, bringing Jake in with it.
There’s a look that crosses his face as soon as he sees me holding the whisk and backing away from this stranger, who is literally using the butcher’s block to hold himself up as he mumbles on about how athletes get all the women.
“What the—” Jake says as his eyes slam into mine. “Are you okay?”
“She’s fine,” the man says, sauntering over to Jake. “I'm the one, apparently, with the issue.”
Jake holds the door open for him, but the man has other ideas. It’s like a slow-motion movie as he sidles up to Jake and, using all of his might, slams himself into him and thus slamming Jake into the door.
Any other man might have taken a swing at the drunk, but Jake stands his ground, clenching and unclenching his fists, placid and unmoving.
The impaired man looks at Jake, his gaze a bit lopsided considering he’s probably seeing more than three of him at the moment. “Come on, dude, throw a swing at me.”
If this is what Jake meant when he said sometimes guys want to fight him, man, do I feel for him. WOW. I want to smack this man.
But Jake’s patient. He stays standing in his spot, even when the guy gets in his face and calls him a slew of expletives. It’s tough to stomach it as it happens, but I also know if Jake was to even push this man away, he’d do more damage with his pinky than this guy can do with his whole body.
“I guess when you get to curl up with someone who looks like she does every night, I’d be trying to act chill, too.” Unwavering, the man stumbles backward and then turns my way again. The sneer is back as he leans across the butcher block and reaches out to me. “Maybe I can play server to your chef when he’s gone, sweetie?”
Like a flash of lightning, Jake latches his hand around the guy’s wrist and pulls him with a rough jerk around the butcher block.
“You will NOT touch her,” Jake growls.
“Get your hands off of me,” he rants, spit flying from his mouth and hitting Jake’s face as the door swings open behind him and John walks in.
“What’s going on, Tim?” John’s face is bright red as he scans the room. I’m pretty sure it won’t take him long to deduce what’s going on, and I’m right. Shaking his head, he grabs Tim by the arm and looks at both Jake and me apologetically. “My younger brother is a bit of a mess. Can’t handle your liquor, huh?’
