Ear Candy

by Carter, M. E.

  Her laughter is music to my ears. So much so that I don’t care she’s getting that charcoal shit all over me. Maybe a little exfoliant will bring out my eyes.

  Chapter 21

  Donna

  Three days after Todd scared the life out of me, and the same day I vowed to always lock doors when I’m indulging in a little at-home spa time, I’m zipping my suitcase with a huge smile on my face. I did it. I started and completed writing a book in a week. Okay, well, I finished the first draft of the book and have another few days of intense edits and a bunch of work behind the scenes, but I completed the story.

  A sweet love story that makes my heart flutter and my palms sweat with excitement sits in my Cloud, and I feel amazing. Well, that isn’t exactly true. I feel exhausted and I kind of miss my bed. And my cat. Mr. Tuddles has been the only man I could rely on the last few years, and I’m in need of a cuddle.

  The only man until Todd, that is. Gosh, he certainly came out of nowhere. With his weird shirts, which I now know are worn because of his massive, genuine heart, to his weird bird language because you never know when you’ll need to communicate with someone by whistling, he has found a place in my thoughts non-stop. I hate that so many miles will separate us. I’ve become accustomed to his presence. I don’t make friends easily, but with him it was seamless.

  I pick up my cell phone to confirm the status of my car and smile at the memory of him hanging out with me yesterday. While I sat nestled on the couch before another one of his roaring fires, typing away furiously on my laptop, Todd was decked out in a yellow shirt adorned with dancing flamingos as he channeled his inner nineties boyband and cleaned the cabin. Chalet. I finally have him calling this place a chalet instead of cabin, and I take a lot of satisfaction in that. I also take a lot of satisfaction in watching his tight little booty shake when he was dusting. That’s a visual image I’ll have with me for a while.

  With only a few minutes before the car arrives, I pull the suitcase from the bed and drag it down the hall to the foyer. I had hoped Todd would swing by to say goodbye, but he already had a commitment for work. The real estate mogul work, not the new narration gig for the super talented, and if I may, quite pretty, erotica romance author. That author would be me, of course.

  I take one last look around the cabin and just as I hear the telltale sound of a car pulling up on the wet driveway, I rush to the kitchen to double check the stove knobs. I didn’t use them the last few days, but it’s an irrational fear I have, so I confirm they are turned off before returning to the foyer. Once I’m outside and settled into the car, I lay my head on the head rest and tilt it to look out the window. The beauty of this place will sit in my memories for a lifetime. The snow-capped trees remind me of a postcard and I quickly pull my phone from my purse and snap a photo to upload onto my social media.

  Inspiration comes in many forms, and I’m happy to say being in this sleepy little town nestled in the mountains of Idaho, I found mine. Of course, the sweet man who played tour guide didn’t hurt. I let the memories embrace me as we drive to the airport.

  Although everywhere I look as we drive along the interstate is covered in miles and miles of snow, the roads are clear, and our drive is quick and painless. I’ve found another bonus to this part of the country—no traffic. At least not the kind of traffic I’m used to.

  I’m also not used to how few people are at the airport. My trek through security is quicker than I anticipated and with two hours to spare before my flight, I have the luxury of heading straight for the small bar near my gate to get some work done. Once I’ve powered up my laptop and ordered a glass of wine and a salad, I open my manuscript to begin the traitorous task of self-editing. But before I’m able to read a complete sentence, my phone rings.

  “Yes, I’m at the airport. No, I am not running late,” I say to Clara as I whisper a “thank you” to the server when she sets my wine glass in front of me.

  “Why would you leave that glorious place? It’s magnificent.”

  “It is. But how do you know that? I only sent you one picture and that was of the beautiful bathroom at the cabin. I mean chalet. Never mind.”

  Clara is quiet for a minute, the sounds of a door closing and her keys clanking in the background. If I were guessing, I’d assume she just walked in her apartment and tossed her keys in the nearby large bowl she painted at one of those paint and bake places.

  “I am your best friend. Clearly, I stalk all your social media. Which, by the way, has been dead the entire time you’ve been gone. I’m sure your people are pissed about that.” Clara’s always teasing me about my team, calling them my people like I have an entourage.

  In the beginning, it would frustrate me because I would never call the team that supports me anything other than my biggest supporters. Now I know she does it to tease me because she knows how hard we all work and the common goal is simple. Build a kick-ass business so I can take her on an all-expenses-paid trip to the tropics.

  Every year.

  “I sent a message to my assistant when we were in town one day to let her know the reception was minimal, but I was working. You should be grateful I didn’t post much. The level of your jealousy would have been off the charts.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Stop rubbing it in. I know you had a working vacation while I was stuck here with your cat.”

  Sipping my wine, I sit smugly while she regales me with all that I’ve missed in Phoenix. Which, by the way, isn’t much.

  As she’s telling me about Mr. Tuddles and his recent adventures with a new toy she bought him, a handsome man in a suit sits at the table next to me. Instead of sitting so we’re side by side, he takes the seat that faces me. The tables in this small bar are so close together, he might as well have taken the seat at my table.

  Smiling at the man as Clara finishes her story, I ask her a very important question. “What’s the weather there right now? I know it’s Phoenix but is it early winter temps or late winter temps?”

  The server drops off my salad and I mouth another “thank you” as Clara reminds me there isn’t too much of a difference, but it is in fact warmer than usual. Sighing, I comment, “I’m probably going to melt. I think I’ve acclimated to actual winter since I’ve been here.”

  “Well, don’t sweat all over my car when I pick you up. Oh, we’re meeting the girls tonight at eight for cocktails. See you when you land!” The call disconnects before I can respond.

  Closing my laptop, I rearrange my table so I can enjoy my salad. I no sooner stuff a huge bite in my mouth than the handsome suit next to me says, “Sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing. Are you headed to Phoenix?”

  Coughing as I try to quickly chew and swallow the food in my mouth, I bring my napkin to my mouth and nod.

  “Sorry, bad timing. Are you okay? Can I get you a water?”

  Waving off the stranger’s offer, I finish the process and take a sip of my wine before turning my attention to him. “I’m okay. Sorry. Umm, yes, I am. I live there. How about you?”

  There’s probably some written rule about sharing personal information with a stranger you meet in an airport bar, but considering I almost died by romaine lettuce, I think I’m safe.

  “I’m heading there for business. Did your husband confirm the weather? I realized I didn’t exactly pack for warmer weather and may need to do some quick shopping while I’m there.”

  Oh he’s slick. Throwing out the husband card to see if I’m single. I’ve written that into a book a time or two. It works every single time. And, I’ll admit, the way he fills out a suit and wears a watch, it might be working in real life. Don’t question the watch, a beautiful watch on a man’s wrist is sexy.

  “I’m Donna,” I say instead of responding to his query.

  “Donna, it’s a pleasure. Joe Corman.” Joe’s hand clasps mine. The grip is strong but not too strong. His hands are soft, and his cologne is pleasant. His dark hair has that look I seek out for my book covers, slightly mussed but still perfectly in place. Th
is man knows his fashion. From his perfectly tailored suit to the pricey cufflinks, he oozes successful business man. He’s everything I would have asked for on my online dating profile. Everything I would write into a book. If he were a book, his cover would be selling a lot of copies.

  While standing, Joe removes his suit coat and slings it across the empty seat at his table before resuming his spot. The server delivers his bottle of beer, and over drinks and a half-eaten salad, we spend the rest of the time before our flight talking and laughing. His arrogance isn’t over the top but enough that I’d call him just teetering on the alpha side of things.

  When we board the plane, Joe asks to switch seats with the person in the middle of my row so that we can continue our conversation. I’m not complaining. It’s easy to talk to Joe. Not as easy and fun as Todd, but easy nonetheless. He works in the insurance industry and is headed to Phoenix for some sort of speaking engagement. What is it with this part of the country? Does everyone who wears a suit speak to large groups of people?

  We spend the entirety of the flight laughing and enjoying each other’s company. That’s way more than I can say for the flight to Idaho. Maybe, just maybe the fates are finally aligning.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, as we make our descent into Phoenix, we wanted to express our gratitude for flying with us. Your flight crew will be coming through the cabin to gather any items you may wish to discard. Buckle up, and we’ll be on the ground shortly.”

  Pulling my trash from the seat pocket in front of me, I am startled when Joe’s hand rests on my arm. “Donna, I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you. In many ways, it felt a little like a first date. Only, I didn’t get your number or buy you a drink. I think we should rectify both of those. What do you say?”

  Double blinking my eyes, I ponder his suggestion. My first instinct is to say no. I don’t want to go out on a date with a stranger. But, he’s right. We’ve spent the last few hours together getting to know one another, not unlike a first date. Plus, he’s nice and funny and successful. He’s everything I’ve ever looked for in a man. I don’t want to miss out on an opportunity to get to know him better, do I? No. No, I don’t. So, without another thought, I say, “Sounds great.”

  I can’t wait to tell Clara that her assessment of putting out into the world what I want may be partly true. I just finished writing a book about an alpha male who is more than he seems and I just found one on the plane.

  Chapter 22

  Todd

  I should call her.

  Maybe.

  I’m not sure.

  Rubbing my hand down my face I try to wipe my frustration away. What is the matter with me? I’ve never been so tied up in knots about a woman before, but Donna has me worried about rejection and humiliation and putting my feelings out there.

  Ohmygod. I’ve turned into a character in one of Aggi’s books. Not one of Donna’s books where I’m strong and broody and masculine. No, I’m a puddle of emotions and sensitive. I grimace at my own thoughts.

  Holy shit, I’m Spencer.

  Nope. This isn’t going to work for me. I’m manly and alpha or some shit like that.

  And I’m doing way too good of a job procrastinating this phone call.

  Fuck it. The worst that can happen is Donna hangs up on me, posts my picture on social media with Hawk Weaver’s name under it, and tells everyone what a bad kisser I am.

  I think for a minute and then shrug. “Sounds like my high school experience. I’ll be fine.”

  Before I lose my nerve, I dial her number and wait for her to pick up.

  It rings. And rings. And rings.

  As I’m preparing to leave a voicemail, she finally answers.

  “Hello?” She sounds out of breath.

  “Uh,” I pause. “Did I call at a bad time?”

  “No!” she practically yells, forcing me to pull the phone away from my ear. “Sorry. That was loud. No. I was getting out of the shower, and I didn’t want to miss your call.”

  This is the part where my brain shorts out for a number of reasons. First, she just got out of the shower. Which means she’s naked. Probably with a white fluffy towel wrapped around her body, blonde hair piled high on her head as water droplets slide down her golden tan skin.

  To be honest, it’s more likely she still has soap in her hair and mascara dripping down her face, legs half shaved. Still naked. In a towel.

  Either way, these are not visual images I need to be having right now. Both options are desirable, and it would be rude for me to get a hard-on while having this conversation. Yet, there it is. Inappropriately stiff and wishing I could ask which version of her is happening right now. The naked one or . . . well, the naked one.

  That’s not the only reason I have to get my bearings straight again. Donna just said she didn’t want to miss my call. Because of business or Aggi or because she misses me? The possibilities are endless!

  See? Emotional puddle. Just take my mancard away. I have no use for it any more. Spencer and I might as well have a sleepover and braid each other’s hair.

  “Todd? Are you there?”

  Breaking out of my deep thoughts, not with Jack Handy, I realize I must have been visualizing this scenario longer than I thought.

  “Yeah.” I clear my throat and try again. “Yeah. Sorry. I got sidetracked.”

  By thoughts of you in the shower . . .

  “Do I need to call you back?”

  “No! No. Give me just a second, will you?”

  I listen as she puts the phone down and hear sounds of drawers opening and closing, her pulling panties up her legs, sliding a bra over her arms . . .

  Okay, my thoughts are spiraling. Quick, Todd. Think about cleaning toilets and the last time Mom’s cat jumped on my leg and slid down, shredding my pants.

  “Okay, I’m back.” She sounds breathy like she’s been exerting herself, and it’s doing nothing to get my thoughts back on track. All I can think about is how certain parts of her body are probably jiggling. “So, how are you?”

  Such a loaded question . . .

  “Good. I’m doing good, thanks. I uh, actually called because I have news.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll email you the sample today, but I sent the book over to production, so they’ll start editing in the next couple of days.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” she says rapidly. It’s not hard to hear the disbelief in her voice. “You’re already done narrating my book?”

  “Yeppers.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “Uh . . . I sat down at my work station and did it? I don’t understand the question.”

  She giggles lightly. “Todd, you’ve had my manuscript for like three days. How is that possible?”

  “It’s been closer to five days, and you forget how flexible my boss is.”

  “I’ll say. Let him know I owe him one.”

  And now for more dirty thoughts. Don’t go there, Todd.

  “I can’t wait to hear the sample, though,” she continues, and I focus on business. That’s what we’re talking about. Job . . . stuff. “You wouldn’t want to, uh, read it to me so I can get a feel for it, would you?”

  My eyebrows shoot up. That’s not a request I was expecting.

  “I know that sounds weird,” she continues, talking faster than normal so I know she’s nervous to even ask. It makes me smile. “I’ve been so stressed about this deadline, and I wasn’t anticipating you’d get it done so fast. Hearing a part of it will go a long way to calm my nerves about the whole situation.”

  Still an odd request, but I’m not an author. I guess it’s not much different than when I want to double check a contract before one of my team members goes to closing. We all have a bit of micromanaging in us where our businesses are concerned.

  “Uh yeah. Sure. I just need to head to my studio to grab the book.”

  “You have a real studio?”

  No.

  “Sure I do! Just don’t ask Aggi about it. You know
how she likes to lie about these things and say it’s just a closet.”

  “Todd, is it just a closet?”

  “Donna. Just because I store my clothes in my studio doesn’t make it a closet.”

  Donna laughs as I open my closet door and push the suits farther back on the rack before sitting down. I set up my tablet and scroll until I find the file with all my notes on it. The system basically lets me turn the book into a script so I know where to use inflection or maybe a fancy British accent. Not that Donna or Aggi has ever given me the opportunity to show off that skill. Yet.

  “How’s it feel to be back in Phoenix, anyway?” I ask while I wait for everything to open.

  “Hot. I honestly thought I was going to have a heat stroke as soon as I walked out of the airport.”

  “I seem to remember a very debonair fella suggesting you were dressed too warm.”

  “Hey!” she chuckles. “I’m not a cold weather gal. I needed that fluffy coat.”

  “And now you will never wear it again.” Glancing at the script as it loads, I make sure it’s the final version. Satisfied that I’ve found the right document, I exclaim, “Okay! Got it. I’m gonna put you on speaker for this.”

  “Which part are you reading?” she asks, half in my ear, half in the room as I put my phone on speaker as I set it on the desk. Her voice fills the room.

  I shrug even though she can’t see it. “No idea. Whatever pulls up for me. We’ll consider it a surprise. You ready?”

  “Hang on. I need to get comfortable.” I listen as she shifts around, envisioning her lying in her bed wearing just a small tank top and short shorts, hair fanned out on her pillow with come-hither eyes looking up at me.

  Focus, Todd!

  “Okay. I’m ready.”

  “Yeah, you are,” I mutter to myself.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. This might be rough at first since I don’t know where I’m starting so remember it’ll be better in the sample.”

  “I’m not worried about it.”

  Clearing my throat, I lower my voice an octave to bring forth Hawk Weaver and begin reading.