by L. Nicole
“I wanted to ask you about someone,” I eventually mutter, more than a little embarrassed. “What do you know about Jack Clayton?”
Pauline strangles on her coffee. Coughing like a brick had lodged sideways in her throat, she eyes me carefully. “Jack? When did you meet him?” she asks when she finally catches her breath.
“He came in the shop a couple days ago.”
“In here?” Pauline croaks, picking at a brownie. “Are you serious? This doesn’t seem like the kind of place he would hang out.”
“I’m serious. He was… I think he flirted with me, but...” I sigh, as I think back on the meeting I had with Jack.
Pauline stares at me for a second before finally speaking up. When she does, I almost wish she had remained silent. “Isn’t Jack…old? Like, too old for you? I mean you just confessed you’re still a virgin to me about two weeks ago and—”
I hold up my hand to get her to stop. I really don’t want to hear reasons I can’t have Jack.
Because I really want him.
“Okay, okay, stop. That’s enough. I just wanted to know if you knew anything about him.”
“Well, yeah,” Pauline replies, picking a brownie apart. “I guess as much as anyone around here does.”
I refill my friend’s cup and feel relief at her response. “Okay. Like what?”
“There’s a lot of talk around here about him, you know. He lives out toward the mountains in the foothills. Keeps to himself most of the time.”
“Mm-hmm, go on,” I urge her, wanting to know everything I can about Jack. “Is there a wife or girlfriend in the picture?”
Pauline shakes her head. “Not that I’m aware of, but then again, I only see him for packages and the occasional bill or letter he mails out.”
“I see.” I sigh, more than a little disappointed. “What’s all the talk about?”
Pauline sips her coffee. “Some people think he’s an assassin hiding out here. A few others suspect he’s a spy. My nephew Mark worked at McKenzie’s a while back, Leo got his job when he quit.” I nod, even though she’s mostly talking Greek to me because I barely know anyone in town. “Anyway, he rode out to Jack’s place once for a delivery, and he said Jack has a lot of scars on his chest and back. He said they looked like he had been shot or something.”
My heart squeezes in my chest with her words as I take the information in and let it settle inside of me. There’s no way the man I met in my shop is a spy or an assassin. It just didn’t make sense.
“Maybe he just likes being alone,” I suggest. “I mean, my business is taking off through the internet, maybe Jack does something like that?”
Pauline shrugs. “Maybe, but he doesn’t mail out packages.”
“Maybe it’s something else,” I murmur.
“You could always find out, you know,” Pauline suggests.
“What do you mean?” I ask, thoroughly confused.
“I mean, even if he does prefer being alone, I doubt he would prefer his hand to a real life, flesh and blood woman.”
I feel heat flood through my face. “Pauline! I thought you just said he was too old for me,” I mutter, shifting uncomfortably.
“For a boyfriend sure, but I bet a man like him could take a V-card and make it really good.”
“Pauline!”
“I’m just saying,” she says with a shrug. “Besides, he might just have a taste for cherry pie, you know.”
I giggle at her joke, pushing away my embarrassment. “You’re awful,” I mutter.
“You must have liked what you saw, or you wouldn’t be asking about him now,” she points out. “Besides, I’d hit that. I think any woman would.”
“I’m a virgin. I’m not sure how to hit that,” I respond, giving out a disgusted sigh.
“Honey, if I had someone as hot as Jack Clayton noticing me, I think I’d come right out and beg him to take my V-card. Hell, I’d even drop to my knees.” I don’t respond. There’s not much to say, because she’s definitely right. “What did Jack want from your store anyway?” Pauline asks.
I actually have to stop and think back for a minute to remember. “Oh, yeah. Something for a headache. I just gave it to him to repay him for fixing my furnace.”
“He fixed it? I noticed it was definitely cooler in here.”
“He did. He went over to the hardware store and got a part and put it on. We shared some coffee.” I shrug. “It was a nice visit.
“I would say so. That’s the most interaction I’ve heard out of him since he moved to Sweetheart.”
“He’s very nice, and I mean, he’s really freaking hot. His eyes are just so deep.” I trail off, lost in the memory.
“Whoa, you got it bad, sister. Are you going to make a move on him?”
I bite my lip and look down at my now cold coffee. “I was working up my courage, but as soon as I told him my age, he acted as if I had the plague and hauled ass out of here.”
“Shit,” she mutters, and I nod. “Well, I mean you are young, sweetie. And Jack is trouble if you think along the lines of anything more than a roll in the hay. Maybe you should concentrate on guys your own age.”
“No one else has ever appealed to me, Pauline. Not one. Jack… I liked everything about him. I wanted to know more, and the minute he left…” I shrug again, although more helplessly this time. “I missed him,” I confess.
“You’re serious?”
“Deadly,” I admit.
She stares at me and then nods, as if something makes up her mind. “Then, maybe you should make a move to let him know you’re interested, and you know— remind him you are legal.”
We talk a little longer and Pauline leaves. I sit in the quiet, empty shop and then sigh. I can’t mope all night. I clean up the table and wash out the coffee cups and plates. I also think about everything that Pauline and I discussed—especially everything about Jack. Maybe Pauline was right, and I could make a move. I mean, I’ve never even been attracted to a man before—not once. I have fantasized about the perfect man, and honestly, Jack is exactly what I’ve always wanted. He’s a real man. He’s not some boy trying to feel up my boobs for a cheap thrill. He’s a man who would know how to give a woman pleasure.
When my mother died, I promised myself that I would live my dreams, because life was just too short to waste the time we had. If I sat back and looked at what I wanted most in my life right now, it would be Jack. I don’t understand it, but I sure as heck-fire refuse to question it. I want him. It’s time to start chasing the rest of my dreams now that the shop is starting to show signs of life. I have a business and a home now. Maybe it was time to take an even bigger chance and find the man that I want in my life.
I finish up the dishes and hurry down to the basement, a plan forming in my mind.
CHAPTER FIVE
JACK
HOT WATER POURS OVER ME. Practically scalding me as I work my hand back and forth on my cock. Damn, but this is getting old! It’s also not working. Nothing seems to be keeping my mind off of Brandi. She’s haunting me. Somehow in just the short time that we talked and laughed, she seeped inside of me. I miss her smile, the way she blushes, and that sweet little laugh she has when she’s nervous. Hell, I even miss the thoughtful sadness her eyes held when she talked about her mom. My body might long for her, but I want all of her in my life. My house has always been my retreat, my oasis from the world, but now it just feels empty.
I want Brandi. All of her. Entirely.
I give up trying to get rid of what has become a permanent state of arousal and come to a decision. I’m going to go after her. Fuck this. Maybe if I spend a little more time with her, the new will wear off. I might even find she’s not this funny, sweet woman who has depth and a kindness that I respond to in ways I never expected. That day in her shop was one of the best days in my life. It felt easy talking to her, it was like everything clicked into place with her. It had to be a fluke. That’s the only explanation. Maybe she was vapid and shallow, and not really my typ
e at all.
It was possible. Wasn’t it?
I climb out of the shower and towel off. Yanking on some jeans and a blue plaid flannel shirt, I’m determined that by the end of tonight that beguiling little witch will be out of my head—one way or another. I’ll drive into town, go straight to her little shop and lay it all on the line. I might also yell at her and demand to know what she’s done to me. Maybe some of those fancy herbs she put in her coffee have cast some kind of spell on me. It’s the only explanation. I mean, it has to be the biggest mystery in the universe as to how I could want Brandi so much when, truthfully, I don’t even know her. And why? To what end? She’s too young for me, and she’ll be nothing but trouble. Hell, everyone in town will start gossiping. They already have rumors I’m an ex-con, along with other things. It’s been mildly entertaining. Now, they’ll just be going on about the scary old geezer who seduced the young shopkeeper. Then, they’ll start calling me a creepy old pervert.
I let out an irritated growl. What is happening to me? I’ve never cared what other people thought about me. Why would I care now? The people of Sweetheart are nothing to me. I don’t truly know them, and they sure as hell don’t know me.
The truth hits me like a ton of bricks. I care because of Brandi. I don’t want people discussing her. I don’t want to hurt her in any way. A tiny nagging voice in the far recesses of my mind whispers another truth. Brandi isn’t a girl. She’s a grown woman—well over the legal age of consent. She’s also the only person that matters and the only person who can judge me for wanting her.
Or reject me for it. She might think I’m way too old for her. She might even hate the fact that I love to have control in the bedroom. Hell, there’s a chance she will find all of the things I want from her distasteful. This isn’t a woman of the world. This is a woman who most likely is innocent.
Fuck.
This sudden realization makes me more than uncomfortable. I’ve been closed off for longer than I can remember. What happens if Brandi rejects me? What if she finds the needs I have distasteful? Hell, maybe even disgusting. I shove my hand in my hair, not used to questioning myself. Not sure I’m ready to open myself up to another person and lay my needs bare. What the hell am I going to do if the woman I want more than my next breath, rejects me?
Jesus, the first thing I need to do is grow a pair of balls. If she rejects me, I’ll survive. What I can’t live with is not trying to make her mine. Grabbing my keys, I step across the floor and yank open the door only to freeze in my tracks. Shock strikes me like lightning as I stare into the face of the woman who has been tormenting me for weeks.
Brandi Kelly is on my porch.
CHAPTER SIX
BRANDI
I HAD ALMOST TURNED around a million and one times. I was panicked to the point that I could feel an anxiety attack begin to build inside of me. Gigantic butterflies with gnarly teeth and sharp hooves trample through my chest even now.
I have no idea what I’m doing. I mean, really, what am I going to say to him?
“Hi, Jack. I hope you don’t mind me dropping by. I saw you looking at these goods in the shop and thought you might want to try out a few samples. Oh, and by the way, I just wanted to tell you I’m lusting after you, and I want you to be the one to claim my V-card.”
My hands tremble with the need to turn back around to my car. I don’t though. I keep walking until I find myself standing on Jack’s front porch. My legs are trembling, and I feel as if I’m burning up with a fever, a cold clammy sweat covering my body. Heck, spots are beginning to dance in front of my eyes. I stand on Jack’s porch like an idiot, trying to knock on the door, but I can’t seem to raise my hand.
This feels like one giant mistake. There’s no way a man like Jack Clayton will be interested in me. I turn to run back to the safety of my car, feeling like an idiot. Before I can do that, however, the front door opens. I spin around to find Jack staring at me, his beautiful dark eyes full of surprise.
“Hi, Jack,” I begin. “I hope you don’t mind me dropping in like this, but I noticed you checking out my goods in the shop, and I thought you might want some,” I mumble, not catching exactly how that sounds until it’s too late. I can feel my face blushing so red that I probably glow in the dark. Jack’s surprised look finally fades into laughter—which, unfortunately, just makes my nerves worse. I stick my hand into my bag to search for the part that I tore off the furnace. It was a desperate move, but when I did it, I figured I could use it as a backup excuse. I’m so embarrassed and nervous, however, that I can’t force my gaze away from Jack. So, I’m left with my hand flapping around in my purse. Finally, I think I find the piece and pull it out with a flourish. “Plus, my heat tore up again. This thing fell off, and I thought maybe you could—”
“It fell off?” he laughs. His amusement so clear that he doesn’t bother hiding it—in fact, he’s giving a full out belly laugh—only making me more nervous.
“Yes. I, uh, found it this morning and well…” He just keeps laughing making me more flustered. “So, I grabbed it, and since I was thinking about coming over and asking you to help me lose my virginity anyway…”
“You what?” he practically barks, making me jump.
Shit. What did I say?
My brain scrambles over everything and I… I couldn’t have. One look at Jack’s face confirms I did, however. I actually told Jack I was thinking about asking him to help me lose my virginity. We stare at one another in frozen, speechless silence. But my humiliation doesn’t end there. I look at the furnace part that I had ripped off this morning, that I’m holding out to Jack like an idiot. Only it’s not the furnace part. I can plainly see the pink wrapper of a tampon in my hand. Mortification fills me, but I’m apparently powerless to stuff it back into my purse. My gaze moves from it back to Jack. Over and over, I do that as if I’m caught in some horrible time loop. My mouth refuses to work and my heart pounds in my chest as everything I’ve just done replays in my head.
Forcing my body to move, I turn and make a run for it. I almost reach my car when Jack catches me by the arm.
“Brandi, come inside,” he says, pulling my body against him and refusing to let me fight to get loose. I take a deep breath, trying to ignore how sweet his voice sounds in my ear, or the strength and caring I can feel in his hold. I’m too embarrassed, and all I can do is shake my head no.
“I just want to go home now, Jack.” My face is burning. I’m so completely mortified. Jack turns me around, but I can’t force myself to look at him. He puts a finger under my chin and forces me to look up at him. I don’t see humor in his face now. I see… caring.
“There’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about, baby girl. Come inside and let's talk about it.” He guides me back toward the house by the arm, but I still try to resist.
“I'm worse than embarrassed, Jack! I asked you to take my virginity while holding a tampon out to you! How awful is that?”
Jack’s lips twitch as he tries to hold back his laughter. “I have to say it was a very unusual way to—”
“I just got mixed up. That's all,” I insist stubbornly. “The furnace thingy is still in my purse,” I grumble, stuffing the freaking tampon back in my bag, while silently cursing it.
“This thing fell off,” he laughs, unable to hold it back any longer.
I try to remember how horrified I was seconds earlier, but Jack is holding me. He wants me to go inside his house and has his arm around me, while holding me against his body. Because of that, I can’t seem to push him away. Instead, I roll my eyes.
“I mean, it’s certainly a memorable way to ask me to pop your cherry,” he jokes, barely holding onto his laughter.
“Oh, stop it. I could die of embarrassment!” I cry, stomping away from him and going into the house. I realize even as I’m doing it, that I should be going to my car. The truth is that I just don’t want to leave Jack.
“Brandi, I’m sorry,” he says, but he’s still laughing. At least I have comic reli
ef value, I guess.
I stand just inside his house, unable to move. The simple, manly décor takes my breath. Its beauty is beyond anything I expected from a solitary man living in the midst of a wilderness setting.
“Jack,” I exhale slowly, “this is gorgeous! The colors, the art, everything. It's just gorgeous.”
And it is. He’s woven dark wood and traditional male colors such as brown with an expert flare. Mixed in is my favorite hue of blue—the same exact color I used as an accent on my shop. I try not to take it as a sign that I feel this pull toward him for a reason. I also kind of fail.
“Sit down, and I’ll get you something to drink,” he says and suddenly his humor seems to be gone.
I nod nervously as he disappears into what I assume is the kitchen. A minute or so later, he brings me a glass of red wine.
“I know it's early, but this might help.” He hands me the glass and smiles, his eyes kind.
I nod, thinking it’s going to take a lot more than wine to help me at this point. And a heck of a lot more than one glass to build up my courage to tell Jack why I’m really here. I take a sip of the wine, then turn it up and drain the glass, before handing it back to him.
“More, please?”
He stares at me with an open mouth. “How about a little something to eat first?”
“I’m not that hungry,” I mutter, the thought of food making my stomach churn. With my luck, I’d probably vomit all over him or something. I push away the thought and give him a fake smile. Jack returns it with a more sincere one and then walks into the kitchen. “I really love your house Jack. I'm impressed with your decorating,” I call out.
“Thank you,” he calls from the kitchen. He walks back in holding out a fresh glass to me. “Here you go, but that's your last one. I don't need the town coming out to lynch me because I got the young, innocent virgin drunk and took advantage of her.”
I grin, thankful that the wine is giving me courage—and stopping me from praying to the powers that be to let the earth swallow me up.
