Zeke (The Powers That Be, Book 2) Read online

  My goals had made me seriously insane. Whatever.

  “Well, Zeke,” I saw his eyebrow rise at this first time of my saying his name, “I’m sure you have your resources, and although I find it flattering that you’d ask for my number, it’s just not gonna happen. I hope you understand and aren’t gonna go all serial killer stalker-ish on me.” I gave him a glare then remembered he was a customer, so my sweetest smile made its appearance again. I turned to walk away then stopped, and swinging my head around said, “Oh, again, your meal’s on me today. I don’t expect a tip. Have a great day.”

  Walking back to the counter I had to chuckle at the way he’d narrowed his eyes at me while I’d spoken. I’m sure he wasn’t used to being rejected, like, ever, but there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there. When I got to the counter, I saw Jayla frowning at me as she rang up another customer, wondering what was going on I’m sure, and bugging my eyes at her I silently begged her not to say a word, and miracle of miracles she kept her mouth shut.

  I placed the coffee pot back on the warmer then picked up a fresh one to serve refills, feeling pretty good about how I’d handled things with Zeke. I mean, I had priorities. I had goals. And even though I was busting my ass to make a future for myself right now and knew it came at the expense of my having any kind of social life, I was okay with that because one day soon, that would change and things would be better, just not now. I took a deep breath and blew it out knowing I’d done the right thing, and upon turning to head back out to my tables saw that Zeke had finished his meal and was making his way out the door. Good.

  After taking care of my customers, I headed to Zeke’s table only to see the end of a twenty-dollar bill peeking out from inside a folded paper napkin lying on the table. Dang it. I’d told him I’d pay for his breakfast which had been just over seven dollars which meant he’d left me an almost thirteen-dollar tip! Ugh. When I picked up the napkin, I noticed writing on it and opened it.

  206-555-7777

  Call me…

  Don’t make me go all Paul Spector on you…

  Too stalker-ish?

  Well, I guess if he had to pick a serial killer at least he’d picked a hot one. And had Badass Hot Guy really drawn me a smiley face? Hm.

  “Honey, I don’t think you should let that one get away,” the elderly woman at the table behind me said making me jump. I turned and looked down at her with a frown. She was with her husband and they both appeared to be in their early seventies. “I think he’s very handsome. And, oh! He’s so polite too! When he asked if I had a pen he could borrow, he called me ma’am then gave me a smile so enticing it made me wish I was twenty again. Damn, he’s hot.” Then she fanned herself with her hand.

  Surprised, I choked out a laugh at this lady’s cheekiness then couldn’t help but giggle when her husband rolled his eyes at me then continued eating as if he was used to his wife’s fangirling.

  And I kept smiling big as I turned to pick up a few dishes off the table to help Jordy out until I wasn’t smiling so big when I glanced out the window and saw Zeke standing by a black pickup truck with a huge smile of his own then a beautiful blond woman practically skipped up to him and threw her arms around his neck grabbing him as if she needed him for her next breath itself. But what really wiped the smile off my face was when he hugged her back tightly as if she was his… everything.

  And I felt my heart crack just a little.

  ~*~*~*~

  “It’s me, Grammy!” I yelled when I came into the house at eleven forty-five that morning carrying a bag of groceries I’d stopped to get with my meager funds which included the tip Zeke had left.

  Unpacking the no-name brand foods I’d bought, I quickly put the cereal into the cabinet, the milk and hamburger in the fridge and the generic boxes of the premade noodle hamburger helping stuff on the counter to make for dinner tonight. Yum. Oh, well, it was Lane’s favorite so at least he’d be happy with it.

  “Hi, honey,” Grandma Pearl said as she shuffled into the kitchen. Grammy was Dad’s mom and had just turned seventy-four on New Year’s Day but was still very spry although back surgery ten years before had slowed her down some. She was beautiful and had gorgeous white hair that she wore in a pixie cut which fit her petite five-two frame. And she was tough, which I think is where I’d gotten my own willful disposition. After Grandpa died from a heart attack when I was only five, Grammy had never remarried. When I asked why, she’d told me she’d had offers but said Grandpa had taken half of her heart when he’d gone and she didn’t think it fair to give another man only a fourth of it. “You’re running late.”

  “I know!” I answered, running past my grandmother to go to my room to change. “My class starts in ten minutes!”

  I decided to stay in the jeans I’d worn to work but yanked off the long-sleeved t-shirt that said “The Breakfast Nook” on the front and grabbed a beige fisherman’s sweater, pulling it over my head as I ran down the hall to the bathroom where I pulled a brush through my thick brown hair, dabbed on some lip gloss and spritzed on some body spray then I was out of there.

  “Bye, Grammy! I’ll be home around four with Lane then I’ve gotta go back to the Dean’s office!”

  Outside, I jumped into Jezebel, the blue ’66 Mustang I’d saved three years for, hoping the carburetor would continue not being picky on this chilly January morning. Luckily it turned over on the first try. “Thatta girl,” I muttered, then threw her in reverse and backed out of the drive, still miffed at what I’d seen outside The Nook’s window but trying to put it behind me.

  “As if I care,” I mumbled to myself as I drove to class.

  When I got to campus, I parked then grabbed my backpack and sprinted to my international management class, making it inside to find that the professor was already taking roll. With a sigh of relief that class hadn’t started, I looked around the room to see that the rows had long tables stretching from aisle to aisle with eight chairs at each. Upon seeing an open seat, I walked the stairs to the third row, and excusing myself as I walked in front of the table behind me, found the empty seat and sat.

  “Scarlett O’Rourke?” the professor called.

  “Here,” I answered, raising my hand a bit. Phew! Made it just in time. Still trying to catch my breath from my run, I bent to open my backpack at my feet, getting a notebook and pen out while roll call continued.

  “Ezekiel Powers?”

  And my head popped up. When a deep and sensual voice answered from directly behind me, I sucked in a breath as I placed my notebook on the table in front of me. Crap. I tucked my hair behind my ear and forced myself to act unaffected by that captivating voice of his. Jeez.

  “Oh, hey, Zeke!” the professor said. “How’s everything going?”

  “Going great, Dr. Weston. Just gearing up for the combine.”

  “Good, good. Keep me updated,” Dr. Weston replied then continued with roll call.

  Dang, did everyone know this guy but me?

  A couple seconds later, I felt my chair being kicked from behind and turned to see hotter than hot Zeke Powers grinning at me, his straight white teeth looking movie star perfect in that gorgeous face of his.

  “Hey, Scarlett O’Rourke,” he said quietly with a wink.

  Holy hell.

  I gave him a small smile then turned back to face the front, my heart suddenly thudding in my chest as I remembered what Grandma Pearl always said: When someone shows up in your life three times in a row, fate is screaming at you to notice them.

  Of course Grandma thought she’d been a Gypsy in a past life and could tell the future even though she was Irish through and through but whatever. Some of the things she told me rang true. And it worried me that she might be right again.

  Okay, let’s see. Zeke had been at the diner four days in a row now, but I didn’t think I could really count that because, well, food.

  So I’d jumped the gun a bit. Wishful thinking on my part, I guessed. But I told myself I had two more times to go to see if
fate was really trying to tell me something when it came to him.

  And I didn’t like that one bit.

  See, I liked to be in control. I needed to know exactly what would happen next. And I really did not like surprises.

  But Zeke was turning out to be a total surprise and then some.

  *Week One—3rd Encounter*

  After class, I hightailed it out of there to avoid Zeke but glancing back I saw that any hightailing I’d done had been pointless. He was standing at his table talking to two girls who were fawning all over him. Seriously, the redheaded one was, like, petting his bare arm. His muscular bare arm. His huge bare arm that had what looked like a rose tattoo on it, the thorny stem curling out from under his short-sleeved t-shirt. And she was petting it. Um. Yeah.

  But upon catching myself gaping at him, I turned with a curse and left the room as quickly as I could, proceeding to continue cursing myself for having ogled the guy. What was it about him, all six-foot-four of rock hard muscle of him, that left my brain functioning at the level of a sex-craved bimbo? Oh. Can I get a “Well, duh”?

  My mood declined even more when after getting into Jezebel I saw him walking with a totally different girl to the parking lot who was looking at him as if he hung the moon. I couldn’t help but wonder why he was hitting on me when he had women falling all over him everywhere? Was I just someone else to add to his little entourage? Nope. Not going to happen. I decided right then to ix-nay my usting-lay when it came to him and get my friggin’ head back on track.

  Our professor said we’d need a book by Monday for class, so I drove across campus to the bookstore, and after pulling into the parking lot, I dug my checkbook out of my purse to see what kind of funds I had and saw that it wasn’t pretty. If I juggled a few things around, like paying the electric bill a little late and “accidentally” forgetting to pay the water bill, I might be able to manage things until I got paid next week. Man, I couldn’t wait until money wasn’t a problem anymore.

  I got out of Jezebel and headed inside, my mood now having hit rock bottom. Then I found the book that I needed and saw that it cost double what I’d originally thought it would and felt my heart sink. Is there such thing as hitting rock bottom rock bottom? The tears welled up in my eyes as I stood holding the book wondering what else I could manage to “forget” to pay when a deep, seductive voice said into my ear from behind, “We meet again.”

  Shit.

  I quickly wiped my eyes and cleared the lump out of my throat then with a sniff turned to see Zeke giving me his sexy grin.

  “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his grin gone as he narrowed his eyes at me which made me panic, not wanting him to see me upset.

  I rubbed one of my eyes. “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just allergies,” I lied hoping he’d buy it.

  He nodded slowly watching me closely for a couple seconds, those beautiful eyes of his not missing anything, then looked down at the book I held. “Just what I was coming in for. May I?” he inquired then took the book from me, turning it to see the price tag and let out a whistle. “Damn. Are the pages gold leaf?” He grinned at me now. “So, you buying this one?”

  I bit my lip and shook my head. “Not today.” I looked up at him and got lost in those light brown eyes of his noticing they had little flecks of gold in them.

  “Tell you what,” he said, his voice low. “How about we share? I’m on football scholarship, so I don’t even have to pay. And it’s not like I’m gonna need it all the time. You take it for now then we’ll figure it out later.”

  Oh, my God. I felt tears sting the backs of my eyes, embarrassed that he’d figured out I couldn’t afford the book. I shook my head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You’re not.”

  Glancing up at him, I felt my heart pounding in my chest at how warmly he was looking at me. My God, he was handsome. Then my stomach clenched at what I was about to agree to because I really needed that damned book. “O-okay. Thank you. I promise to get it back to you next class.”

  “Don’t worry about it. C’mon,” he said, putting his hand at the small of my back and leading me to the register. At his touch, I felt a shiver run through my body but upon stopping to stand in line just feeling the heat of him behind me made me want to lean back into him and absorb it all. Oh, boy. Who was I and what happened to the me who was focused on her future and who avoided distractions at all cost?

  “Well, hello, Zeke! What’s the news on the pros?” a middle-aged woman who was manning the cash register asked.

  Wow. This guy knew everyone. Or everyone knew him, I guessed I should say.

  “Hey, Lilah,” he said with a grin as he kept his hand to my back pushing me forward. “Broncos, Cowboys and Colts might be in the mix.” He shrugged. “Combine’s next month, so I’ll have a better idea what round I’ll go then, hopefully.”

  Wait, what? I looked up at him in awe not able to cover the shock on my face. Holy shit. Holy shit! He was going pro in football? Wow! My dad would bust a gasket if he knew a prospective Cowboy had given me his number.

  When Zeke looked down at me with a smirk, I closed my mouth and became very interested in the bookmarks that were on the counter but inside I was still amazed at him. I mean, that was pretty friggin’ cool!

  After Lilah rang him up and bagged his book, he signed the necessary paperwork, thanked her, picked up the bag then hand on my back led me outside.

  “Where’re you parked?” he asked, looking around at the cars in front of the store.

  “Uh, that’s me,” I said, pointing to Jezebel.

  “Nice. My brother’s got a ’65. You ever need parts or anything worked on, let me know. Dad’s a mechanic. I’ll get you an amazing discount.” He waggled his eyebrows at me as we walked to my car. When we got to it, he opened the driver’s door, tossing the bag into my passenger seat.

  Seriously, who was this guy? He’d not only given me a hefty tip then rescued me from having to write a bad check for a textbook, now he was telling me he could repair my car for cheap. And that was just today!

  I looked up at him and shook my head truly dumbfounded. “I don’t know how to begin to thank you.”

  And there was the smirk again. “I’ll think of a way.”

  Oh, my. Heat hit my face as I considered the possibilities. Damn. When I finally got my wits about me, I said quietly, “No, really. Thank you. You don’t know how much you’ve helped me.” I bit my lip in indecision for a second then went for it, resting my hand on his chest, which felt like solid rock and made me pause for a moment once again in awe of him, and tiptoeing up, I kissed his cheek.

  Red-faced and embarrassed at my boldness, I went flat-footed then turned and got into my car, where, mistake of all mistakes, I ventured a small glance up at him and holy crap-a-moly! The heated look he was giving me, eyes narrowed and piercing mine, blatantly letting me know exactly what he wanted, knocked all the air from my body and I couldn’t look away. Whoa. Then keeping his eyes on mine, he stepped back onto the sidewalk and nodded, jarring me out of my stupor. Oh, yeah. Car. Drive. Go. I started Jezebel (somewhat roughly—stupid carburetor), backed out and after giving him a small wave, drove away. I’m pretty sure it took me three blocks before I was able to breathe normally. And, dang it, how did I find myself suddenly missing how good he’d smelled and how warm he’d been when I’d pressed my lips to his cheek?

  “Stay focused,” I muttered to myself.

  So shaking my head to clear it some, I continued driving to the Dean’s office where my work-study job helped pay for school when it hit me that that’d been the third time I’d run into Zeke. Just today. If Grammy was right, maybe he was meant to be in my life. Of course, that could mean only as friends, but I couldn’t help but hope it meant a little bit more.

  Damn it.

  ~*~*~*~

  “So what’d you learn today?” I asked Lane when I picked him up from basketball practice.

  My fifteen-year-old brother sat staring straight ahead, the muscles jumping
in his jaw.

  Uh oh. Something had to be up with Candice, his new girlfriend of a week. He’d told Grammy and me about her over dinner the other night and I’d never seen him talk that way about a girl before. He was totally enthralled with her, which was new for him. He’d had girlfriends before but they’d been typical middle-school crushes and such. This Candice, though, seemed to be someone he was really into.

  “Lane? Did something happen?” I questioned carefully.

  He sighed and pushed a shock of dark hair out of his face, looking so much like our dad when he did that I had to chuckle. Lane’s head shot toward me and he frowned thinking I was laughing at him.

  “Sorry, bud. I wasn’t laughing at you. You just looked like Dad then,” I explained which got me a small smile from him.

  I actually looked a lot like Dad too with my dark hair and brown eyes, but that’s where it stopped. Everything else I’d gotten from Mom: her medium build and her facial features including an aquiline nose and wider-set eyes. People had always told her she looked like a blond Catherine Zeta-Jones, so I guessed that meant I resembled the actress too, but Dad must’ve carried the dominant genes because neither Lane nor I had Mom’s blond hair or green eyes.

  We also didn’t get her selfish outlook on life, thank God. She’d left Dad when I was a freshman in high school which meant Lane had only been five, saying she couldn’t do the “family thing” anymore. So because Dad was a truck driver and was gone a lot, we’d moved in with Grammy right after, and by doing so, she’d helped by giving us a place to stay and we helped by keeping her young, or so she said.

  Shortly after Mom left, we’d learned that she’d really liked credit cards, as in really liked them, so as soon as I was old enough, I’d started working at The Breakfast Nook, or The Nook as Jay and I called it, to help out because Dad was doing all he could to pay off her enormous bills. Grammy couldn’t help much because of her back surgery and her scant Social Security check once a month only went so far. So here we were ten years later, Dad was still working to get everything paid, and needless to say, we didn’t have a lot of funds to go around. I’d had to take two years off from school to help out which had killed me, but now that I was back at Hallervan, I was more focused than ever because I didn’t want to live this way anymore.