Just One Kiss: A Black Alcove Novel (The Black Alcove Series Book 1) (5 page)

“How did the first day go?” my father asks,
getting right to business.

“It was brief, but tonight I will go back to
train with one of the bartenders.” There’s no point in making small
talk with Max Connelly. The man is all business. By participating
in this plan of his, I’ve got more attention from him in the last
two weeks than I have since I was born.

“Training?” He laughs. “Need I remind you
that our family owns this bar, Ethan? If you do not feel you’re
capable of doing what I’ve asked from you, I will replace you with
one of your brothers who can.” His voice is firm and I know he will
keep his word if I fail.

“I will do exactly what I need to get this
done, sir. You have my word,” I tell him as I run a small towel
under warm water and gently wipe away the dried blood.

“Good. I’ll be expecting a twenty-four hour
update until I’m confident with leaving you there. Best of luck
today, son,” he says and the line goes dead. What a way to start my
day. And I know for a fact he isn’t really wishing me luck.

My head drops forward when
I hear the persistent noise of the still-dead car that is
inexorable from my bathroom window. Doesn’t this person get the
hint?
Your car isn’t going to start, so
just give up already.

I don’t want to turn into that nosey
neighbor, but damn, this neighborhood is noisy. I toss the towel
into the sink, and once again I’m heading down the stairs to see
who’s making such a racket.

I open the blinds completely this time. The
weather is clear, the sky is blue, and the sun is shining.

I hear the noise again and
quickly find the source. I close my eyes and take a deep
breath.
Kelsey.

I don’t bother pulling on a pair of shoes
this time. It will only take me a couple seconds to offer my help.
Nothing I can’t do in a pair of gym shorts. I jog lightly across
the street and slow to walk up the driver’s side of her car. I
notice her phone sitting on the ground by her door and kneel down
to pick it up. Unfortunately for me, Kelsey chooses this exact
moment to get out of her car. By the force of the metal against my
forehead, it’s obvious she is taking her frustration out on the
door.

“Oh my god!” she gasps, covering her mouth
with her hand. “I’m so sorry I didn’t see you there.”

I stand, slowly extending my hand that holds
her phone. I’m rubbing my head with my other hand when she comes
into view clearly. And fuck. What is she wearing? Or better
yet—what isn’t she wearing? Kelsey’s standing less than an arm’s
length away from me in nothing but a tiny pair of black shorts and
a sports bra. My hand falls quickly as I shift my stance. These
shorts don’t leave much to the imagination.

Still covering her mouth, Kelsey’s eyes grow
wider and start to glaze over. She moves her hand from her mouth
and reaches toward me but quickly pulls back.

“I’m so...so...I hope you’re okay.” She
takes a deep breath then looks away.

“I’m fine.” It comes out a
bit more harsh than planned. But if I don’t know any better, this
girl is slowly trying to kill me.
It’s
always the good-looking ones, isn’t it?

Kelsey’s look of remorse quickly fades,
turning into the same heated glare from last night. She crosses her
arms and cocks her head.

“Is there a reason you’re standing in my
driveway?”

Her driveway? I thought she was
housesitting.

“I came over here to offer you my
assistance.” I nod toward her car. “It sounds like you need help
starting your car. And for as much as I would love to watch you
stand out here half naked, you’re disturbing the whole
neighborhood. I’ll go get my truck and give you a jump.” I take a
step around her.

I honestly think explaining to her why I’m
here will help her not look so panicked, but instead, I get a
dramatic gasp before she takes off to hide inside. I shake my head
as I wander back across the street for some jumper cables. This is
going to be one hard woman to figure out.

Kelsey

How humiliating. I was just standing there,
having a normal conversation while practically naked. Naked in
front of Ethan of all people. I’d been so concerned about getting
to class on time, I didn’t even consider what I’m wearing. And he
didn’t have much on either, just that same damn pair of black mesh
shorts I’d dreamed about. I could barely focus with his solid body
and six pack abs just staring at me.

This is karma for lying to Sara to get out
of dinner last night. I should have just gone to the apartment. All
I wanted was to avoid seeing Ethan, which didn’t happen anyway.
Now, I’ve seen him twice in less than twenty-four hours, and I’ve
physically left the guy beaten and bruised. My day couldn’t get any
worse. I should probably just skip school and call in to work
before I can do any more damage.

I won’t be able to run and hide at the BA.
Worse yet, I could spend the whole evening daydreaming by just
looking at his face, bruises and all.

I stand with my back against the front door,
tapping my head against it, trying to forget what just happened. I
swear if I pull one more embarrassing stunt in front of him, I’ll
die. Sara will likely de-friend me, and I’ll lose my job. I mean,
come on, I’m a hazard when it comes to Ethan. Starting from the day
he kissed me while he had a girlfriend.

I pull my purse in front of me and dig
around for my phone like my life depends on it. When it dawns on me
that my phone is already in my hand, I quickly dial Sara’s number.
She picks up after two rings.

“Oh perfect timing,” she says into the
phone. “I was just about to text you. I’m calling a last-minute
mandatory meeting before we open today.”

Oh
great
.
Even more
time to spend with Ethan.
My heart beats
faster.

“So do you think you can make it early
enough for the meeting?”

“Yeah I think so. I’ll stop by this
afternoon to help get things ready. Do you want anything from the
Coffee Shack? If I’m going in early, I’m going to need coffee.”

Sara tells me her order, and after we hang
up I run upstairs to shower. If I’m going to make any class today,
it will be creative writing. If I time it right, I might even be
early for work.

It’s only after I’ve
stepped out the door an hour later that I remember my car is dead.
I glance across the street. Ethan’s truck is gone.
Damn.
Now what? Asking
Mrs. Mulligan is not even an option.

There’s a note under one of my wipers. I
look around once more, then grab the white piece of paper and
unfold it.

Kelsey,

I went ahead and gave your car a jump before
I left. See you at the meeting.

P.S. Please don’t leave your car unlocked
again. People are crazy.

Ethan

Relief floods me and I can’t stop the grin
on my face as I turn the key. The engine starts right up. After
everything I have done to him, he still helped me. I should
probably do something nice for him as a thank you. Maybe I’ll get
him a coffee too. After all, I did interfere with his sleep last
night.

Ethan

I debated whether or not to help Kelsey with
her car after she stormed off, but then I remembered the way her
cheeks turned that soft shade of pink right after I told her she
should be wearing more clothes. I probably caught her off guard and
somehow embarrassed her. Although, there was nothing for her to be
embarrassed about. She looks amazing. I was more upset with the
fact anyone could see her and I don’t want them to.

I lock the door behind me and pull my phone
out of my pocket as I head to my truck. Logan Parker is one of the
few people I know in this town other than my cousin and a couple
other guys I used to hang out with over the summer. I’ve kept in
touch more with Logan than my own family. I dial his number and
climb inside my truck

“Ethan, man, what’s up?” Logan answers after
the third ring.

“Not much—just heading out. Can you meet
up?” It’s in my best interest that I try to make things look as
normal as possible. Those are my father’s words, not mine. It won’t
be hard with Logan. He really is a friend.

“Meet up? You back in town or what?” Logan
asks.

“Yeah, I’m helping Sara with the bar while
she’s gone.”

“What? Sara’s leaving?” He sounds surprised.
She must not have told anyone yet. That’s probably why she called
this unexpected meeting today. He continues before I can reply.
“Yeah, okay, do you want to meet at the old diner between the bar
and that coffee place downtown?”

Almost everything in Windy Valley can be
found in what the locals call “downtown.” It’s four blocks in the
middle of town and in the perfect shape of a box, with a park in
the center. Three of the blocks have about ten businesses apiece
and the other block is all apartment buildings. I know Sara lives
in one of them. It makes sense since the BA is downtown.

“Yeah, sounds good, man—in an hour?”

“No, I have class till two today. How about
around two-thirty?” he suggests.

I tell him two is good, and after we hang
up, I start my truck. I glance over at Kelsey’s house, or, rather,
the one she’s housesitting for. The thought of her brings a smile
to my lips. She’s a feisty one and I like it. I like knowing she’s
living there, near me. A friendship is a possibility between us,
but who am I kidding? I could never just be her friend.

If I weren’t so focused on being on good
terms with my father, maybe Kelsey and I would have a real shot at
something. But no, I’ve waited twenty-two years for my father to
accept me. I can’t back out now.

The image of Kelsey in Spandex flashes in my
eyes. Until I have those account numbers, we’ll be spending a lot
of time together. Can we honestly work together without me wanting
to put my hands all over her? I shake my head as I shift into gear
and pull away.

My bet right now is no.

Kelsey

It takes me so long to find
a parking space on campus that I’m now going to be late for my
writing class.
Big surprise.
I seriously consider parking at the BA since the
campus is only a few blocks away, but even then, it would add three
blocks of running.

I sprint up the steps and
through the double doors of the Littman Building. It’s the one and
only building I have never been in. I stop just inside the doors,
looking at the directory on the wall. Great.
My destination is at the other end of the building. I walk
briskly down the hallway, not making eye contact with anyone to
avoid any distractions. I would speed up, but the “no running in
the halls” rule has stuck with me my whole life. Probably the one
and only rule, too.

When I finally reach the classroom, the door
is closed. I open it slowly, not wanting to draw attention to
myself, but the door creaks and everyone turns in their seats. My
body goes stiff as I pause in the doorway, taking in all the
unfamiliar faces. Someone raises their hand —Logan, one of the
other bartenders at the BA and a close friend of mine, is waving at
me.

I quietly make my way over to the right side
of the room where he is sitting and slide into the seat next to
him. Just as I set my backpack on the on the floor, a short, bald
man wearing a navy-blue suit and carrying a worn-out, brown
briefcase walks into the classroom, letting the door slam closed
behind him.

I jump in my seat and the class falls
silent.

“The scariest moment is always just before
you start,” the man I assume is the professor says, projecting his
raspy voice. “Author Stephen King said this: how many of you would
agree?” He scans the room. One by one, students raise their hand,
me included. He remains quiet until everyone in the class has a
hand in the air.

“I agree as well, although I feel this fits
for any moment in life, not just writing. Now, we have started
class and you can all relax—the scary part is over.” Everyone lets
out a laugh as he steps around the square table that was behind him
and unzips his bag.

“My name is Professor Frank. You may call me
Frank during the class hour. Here is the class syllabus for the
semester.” He hands a stack to a redheaded boy in the front row,
who takes one and passes the rest. “Please read it over and let me
know if you have any questions. I will say this once and that’s it.
I am not your mother or your father. I will not scold you for not
doing your work, nor will I scold you for not showing up to my
class. I will not deduct points for missing class, but I do suggest
you make a friend to collect any handouts because I do not store
the extra copies for you to get at a later date. But like most
teachers, I do hope you show up to every class I teach.”

The next hour flies by, but I’m still
disappointed when class ends. I lift my bag over my shoulder.

“Before I forget,” the professor says as
students begin their exit, “during this semester, our local
newspaper will be searching for a new columnist to be chosen in
contest form from the students participating in this class. You do
not have to be an English major to enter. The entry forms are here
on the corner of my desk.”

I don’t think twice before I take one of
papers he offers, quickly skimming the rules.
Two-hundred-fifty-word column of your choice. Top five chosen to
attend a formal dinner. Winner signs two-year contract with full
salary.

Satisfied, I tuck the form into my notebook
and follow Logan out of building. This is the class I was looking
forward to the most, so I was hoping for our first assignment. I’m
probably his only student who wants homework on the first day, and
my other professors should not get this idea confused with their
classes. I just want to write. Learning about this contest will
fill that void for now.