Hundred to One Read online

  “Can I get you something?”

  “Nah, I’ll eat when Julie gets here, but thanks.”

  With one last long look my way and a squeeze on my arm, he saunters back into the kitchen. When he’s out of sight I turn to Caleb and hiss, “What do you know?”

  “Enough. All I have to do is look at you and see your struggle written all over your face. Does Emma know?”

  “No, and I don’t want her to because she’s been through enough. She doesn’t need to worry about me too.”

  Caleb just shakes his head.

  “You’re a hard woman, Arlene, or you’re really good at playing one. Your problems are not less than others, you know. You’re good at taking care of others and love doing it. I know that, but you’re making excuses for taking away other people’s opportunity to take care of you for once. Think about that. We all care about you, especially Emma. She would actually be hurt to know that you’d keep her from being there for you. And what about Seb?”

  Already raw with the direct honesty and dammit all to hell, the truth of what Caleb is saying, I flinch when he mentions Seb.

  “What about him?”

  “Are you blind? That man cares for you, doll. A lot.”

  See? Too perceptive. I know there is something that seems to be sparking between Seb and I − some kind of energy − but I try not to think on it too much. Truthfully? I just thought it was my lengthy dry-spell and the fact that he is extremely hot and interesting to look at with his ‘just rolled out of bed’ look of messy black hair, rumpled shirts and colorful tattoos that seem to cover just about every inch of his body. They don’t seem to match his generally laid back and quiet demeanor at all, but they look perfect and sexy on him.

  Caleb grabs my head and plants a kiss on top, knocks twice on the counter and waves at Seb and heads out the door, leaving me with my confusing thoughts.

  I almost lost it for a minute there. That damn Caleb cozying up with Arlene had my blood boiling. I’ve been giving her time and space, doing my best not to crowd her and here he comes waltzing in, getting right in there. It pisses me right off and he knows it too. Bastard.

  He wasted no time in coming over to lay it all out on the table for me. Says he’s seen it for a while now, how deep my interest in her goes. Yeah, whatever. I’m here to make sure she’s looked after. Somebody has to. Then he goes on to say that I need to talk to her because she’s hurting. I know she’s fuckin’ hurting. I know more than he thinks I do and I’m not gonna force myself on Arlene if she doesn’t want me there, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t getting harder to keep my distance. In those unguarded moments I can see the darkness slip over her. There are things she just won’t open up about and I’ve never been a big talker, just more of a listener really.

  He did catch my attention when he mentioned that he’s in town for the case against that pile of shit, Will Flemming. It’s all about to come to a head and when he mentioned that it was likely going to require Arlene’s involvement again, I wanted to get to that fuck and beat him with my bare hands. This is gonna stir it all back up for her again and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.

  I’ve decided I’ve been patient long enough. When I came to Cedar Tree I only intended to stay for a while, but what I found made me want to stick around. I’m done waiting.

  CHAPTER TWO

  It’s after 10 when I finally have the kitchen back in order for breakfast prep, which unfortunately comes sooner than I care to think about. The days are long ones and the only time Arlene is willing to close up shop is Mondays, which is probably the best day of the week for it. Opening at 7 am on all other days means I’m up and in the kitchen by 6:30am at the latest. Usually we have a few hours a day we shut down before the dinner crowd which is from 4 till 7, and most days those hours are spent prepping the specials.

  Before Arlene got hurt we would each take an additional day a week off, but I haven’t for months now, and I’m starting to feel it. Starting to show my age, I guess.

  Just as I drag my sorry ass up the stairs to my apartment, which is conveniently located above the diner, my damn phone rings. I sit down on the steps to answer it.

  “Yeah.”

  “Sebastian?”

  “Oh, hey pumpkin. You’re up late. How come?”

  “I wasn’t feeling too good and I couldn’t sleep.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well first I had a nightmare that woke me up and I pushed the button and Janet came, but then I got sick to my stomach and puked all over my bed. Janet said I could call you.”

  “You know it, sweetie. I’m only a phone call away.”

  “When are you coming again?”

  “I’ll try to real soon Faith, ok? Now, if I talk to Janet for a minute, do you think you’ll be able to sleep?”

  “I think so. I feel better now. I love you, Sebastian.”

  “Love you too, Pumpkin. Now hand me over to Janet, ok?”

  I hear some rustling on the phone and Faith’s little girl voice in the background before her favorite night nurse comes on.

  “Hi Seb. We had a bit of a rough go of it tonight, but we’re doing much better now.”

  “Yeah? Does she have the flu or something? Stomach bug?”

  “No, I don’t think so. She had more of a night terror than a simple nightmare so when she woke up, she was still fairly hysterical and it took a while to calm her down. I think it was just her body’s reaction to the emotional upheaval.”

  “Dammit, Janet.”

  “I know, hun. Don’t worry, I’ll schedule her for therapy tomorrow and see if she’s ready to let anything out. We can’t force it − not with her, and you know we take good care of her here, right? We always will until you’re ready.”

  “I know that and you will never know how much that means so thanks. Thanks a lot, Janet.”

  When I hang up the phone, whatever little reserves I had left are now long gone with the guilt and responsibility that are weighing heavily on my shoulders. Hell, I feel like that’s all I’ve been carrying around most of my forty-two years with more and more piling up every day.

  I manage to get myself in the door and on the couch where I gratefully throw myself down and fall asleep within minutes only to be woken up a few hours later by the ringing of my phone.

  My immediate thoughts are of Faith as I snatch the phone off the coffee table where I managed to drop it before I crashed.

  “Faith?”

  “What? No, um… It’s Arlene. I…”

  A quick glance at the clock shows that it’s 3:45am so I know something is wrong. I can hear her panting.

  “Arlene, talk to me.”

  “I’m ok, really. I mean, I’ll be fine. I’m sorry I woke you. I don’t know why I called.”

  And fuck if she doesn’t just hang up on me. That’s it. No more pushing this away.

  I’m an idiot. I’m such a fucking idiot. Why on earth did I call him? It’s bloody Caleb’s fault, with all his talk of letting Seb in and all that shit. I just have a bad case of indigestion or something which is causing me to have these nightmares. That’s got to be it, right? Wish I had a something to explain the hang-up phone calls I’ve been getting these last couple of days. Could be my imagination from lack of sleep. You know, like my mind playing tricks on me? Add to that the Will Flemming case and my private hell is complete, driving me straight into some sort of madness. I hate feeling this shaken up, and now I’ve gone and crossed a line that I just know can’t be uncrossed. Seb might not talk much but once he has his jaws locked on something, you can’t beat him off with a stick.

  I roll out of my tangled sheets and flip on all the lights on my way to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, ready to call this night officially over when the front door bursts open and Seb comes flying in.

  “Jesus on a broomstick, Seb! What is wrong with you? You almost gave me a heart attack barging in like that.” I’m clutching my dinky old nightshirt that has seen one too many washes and is hanging toge
ther by a thread to my chest. “What the hell?”

  I look at Seb and he isn’t moving. He’s just standing there in the doorway, breathing heavily with his brows pulled together over his dark eyes, scanning me thoroughly from head to toe and back up again, making me feel a little too exposed to say the least. After all, my comfy nightie doesn’t leave a whole lot to the imagination anymore and neither do the spider veins on my legs or the boobs that are enthusiastically giving up their fight on gravity without their customary hammocks. Play it cool, I tell myself before turning around to finish my track to the kitchen to start that highly necessary pot of coffee.

  I risk a glance over my shoulder to see he still hasn’t moved an inch from his spot by the door. Creepy.

  “I’m making some coffee. You coming in or are you just gonna stand there? You’re making it a free for all for the bugs in the neighborhood so you could at least close the damn door.”

  I’m in the kitchen putting the grinds in the coffeemaker when I finally hear the front door close and his heavy boots make their way into the kitchen. Forcing myself not to turn around, I hear him pull out a kitchen chair and sit down at the table. He hasn’t said a word yet and I’m starting to feel a little worried he may be pissed off at me for calling him at this hour.

  “Look, I’m really sorry – “ I begin.

  “Jesus, Arlene –“ He starts at the same time.

  He stops and looks at me to go ahead, so I give him a little smile before I continue, “I shouldn’t have called you. I woke you up and there was no reason for it. I’m sorry if I scared you and made you come out here for nothing.”

  “For nothing?” He looks at me with confusion clear on his face. “Really, for nothing? That’s what you think? For months I have been fighting to be able to take care of you, to be there for you to help out when you were recovering. Every fucking cup of coffee or meal I brought you, every damn thing I tried to do for you I had to fight you tooth and nail and finally, Arlene, you call me. You actually call me in the middle of the night, for what I can only assume is my help. And what do you do? You fucking hang up the phone! Without any explanation.”

  His voice is steadily rising as he strings together more words than I have ever heard him say in one go, to the point where he is practically yelling. Releasing an inarticulate groan, he rubs his hands over his face and through his unruly hair, which really doesn’t help matters much.

  “Did you honestly think I could go back to sleep after that? Without checking on you? Fuck, Arlene. What do you take me for?”

  Honestly? I don’t know what to do with myself right now. He’s right. I don’t know how to respond to it so I turn back to my coffee duties and pull down two mugs. We’re both black coffee drinkers so that’s all we need. I turn around to hand him his and find his eyes on me.

  “I’m sorry… really, I am.”

  “Don’t want to hear you’re sorry. I want to know what caused the panic in your voice when you called me tonight.” Pulling out the chair next to him, he grabs my hand and pulls me down to sit beside him. “Talk to me.”

  I want to, I do, but it’s so difficult for me to show my my weak spots. It has cost me dearly in the past and I have trained myself hard not to let anyone have that kind of power over me ever again. With his big calloused hand still holding mine as his dark blue eyes stare into mine, I know I owe him this little bit of me.

  “I get nightmares... bad ones, but they don’t start off that way. In fact, they start off as regular dreams that turn evil, always catching me off guard.”

  “About that bastard?” Seb bites out.

  “Partly. I don’t remember much of what happened but it’s like during the nightmares, more things try to make themselves clearer. I don’t want to remember, but the evil at the end is always my ex.”

  “Your ex? The not so nice ex?”

  If that isn’t the understatement of the year.

  “The not-so-nice ex, as you put it, was more of an abusive ex. I know I don’t seem like the kind of person who would allow herself to be abused, but there you have it.”

  Suddenly Seb turns to me and takes my face into both his hands, leaning in so close his nose almost touches mine.

  “You listen to me. You did not allow yourself to be abused. You carry no responsibility here. The responsibility is all on him, not you… Never on you. Remember that.”

  Once again, I’m not sure how to respond. Something is happening here and I’m feeling completely out of my depth.

  “Yeah. He hurt me really bad the last time and then he disappeared when I ended up in the hospital.” I wince when my hand that Seb has grabbed once again is being crushed in his. When I look over, his jaw is clenched and he’s staring at the door. I have no choice and squeak out, “That’s really starting to hurt.”

  “God. Sorry, Babe.” He immediately loosens his grip and pulls my hand to his mouth and kisses my palm as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Once again, I am dumbfounded.

  “Go on.” He prompts.

  “Alright. Long story short, he was charged and picked up, sent to jail and is now serving out his time in Wyoming. I divorced his ass and never looked back, well, except in my nightmares apparently.”

  “Have you had them all these months? The nightmares I mean?”

  “Not as bad as now, and none that involved my ex, oddly enough. That didn’t start until a few weeks ago and now with that whole case coming up, I guess shoving it down as deep as I can really doesn’t help in the long run.” I look sideways at Seb and still find his eyes focused on me, which is mesmerizing and a little unsettling all at once.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “That I’m glad you’re unloading a little. Glad you’re allowing me to be the one to unload on and hoping you’ll trust me enough to do a bit more of it and more often.”

  Being the ditz that I am, my mouth, normally so eager to spout off any and all kinds of sarcastic or irrelevant nonsense, decides to go numb. Not good at all with awkward situations, I jump up, grab the mugs and start splashing coffee around. Klutziness is always good for a distraction.

  Happy that she finally opened the door a crack, I decide to let her off the hook for now. No need to push her completely out of her comfort zone and by the looks of it, she is plenty uneasy already. Fiddling with the edge of her nightshirt and her eyes looking everywhere but at me, it’s clear that she’s not quite sure what to make of this change in the atmosphere between us. I’m finally feeling good about something, even if I did miss a full night’s sleep. This here was worth it.

  I get up, ready to head back to my apartment before the temptation standing before me in her ratty old nightshirt becomes too much to resist. I figure I should have a quick shower before I start my early day in the kitchen when I notice her body stiffens at my movement. Being the idiot that I am, I slowly walk up behind her, reach around and move my mug from the counter to the sink. Damn she smells warm and soft, so unlike the person she likes to put out there. With my mouth already almost touching her ear, I can’t resist.

  “No more coffee for me. Gonna get cleaned up and get breakfast prep going. You gonna be ok?” I keep my voice low and I can feel a shiver going through her body.

  “I’ll be fine.” She replies a little out of breath. Did I scare her, or am I actually affecting her the way she affects me? For once I apparently haven’t pissed her off so I grab the opportunity and press a quick kiss to the spot right behind her ear before turning around and walking out the door. I’m trying hard not to make it too obvious as I adjust my massive hard-on while doing it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Dammit, Julie. What is so hard about coming in on time? This is the third time in the last five days that you’ve been at least half an hour late? What’s going on?”

  It’s been three days since Seb left me standing in my own kitchen, completely at a loss with my emotions. Three additional days of little to no sleep and three more tardy arrivals of my newest waitress who is standin
g before me about to burst into tears.

  “Aw geeze, girl. Don’t start bawling. Just talk to me, will ya? What the blazes is happening with you? I’m just looking for your reasons for all of a sudden having a problem getting here on time. There’s gotta be something going on.”

  Sure enough, one after the other, big tears come rolling over those innocent rosy cheeks. Well hell. Don’t I feel like the wicked witch of the west? I hate crying, even though I’ve secretly done my share recently.

  “Come on. You can talk to Arlene.” Putting my arm around her I try for my best impersonation of a nurturer as I lead her into my office, or better yet, my glorified broom closet where I sit her down on a stack of napkin boxes when I hear Emma’s voice from the front.

  “Arlene! Delivery.”

  “Sit tight. Be right back,” I say to Julie before checking out the baked goods Emma has for me today. She faithfully started supplying me with pies and other baked sweets since she came to Cedar Tree sometime in June. That was five months ago. It seems so much longer than that.

  Coming around the counter is a short, fiery sparkplug with a mass of auburn curls and an infectious smile whom I am lucky to call my friend.

  “Hey woman. Whatcha up to?” She wants to know. It sounds like a loaded question to me, but I just move on.

  “Not a lot of good, ya brat. What have you got for me today?” I walk over to the kitchen island where she just dropped the last of the boxes she hauled in on her walker. Stubborn woman gets a little pissy when anyone tries to lend a hand so we’ve all learned to stand back and let her do her thing.