Ear Candy

by Carter, M. E.

  Donna’s caked-on face cracks as she smiles and squeals. “Todd!” Launching herself into my arms, I realize she is probably getting some of that gunk on my suit. But when she says, “I missed you,” in my ear, I no longer care and hold her a little tighter.

  “You did?”

  “Oh course I did!” she says with a laugh, pulling back and grabbing my hand to lead me into her apartment. It’s not huge, but considering she lives in a somewhat pricy area, I didn’t expect a mansion. The walls of the living area are painted a soft buttercream, the same color I usually recommend to my clients, with furniture in a complementary gray. An ugly door leading to a small balcony chops up the space in a very aesthetically displeasing way. But again, pricey area of town means you don’t get all the bells and whistles. And there is a good-sized open kitchen with decent dining area, so the tradeoff for an ugly door was definitely worth it.

  “It’s funny how used to someone you get after spending the better part of a week with them, right?” Donna continues and plops down on the couch, pulling her feet underneath her. “Have a seat. What are you doing in Phoenix? Wait. How did you get in the building?”

  Contemplating my answer, I sit next to her and get comfortable like no time has passed. But it has. It’s been a couple weeks since she left our home away from home and it would probably be creepy to tell her I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I took the opportunity to travel to Phoenix to see her. Nope. No reason to give her a stalker vibe. Instead, I go with the secondary part of the truth.

  “The security desk was empty. Not exactly comforting, Donna.” She scrunches her face in the cutest possible way. Smiling in response, I continue, “I have a buddy who works down here,” I say as I prop my feet up on the table. “He’s been wanting to get into real estate for a while and I finally caved and came to see if it was worth helping him out.”

  “Is he another realtor?”

  I huff through my nose. “Uh, no. He’s a computer guy who wants to turn business owner but has zero skills beyond coding.”

  She furrows her brow, cracking more of that mask thingy. “So why does he want to do real estate?”

  “No idea. But hey, if he’s willing to take all the state licensing tests and front some of the start-up costs, it’s at least worth looking into expanding what I’m already doing, right?”

  Her smile is so big and bright right now it practically lights up the room. The room that is already bright because it’s the middle of the day, but that is irrelevant. The point is it makes me happy to see it.

  “If that means you’ll be down here visiting regularly, I think it’s the best idea your coding friend has ever had.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. I didn’t expect she would feel that way. Sure, I was hoping. But that’s as far as my rational feelings had gotten. Almost immediately, something catches my eye over her shoulder and my traitorous eyebrows furrow and fall. “Uh, Donna? What the hell is that alien sitting on the table? Tell me it’s not real.”

  She turns to look and turns back with a smile and a giggle. “My cat? Mr. Tuddles?”

  “That’s not a cat. It’s is a giant rat, and it’s scowling at me.”

  She jumps up off the couch and approaches the odd-looking creature, snuggling him to her and cooing at it. “You’re not a rat, are you Mr. Tuddles? You’re the best kitty in the world, aren’t you? Yes you are.” She stands for longer than a hot second exchanging googly eyes with the hairless wonder who does, in fact, purr and meow like a feline. I’m still not convinced, though.

  “He’s giving me the evil eye.”

  “He is not.” Donna laughs, dropping him on the floor gently. “He’s just a bit territorial.”

  “Oh good. I was hoping to have a weird looking cat pee on my leg today.”

  Hands on her hips, Donna purses her lips. “That’s not how it works. If he was going to mark his territory, he’d pee on me.”

  I cock my head at her, willing her to understand why that statement is not making a better case for having an abomination as a pet.

  Rolling her eyes, she ignores me and my obvious aversion to any living thing that might urinate on people for fun. “Forget Mr. Tuddles. Since you surprised me with your visit, I need to go wash this mask off and change my clothes. You hungry? We can go grab something to eat. I was going to order in, but it’ll do me some good to tear my eyes away from my screen.”

  “Still working on that sweet romance?”

  “Nope,” she says, sounding way more pleased than I would expect since she just told me her passion project isn’t being worked on. “That’s all finished and in editing.” Ah. Now it makes more sense. “I’m almost finished with the one for my agent. You know, the erotica book I had an outline for.”

  “You mean the one you had a small book already written for.”

  “Same thing. Anyway, I’ll be right back. I’m getting hungry.” Her hand drops on my shoulder and squeezes as she walks by.

  I watch her hips sway as she walks away, relieved that I wasn’t kicked out before I stepped foot inside the apartment. You never know what’s going to happen when you show up at someone’s house unannounced.

  Tearing my eyes away from the door she just closed, presumably to her bedroom, I’m startled when I see the alien thing sitting on the coffee table in front of me, staring me down.

  “What?” I ask as I cock my head, careful not to make any sudden movements. “Do I have mustard on my tie? Something in my teeth? Bad breath?”

  The faux feline responds with a strong “meeooww.”

  “Okay. Well, I’m not here to cause any harm, and I don’t want to meet your leader, so if you could just”—I wave my hands in front of me—“shoo or something. That would be great.”

  He rapidly blinks at me before his eyes fixate on mine. I accept that challenge and widen my eyes in response.

  “No really,” I plead, refusing to blink. “Please don’t pee on me. I have two more days here and don’t have time to get this pee-cleaned if you decide to mark me.”

  Mr. Tuddles, who has probably the stupidest name I’ve ever heard of for a cat, which is saying a lot considering my mother named her spawn of Satan Ginger instead of Fruit of the Devil’s Loins, begins walking back and forth in front of me, swishing his tail forcefully. That’s right you inferior feline, I am still the reigning champion.

  “Uh . . . what are you doing there . . . kitty? That’s not the pee-pee dance, is it?”

  A few more treks across the table and he jumps for the couch, making me startle backward a few inches and guard myself from the inevitable spray.

  It never comes, though. Instead, he begins rubbing his head all over my leg. And arm. And chest. Suddenly, he’s standing on my lap, meowing and still rubbing.

  Well take that Fruit of the Devil’s Loins. It’s not me, it’s you.

  I begin petting Mr. Tuddles, which admittedly feels like running my hand over my last Thanksgiving dinner before it was cooked and scrumptious. But he seems to like it, as proven by the fact that he lies down and curls up on my lap.

  Huh. This isn’t so bad.

  I keep rubbing behind his weird little ears until Donna emerges from her bedroom, dressed in white shorts that show off her tanned legs and . . . I don’t know what else, actually. I’m stuck staring at her legs. When she sees us, she stops in her tracks.

  “What’s going on in here?” she asks, amusement thickly laced through her voice.

  “Bonding. Leave us be.”

  “No way.” With three quick steps, she’s standing in front of me, pushing an unimpressed Mr. Tuddles off my lap and pulling me into standing position. “I’m hungry. You can do your weird male bonding later. Um . . .” Turning to face me, she gestures to my clothes. “We’re walking. Are you sure you want to wear that?”

  “As opposed to something in your closet?” I playfully chide. “Got a nice pair of yoga pants with my name on them or something?”

  She smacks my arm. “No, you jerk. Why don’t you leave your suit jac
ket here instead of wearing it? Roll up your sleeves. It’ll be more comfortable.”

  “What would be more comfortable is if you lived in a city that didn’t sit directly on the surface of the sun,” I quip, making quick work of tossing my suit coat on her couch and rolling up my sleeves.

  “Too late for that, ya big baby.”

  Looking up, she’s staring at my arms, a strange look on her face. “What? What are you looking at?”

  “Just thinking,” she says by way of explanation.

  “Wanna give me more than that?”

  Looking me dead in the eye, she says the last thing I expected. “I’ve always heard a man is a hundred times sexier when he rolls up his shirt sleeves. I was thinking how accurate that is.”

  My eyebrows shoot up in surprise again. Is Donna saying she thinks I’m sexy? Me? Todd, the guy in the funny shirts who uses his closet as a studio and whistles instead of talks?

  “You can stop looking so surprised and close your mouth now,” she deadpans, and I snap my jaw shut.

  Grabbing my wallet and phone out of the inside pockets of my jacket, I begin shoving them in my pants pockets instead, trying not to drop my phone as it vibrates. “You can’t just throw something like that at me. You know how often people use the words Todd and sexy in the same sentence? Not as often as they should, that’s for sure.”

  “Shut up,” she laughs, snatching her keys from a bowl on the kitchen counter. “Let’s go.”

  “Right behind you.” But I’m not. I’m checking the text that just came through from Aggi and having no idea what the hell she’s talking about. NANA? What the hell is NANA and why is it in capital letters followed by about four million exclamation points?

  Donna comes up behind me, probably since I haven’t moved since I said I was behind her. “Everything okay?”

  “No idea. I think Aggi has officially lost her marbles.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time,” Donna responds quietly. She’s not wrong. “Why? What’s going on?”

  Leaning so she can see my text, I try my best to explain. “She said something about being up for a nana. Did she forget a word or something? Why is she talking about my grandmother?”

  I look up and see Donna’s eyes as wide as her mouth is. “You’re up for a NANA?”

  Now I’m really confused. “I have no idea what anyone is talking about and why they keep dragging my poor nana into our lives. She has enough troubles in the nursing home. That bitch Gretchen always changes the soap opera before it’s over.”

  Donna thwacks me on the arm again. “Don’t joke about the elderly that way.” Huh. I didn’t know she was such a philanthropist. “Aggi’s not yelling about your nana. It’s an acronym for National Association of Narrators Awards.”

  I shake my head slowly. “Yeah, still not following.”

  “Todd.” I’m not sure I like the way she sounds exasperated when she said my name that time. I watch as she begins tapping on her phone, a huge smile taking over her face. My favorite kind of smile on Donna. “You’ve been nominated for a NANA! Well, Hawk Weaver has.”

  “Oh. Cool.” I click my phone off and shove it in my pocket. “So where are we going to eat?”

  “Oh, cool?” If I didn’t know better, I would think she is mocking me. “Todd this is huge news. Do you know how hard it is to get acknowledged by NAN?”

  “No. No I do not. I also don’t know how long it will take for my taco to get in my belly, so let’s go.”

  She rolls her eyes and slowly makes her way to the door, keeping her eyes on me over her shoulder. “You may be the first debut narrator to ever be nominated. You think people are clamoring to work with Hawk Weaver now. Just wait.”

  I groan loudly. “Aw man. I know I’m the best thing since Morgan Freeman voiced Go the Fuck to Sleep, but I don’t have time to sort through a million more emails from desperate authors. You know they have a way with their words. It almost makes me feel bad for saying no.”

  Shutting the door after we walk through it, Donna makes quick work of locking it behind us. “First of all, remind me to look up that Morgan Freeman narration when we get back. It sounds amazing.”

  “You have no idea. It’s my favorite book ever.”

  “Second, this is a really big deal, Todd. They have a huge awards ceremony for it every year. Red carpet. Stage and a podium. The whole nine yards.”

  I groan again.

  “It’s fun,” she continues. “I love getting all dolled up for it. Plus, if you win you can increase your rates with the publishers each time you consider a new contract.”

  “In that case, count me in,” I say, making her laugh. What she doesn’t know is why I’m so quick to have a change of heart. Money means nothing. “Wait, you said you can’t wait to get all dolled up. Are you attending this year?”

  Another huge smile spreads across her beautiful face before she says, “Sure am. My book was nominated too.” She shimmies a little as she continues walking.

  Looks like I’m going to the rama lama ding dong awards or whatever they’re called. I’m not gonna miss a chance to see Donna in a strappy dress and sky-high heels.

  Chapter 25

  Donna

  When I stood in front of my closet trying to decide what to wear earlier, I almost threw on one of my date outfits. A pencil skirt is like my superpower. I’ve been blessed with curves and know how to accentuate them. Then I remembered my date was Todd. Well, not date necessarily but lunch companion. Todd who spent days with me in yoga pants and the occasional face mask. Todd who drives a car that’s value is the same as the pair of shoes I ordered yesterday.

  Todd.

  I tossed the idea of a date outfit aside and slipped on my favorite shorts and a loose-fitting T-shirt. The neck is wide and falls off my shoulder, showing just the strap of my lacy bra. It’s flirty but oh so comfortable for the warm Arizona evenings.

  As I look across the table, I’m warm from the inside out. Nerves, excitement, and pure giddiness that he’s here runs through me. He’s here, in front of me with sauce dripping from the end of his gyro onto his hand as he uses it as a makeshift plate. I know he didn’t come to Phoenix for me, but the fact that we’re here together makes me happier than I’ve been in the weeks since I left our snowy bubble. My fingers itch to reach out and wipe the drops of sauce from his chin but I don’t. That’d be weird. Right? Maybe? For sure.

  “Here,” I say, thrusting a pile of napkins his way. He mumbles what I assume is a “thank you” before wiping his face. Sipping from the straw of my iced tea, I smile as he lets out a deep groan of appreciation.

  “You were right, Donna. This place is amazing.”

  “I know. I am in here at least twice a week for lunch. I can’t get enough of it. And I only indulge in the baklava once a month.” Of course, I buy an entire batch and nibble off it for the month, but I don’t tell him that. “I can’t believe you found a coupon online for this place. I didn’t know they had them.”

  “Oh dear Donna. You must always search for online coupons. Those pennies add up quickly and soon you have enough for a free piece of that baklava.”

  He has a point. I wonder if I started tracking my savings and putting that difference away if I could save enough for that epic cat castle I was eyeing for Mr. Tuddles. I need to heed Todd’s advice and start looking for a way to cut expenses. Not in my shoes or moisturizer but in things like eating out, I could easily start saving money. As a full-time author, it only takes one bad “glitch” or delay with a book release and I’m scrambling to make up the sales.

  “What now?” Todd asks, pulling me from my thoughts. Looking up to him, I’m hit straight in the stomach with his smile. His dark hair is unkempt, and I want to brush it from his face. The dark eyes that dance with mischief on a regular basis look like melted chocolate and I can easily see losing myself in them for a very long time.

  Who am I? Yes, I write romance, but I’ve never looked across the table of a fast food gyro restaurant at a man and wante
d to wrap my body around his, kiss his full lips until my own are numb, and lock him in my bedroom for days.

  “I, uh, want to walk a bit?” My voice is shaky, and I pray he didn’t notice. Too late, the furrowed brows tells me he heard it.

  “Let’s roll.” He stands and holds his hand out for me and as I place my palm atop his, I release a breath and gather my wits. Why am I so nervous?

  “This place just gets better and better,” Todd says as I slide out of the booth. Quirking a brow at him, he points to the ceiling. “JT.” I pause and smile. It isn’t the song that was playing the day I walked into the cabin and tried to kill him with my own version of self-defense but seems appropriate for where my thoughts are right now.

  “I think JT was right. He did bring sexy back.” My tone is flirty, and my heart is racing. Instead of releasing my hold on his hand, I lace our fingers and tug Todd out of the door of the restaurant.

  We walk in silence, my hand in his, and enjoy the warm evening air. Like it was with Todd at the cabin, our quiet is comfortable. Compatible. We’re compatible. Which is strange. He’s nothing I knew I wanted and everything that I’ve needed. It’s too much and too fast. It’s ridiculous and completely out of character for me but I want him. I want him in my life as my friend and my . . . well, using that dreaded word—lover. Even thinking that word makes me shiver.

  “Are you cold?” he asks, my shiver obvious to him.

  “No, I’m good. Are you melting? I’m comfortable, but I’m in shorts.” My words are rapid in an effort to distract him from the shiver observation.

  Shrugging, he doesn’t respond, which means he is probably burning up. I pick up the pace a little as we approach my building.

  “Let’s get you upstairs and into the air conditioning. I think I have a few cold beers in the fridge too.”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  Todd opens the door to my building and releases my hand, ushering me ahead into the building. The cool air of the lobby sends goosebumps across my skin, and I wrap my arms around my stomach. This shiver is for the cool air and not the distasteful word I thought just a few minutes ago.