Be Mine: Valentine Novellas to Warm The Heart

by Nicole Flockton

  He smiles at me. “Can we get some grub together?”

  “Sorry, maybe—" I’m about to suggest another time.

  Messy Hair Dude puts his finger on my lips and I stay quiet. He removes his hand and I’m left with blazing lips just from that small touch. I can just imagine the blood running through my veins getting excited and ready to explode.

  His hand slides into mine. A feeling of warmth spreads through me.

  I look down at our hands. They look so good together.

  He leads me into a small cosy cafe. Nothing like the one I used to work at. This one has only a few tables around and two-seater sofas. Shelves lined with books on one wall and surfboards along the other.

  The aromas of warm, baked goods drifts through the shop.

  My mouth waters.

  Mr Messy Bed Hair finds a sofa near the bookshelf.

  “Wait here,” he says.

  I nod.

  I turn around in the seat and watch him walk away, with his strong posture and his shoulders back, chest out and a high chin. His shirt is thin, and I can see the shape of the muscles in his shoulder. His body takes a V shape as I run my eyes down towards his butt.

  Messy Bed Hair looks back over his shoulder.

  I bow my head and turn back around.

  Picking up a magazine that has been left on the table in front of me, I flick through the pages, scarcely looking at the pictures and not concerned about the articles. Turning pages keeps me occupied and helps me forget about how crazy my life has become.

  “Anything interesting.”

  “What,” I stutter and flick my gaze up.

  Messy Bed Hair gestures to the magazine in my hands.

  “Uh … oh … um … I.” I clear my throat.

  Damn him and those bloody intense green eyes.

  “I wasn’t really—"

  He takes a seat on the couch next to me. He leans back and spreads his long legs wide, taking up most of the space on the couch.

  “I ordered, the club sanga. You cool with that?” he asks.

  I rapidly blink at him.

  Someone has placed glasses of water on the table. I grasp hold of one and gulp it down. I feel like a deer caught in the headlights.

  “Sorry, if you don’t want that—” he checks over his shoulder to the counter, where a young girl is standing behind the cashier machine. “—I could ask the chef to make whatever you want,” he continues when he turns around.

  “No, the sandwich is fine,” I say after finding my voice.

  I’m nervous and I also have fear niggling away at me.

  Messy Bed Hair is gorgeous, but he could also be a serial killer, stalker even. I mean, who even is he?

  I bite my lip and look at the books. Old tatty covers dominate the shelf. I notice out the corner of my eye, Messy Bed Hair watching me. His elbow is resting on the top of the sofa, and his head rests on his hand.

  I lean back and look over at him.

  Time to fess up. “I didn’t quite catch your name?”

  “It’s—Oliver,” he says and gives me a playful smile.

  Oliver sounds so sexy coming from his mouth and those gorgeous lips.

  I think I must be lonely, because all of my thoughts are on this good-looking guy and those fucking lips.

  I sit and watch the water out of the window. There is something soothing about looking at the ocean.

  “Oliver,” I say, trying his name out. It sounds good to know it and say it. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

  3

  Oliver of the messy bed hair has been a major player in my dreams lately. God! I need to do something about that. And a long cold shower won’t fix the want, need and feel of him—not that I’ve had Oliver, yet!

  Throwing the sheet off, I wander to the kitchen in just my shirt and panties.

  Mr Big, my vibrator—I know it’s Sex and the City, but I couldn’t think of another name for it––well, he needs new batteries. The apartment is pretty new and yes, there are still boxes of ‘stuff’ all over the place. I will get to them. I search the drawers in the kitchen. Coming up empty, I run to the room and throw on a pair of shorts and grab the keys on my way out. I head to the nearest twenty-four-hour service station.

  I sit in the car for five minutes before venturing inside. The clerk won’t know what the batteries are for, but the thought lingers in my mind. What if he does know? How embarrassing will that be? A thirty-year-old doesn’t have someone at home to help with her needs. Though I don’t think he can tell my age by just looking at me.

  Come on Jennifer you can do this!

  With all my bravado, I step out of my car and walk into the store. A big, burly man stands behind the counter as I walk down the aisles looking for batteries.

  There are different varieties of the batteries I need for Mr Big. I twist and turn a few packets in my hands.

  “Hard choice?” the voice startles me, both battery packets drop to the ground. I quickly lean down to grab them off the floor.

  My cheeks heat.

  Oh my God does this person know what they’re for?

  “Here let me.” His hoarse voice says.

  Lifting my head, I see who the voice belongs to. I’m sure the horror is evident on my face. Surely, I’m showing signs of embarrassment, I can feel how hot my face feels right now.

  We both rise to our feet.

  “Batteries,” Oliver muses. The greens of his eyes gaze questioningly into mine.

  “It’s not what you think.” I blurt out.

  Oliver blinks then a smirk touches his lips.

  “What might that be?” He asks.

  Oh, he is such an ass. Such an irresistible, handsome ass. Both hands are itching to cover my face. I bite my lip instead. “I…ah…needed—"

  Oliver’s fingers touch my lips to shush me.

  “Love, if you need any help. I’m your guy.”

  “It’s for my torch.” I half yell through tingly lips.

  “That’s what you’re calling a vibrator these days. A torch huh,”

  Snatching the batteries out of his hands, “yes,” I rush over to the counter to pay for them.

  As we walk out to my car, he keeps in step beside me.

  “You know, I’m available right now to help with whatever you need.” Oliver makes known.

  I see the mischief behind his eyes. Or am I mistaking it for something else. I’m so out of whack with these signs. I can’t understand how he’s so damn confident. How does someone get to be like that, while I’m a quivering mess?

  After unlocking the door to my car, I stand and watch Oliver. “No, I’m good. Thanks though.”

  I mean, I could say something else, but I am nowhere near ready for that. And I really don’t know that much about him.

  The trouble is, how do I get to know him without having to ‘know’ him, you know?

  I shut the door closed behind me as I slide into the driver’s seat.

  After starting the car up I wave to him and drive home. I need to sort myself out.

  4

  My toes dig into the white soft beach sand as I sit here and watch the waves fall over the salty water, leaving a frothy mess in its wake. The oceanic breeze floats across my face. A group of surfers are sitting on the water, waiting for the next set to roll in.

  I never really had the chance to do this in Rockingham, or anywhere along the coast in the city.

  Richard would have complained, no doubt. Why can’t a woman surf, though? It’s great exercise, judging by how fit the surfers out in the water are.

  Now that I think about it, I should have taken Richard’s reluctance for me to do sports as a sign of our marriage troubles. Instead of making excuses all the time for his attitude.

  Breaking the serenity, a familiar voice says, “Are you stalking me?”

  Turning on the spot, I look up with my hand shielding my eyes from the sun.

  Those gorgeous green eyes glint. Oliver rubs his body down with a towel. When he runs the said towel o
ver his hair, I can’t help but admire his chest, abs and delectable ‘V’ muscles leading into his board shorts.

  After my eyes scan every crevice of Oliver’s body, I put the memory to the back of my mind. “I came to enjoy the view.”

  Oliver makes a clucking sound with his tongue.

  “Was it everything you dream of?” he asks.

  I don’t mistake the mischievous gleam but there is something else; darker hidden there. I think I’m ready to be slightly less shy around this guy.

  “Why, yes it was.” I try my hand at flirty. I know he is too young for me. I can tell by the structure of his well-toned athletic body.

  It took Richard a change in diet and months of gym hours to even get close to looking like Oliver. Even from memory Richard was never as sexy as what’s on display in front of me.

  Stop comparing them. Richard is the past.

  Does that mean Oliver is my future? He’s looking at me now, as though he is waiting for an answer.

  “Huh,” I feign, hoping he didn’t catch my gaze lingering down to the V again. This V is dangerous. It’s inviting and I want to know where it leads.

  “I asked if you surfed?” Oliver repeats for me as he takes a seat on the sand beside me. His knees bend and his arms rest on top. The green of his eyes grows brighter, or it is the fact we are near water, it affects the colour of his eyes?

  “Oh,” I push a loose strand of fallen hair behind my ear. “No. I’m scared of sharks.”

  “Is it a phobia or something,”

  “I genuinely am scared of sharks. They tend to lurk in the shadows.”

  “Babe, have you seen the beaches here? The turquoise waters allow you see dark figures in the water very clearly. Besides, I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

  “You hardly know me.”

  “Hardly knowing you has nothing to do with it. Jay, you’ll be safe with me,”

  Is there a double meaning behind his admission?

  I stare into his eyes to look for signs of him taking the piss with me.

  “I’m not a damsel,” I say though my admission is false. I am one to a fault. I relied on Richard for so long, that I am only now finding myself and who I really am.

  “Never said you were, babe,”

  I really want to groan each time he calls me babe, but I like the way it sounds. Even the nickname he gave me doesn’t irk me as much as I thought it would.

  I was forever Jennifer—never Jenny or Jen, always Jennifer. Another Richard influence.

  “So, what brought you to this place?” Oliver’s arm sweeps out towards the water.

  “I haven’t sat on beach in a long time.” I say. By the look on his face he’s most probably talking about the town I moved to. I cough, “ah…work and…personal reasons.”

  “Oh yeah, so where’re you working?” he asks. I like how he seems interested in my life. Something that has been missing for a while.

  “Nowhere at the moment. I, ah—don’t really know what I want to do.”

  “Isn’t that something you’re supposed to know in school? You worked at a pharmacy, then you said you quit. I know a few places are looking for a chick to sit behind a desk, but your customers service skills aren’t the best. I mean you may mishear what a client wants and that’s not a good look for businesses.”

  Oliver bumps my shoulder his laugh is carefree. I chuckle with him.

  Another thing I’m realising I like about Oliver.

  “No, I don’t think it’s wise for me to work in retail. I’ll scour social media, websites and newspapers for a job.”

  “Call me, and I mean it. For anything.” There’s this look behind his eyes, I can’t yet decipher if it’s genuine care with a hint of lust, or if the lust is purely my imagination.

  Or my hormones.

  God, Mr Big has been getting a workout ever since I saw Oliver at the service station the night I ran out of batteries.

  Oliver leans back and whips his phone out and holds it towards me. “Here put your digits in. That way I can text you any jobs I know about.”

  Looking down at the phone, I’m unsure. It’s been a while since I’ve given my number out.

  Oliver nudges his hand out again, urging me to take a chance.

  Biting my lip, I grab the phone and enter my number in it under the alias of Jay. I think he will get a kick out of it.

  A smirk traces Oliver’s lips after handing his phone back to him. A deep chuckle erupts from his mouth.

  It does funny things to my stomach.

  There’s something about watching Jay, just by looking at her I can tell she’s been through something traumatic and the faded band on her ring finger also reminds me she was once a wife. Could she be a widow?

  As much as I want to wine and dine Jay, I won’t just yet.

  She is absolutely beautiful, and she haunts my dreams, not that that is a bad thing. I’m just tired of jacking off to those X-rated thoughts of Jay.

  Wherever I see her I take the opportunity just to chat, cause I wanna get to know her more.

  And when she smiles, I want to be the one to keep her smiling all day.

  “Oliver,”

  I turn to Jay. “Yeah?”

  “Do you ever think life is all about mistakes?” She asks.

  That sounds pretty serious. Rubbing my chin helps. “Mistakes make who we are. It’s a part of our makeup.”

  “I just wonder if—things would’ve been different.”

  Jay doesn’t divulge what she is thinking about.

  I tell her something my mum has mentioned to me on an occasion or two. “Leave the past behind. That’s where it belongs.”

  Jay stares into my eyes.

  I can’t help wonder what she is thinking.

  My phone pings in my hand with a message. Checking, I notice it’s from my little sister. She’s getting married in a few weeks on New Year’s Day. Who does that? New Year’s Eve, yes. New Year’s Day? None of us will be able to indulge the night before.

  Lauren is being a pain in my arse. Our father left our mother when we were kids. We haven’t heard from him since.

  Standing up, I mutter, “I’ve got to go. Can I text you later?” I say.

  “Uh…okay.” Jay seems a little unsure herself, glad I’m not the only one feeling this unease in my chest. Jay is standoffish sometimes, but I don’t miss the way she trails her eyes down my stomach anytime I’m near her without a shirt on.

  I totally should do that more often.

  “I think I’ll go too,” Jay voices. I wonder if she meant to say that out loud or not.

  Giving my shoulders a slight shrug, it’s time to split, even though I don’t want to. Anything to keep this going a few minutes longer. ‘Okay, catch you later?’ Asking rather than assuming.

  Jay nods her head, and I catch her looking at my Abs again.

  Walking off the beach and towards the car park, I glance back at Jay. She’s watching me too. I don’t mean to sound cliché or anything, but it feels good to know her eyes are on me. It’s these moments most movies or TV shows depict. I can’t help but chuckle to myself.

  Better ring my sister, Bridezilla. I can’t even say hello first, she’s in full panic.

  “Oh my God Olly, the flowers I ordered aren’t available. Why didn’t they tell me this when I ordered them?”

  “Can’t you just order new ones?” I ask.

  Lauren screeches, and I flinch. “Order new ones? Are you insane? Those are my favourite flowers.”

  Pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’ll go and talk to the florist. Who did you order from again?”

  “BJ’s,” Lauren sounds defeated.

  While I’m out I check what Beeline have, just in case. I just won’t tell my sister that’s what I’m doing though. She’ll screech again. While Bob & Jim’s do an excellent job, and Lauren is all about organic foods, as this is where she shops for fruit and veg, and I had no idea they did flowers too. Beeline is the local florist that I know of.

  �
�I’ll work something out okay?” I kiss her off and pocket my phone.

  5

  As Christmas is in a few weeks, I suppose I better buy a tree. With everything going wrong in my life at the moment, I asked my family not to visit me for Christmas. I miss my sister and her two children and my parents, but I can’t be around people who are in love, when I don’t believe in it anymore.

  While I know Christmas is a time for family, I just can’t be around them yet.

  My phone pings with a text message.

  Oliver: Hey what are you up too?

  Me: Just about to head to town.

  Oliver: Wanna come with me?

  Oliver: I have to get some flowers and I need some help.

  Why would he need my help with buying flowers? Doesn’t he know any other females to ask them? I don’t mean to get suspicious … but flowers? Why?

  Oliver: Please… he texts again.

  Oh, my goodness he’s persistent.

  Giving in, I text ‘Sure’ and spin off my address for him.

  Looking down at my outfit I decide to change out the comfy shorts and shirt I’m wearing and throw on my Boho chic knee length dress. Then I grab my handbag, phone, and slipping on some sandals. I’m clasping the buckle when a knock raps on the door.

  I open it to see Oliver pull the shades off his eyes and hangs them in the V of his shirt. It’s been two long days since I saw Oliver at the beach.

  My heart beats faster and I feel the alarms going off inside my brain as I forgot to breathe. With the intake of air, I smell his cologne as well. It’s a sweet muscular smell. It smells so good I could sniff it all day long.

  “Hi,” my voice sounds shy. I push the loose strands of my hair behind my ear.

  “Hey, you ready?”

  I nod my head like an idiot. Well, I feel like one.

  Oliver steps back, I follow, closing and locking the door behind us.

  Oliver opens the door to his black Jeep, and I step up onto the side rail and slide into the seat. While his car is immaculate and clean, it smells like him. I want to find where the smell is and bottle it, put it away in my handbag for my own personal spritz, whenever I need a reminder of Oliver.