New Amsterdam: Tess (11 page)

“Yes, let’s do it before they do. I want a certain image, ya know?”

Closing her laptop and standing from the stool, Meg asks, “Any preference?”

“How about a basket of biscuits and some strawberries?”

“How about a few hundred peaches?” Meg teases under her breath as she walks toward the kitchen.

Laughing, Levi says, “Meg is a cool chick. So what’s Wild Honey?”

“Oh, it’s just a branding move. The saturation in the artisan market forced me to expand my vocabulary.”

“I like the name – sexy.”

Arranging the flowers in a yellow vase, Thessaly places it in the center of the island and smiles. “Oh, I don’t know how sexy The Hive can make honey, but there’s definitely a market for sexualized foods.”

Propping his arm on the counter, Levi asks, “Will the article include some wild recipes?”

“How’d you guess?” she replies, stroking the sleeve of his shirt.

“Okay, Thessaly, let’s set up on the island – love the jars by the way. I’m thinking we’ll try breakfast in bed for this segment.” Kate squeezes between Levi and Thessaly and snatches the bouquet of flowers. “Over here, Seth,” she barks.

“Coming,” Seth replies in a high-pitched voice. Carrying a tray of assorted muffins, cornbread, jars of Wild Honey, and a magenta pitcher, Seth sneaks in a tiny wink as Meg joins him with a basket of biscuits covered with a paisley dish towel.

“Toss these cheap flowers. Where are the peonies I saw earlier?” Thrusting the vase at Meg, Kate summons the photographer. “Walter! We’re losing the natural lighting.”

Barreling through the kitchen door with a blueberry scone in hand, Walter blurts, “Then what are we waiting for?” He places the scone on a plate near the register and grabs a Canon with a short lens. “Everyone, move away from the food.”

Kate grabs Thessaly and Levi’s arms and pulls them to the side. “We’ll get some shots with you two before we end. You’ll be blurred, of course.” Tilting her head as she glances from Levi to Thessaly, she adds, “Seduce me.” And then she storms off to yell at Seth. “Bring in that plate of peppered bacon.”

With wide eyes and a huge grin, Levi declares, “I’m going to be famous!”

“Yeah, right,” Thessaly replies, turning around to watch the photo shoot.

Placing his hands on Thessaly’s shoulders, Levi pulls her back into his chest with a deep sigh. He rests his chin on the top of her head, closing his eyes briefly while he inhales her fragrant shampoo. It’s an innocent gesture, full of sweetness and compassion.

But just like the honey, sweet things trapped in a glass jar tend to crave a visceral escape.

Kate snaps her head, looking past Seth and Meg and chirps, “Tess and friend.”

“Levi!” Seth interjects.

“Right. Come stand over here and pretend like you’re messing around in the kitchen.” Kate cracks open a cold biscuit and opens a jar of honey.

Cupping a hand over his mouth, Seth nudges Meg and mutters, “This could get awkward.”

As Thessaly and Levi crowd the island and pretend to prepare breakfast with pre-cooked food, Kate curses under her breath.

“You’re practically wearing the same thing! I hate it!” Kate shrieks.

Approaching them with his camera and a calm face, Walter suggests, “Let me take a few shots first, Kate.” He peers through two different cameras with varying lenses and frowns. “Nope! Too much white. One of you needs to change your shirt.”

Turning to the assistant, Kate asks, “Do we have wardrobe?”

“No,” Mia mouths sarcastically.

“Not a problem.” Without hesitating, Levi unbuttons the sleeves of his dress shirt, yanks it from the waistband of his slacks, pops open the remaining buttons, and then drops it to the floor. Revealing sculpted biceps and a tan chest, Levi shrugs his shoulders and smirks. “Most mornings, this is how I make breakfast.”

“God damn,” Kate whispers.

“Lucky bitch.” And because it’s part of her job description, Meg begins snapping photos for Instagram. “For Lois,” she says to a discerning Seth.

“Good morning, Tess. How about some stale biscuits and waxy strawberries.” Levi grabs Thessaly’s waist and presses her against the cold marble counter of the island. He pins her between his legs, leaving just enough room for Thessaly’s eyes to follow the thin trail of auburn hair along his impeccable stomach.

Placing a hand behind Thessaly’s head, Levi angles her face to look into her eyes. “Relax,” he says before wetting his lips.

Thessaly braces herself against the island as Levi kisses the tender skin of her neck. Dragging his mouth along her jaw, he then lands powerfully on her lips. Thessaly flinches, knocking over a jar of Wild Honey and flipping the plate of bacon.

As they kiss, Walter moves in closer, mindful to capture the essence of the new brand – the messy counter, the spilled honey, and the sexual explosion of two people seamlessly acting on their impulses.

Slapping her hand on the counter, Thessaly accidentally claws her fingers against the pool of honey. Parting from their kiss, she slowly glides her finger over Levi’s lips, coating them with the golden nectar. He scrapes his lips with his teeth as Thessaly continues to trail her sticky finger down his chest.

Pressing against Thessaly and smearing honey all over her white shirt, Levi wildly nips at the stretch of skin beneath her ear. In an erratic hush, he pants, “I want to taste you.”

“Then taste me,” she breathes into his hair.

“And that’s a wrap!” Kate barks.

Meg tugs on the waist of Seth’s shirt to get his attention. Breathless, she begs, “My apartment. Now.”

Chapter Eight

“I used to think those phones called Russia,” Thessaly slurs.

“Because they’re red?” asks Levi.

Melting against Levi like a wet noodle, she grabs his shoulders and props herself against the wall of the elevator. “I feel sick.”

“You’ll be fine,” he assures. Wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer, Levi asks, “What floor, Tess?”

“Floorth four,” she mutters incoherently.

Pressing the button, he says, “When I was a kid, I thought department stores were labeling jeans just for me – until my sister bought a pair.”

Laughing hysterically as the doors to the elevator open, Thessaly sputters, “I live right there!”

Levi positions her under his arm, walks her down the hall, and then digs in her clutch for a key. He pulls out a single brass key with a blue ribbon and wiggles it in the knob. Praying that she’s sober enough to know where she lives, he finally unlocks the door.

Spilling into her apartment, Levi flips on the ceiling fan and a kitchen light, and then carefully moves her toward the couch.

Falling back on the yellow, velvet sofa and grabbing Levi’s belt, Thessaly quotes, “Take me to bed or lose me forever.”

Considering the idea, Levi waggles his eyebrows and smiles. But realizing that she’ll be asleep in less than ten minutes, he politely removes her hand from his waist and steps away. Studying her elevated bed and the steep incline of the stairs, Levi makes the decision to carry her to bed.

Placing one arm under her thighs, and the other behind her back, Levi scoops Thessaly like a baby and totters toward the stairs. She giggles and shakes her clutch in the air, as Levi climbs the steps. He lowers her to the bed and then sits next to her, carefully untucking her shirt as she falls asleep.

“Don’t be a creep,” he whispers to himself. Rationalizing several scenarios, he decides that her shirt is dirty, and her pants must be uncomfortable, so there’s really only one solution. Unzipping a side zipper and then lifting her back, he slides the frilly white shirt over her head and then tosses it on the floor. The pants are trickier. Unsnapping the waist of her pants, he writhes and twists the stiff fabric, careful not to wake her.

Dropping the pants to the floor, Levi glances at her bra, pleasantly surprised that her breasts are larger than he originally thought. Looking away, and then quickly looking back, he checks out her underwear and smiles – lace is his favorite.

Dresses are so much easier
, he thinks.

Before he leaves, Levi removes Thessaly’s phone from her clutch and connects it to the charger on her side table – unable to ignore the text thread from Mason.

Waking up with a pounding headache and a churning stomach, Thessaly rolls toward the sound of her vibrating phone and opens her eyes.

Her mouth parched and her throat sore, she presses the symbol for the speakerphone and croaks, “Hello?”

“Hey, sis!”

Recognizing Shelby’s mellow drawl, she places the phone on the pillow next to her mouth. “What’s up, Shelby?”

“You sound sick – you okay?”

Thessaly rubs her eyes and pinches her temples. “I’m, you know, I’m sleeping under a fan.”

“Someone had too much to drink,” Shelby chants loudly.

Wincing at the volume of the phone, Thessaly moans. “What do you want – I need to get dressed for work.”

“Would you like a house guest? Or rather, a couch guest?”

“Who’s coming?”

“Your favorite brother.”

“Kip is welcome here anytime.”

“Lame joke, Tess. My flight arrives around six.”

“Tonight? Should I pick you up?” Thessaly rolls her shoulders back and yawns.

“You got a car?”

“No. It’s just what people say, I guess.”

“I’ll take a cab. Hey, I wanted you to get your new stuff before next week, so FedEx is scheduled for tomorrow.”

“How thoughtful. And since you’re the best bro ever, I know you’ll help me unpack the shipment.”

“Throw in beer and some of those edamame dumplings we had last time, and you got a deal.”

Writhing at the thought of beer and dumplings, Thessaly swallows back a shallow gasp. “Text me when you get here.”

“Will do. Take some aspirin, sis.”

Rolling on her back and peeling her eyelids apart, Thessaly counts the rotations of the ceiling fan to fifty before blinking. “Holy shit,” she croaks.

Sitting up slowly, Thessaly grabs her phone from the pillow and scrolls through her missed texts.

Seth: Please tell me you got laid.

Mason: Did you like the flowers?

Meg: Do we have a dating policy @ work?

Seth: Meg and I are secretly dating.

Shelby: I’m trying to call you. Wake up, TayTay.

Meg: Meeting with Pete moved to 3 p.m. Seth and I are NOT dating.

But it’s the incoming text that puts a smile on her face.

Levi: Good morning, wildflower.

Wildflower?

Lying back down and curling up in her duvet, Thessaly decides to call Levi.

“Hi,” he answers on the first ring.

“Hi. Thank you for bringing me home last night.” She smiles.

“Oh, so you do remember me carrying you home? This is becoming quite the routine, Tess.”

“Was I really that bad?” Thessaly cringes, praying she didn’t barf or say anything stupid.

“Your face was green, and you kept trying to rap a Coolio song, but you didn’t do anything embarrassing.” Levi huffs rhythmically as a beeping noise echoes through the speaker.

Twirling a greasy lock of hair, Thessaly grins. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Just finished my run and heading to the shower. I’m meeting with a new group of Afghani refugees starting the immigrant program today. And then I have a business seminar about composting. Oh, and tonight the farm is hosting a dinner party. You should come, Tess.”

Without pausing, she replies, “I’d love to come – and I promise not to rap.”

“That’s a shame. You can really throw down the gangsta beats.”

“My East coast rap is even better. I’ll see you later, Levi.”

“Eight o’clock, wildflower.”

Blissful, she ends the call and then immediately phones Meg.

But Seth answers the phone. “Good morning, Pony Boy.”

“Oh my God!” Thessaly slaps the bed and wheezes.

“Calm down. I thought you knew?” Seth claims.

Thessaly controls her laughter and says, “I had an idea, but seriously? Does Meg know?”

“Tess, it’s not a thing. It’s just a thing-thing.” Meg’s raspy voice erupts through the speaker while the sound of her smacking Seth echoes in the background.

“I think it’s a great thing-thing, Meg!”

“Don’t get your hopes up, it could end in murder by the weekend.”

“Ha! So, hey, I’m not feeling great and I’ll be working all day in the shop tomorrow,” Thessaly starts.

“Did Levi spend the night?” asks Meg, shushing Seth’s Arsenio Hall impression in the background.

“Not yet. But he has carried me home. Twice.”

“Wait, you two haven’t—”

Lifting the duvet and seeing her underwear, Thessaly replies, “Nope. But Meg, I feel incredible when I’m with him.”

“Yes, and think how incredible it will feel when he’s
in
you.”

“Meg!” Thessaly screeches. “But I know, right?” she adds.

“Sleep in, go to that meeting in TriBeCa, and then relax. I’ll put Seth to work – he responds very well to the favor system.”

“Thanks – I’ll check in with you two lovebirds later.”

“Gross.”

Ending the call, Thessaly turns back on her side and powers on her portable Bose speaker. Choosing a soothing playlist from Spotify, she scrolls through the photo album on her phone, hoping to find clues from her night with Levi.

A pitcher of sangria.

A littered sidewalk.

A black blob.

A blurry cab.

She deletes the four random pictures and then pauses on a great photo of them together. Opening the candid shot in Instagram, she’s unable to find a filter better than the natural tincture – the true mark of a great picture. Zooming in on the background, she suddenly remembers the conversation she started about never being on a yacht.

“Oh, crap,” she groans.

It’s all coming back to her now . . . She had bitched about Mason and his new girlfriends, and she had whined about wanting to be the exotic beauty on a boat. Thessaly had revealed too much, and she had unpacked her relationship baggage.

But instead of freaking out, Levi suggested, “Let’s find ourselves a yacht.”

They skipped to the pier with ice cream cones, and then Levi paid a security guard fifty bucks to board an expensive yacht and take their picture. But what she doesn’t remember, or rather, what Thessaly doesn’t realize, is that Levi posted the photo on Instagram seconds after it was taken.

Hot chicks of Instagram.

#wildflower #realmenharvestcrops

Feeling refreshed and rested after a long shower followed by a few hours of baking, Thessaly heads out of her apartment with a Thermos and a collapsible picnic basket of food. Waving to the lazy doorman, she spills out into the humid, urban bubble, and then makes a sharp left.

Approaching the man with the jar of peacock feathers, she announces, “Hello.”

Looking up from his journal, he smiles.

Placing the basket and the Thermos of iced tea on the ground next to him, Thessaly clears her throat and explains. “I made cranberry scones and blueberry muffins. There’s also some utensils and napkins, oh, and a sample jar of my artisan honey. Um, I like my tea super sweet with a hint of lemon, which most New Yorkers think is disgusting, so I threw in some bottles of water.” She pauses, watching as he bites the inside of his cheek. “Look, I won’t be offended if you toss it all in the trash after I leave.”

“I won’t toss it in the trash,” he promises.

Completely shocked, Thessaly exclaims, “You spoke to me!”

“Yeah, you had me at cranberry scones.”

Shielding her eyes from the sun, Thessaly moves closer and leans against the brick wall. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Am I crazy? No. Am I a veteran? No. Am I a rapist? No. Am I homeless? No.” He removes a bottle of water from the basket and smiles. “Anything else?”

Studying his expensive Nike’s and the tan line formed from a watch, Thessaly blurts, “What’s your name?”

“Lucas.”

“What’s with the journal? Are you stalking someone?”

“I write stories.”

Peering down at him, she asks, “Are you one of those Post reporters pretending to be homeless?”

“Do I look like an asshole?” chuckles Lucas.

“So you write fiction?”

“Everything is fiction once it’s written.”

“Deep.” Thessaly nods to the jar of peacock feathers. “What’s with the feathers?”

Shaking his head slowly, Lucas sighs. “Just feathers. What’s your name?”

“Tess.” Realizing she made the mistake of giving her real name, she quickly adds, “Er, Tesshalaperria Santiago.”

“Cuban?”

“Dominican.”

“I like Tess – can I call you Tess?”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

“Pee Wee Herman?” asks Lucas.

“A favorite.” She smiles.

“Agreed.” He smiles.

Studying his tan face and minimal lines, Thessaly asks, “So how old are you, Lucas?”