by Ella Goode
“Get out,” she replies, apparently immune to the smile.
So this is what love is like, I think. A lightning bolt to the heart. I slap a hand over my chest and laugh. Whew. Who knew? My blood starts to race through my veins. My heart thunders. My dick grows two sizes too big for the stupid baggy pants my sister sent over.
“Sorry, Maple, I’ll get rid of him,” mumbles the bodyguard.
I throw up a hand. “Dude, don’t get in the way of true love here. I’m about to propose to Maple and I don’t need an audience for when she turns me down.” I slap one of the big bills from my wallet into his hand. “Thanks for the brotherly solidarity.”
He’s dumbfounded into silence, which makes it easy to slam the door in his face. I lean against it, cross my arms, and stare at my future wife. “So, Maple, what’s your favorite rock?”
“What?” Her small face is covered in confusion.
“Your favorite stone. Diamond? Emerald? Ruby? I need to know so I can get the right engagement ring for you. Although you are a jeweler so maybe you want to make it yourself? I don’t really know how that works. I guess I could call my sister.”
“Sir. You can’t marry me. You are already married.”
It takes me a moment before I recall that I have the wedding ring on my finger. I raise my hand. “Are you talking about this? I just wear it so that the hungry ladies down on Wall Street target some other poor sap.”
“You must think marriage is a mockery to pretend that you’re married and then waltz in here and propose to a woman you don’t even know!”
“Babe, this is my first interaction with the whole love at first sight thing. I don’t know how the rules work.” I spread my hands. “I just know that you’re mine.”
“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I belong to anyone, particularly you.”
“Good thing I’m rich enough to buy you a fur coat.”
Chapter 4
Maple
I stare up at what may be one of the most handsome faces that I’ve ever laid eyes upon. Too bad he’s a big jerk. He is the stereotypical Wall Street businessman who thinks everything’s his for the taking. I’m not sure whether to laugh at his arrogance or call the cops. The one thing I’m not willing to do is sell him anything in my store or waste any more of my precious time listening to his love at first sight nonsense. He must think I was born yesterday if he for one second believes I’m buying anything that comes from his mouth. He was willing to try any angle to get what he wanted.
I wish it were that easy to find love. I’d seen it happen with my brother but I think it’s a rare thing. Not that I’m even looking. I’ll find my one when the time is right. But why is it that when I do get a man to profess his love to me, it’s some crazy, arrogant jerk that’s using it to try and get his way? Of course he has to be drop dead gorgeous with the greenest eyes and a smile that can melt your insides. Did I mention arrogant? I press that once more into my mind so I don’t forget.
“There’s nothing here for you,” I tell him in my sternest voice, hoping that it encourages him to leave. I’m not the best at confrontation—that’s what my brother is for—but I’m not going to back down from this man. I’ve had people do some pretty clever things trying to get one of my pieces but his is the most over-the-top so far. Love at first sight. I almost laugh that he thought I’d fall for it.
“I beg to differ. There’s a whole lot for me and only me.” His fingertips brush against my hand. I yank my hand back. Not only because he’s being rude but because I felt something tingle across my skin. The sensation takes my breath away.
“Like I said. There’s nothing here for you,” I repeat, taking another step back so that I’m out of his reach. I jump when a loud bang sounds from the other side of the door. Mr. Arrogant must have locked the door behind him. Goosebumps make their way up my arms. I wish I could say it’s because I’m frightened but I’m not. I’m locked in this room with a complete stranger, yet I don’t react the way I would expect myself to. He may sound crazy but he doesn’t strike me as dangerous. I tend to have good instincts when it comes to people.
He pulls the ring off of his finger, tossing it my way. My stupid reflexes have me reaching out to snatch it mid-air. “If I were married would I give my wedding ring away so I have to return home to a wife and explain where it went?”
“Fine. You’re not married.” I give. “No wife would let her husband leave the house like that.” I wave at his ridiculous outfit. Even with the way he’s dressed, he still looks sexy.
“Maple, you okay?” Trudy yells through the door. “I’m calling the cops.”
“My sister picked this entire getup out, I’ll have you know,” he grumbles but I can see something in his eyes when he mentions his sister.
“Is the necklace you want for your sister?” I ask.
“No.” He pulls at the sweater that appears to be itchy.
I let out a sigh. I might have caved for him wanting to get something for his sister. I might think he’s an arrogant jerk but I also have a brother who is one of those and would do anything for me. I’d understand the sentiment if he was here trying to snag something for her. Gavin would be just as adamant if it were him trying to get something special for me. A pang of jealousy hits me wondering who the hell he's shopping for. That’s when I realize I need to get him the hell out of here. I must be losing my ever-loving mind. It’s his smile. He almost had me but I remain strong.
“It’s time to go.” I look down at the ring in my hand. It’s a simple gold band. It’s cool to the touch. It shouldn’t be. If he’s been wearing it all day it should be warm. I can tell the gold band isn't cheap by the heavy weight of it. I toss it back. He catches it, sliding it back onto his finger.
“I’m not leaving until I get what I want,” he challenges.
“Not used to hearing the word no, Mr.—” I cock my head to the side as I wait for him to supply me with his name.
“Major Bennington.” He says it like I should know who he is. I keep my face impassive because I truly don’t recognize the name. I bet my brother would.
“You can’t refuse me service.” Now that doesn’t come out arrogantly but it is a little bit of a challenge.
“I can do anything I please. You’re standing in my store. One I’ve asked you to leave.” I can hear the sounds of police sirens already. “You're trespassing,” I remind him.
Major only smiles more, not looking bothered that the cops are going to be here at any second. “A challenge. It’s been a long time since I’ve had one.”
“I’m not a game, Mr. Bennington. Nor do I play them.” Even as I say the words they feel a little wrong. Something about him has me wanting to fight with him. To see how far he’d go to get what he wants. “You’ll never get one of my pieces. So you should save yourself the embarrassment and leave willingly.”
“It’s not a game, Maple.” His eyes go soft, roaming over my body as if he’s getting his last look of me, but his smile is wicked. How he can pull off both looks at the same time is beyond me.
He steps toward me. I can hear Trudy shouting through the other door about finding the keys.
“I want more than a piece, sweetness,” he says as the door swings open. Trudy stands there with two cops.
“Mr. Bennington?”, one of the officers asks. He ignores them.
He leans down. “This isn’t over,” he whispers next to my ear. His breath makes one of my stray hairs tickle my skin. My mind blanks for a moment at the contact.
“Coffee, boys?” He turns suddenly, clapping his hands and breaking me from the haze I’d fallen under for a moment.
“He is trespassing,” Trudy reminds the officer.
“The place across the street is good. I could use something to eat.” He winks at me as he says it.
“Sounds good to me,” one of the officers says. Trudy gawks at them in shock. Yeah. Clearly Mr. Bennington has pull.
“You want anything, sweetness?” Major asks me. I narrow my eyes o
n him. Why does he keep calling me that? I’ve been anything but sweet to him.
“You out of my store,” I snip. He only smiles but actually does what I ask this time. I know this won’t be the last I see of him. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. Maybe I am up for a little challenge too.
Chapter 5
Major
“Sorry, Mr. Bennington, but we had to come. The chief’s wife is a huge fan.” The beat cop named Williams stares at his coffee.
“Don’t worry about it, Williams.” I push the leftover coffee cake in front of him. “Tell me more about this jewelry designer. Maple, is it?”
“Yeah, she’s some kooky granola person. Perfect for these Park Slopers.” Williams digs into the cake, crumbs parking in the corners of his mouth. Discreetly I move a napkin across the table and hope he gets the hint. He doesn’t, instead opting to take a huge gulp of coffee. “Her stuff is made of old stuff from dead people.”
“Old stuff from dead people? Oh, estate auctions?” I look down at my hemp clothing colored with natural plant dye and start putting the pieces together. “She buys old jewelry and precious materials and remakes them into modern pieces,” I muse.
Williams nods. “Right. We actually get a lot of complaints about her place. The lines are long. She’s not open enough hours and she turns away people all the time. They get mad and call us, but we can’t do anything about it because of the chief’s wife.”
“Do you know why she turns people away?”
The cop shrugs. “Something about wanting her pieces to go to the right home or some shit like that.”
“What about Maple herself?”
“Ah, she has a brother who’s a lawyer at some firm downtown. Or maybe he owns his own firm? I can’t recall. Bats for the other team, if you know what I mean.” Williams wriggles his eyebrows.
“I got it,” I reply.
Williams nods, looking somewhat relieved that he doesn’t have to spell it out.
“Anything else? Does she live with her brother? Or her family?”
“Ah no, she lives alone I think. Her brother bought her a townhome just a couple blocks down. Nice place.”
My fingers curl into a fist. Williams has been inside her place? The cop spots my fist and chokes on his coffee. Quickly, he sets it down, wipes off his mouth with the napkin and sputters, “Chief had us check all her door and window locks and test the security her brother had installed. That’s all.”
That better be all. I force my hand to relax. “Anything else?”
“She doesn’t have debt?” he says, in a questioning tone. He’s about one non-verbal threat from making up shit.
Having seen that Williams has reached the end of his usefulness, I throw a few bills on the table for a tip along with a check for the station’s Widows and Orphans’ Fund. “Thanks. Tell your chief that you gave me a stern talking to and that you were able to wrangle this donation from me as penance.”
Williams’ eyes grow wide as he spots the numbers of zeros. “Uh, yessir, Mr. Bennington. Anytime, Mr. Bennington. I’m sorry I wasn’t more help, Mr. Bennington.”
I shove an impatient hand through my hair. Having your father be the commissioner of police is great for getting out of shit in this city but it’s really more of a hassle. Besides, my dad’s an asshole who doesn’t deserve this kind of obsequiousness.
On my way out of the coffee shop, my phone beeps. I know it’s my sister without even looking at my device. Since I don’t have good news for her, I ignore the text and opt to call a friend of mine who works at one of the auction houses on Park Avenue.
“Hey, Harry, it’s Major Bennington here.”
“Oh, Mr. Bennington, what can I do for you?” he answers immediately.
“It’s my mother’s birthday next week and my sister, Julia, got this notion in her head that Mom would really like a piece from Maple London. Have you heard of her?”
“Oh yes, but you can’t buy her work on the secondary market. By contract, if you purchase a piece from her and you do not wish to own it any longer, you must return it to her. You receive the full purchase price back no matter the condition it is in.”
“How is that even legal?”
“I believe that you don’t make a purchase but rather a lease and because the item is only leased, you are bound by the terms of the rental agreement.”
“Sounds like some bullshit that a good lawyer could punch their way through.”
“I don’t know about that, sir. I’m a curator at an auction house and not a lawyer. Perhaps I can recommend something else. We have a beautiful collection from the former Duchess of Mayfield. She was one of the Whitney progenies.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Harry. What else do you know about this London person?”
“She’s a brilliant artisan who is enjoying immense popularity. There are quite a few merchandisers who would like to license her designs but so far she’s refused. Her brother is quite wealthy and I believe supports her in some fashion. She does not work for money but rather passion for her work.” Harry sounds like he’s half in love with Maple, too. I scowl at the phone. The only one who should be the subject of her passion is me.
“Thanks for nothing, Harry,” I snap and hang up. I stomp across the street and slide into my car. “Take me back to the office, Medina,” I order my driver.
“Yessir.”
As Medina pulls into traffic, I call my sister.
“Did you get it?” she asks.
“No. Apparently you have to have the right story and mine didn’t work.”
“What story did you tell?” she cries in alarm.
“I had to explain my wedding ring. The staff was not amused.”
“Oh no. What are we going to do about Mom? She’s been talking about getting a Maple London piece for months and since the divorce, she’s been so unhappy. This was the one thing that was going to cheer her up.”
“I know.” I blow out a frustrated breath. After years of being supportive, Mom got the ultimate shaft nine months ago when Dad announced he wanted a divorce because he’d fallen in love with his nineteen-year-old trainer at the neighborhood pilates studio. Mom was heartbroken as Dad had just retired and she’d looked forward to finally spending some time with him. Since Dad’s news, Mom has been in this deep depression. She came across an article about Maple London’s work and how it represented healing and true love and decided that she needed a necklace—that it would bring her peace. I don’t buy that crock of shit, but if it means that she would finally leave the house and start living again, then she’s going to get one of those necklaces.
“Look, don’t cry, Julia. I’m going to get it. Haven’t I always delivered?”
“Yes,” she says softly.
“Great. Just leave it to me.” I hang up and redirect my driver. “Take me to Tartan’s office. We’re going to sue someone.” If I can’t get what I want by ordinary means, I’ll take it even if it requires force.
Chapter 6
Maple
“He might have been a dick but he was handsome,” Trudy says before she takes a bite of her orange chicken. She ordered us takeout from the place down the street after the shop closed. We get food from there about twice a week. She doesn't even have to put in an order, they know what we want as soon as she calls. I have a bad habit of losing track of time. With that comes forgetting to eat. I can get so focused on what I’m working on that I zone out, not caring about the world around me. I’ve been somewhat useless since Mr. Arrogant left my shop. While I felt a small victory having him escorted out, I also felt a little bad about it. I shouldn’t but I still do.
“He was,” I admit, taking a bite of my food that has no taste to it today. He was too handsome for his own good and he knew it. No wonder he is arrogant. I’m sure people fall all over themselves to give him whatever he wants. I even felt this small pull to give in but luckily Trudy saved the day by getting the door open. Another few minutes trapped in a room with him and I’
m not entirely sure what I would have done. I can still feel his warm breath on my neck. I reach up and touch the spot absently. Sweetness. Was that what he called me? I liked it too much. Hell, I am still thinking about how those words sounded coming from his perfect mouth. That smile of his was killer too.
“There’s no sesame seeds. I double-checked and they know better.” Trudy pulls my hand from my neck. “Why are you all blotchy?”
I’m not allergic to sesame seeds per se but they do make me break out a little bit. I know that my current situation isn’t due to any food sensitivity, though. It is from my thoughts of Major Bennington. Even his name is sexy. He has me all twisted up, hence blotches on my skin. This always happens when I get flustered. I’m not sure why thoughts of him are still bothering me. He’s been gone for hours so I should have forgotten him already.
“It’s fine. I’m just hot,” I half lie. I am kind of hot; just hot over something I shouldn't be. Trudy eyes me for a moment before going back to whatever it was she was talking about.
“Why are all the good-looking ones always jerks? They think they can just do anything they want.” Trudy’s next bite of chicken is more aggressive. She is still pissed about what happened. That Mr. Bennington had made it past her and into the back office.
“What was he even wearing?” I say with a laugh, trying to cool some of her anger. It earns me a smirk. I don’t know how I lucked out getting her as the store manager. Actually, I take that back. My brother found her but she and I hit it off immediately. A lot of people think I can be a little odd. They even have stupid names for me, but Trudy gets both me and my passion for my work. It’s why I trust her when she brings me someone’s order for a piece of jewelry.
“It was awful,” she agrees, scrunching her nose. “And he still looked handsome.” This time she stabs the chicken with her chopsticks. “I guess I can’t blame him for wearing a wedding ring. I bet women are always trying to get at him. Not to mention that he’s loaded and all.” She rolls her eyes. We might have done a small Google check on him. Who wouldn’t?
