Love Bait

10| Best behavior

For the rest of my notice period, I am on my best behavior. I don't want to be–I want to be petty and quit now, leaving the cafe a waitress down–but that won't hurt Jordan. All that will hurt is Kali and Lina and Layla and the cafe: everything I love.

So I continue to work my shifts with a smile, even though I'm miserable. Not just because I'm being fired, either, but because college is getting closer, and Lexi keeps talking about furniture and parties and visiting the mainland, and I don't want to do any of things; I just want to stay right here.

For the next few days, Jordan pops in and out during our quieter times to fix up the holes in the ceiling. Right now, he's standing on a ladder while he plasters up a hole, his thick eyebrows furrowed in concentration. If he wasn't the spawn of satan, I might think he looks handsome with his tanned, muscled arms working overtime. My mind might even drift to dangerous places, like imagining him shirtless.

"Puta," Lina says under her breath when she passes him, and he turns and looks not at her but at me.

I pretend I don't notice him and head for my lunch break. It's warm outside but not unbearably so, so I sit out the back and stare at the street, committing it to memory.

It's not long before the chair opposite slides back. I glance up, tensing, when I see its occupant is none other than the devil himself. I put down the rest of my sandwich and say, "Thanks, I've lost my appetite."

Jordan, unfazed, leans back in his chair. "You're a child, you know that?"

"Better a child than an asshole who goes around firing people."

He clenches his jaw, and I watch as the little muscles on either side contract. "You didn't exactly give me much choice. Do you think I can sell this place with you pulling that shit? I need you out of the way. It's nothing personal."

He's wrong. This is personal. The Big Fish Cafe might not mean much to him, but it means everything to me. Watching him try to sell it, having him fire me, is most definitely personal.

"Did you want something?"

"Yeah," he says, leaning forward. He puts his forearms on the table, practically resting them on mine. "I'm showing some people around tonight. I want to make sure that you're not planning anything stupid again."

"Like what?"

He raises an eyebrow. "You think I'm going to give you ideas?"

I lean forward now. A girl could get lost in those stormy gray irises; I bet they're lining down the block back in Chicago. At least, until they realize he's a demon sent from hell.

"I haven't got anything planned," I say. "You can rest easy." 

He gets to his feet. "With you around, not a chance."

I get to my feet, acutely aware of how tall he is. He must fit right in on the streets of Chicago in his jeans and rough-around-the-edges city feel, but standing opposite me on this small, tropical patio, he feels intimidating.

"You know, on second thought, maybe I do have something planned," I say because even though I don't, he's pissing me off, and I want to see him sweat.

He walks around the table until he's standing in front of me. He looks two seconds away from throwing me over his shoulder and dropping me at the bottom of the ocean. "Trying to reason with you was a mistake."

"No, your mistake was coming to this island," I say, "so why don't you do us all a favor and leave?"

"Once I sell my cafe, I will." His eyes burn down at me, the color of mist. I'd probably think them beautiful if they didn't belong to him.