Company Ink (6 page)

Ben opened his mouth to speak, but ended up closing it. His face contorted from angry to apologetic, and he heaved a heavy sigh. “Okay. You’re right. I’ve been a dick.”

Violet stepped back and got a good look at him. She wasn’t used to a guy submitting so easily, if you could call ten days of tension easy. “Um, yeah, you have.”

He gave her a small, humble smile. His brow furrowed as he dropped his head. “The truth is, I’m going through … something. I’ll admit you might have been catching a little of my anger toward the situation. It was totally misplaced, and I apologize.”

Violet could certainly appreciate the added stress that could come with “going through something.” But that didn’t mean she was on board with his manic behavior, and she wasn’t about to allow him to walk all over her, either. Her voice remained firm, even as she felt her angered features soften.

“Can you make this your last apology, please? I’m not working here to be your emotional punching bag and, misplaced or not, your attitude is completely inappropriate.”

Ben nodded. “You’re right.”

“I don’t know what you’re going through, and I honestly don’t care,” she continued. “So whatever it is, leave me out of it, okay?”

He took a step closer, closing the gap between them. The chemistry between them ignited effortlessly. Ben was too close for comfort at this point, as he watched her with his head bent. Her breath caught in her throat as she backed up, her butt hitting the edge of the desk. She looked into his face—that gorgeous face—with an air of vague astonishment.

“Friends?” he asked.

She put her hands behind her, gripping the desk for support as the smell of his cologne wafted into her face and nearly sent her cross-eyed. “I don’t know. I don’t think I can trust you just yet.”

Ben smiled. “I promise I’m not a jerk.”

“You sure could’ve fooled me. How about we just take it one day at a time?”

She took a large step to the side, deftly pushing her chair out of the way with one foot as she created some distance between them.

“I’m just going to wrap up my shift and head home if that’s all right with you.”

Ben nodded. “Sounds okay to me. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Looks like it.”

Had something changed between them? Violet couldn’t tell. All she knew was that time would tell if he was being honest. She loved working at The Rock, and the last thing she wanted was to be pushed from the store she adored because of her unstable relationship with Ben.

• • •

After Violet headed upstairs, Ben began to set everything up for the night manager coming in. It had been a long day, one that had left him with a lot to think about. He couldn’t shake the guilty feeling that kept washing over him every time he thought of Violet. She didn’t deserve to have to deal with the remnants of anger that he’d never be able to aim at Elena. And, until Violet had called him on it, it truly hadn’t been something he’d been able to control. He thought that he’d been keeping his head down and his nose clean, but the reality was he’d been going crazy and taking the poor girl with him. Heaving a deep sigh, he decided right there that he’d give Violet a break from here on in.

Regardless of the fact that he’d been dangerously attracted to Violet from the moment he laid eyes on her, the truth was Ben was wary of her, too. She was more than just a pretty face—she was intelligent, strong, and highly ambitious. And the restaurant business, he’d learned over the last ten years, was cutthroat. Experience had also shown him that women in the management track of the industry, having more to prove existing in a male-dominated trade, were shrewd and quite often not to be trusted. So when Wynne approached him and passively mentioned that he should consider seeing what Violet had to offer in the way of training, he saw red. He was certain she was trying to step on him to get to her rightful place in the bakery. And until he had a second to absorb the genuinely startled look on her face, no one could have told him differently. However, her insistence that she meant no harm triggered something in him. A voice in the back of his head began to tell him that he could trust Violet Young—and it threw him for a loop.

Violet’s ability to walk away from him after their brief argument further confused him. Elena seemed to take pleasure in pushing buttons to make sure every disagreement of theirs left them both emotionally exhausted. He was reminded of all the times that he, determined not to argue, would try to walk away from her when she was being particularly dramatic; his refusal to be baited always led to her screaming at him.

“You don’t give a shit about me or this marriage!”

“You’re such a jerk, Ben!”

“Damn it, Ben! How can you be so
heartless
?”

With a mirthless chuckle, Ben dropped his head in his hands. How hadn’t he seen the end of his marriage coming? To this day, he couldn’t quite figure out Elena, let alone any woman. But five minutes worth of confrontation with Violet reminded him that all women were
not
like his soon-to-be ex-wife. Five minutes of conflict was all it took for Ben to see that there was no reason to be upset—this divorce was, literally, the best thing to ever happen to him.

• • •

Violet had just finished cleaning up her station. Still in her hairnet and apron, she was leaning forward on the counter as she engaged in conversation about desserts with a friendly and funny mother of two from Minnesota.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Mrs. Minnesota said with a delighted expression as she looked around at the shelves lined with large, scrumptious-looking cakes. “I’ve been in line for ten minutes, and it just seems to get crazier!”

“You get used to it,” Violet practically shouted over the din, grinning. “And I promise the counter staff is going as fast as they can—I’m so sorry for the wait!”

“Oh please, it’s all part of the experience, isn’t it? Are you the manager?”

“I’m the production supervisor,” Violet replied. “I’m responsible for making sure you guys have plenty of sweets to choose from. Oh, and I ice a few cakes, too.”

She loved to throw the icing in as an aside, but the truth was she knew what every client’s reaction would be when she mentioned that most of the cakes available by 2:00 p.m. were of her own design.

“Did you decorate that lovely carrot cake in the display case?”

“I did, ma’am.”

“Well then, that’s what we’re buying and taking back to the hotel,” the customer said matter-of-factly. “I can only hope the good Lord will forgive me for my gluttony this weekend!”

“I’m sure there’s some sort of allowance when you’re on vacation.”

The line finally moved, and Mrs. Minnesota took enough of a leap that Violet had to wave her goodbyes. That last conversation would definitely get her through the rush hour commute with a smile on her face. As Violet put away the last of her tools on a shelf below the countertop, a voice called out to her.

“Excuse me, miss? How much is that Devil’s food cake on the top shelf?”

The voice was familiar enough to stop her in her tracks. She turned slowly in the direction of the inquiry. Her eyes caught sight of a familiar face, and she nearly hit the floor. Her hands gripped the counter so tightly that her knuckles went white.

“Steve?”

• • •

He looked the same. She was actually sort of pissed that he hadn’t grown a hump or become ridden with boils. You know, some sort of physical reminder that he’d been absolutely cruel to her when all was said and done. But there were those eyes like pools of honey and the smile that could charm the pants off a mother superior. Violet stared straight ahead, sitting rigidly straight on the marble fountain across the street from Wynne’s. She kept her hands linked tightly in her lap. As long as she didn’t look at or touch him, she was fairly certain she could keep herself from falling apart.

Steve leaned forward, forearms on his knees. “You look amazing, Vi.”

She kept an eye on the bakery, using it as a source of strength. “It’s Violet. And thanks.”

Steve smiled at her and scooted closer. “Violet? You always loved it when I called you Vi.”

“Well, that was before you spent nearly half my inheritance and tried to convince me that I would be lost without you.”

She was surprised at how aggressive she’d just sounded. She may have learned to be stronger as a result of Steve breaking her heart, but she’d never had a chance to actually practice said strength. And she certainly never expected to be able to practice it on him! She’d come much too far from being a heartbroken teenager to let him intimidate her now, so she held on to that fortitude as she met his gaze. He looked … apologetic?

“Okay, I deserved that,” he said, flashing a small smile as he tilted his head downward. “And I’m kind of glad you said it. It adds a little to my purpose for being here.”

“What purpose is that?”

Steve took a deep breath, releasing a very careful sigh. “I came here to apologize. I was a young, stupid jerk.”

“You were sort of a sociopath, actually.”

He looked at her with an expression she couldn’t quite figure out. Was he remorseful? A nervous feeling set in the pit of her stomach.

“Look, Steve. I don’t know what you’re actually up here for, but all of this? It just isn’t a good idea.”

She stood and began to walk away. He was behind her immediately, placing a hand on the small of her back and using the leverage to whip himself in front of her. Now in his arms, she was suddenly visited by the urge to push him into the fountain. He definitely seemed more at ease in their current position than she felt.

“What are you … ?”

Face to face and far too close for comfort, Steve smiled at her. “You still smell like cake.”

“Considering I just came out of a bakery, I can’t really be impressed at your observation.”

He chuckled. “I’ve missed you.”

“I can’t say the same.”

“Are you trying to push me away?” he asked, a note of teasing in his voice.

“Yes,” she replied quickly. “Are you surprised?”

Steve tilted his head and gave her a cheeky grin. “Of course not. But that’s only because you’ve got this image in your head of who I used to be.”

“What are you saying? That you’ve changed?”

“I have,” he said, biting his lower lip and meeting her eyes with his own. “Will you meet me for dinner on Friday?”

Violet squirmed out of his grasp. “No, Steve. I don’t think that’s a—”

“Please, Vi,” he begged, grabbing her hands. “I just want to explain myself. I owe you that much, don’t you think?”

She sighed. “I just don’t think we need to have dinner to bury any hatchets.”

“Look, we can catch up, I can officially apologize and then … who knows?” He reached out to gently twirl one of her curls in his fingers.

She stepped back. “Steve, please—”

“Here,” he interrupted again, reaching into his pocket, “take my card. Think about it and call me.”

She watched him uneasily as he placed the card in her hand with an overconfident smile. “I’m in town until Saturday. I was hoping to have a chance to try and make up some of what I did to you. Give me a call before Friday afternoon, okay?”

“Um, okay.”

He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, and the familiar scent of sandalwood filled her nostrils. Butterflies erupted in her tummy, and she wasn’t sure whether or not it was a good thing. She muttered her goodbyes, and he was gone before she could process what happened. Dinner with Steve. The answer was no—wasn’t it? What she
did
know was that his reappearance couldn’t be a good thing.

Ben stood by the front door of the condo as men dressed in coveralls with the Jennifer Convertibles logo on their breast pockets carried in a complete living room set, piece by piece. The sight of his living room finally taking shape made him heave a sigh of relief; it had been far too long since he’d felt normal.

“Mr. Preston?” The older of the three delivery guys setting up the living room gave Ben a cautious look. “We’re bringing the entertainment unit up now along with the dinette set for the kitchen, and that’ll be it. Are you sure you don’t want us to hang the frames?”

“No, it’s fine. I need something to do later on tonight. Can I get you guys a couple of bottles of water for the road?”

“That’d be great, thanks. We’ll be right back up.”

“Sure thing. Just leave the door open.” Ben headed back to the kitchen.

The management company that owned the building had put in brand new, state-of-the-art appliances and cognac-colored maple cabinets when they first moved in. He and Elena had added a dinette set that had perfectly matched the cabinets. Ben loved having breakfast at that dinette; serving up something delicious to go with their morning coffee had been his favorite morning ritual. The kitchen used to look lived in. Now, with Elena having emptied it of its character, the kitchen masqueraded as a brand new room. A slight pang hit him in the gut, and he couldn’t decide if it was because of Elena or the dinette.

Just as he grabbed a few bottles of water, he heard the faint sound of footsteps in the living room. Thinking it was awfully soon to be returning with an entertainment unit, a table, and four chairs, he stepped carefully toward the front of the condo. He turned into the living room’s entrance and paused, his stomach sinking. There stood Elena, her chestnut hair swept into a stylish twist, and wearing business attire that almost made him miss the curves of her body. Elena’s eyes met his for the first time since she left the condo—and boy, if looks could kill …

After a long moment of tense silence, Elena was the first to speak. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“I live here.”

Elena gave him a smug smile. “Really? When you should be saving your money for alimony?”

Ben pursed his lips, fighting back the stream of curses. “That’s awfully presumptuous.”

“Is it? The way I see it, I’ve got a lot coming to me.”

“No arguments there. But assuming you’ll see a penny in alimony is just … ballsy.”

She folded her arms. “After all you put me through? Alimony’s a small price, Ben.”

“Okay, here’s where I’m confused. You spent God knows how many years sleeping with Ethan behind my back, yet you’re telling everyone with ears that I put you through hell. What did I actually do to you?”