Breathless (The ABCs of Love Book 2) Read online

  She smiles professionally. “I was just telling Deepak about—”

  “Your new classes.” I need to calm down. I’m going to calm down. “So I heard.” I think I’ve calmed down. “Small talk is allowed on the premises, you know.”

  I attempt a smile, and after a moment, she does, too. Hell, I just sounded pretty casual. Maybe I look casual. Maybe this is the turning point for me, and I’m over Penny.

  Fuckin’ A.

  Feeling better now, I leave her alone, but I do feel kind of guilty about being a prick to Deepak. He’s a good guy, and I don’t want him pissing his pants every time he sees me coming. At least, not a lot of piss. So, thanks to my remorse, I invite him, a couple more new coders, and the new receptionist Kayla out to sushi, because sushi belongs to all of Cherry Valley, not just Penny and me.

  I already feel freer as we walk to Hana together, the newbies joking around, asking about the West Coast, and generally lightening me up. When we arrive at the restaurant, the hostess seats us by a window, and our happy party eases into business and a discussion about career trajectories. See, I can mentor more than just one up-and-coming employee at FCT.

  But when Penny walks by the window, looking inside, my buzz is completely harshed.

  Chapter 20

  Penny

  As soon as I see Barry and the FCT crowd inside Hana Sushi, I smile and wave as if it’s no big thing, then hurry on down Rainier Street to a small market where I intended to grab a salad. The whole way, I can’t forget Barry sitting next to Kayla the pretty receptionist, and how she was smiling that gorgeous smile at something he said. It was probably a really funny comment. It was probably so Barry.

  Is she his newest mentee?

  While I walk away, my blood simmers. He brought her to Hana Sushi, of all places. Our place. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve passed by and wanted to go in, and not only because I was there with Barry — I actually like the food. It makes me feel sophisticated and worldly, as if there are so many possibilities still ahead of me, like those online business classes Barry advised me to sign up for. I’ve also started looking into living in other cities, places where I could run the online business I’ve started to put together in my head. It’s only research at this point — I won’t leave FCT for a while, not after all they’ve done for me — but I’m going to do it. Someday.

  I tell myself that Barry wasn’t just with Kayla at the restaurant — there were other FCT employees there — but that doesn’t hurt any less. The whole time, I’ve obviously just been seeing things in him that aren’t really there. Maybe I’m projecting, and that’s why I kissed him the other night and then imagined a strange look on his face the next morning. Maybe I totally suck at men and it’s good that I’ve sworn most of them off, especially this one.

  For the rest of the week, I vow to truly see Barry for what he is and what he should be — my boss, dammit. I put my nose to the grindstone and work so hard that I barely peek out of my office. I am absolutely, one hundred percent the new, shiny Penny.

  On Friday, the weather is still unseasonably nice with just a bit of chill in the air. I live so close to the offices that I’ve been walking to work, and after the day ends I walk home in the darkness, looking forward to a mellow night of Netflix and ice cream, which is just fine for the new Penny. Then I pass by Hana Sushi. Judging by the emptiness, they obviously just reopened early for dinner, and I get the same see-the-world urge I always do whenever I think of this place. I’m also feeling sorry for myself, remembering how stuck in Cherry Valley I am, remembering Barry laughing with the FCT crowd — including Kayla — as if he owns the place.

  Does he?

  Neg on that. Even if I’m tired, I’m going to treat myself at my sushi place, and I don’t even slow down as I open the door and smile at the hostess. She smiles back and leads me to the nearly empty floor. The only customer so far is Abby Peters, who’s clearly working on another blog at a table under the geisha art. She waves me over. Could it be that I’ve found a sushi partner in Cherry Valley? Abby’s young, but she’s always interesting, totally plugged in to the outside world, so I join her.

  As I hang my coat on the back of a chair, she greets me. She’s already polished off a plate of rolls, and it looks like she’s been here a while, even if the shop was closed after lunch.

  “What’re you working on today?” I ask.

  “I’m just wrapping up an interview with Emi before the dinner rush. This place is so hoppin’ that everyone wants to know about the genius chef behind the bar. I already talked to Linus Inouye before he went back to the Bay Area, and I want a full account of what’s going on with Cherry Valley’s new food scene from Emi.”

  As if summoned, the chef herself weaves through the other tables to ours. With her dark hair tied back in a strict bun, she’s delicate and sunny, even in her starched chef’s uniform. Her brown eyes are full of the kind of excitement I crave, wanting to be the same kind of cosmopolitan woman she is. I wonder once again if Barry’s had a go at her.

  After Abby introduces us, Emi greets me and then braces her hands on the back of a chair instead of sitting. To Abby she says, “The last time I saw Penny in here, she was having lunch with Barry Aaronson.”

  My stomach sinks. Barry. I look at Emi closely to see if she has screwed him, but she’s not giving off any obvious signs. Meanwhile, Abby seems very interested in the fact that I was lunching with Barry, and she’s inspecting me like a reporter on the trail of something big — at least as far as her ABCs of Love blog goes.

  “Sorry,” I say to her. “It was a business lunch. You’ll have to tell the tale of someone else who actually has a dating life.”

  “You and Barry aren’t …?” She doesn’t say getting some afternoon delight out loud, but she clearly means it.

  “No.” I forcefully shake my head. “No.”

  Emi laughs. “You know, Barry once dated a friend of mine in the Bay Area, if you can call a one-night stand dating. I personally don’t find him to my liking, but she sure had good things to say …”

  Ugh. I mentally stick my fingers into my ears and la-la-la to drown out the rest of what she’s gabbing about, because I know she’s talking about sex. By the time I tune back in, I’m at least content that Emi was never with Barry, and that gives me a perverse satisfaction, even though I don’t want to think of him with that other girl.

  Jeez.

  Abby and Emi are watching me, and I get the feeling it’s because I’ve been asked a question and was too busy thinking about Barry to hear it.

  Emi cocks her head. “I only said that it seemed like you and Barry were having a very fun business lunch.”

  “Oh, no,” I repeat. “He’s my boss, and it was all I could do to lighten him up a little.”

  They laugh, and Emi says, “Reportedly, there are many ways to get him happy.”

  I start to la-la-la again, but then I see more people entering the restaurant, and that’s Emi’s cue.

  “Do you have all you need from me, Abby?” Emi asks. “It’s time for me to get working.”

  “We’re all good.” Abby stands, too. “Penny, I know I sound like I keep playing the same message over and over, but I’ve got to take off.”

  “A hot date?” I ask.

  She blushes, then recovers. “Sure. It’s with an essay I have to write for journalism. We’ve got a serious romance going.” She winks at me and leaves. Emi clears Abby’s plate and water glass, then wishes me a nice meal.

  I sit at my table and fold my hands in front of me. Looks like I’m alone now, and I’m a little freaked out. In spite of how I’ve kicked guys out of my apartment in the past so I can sleep by myself, I’m not an alone person in public. I suspect this is the prime reason I’ve been with so many losers in my life — because the thought of dining out or seeing a movie on my own has always made me lonely. The problem with my relationships comes at the end of most nights after I have my carnal fill of my boyfriends — I just want them out. I like bad and fas
t, and I don’t pick ‘em to last. If I did pick nice guys, there’d be no thrill in getting caught with them or bitching about them to Mandy. There’d be no secret satisfaction in having my parents roll their eyes and say, Oh, Penny, not again. Mandy was always the sweet sister, and I loved being the wild child who needed more attention. I do love attention, but now that I sit here alone, I realize how empty that is.

  The restaurant starts filling up fast, and the hostess brings me a menu. Yet as I stare at it, I don’t remember what to order. I liked everything I tried before, but what did I like the most?

  I sigh and, in spite of myself, wish Barry were here. It isn’t just because I want him to tell me what to eat or because I don’t like to be alone in public or because I’m easily bored. I actually miss talking to the jerk, sparring with him, feeling my heart pump with adrenaline around him. And there’s something else I can’t quite put my finger on.

  As wistfulness settles over me, I tap my finger on the menu and bite my lip. I scan the weird names of the rolls and wonder what Barry would say about each of them. Then, when I feel someone looking at me, I lift my gaze.

  At first I think I’m dreaming, because I see Barry standing near the hostess stand. Our gazes connect, and two ingredients combine: a flood of something like relief that he’s finally here and an unbearable need to have him come closer. My mind reels with the memory of hot skin, slow hands, that dizzy kiss I planted on him in the office …

  He seems to be thinking the same thing as we awkwardly look away from each other.

  Wonderful. He’s seen me sitting alone like a pathetic dork who can’t find anyone to eat with her. Does he feel sorry for me yet? I don’t know if it’s my pride or my stupid impulsive side, but I look right back up and venture a smile, then beckon him over.

  It seems as if he’s actually debating whether to walk out the door or stand his ground, but then he says something to the hostess and walks over to me with that arrogant saunter I hate, right along with his voice and smile and … well, the rest of it. Every time his expensive sneakers hit the floor, my pulse booms.

  “Hey,” I say when he arrives. “What were those little salty eggs called again?”

  He smiles, as if grateful that this is all I want from him. “Salmon roe. According to Zach, Mandy hates the stuff.”

  “That could be why I love it.” I smile again, and on another impulse, gesture to the chair across from me. I must be a glutton for punishment. When he hesitates, I feel myself flush. “Never mind. That might be too weird.”

  It’s as if I’ve pressed a button on him. “Screw that. We’ll call this a business dinner.”

  Success! But then I calm down, realizing this night just got a lot less lonely, and that warms me up.

  He sits, and I slide the menu to him. He lifts a hand as if he’s already memorized it.

  “You seem to be getting a lot of business done in here,” I say.

  I’ll bet he knows that I’m talking about the other day when I saw him and Kayla — and, okay, a few other FCT employees — through the window.

  He shrugs. “Yeah, it’s become my new coffeehouse. Sometimes I even wander in here on my own and eat at the sushi bar. It’s the closest I’ll come to civilization in Cherry Valley besides the Alchemist across the way.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.”

  Our server comes by, and Barry gives me a lowered look that’s, holy crap, way too sexy for the room. Boy, I need to stop projecting.

  “Soda to start?” he asks.

  To start? Promises, promises. “Yes, please.”

  He looks up at our waitress and orders sake for the both of us, too. I lift an eyebrow at him. Booze?

  “You’re going to try something new tonight,” he says.

  There’re a hell of a lot of things I’d like to try with him, but it’s wrong — wrong, wrong, wrong — for me to even think it. Besides, right now he’s got the same grin he had the first time he brought me here, as if he’s excited about introducing me to new experiences. My bones melt a little at that.

  A long, awkward pause burbles between us right along with the nearby waterfall.

  JeezICan’tStandThis. “God.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Can we just agree that this is ridiculous? I mean, the way we’re acting around each other?”

  He relaxes and flaps open his napkin. “Yes, thank you. I’m glad you got that out in the open. This walking on eggshell shit is balls, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

  “Watch out. That last thing you said sounded a little bit country. You might’ve even drawled a little.”

  He glares, and I laugh.

  It’s as if the wall of tension has suddenly crumbled between us, and as the sake and soda are served, Barry orders our food. I trust his taste. I’m curious about his taste, and I ask him what it was like in Japan. As he starts to tell me about the trips he’s taken for business and all the restaurants he tried there, I melt a bit more, imagining what it’d be like to be as well-traveled. He tells me about shrines and pagodas, about yakitori shops and vending machines that sell anything and everything. When I ask him where else he’s been, he leans his arms on the table, angling toward me, and tells me about college trips to Europe and Costa Rica.

  I lean my elbow on the table and rest my cheek in my hand. We’re definitely over our awkward phase, and we’ve skipped business altogether. This is the Barry who somehow charmed me in the first place.

  We’ve ignored the soda and polished off the first flask of sake, a lovely drink that warms my stomach right along with a lot of other naughty bits, and our sushi plates are empty. Barry orders more booze. When it arrives, he pours the liquid into our small cups. The sake is running through my veins, lifting my spirits and making me want to laugh all night long. This turned out to be such a good night. This is how it should be with Barry and me, without that damned office kiss between us anymore.

  “So where do you want to go in this world, Penny?” he asks in that low voice I actually adore. Oh my God, I adore it so much.

  The murmur of the other customers combs over my skin as I smile up at him. A muscle ticks in his jaw before he sits back and crosses his arms over his chest, as if my smile has done some damage. Hah — right.

  But, thanks to the sake, there’s no such thing as a bad idea for me right now. “I don’t care where I go, just as long as I’m going.” I laugh. “Jeez, just listen to me. I’m as non-discriminating with my travel as I used to be with boyfriends.” Then I frown. “That’s not a knock on you. You weren’t a ‘boyfriend.’”

  “No harm, no foul.”

  I sit up in my chair. “I’m saying things I shouldn’t say.”

  “It’s the sake.”

  “I … don’t know if it is.”

  He uncrosses his arms, a cactus retracting his spines. Heat flushes up my skin again, and I feel it below, too. Everywhere below, and I’m not actually drunk. I’m only happy. Happy to be here with him, happy that we’re not feeling strange around each other, happy that we can talk like normal people.

  “Barry,” I say.

  “What, Penny?”

  “What is it you want out of life?”

  “You know that already. I want FCT to change the world.”

  “And I truly think you’re going to make that happen.”

  Something changes in his gaze. It’s as warm as the sake.

  My heart is hammering at me. “What I mean is, what do you want?”

  I didn’t think it was possible, but he’s speechless. His dark blue eyes are saying more than words can, and I know what a party monster like him wants, at least for now. I want it, too. But that doesn’t change the fact that it won’t happen, because even if we’re having fun together, lines have been drawn. Damned lines.

  He gestures to our server and slides enough cash onto the table to cover at least three meals. I start to protest his paying for me, but he shuts me down.

  “I’ve got this.”

  “Okay. And thank
you for this sublime business meal. I’ve been fully mentored in the ways of travel.”

  “Penny,” he says, “I might be a business shark, but at least I’m one with ethics. This won’t be expensed as a business meal.”

  As he tosses his napkin on the table and stands, my lady bits are howling. His cocksure attitude is hot. So is the fact that he seems to take pride in having ethics when so many people call him a jerk.

  I stand and put on my coat before he can even think about helping me. We head out. Emi and her crew are busy, but she looks up from her work and smiles at us from behind the sushi bar, and there might be some curiosity there. Barry opens the door for me, and the night air hits us.

  “I know your place isn’t too far,” he says. “Did you walk?”

  “Yeah, and I’ll be fine. I’m used to the cold. I’m sure you are, too, being from New York and all.”

  “I’m walking you to your place.”

  I laugh. “Because Cherry Valley is so dangerous?”

  “I hear there’re men in shitkickers lingering behind every corner.”

  Okay. So he wants to walk me home. No big deal.

  On the way there, the tension lifts a little when we start to debate cherry cider versus sake, then move on to what other kind of food Barry plans to bring to Cherry Valley. All the while, I remember our last kiss. My breath is coming faster, my blood lurching through me with hot and hotter force. He’s just so tall and his voice has a way of humming through me like a wild vibration. We had such a great dinner, and I don’t want the night to end.

  By the time we get to my apartment, I’m not about to let that happen. Damn Mandy’s advice. Damn me for not being able to control myself.

  “Well,” he says, standing there with his hands in his coat pockets as I open my door. “I guess—”

  I jump him, yanking him inside and pulling his head down to me for a kiss, totally losing myself in the crazy.

  Chapter 21