"I know you, Angel." His voice was low and gruff. It did funny things to my stomach.
"You really don't, Dace."
"Well, I want to." He admitted. "Let me come over."
"We work in two hours."
"I know. I'll drive us."
"I can drive myself."
He sighed and I imagined he was rubbing his forehead. "I didn't say you couldn't drive yourself. I want to drive you and I want to have dinner with you before our shift starts. Let me come over."
"Dace," I sighed. "I'm getting ready. I'll see you at work."
"Don't hang up on me, Ella." His tone sounded like a dangerous warning I didn't bother to be intimidated by. Without replying, I hung up my phone before turning it on silent. I thought for a moment about calling him back and apologizing in an attempt to rectify any chance I might lose my job, but I didn't. Instead, I padded to the bathroom for a quick shower.
After scrubbing myself down and rinsing off, I killed the water and wrapped myself in a towel before piling one on top of my head. I was born with naturally straight hair so it didn't take much preparation time and I could afford to shower with limited time.
I opened the bathroom door as the sound of a fist banging on my front door echoed through the small space. I cringed. Who in the world was at my door? I grumbled to myself as I padded across the floor. I swung open the door and gasped as Dace glared down at me.
"What the hell are you doing?" He growled, pushing me back away from the door. "Get inside."
"What are you doing here?" I demanded, clutching my towel tight. "How did you know where I lived?"
"You filled out employment forms." He replied dryly as he kicked the door closed behind him. "And what the fuck are you doing answering your door in a towel? You didn't know it was me…it could have been anyone on the other side of this door. What if their intentions weren't good?"
I shook my head. He was giving me shit and talking about creepers when he was the one who'd used the address I'd given to him unethically. "Don't get me started on creepers, Dace."
The blue in his eyes darkened and he clenched his teeth as he stepped toward me. "Get dressed. I brought supper."
I thought about telling him I wasn't hungry, but whatever he had in the brown paper bag smelled like heaven and I couldn't refuse. Instead, I bit my tongue and stomped to the closet. "What should I wear?"
I could feel Dace's eyes on me. My skin was warm. "It doesn't matter."
I turned to face him. "What do you mean? I'm bartending tonight right? You said you wanted me to start on a slow night and it's Monday." I waited for him to reply but he didn't. "Monday's are slow aren't they?"
Dace looked down to the brown bag, pulling apart the stapled seams. "Where are your plates?"
I growled under my breath. "Dace? Are you going to answer me?"
He lifted blue eyes and I felt my heart skip a beat. "You'll start bartending when I think you can handle the fuckers that'll hit on you."
I tugged the towel off my head and tossed it onto the arm of the couch. There was something about having a serious conversation with a towel on my head that made me feel like a joke. "When did I give you the impression that I couldn't take care of myself?"
"I didn't mean it that way." I watched him struggle for words. "You'll start bartending next Monday."
I shook my head. "I asked for the job because I'm relying on tips, Dace. I don't have the money or the time to dance around working behind the bar. Either you put me there or I have to find another bar that will."
"Are you threatening to quit?" His voice was cold and I looked down. I felt low.
"I need to work, Dace. And I don't want to quit because I like getting to know you." I ran a hand through tangled hair. "I like our friendship."
He looked torn. "Wear something conservative. You were hired to be an innocent tease."
Heat rose in my cheeks at his cutting remark. "Don't worry, I'll be a great tease."
"I know." He looked away from me and I could see the muscles in his jaw working as he swallowed his frustration. This was the first tense moment I'd had with Dace. It took us three days to get to this point and I was suddenly thankful he had no interest in me romantically because we would destroy each other, of that I was certain.
"What's for supper?" I asked, trying to change the subject.
"Noodles and rice." He shrugged. "I didn't know which you'd prefer."
"What do you prefer?" I asked.
"Either."
"I like both." I murmured. "Wanna share?"
His eyes narrowed. "I thought you didn't share?"