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by Nana Malone
***
Alec couldn’t take his eyes off of Jaya as she lounged on the settee, wearing nothing but his robe. He’d been so exhausted, he was partly inclined to stay in that booth forever, their bodies still joined. But he wanted to take care of her, so he’d carried her naked to the elevator. Through their ride up and their shower, he’d worked very hard to behave himself. He was so worried he’d hurt her. But there she was, wrapped in this robe looking fine. Better than fine.
“So, can I ask you a question?” Jaya chewed on her bottom lip in that habit of hers that drove him nuts.
“Knock yourself out.” He tossed his towel in the hamper and crossed his arms in preparation.
“I know it's none of my business. I’m just that chick who—well, you know.”
“Now you have me curious. What is it?”
“I've watched you.”
He put on his usual bravado and swagger. “I've been watching you too.”
She frowned. The tiny creases marring that smooth forehead. “Why do you do that? The moment I ask you to be serious, you start to play around. You're smart. Scary smart. Certainly smart enough to run a business. People like you, you’ve got charisma and charm. You could be running your own place or something. Instead, you're running around playing Guy Friday and Personal Assistant. It just doesn’t jive.”
The war that went on inside him was a quick one. Not sure what to reveal, he sighed. “When my mom died, I tracked my dad down. Before that, we'd never been in one location longer than six months or so. When I used to ask her about my father, she couldn't tell me much about him. Just that he'd been the adventuresome type. When I met him, he was married and couldn’t stay still if you'd paid him money. And there was nothing he liked as much as he liked money.”
Alec shrugged. “I'm sort of like him, I guess. I don’t like the idea of being pinned down. Every time I have to stay anywhere permanent, it makes me itch. I have a hard time working at any one place for too long. I've been working for the Westhorpe's in one capacity or another since I was sixteen. Usually, I can work and nobody asks me questions or expects me to stay.” At least that much was the truth. He was leaving in a day or so. What would be the point in telling her everything?
“But why not get a job or something you can travel with or put down roots? Aren’t you a little worried about your future? I've got ulcers just thinking about how the heck you'll pay for retirement.”
He shook his head. Of course she would worry about his retirement. The little voice in his head begged, screamed for him to take her seriously. She cared about him and what happened to him.
“Honestly, I’m fine.”
“You might be fine, and good at your job. I just think you could be better.”
And here it came, the proverbial shoe drop. “So I can’t be just a bartender.”
She slid off the settee. “I don’t give a shit what you do if you’re a bartender or CEO as long as you have fun and do what you want to do. You just seem like you’re supposed to be doing so much more than taking orders from Adele. Like for you, this is the easier route to where you’re going. If you’re challenged, then great. But I doubt you can tell me you’re challenging yourself.”
“It's honest work.”
“Of course it is. Honest work you can do. But I've talked to you. I know you’re not being challenged, making sure Bambi and Trina show up on time for their shift. I see you frustrated with every part of this job. I see you frustrated having to take every call from Adele.”
The lady had a point. But he couldn't concede that easily. She’d have his head when she found out he lied to her. “So you’re telling me you wish I were more?”
She frowned. “What I’m telling you is that when I’m with someone I want that person to be happy. I want him to push to be the best versions of himself. I aim for that every day. Some days I succeed at it. If someone were ‘just’—” she used air quotes to emphasize her point. “—a personal assistant or whatever, if he was happy, I’d be happy. You’re just going through the motions as if this is the next stop to somewhere else. You’re marking time. Not just with me, but with Adele.”
That last verbal dig lanced his side, sending white-hot pain of truth through the open wound. She’d hit the nail on the head without even knowing anything real or true about him. “Maybe I just haven’t found anything important enough to make me challenge myself.”
She moved toward him and planted a kiss on his lips. “Like I said, I’m just some girl you’ll forget in two weeks. But I wonder if maybe you’re not looking hard enough.”