Chapter 11
The next afternoon, Bill and Sake sat at his dinette table, polishing off the last of a take-out pizza.
Bill pulled up the website of the California Department of Motor Vehicles while Sake dunked her tea bag in and out of her second cup of tea.
“Props to you for getting hired at another bakery, after only being in the valley a week,” he said, while searching for the requirements for getting a driver’s license.
“So,” she said leaning over his screen, sipping her tea, “what do I got to do?”
At first, Bill had almost blown a fuse when Sake had had the gall to ask him to give her driving lessons, on top everything else he’d done for her—heck, was still doing. Boarding Taylor, taxiing Sake back and forth almost every day so she and her dog could spend time together . . . when was enough, enough? Where did a guy draw the line between being a mensch and a patsy? With a word, Xavier St. Pierre would gladly pay for professional driving lessons. Or why couldn’t her sisters help out?
But if Bill had learned one thing about Sake this past week, it was that beneath that who-gives-a-darn attitude and the indecipherable tattoos was a deep well of pride. If Bill were a betting man—which he wasn’t—he’d wager her family wasn’t even savvy to the fact that she couldn’t drive. She already had an inferiority complex from comparing herself with them. It seemed cruel to ask her to add to her long list of perceived shortcomings.
Anyway, Bill supposed he could sacrifice a couple golf matches this summer. He believed in lending a helping hand. And getting her license would be a positive step up for Sake. Wouldn’t take long. Once she could drive on her own, he could retire his chauffer’s cap, maybe sign up for something more staid, like the Rotary. Something that better suited his style.
“A lot’s changed since I learned to drive. Brings back memories. Dad always made sure we ended up at the ice cream place as a reward for a job well done.
“This says you need thirty hours of classroom instruction and six hours of behind the wheel.”
“Already did that back in school,” said Sake, from over by the sink where she dumped their soggy paper plates in the trash.
He looked up, frowning. “Wait a minute. If you had six hours professional driving instruction, how come you froze when I asked you to take the wheel that time when Russ Cross called me and I had to get my briefcase?”
“Okay, no, that’s a lie. I never got around to the actual driving. But I did sit through the boring book part.”
“Jeez! Do you go around lying like that all the time?”
Sake squared off in front of him, hands on her hips. “Why do you make such a big deal about every little thing? Didn’t you ever tell a lie, Bill Diamond?”
“Other than the little white ones designed to keep from hurting peoples’ feelings? No.”
“Not even once? Yes, you did. Everybody lies sometimes. Come on. Tell me something you lied about.”
He snorted. “This is ridiculous.”
“Tell me!”
His hands flew up. “I don’t know!”
She cocked a hip, lifting a condescending brow. “What’s it like, Bill Diamond? Being so perfect?”
“Okay! Here’s something. When I was in third grade, I lied to my mom. I said I wrote that tree poem. You know, the one that goes, I think that I shall never see, a poem as lovely as a tree. There. Happy?”
“Like, whoa, jump back. You are some bad-ass, Bill Diamond. Lying about a damn poem. I bet all the other Realtors run and hide when they see you comin’.”
Bill bit down on his smile and went back to his screen. “But then, once you get your permit, you need fifty more hours of practice driving with a licensed driver.”
She slid into the seat next to his, bringing the amber scent of her Oriental perfume with her. “That’s only for minors. If you’re over eighteen, you can take the test anytime you’re ready, long as it’s within a year of getting your permit. After that, though, the permit expires and you gotta start the process all over again.”
That scent.
“Are you sure?”
“I can’t drive, but I know how to read.”
“I didn’t say you didn’t. So you have taken the classroom part about what the signs mean and everything, right?”
“You don’t believe me?”
Bill gestured like, duh.
She pulled a face in response. “Anyway. I only got two months left till my permit expires, on my birthday, and I haven’t had no on-road practice. At. All.” Sake smiled brightly, and Bill forgot about his intent to ask her why that was.
Mentally, he shook his head. Dad was right. He was too damn nice.
“So, you mad now?” she asked.
“No, I’m not mad.”
“You want some more tea?”
Bill never drank tea. “Sure.”
She took his half-empty mug back out to the kitchen.
He heard water running in the sink, the clink of china. A homey warmth that came from sharing a meal, conversation, and a dog snoring under the table enveloped him.
“Lemme do the driving when you pick me up to come see Taylor till I get used to the feel of it, then it’s just take my test for my Ls, right? And I’m in there like swimwear.”
“Ls?” he repeated, like “ells.”
“Ls. License.” He heard her giggle over the kitchen sounds. “Don’t you know nothin’?”
Bill bowed his head over his laptop to hide his amusement until he noticed a shape gliding slowly toward him in his peripheral vision. When it loomed too close to ignore, he looked up to see Sake pulling her T-shirt over her head, followed by a mass of dark hair tumbling down across her bare shoulders. Above her skirt, all she had on was a sheer black bra, held up by the thinnest of straps.
On his keyboard, Bill’s hands went still.
Sake reached behind her back, and in the next second her bra was gone, too. Then, in a move a professional stripper would envy, she swept her mane up over her head, letting her hair drift back down across her pert breasts in a shower of jet. She cocked her head and, eyed him with a come-on that both repelled and aroused him, all at the same time.
Slowly, Bill stood up. “What are you doing?”
A laugh gurgled in the back of her throat. “Paying you back, what else? You think I’m some freshman at life? I know how it works. No such thing as a free ride.”
She backed Bill up until he was practically bowed over the table backward, his hands braced on its edge. Then she slinked her arms around his neck.
Robot-like, his hands went to her waist. Her skin felt soft and warm, obliques yielding to his fingertips, and here, up close, the exotic blend of amber and spices hit him full force. His thumbs pressed into the twin curves of her lowermost ribs.
Sake lifted her eyes and parted her lips in an invitation.
His hands sprang back like they’d been singed. “What is that? What’s going on?”
Sake stumbled backward, her brow furrowed. “Serious?”
“I’m seriously not joking. What the hell, Sake? What are you doing?”
Crimson crept up her neck. She sniffed, “If you don’t know—”
“It’s not that—it’s . . . why?” Why was she suddenly hurling herself at him? The only day they’d been apart all week was yesterday, for his date with Deborah. Still, he was practically a stranger to her. Didn’t she have any higher opinion of herself than that?
“What’s with you, Bill Diamond? You gay?” she snapped, cheeks flooding with embarrassment.
“Gay?!? Hell no, I’m not gay! I just . . .” One hand scraped his fingers through his hair while the other dipped to retrieve her bra off the floor. He held it out to her by a string, looking away for the sake of modesty. “Christ! Put this thing back on!”
He looked away until she retrieved her shirt from where it had landed on the floor and tugged herself back together.
“Now, would you mind telling me what that was all about?” he huffed.
“Shut up!” She straightened her skirt with a jerk, camouflaging her rejection with scorn. “I never met no man as stupid as you. I’m tryin’ to be nice, and you make me feel like a fool.”
Half of him wanted to shake some sense into her, the other half to pick her up, toss her on his bed, and have his way with her. But he was older and wiser. He couldn’t send the message that it was cool to throw herself at men as payback for favors, freely given.
Besides, being anything more than a friend to Sake was out of the question. Bill had plans. Long-term plans. Solid-as-a-rock plans.
“I think I’d better take you home now.”
“Holla.” The pink had reached her cheeks now.
She grabbed her bag.
“You can sit in the driver’s seat.”
She stopped. “Now?”
“Might as well start.”
“Today?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Why not? No reason to put it off.” Things were getting out of hand. The sooner he weaned her off him and his enabling, the better.
She finished packing up her things, snapped on Taylor’s leash, and followed Bill out the door.
Bill paused on the stoop to unwrap his American flag where it had furled around itself in the breeze.
“Rule number one, always wear your seat belt,” he said when he eased in next to her, fastening his own. “Never go anywhere without it.”
Bill watched Sake fumble inserting the male part of the buckle into the female slot. Surely she knew how to fasten a seat belt. Then, seeing how her hands trembled, it hit him. “Are you scared?”
“I’m not scared of nothing.” She scowled. Bracing herself, she sucked in a breath, applied a death grip to the steering wheel, and waited for further instruction.
“Okay, rule two: you can’t learn to drive with a dog on your lap. Here. Do you want me to hold her?”
She hesitated. “Maybe she’d be safer the back seat.”
Yup. That’s definitely fear.
“You’re more worried about your dog than you are me?” he chuckled, keeping things light to ease her nerves.
She sighed and let Taylor go to him. “Just tell me what to do.”
“Your hands are good there, at ten and two. But first you need to turn it on.”
Her eyes swept over the dashboard.
“The ignition button’s right there.”
She jumped when the motor came to life.
“Now, check your mirrors and when no cars are coming, ease your foot onto the gas and steer away from the curb.”
Bill checked, too, to be sure. “Easy does it. Niiiiice and easy.”
When it was clear, Sake pulled out, and they were on their way.
“That’s it. Now relax your grip. You’re about to pull the wheel out of the gearbox. Lower your shoulders.”
She bit her lip, tucked her chin, and furrowed her brow in concentration.
“Don’t forget to breathe. Let’s take a couple of passes around the side streets where it’s quiet and there aren’t many cars. I’ll tell you where to turn.
“So, tell me more about your phone interview. When does your job start?”
“The person I’m replacing just gave her two weeks’ notice, so not until then.”
“Full time?”
“Six-thirty a.m. to one p.m.”
“Not quite full time, but it’s a start. Benefits?”
“God, are you always this practical?”
“These are things you have to think about, Sake. It’s all part of being an adult. For instance, I’m what’s called an independent contractor.” Bill didn’t let Sake’s eye roll deter him. “If I got sick or hurt, I’d have no income. That’s why I purchased disability insurance.”
“Papa put me on his health plan.”
“Good.” He nodded.
“Glad you approve.”
At the edge of his vision, he saw her hint of a teasing smile. His attempt at distracting her from her driving phobia was working.
“It’s not your approval I’m after. I’m telling you these things because I care, Sake.” With a start, Bill realized he was speaking the truth. “What kind of work will you be doing?”
“I’m straight up into baking, but Mr. Volant said I’ma be working the counter, ringing up custys. All his bakers have their associate degrees or some such thing, no idea.”
“There’s a degree in baking? Who knew. Well, that’s something to aspire to. Assuming that’s your main—stop!” Bill’s right foot shot forward on a reflex. “Stop sign! Brake!”
The car lurched, his seat belt locked down on him, and Taylor yipped at his reflexive squeeze to keep her from falling off his lap.
“You said you knew the signs!”
Who doesn’t know what a stop sign is?!
“How long ago was it that you took driver’s ed?”
“Who the hell knows? Years . . .”
“How many years?”
“I told you, I don’t know.”
“Well, think. It was probably your junior or senior year. When did you graduate?”
Sake paused at the next corner. Beneath her flimsy top, her breasts rose and fell visibly. “Now what?” she demanded.
“Right. Wait—put your turn signal on. What year did you get your diploma?” he repeated.
Her lips tightened into a line.
“You didn’t graduate.” The words left Bill’s mouth before he could censor them.
“I can pull over around here? I’ve had it with this for today,” she said, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “It’s freaking roasting in here.”
“How can it be roasting when you’ve got the A/C on full blast? Okay. We just made a loop. There’s my apartment complex, straight ahead. Think you can parallel park if you have empty spaces around you?”
“What’s parallel park?”
“Never mind. Just turn into one of these alleys and we’ll trade seats.”