Fat Cat Liar

An uneasy feeling churns in my stomach. “Who are Jonas and Enrique?”

“Friends of mine,” is all she offers.

A second later, a young girl delivers two steaming mugs of coffee and a heaping plate of pastries.

“Holy shit.” The scent takes me back to my childhood when my mom would make mounds of Belgian waffles for us on special occasions.

It’s been years since I’ve had that memory, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t press it to the back of my mind. I inhale deeply, and the vision of Clay and me fighting over the first waffle fills my head.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yes, sorry, I had a flashback of me and my brother wrestling over waffles.”

“You have a brother?”

“I do.”

“Is he in construction, too?”

I vaguely remember mentioning that I worked in construction on the way here, glazing over details of my job. To any two people getting to know each other, this is a normal question, but letting her too far into my personal life is dangerous. I choose my reply carefully. “He’s actually in finance.”

“That’s awesome. Does he live close?”

“He does.”

“Do you see him often?”

Every day I think to myself. “Once in a while. He’s about two years younger. Has a wilder lifestyle.”

Another fucking lie. Clay is straight laced and loyal. I can’t help but think Greer would be the perfect match for him. It wasn’t him fucking a new employee in logistics last month.

“Hmm, I get that. Jonas and Enrique are a handful,” she jokes, again spurring my curiosity of these two guys.

“Dig in.” She hands me a plate and fills her own with a giant cinnamon roll.

“So, you mentioned hiring a new employee. Tell me about your business.” I bite into the cheesy, buttery, light pastry and groan the second it melts on my tongue.

“Told you!” She beams and tears off a bite of her own roll. I stare as she licks the cinnamon, sugar, and icing off her fingers and find myself again aroused at the sight.

“Your job?” My voice comes out huskier than usual as my cock continues to stir in my jeans.

She grins and starts telling me all about her personal shopping business. After an hour, I sit in awe of this woman who has now broken every stereotype I created in my head. During the conversation, she doesn’t mention her father, except to say he’s her business partner.

But, with every word, every declaration, I learn more about Kevin Palmer. He lost the love of his life, but his daughter still carries on her traditions.

Not once does she sound sad. In fact, it’s exactly the opposite. She talks about her business with pride and passion.

“That’s me in a nutshell.” Greer pushes her empty coffee cup to the edge of the table, and the waitress is at her side in a flash. “Put it on my tab, please.”

“No, I have this.” I reach for my wallet.

“I insist.” She waves dismissively.

I start to argue with her but lay a twenty on the table. “I’ve got the tip. Where to now?” I stand, offering my hand to help her up.

“Now that we’re appropriately loaded on carbs and caffeine, you are getting a tour. Bye, everyone!” She waves on our way out. A couple of people shout back, but Ricardo is the loudest.

“Be safe, my Greer.” His message is clear, his eyes narrowed at me suspiciously.