by Aria Ford
Yes, I thought stiffly as I glanced at my face in my makeup mirror before getting out of the car. I was grown up now. I needed to grow up inside. My oval face, wide-lipped and big-eyed, had the slightest trace of smile lines at the corners of the eyes. It was time I forgot about teenage dreams.
I swiveled my legs to the side and swung them out of my BMW, hoping that my GPS brought me to the right place.
The place in question was a new mall—severe, minimalistic and stylish. It looked like the sort of place I would like. I drew a breath and put my best—high-heeled—foot forward, heading inside.
“LeBlanc,” I read the name above a beautiful shop window. In the window was a stunning dress—a sort of oyster-cream color with breezy layers of chiffon-light fabric, a slight fringe on the sleeves. It was really current. I decided I had to try it on.
The place was brand new—I was surprised it had even been open when Harper had visited. There was a technician working at the door, making some adjustments to the alarm, I guessed. I walked past him and he stared after me.
“Hi,” I said to the salesgirl, ignoring the hovering mechanic. “I’m looking for something for a party. And I really like the cream dress in the window. Can you make some recommendations, apart from that?”
She nodded. She showed me several really pretty dresses, but I had my hopes pinned on the cream one.
“Can I try them on?”
“Sure,” she beamed. She showed me the changing room.
I headed that way, stopping to pick up some accessories on the way in. A floaty scarf. A pair of high-heeled sandals with discreet sparkles on the buckle They might all match quite well.
In the changing room, I stepped back from the mirror, frowning at my reflection. The cream dress was slightly above knee-length, the neck low but with a chiffon layer making a pretty, demure collar. The sleeves were wide bell sleeves ending in soft fringes. The bust clung a little to my own full bust, the short skirt making my legs look really long. I frowned at my pale oval face above the neck, surprised by how innocent I looked in this dress. It was probably the little buttoned collar that did it, I decided. Even so, it was lovely.
“I’ll take it.”
I changed back into my slacks and blouse, noting with some surprise that the label was still in the slacks. I must have forgotten to cut it out. I shrugged. No reason not to do it later. I headed to the counter, card in hand, to make the purchase.
“Thanks. Have a nice evening!” the red-lipped salesgirl called out from behind me. I smiled at her over my shoulder and walked out.
Alarms, blaring and insistent. It sounded like the entire police force had just descended, sirens blaring. Except they hadn’t, of course. It was just the newly mended alarm on the shop door. Going off.
I closed my eyes, cheeks flushing bright with shame.
There I was, standing just outside of the stylish boutique, my purchases in hand, and I had set off the door alarm. Not good.
I groaned. I knew my rights. If I’d been still within the precincts of the store, there’d be no harm done. As it was, I was just outside. If I’d accidentally put something in my bag while I was in there—a scarf, say, or some earrings—it would be embarrassing.
It might also get legal.
I sighed, imagining what my dad would say. Imagine the scandal if I was arrested for shoplifting! To my dismay, I could just see a security official, heading my way. This really was all I needed.
I stood there, fishing through my handbag, trying to figure out what had happened, trying desperately to compose myself. Then it hit me. The slacks, I realized, relief washing through me like a tidal wave. The label was still in them! It must have activated the door alarm somehow.
I looked up, ready with an explanation. Then I stared.
It couldn’t be. Ten years would change a person more—wouldn’t they? I thought they would.
But the guy standing opposite me, a pistol at his side, hair cropped ruthlessly short, wearing a dark-brown uniform with some insignia on the front, looked almost exactly like Maddox.
He was staring at me too.
“Macy?” he breathed.
I stared back. “Maddox?”
It was him. It really was. After all this time. Almost ten years.
Then, to my amazement, he laughed. “It is you! Macy! It’s not possible…” He shook his head, laughing. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I managed shyly. I put my purchases down, mainly to give me something else to think about while I tried to collect myself. “I…this is a bit awkward. Isn’t it?”
He chuckled. Those caramel-dark eyes—I’d said they were the color of caramel one night when I lay in his arms and he’d kissed me, saying I was as sweet as syrup, so we matched well—danced.
“I guess so. I know you haven’t stolen anything.”
I giggled, feeling weak with all the emotions that surged through me. Relief, at the fact that my problem with the door was going to be so speedily resolved. Shock, at seeing him again. Amazement and a strange, growing warmth that was suffusing my chest and threatening to stop me breathing.
“I haven’t, no,” I added. We were on our own now—the interested parties who’d stared at us when the door had been making its racket had since dispersed—and I could explain myself.
“It’s the new door,” he said dismissively. “I wondered if that guy knew what he was doing. Probably made it too sensitive,” he added crossly.
I laughed. “Maddox Jefferson,” I said with mock seriousness. “You are supposed to check my bags, I think. We should follow protocol.”
The salesgirl was hovering behind us, I think even more embarrassed than I was, as Maddox went through my purchases.
He lifted out the dress. Was it my imagination, or was he assessing me, trying to guess what it would look like if I were wearing it? I blushed red and looked away as he put the bag down carefully beside me.
“Well, that’s all as it says on the receipt,” he said. Then he went pale. “I’m sorry, Ms. Trent. I have to examine your handbag.”
Oh. Somehow, handing my bag to Maddox to look through had an intimacy almost as bad as if we’d been undressed together. A handbag is a deeply personal thing, after all. So much of one’s identity is in there. I let him take it and spent my time studying the storefront, cheeks burning. Every now and again I glanced sideways at him, checking to see what he was doing.
He went through it briskly. I saw his big hands with their long, sensitive fingers probing the various compartments. He did it respectfully, and I felt as if his hands were touching my skin as they carefully filtered through my wallet, spare lipstick, traveling perfume. He frowned when he touched that and I smiled.
He knew me when I wore Gucci Rush. Now I wore something by Van Cleef and Arpels—more mature and classic. Strangely, the little frown that crossed his brow when he saw that—as if he remembered our conversation all those years ago when he’d wanted to buy me perfume, moved me almost to tears. I’d told him not to because I knew it was too expensive. He’d known I knew and he’d been upset. It had been one of the first awkward moments between us. Strange how I’d forgotten all about it over the years. The mind is a strange thing.
He cleared his throat, the sound drawing me back to the moment.
“All in order, ma’am,” he said. It came out sounding forced and stiff and he cleared his throat, clearly feeling uncomfortable. “Thank you,” he added.
“Not at all,” I commented. “Thank you. I guess we should explain to the saleswoman what happened?” I added, turning to face where she hung back, hovering somewhere at my left-hand side, mute with nerves.
“Sure,” he added. “Um, Doreen…it’s fine. There’s nothing in there. I guess it was the door. Get the guy in tomorrow to have it checked, maybe.”
“Sure,” she said. She beamed at him and I felt a stab of jealousy for how easily she could relate to him. He was a handsome guy and she was responding unconsciously. She wasn’t shut out on the wrong side of past baggage, like
I was.
“Okay,” I said, clearing my throat uncomfortably. “I suppose I should go now,” I added. I walked away from the door, heading to the exit with my back straight, head held high. I wasn’t going to let him see how just seeing him again had punched into me like a blow straight to the heart.
He stood where he was. Then, to my surprise, I heard footsteps coming after me.
“Macy? Wait!”
I turned. Looked up into his eyes. He was smiling, those caramel-dark eyes soft with tenderness. I bit my lip, wincing as the memories ate away at me.
“What?” I said. I had meant to snap at him, but the word came out softer than I had intended. I looked away, feeling my heart thumping away in my chest, wild with excitement.
“Macy, uh…it was good to see you again,” he said. His voice was low and soft and it played over all the sore places that were my most well-hidden traits.
“It was good to see you too,” I murmured.
I looked up into his eyes. He looked down into mine. His mouth lowered toward me, and it seemed so natural, so ordinary, to kiss.
I think we almost did it before the sound of a polishing machine brought us both back to the present.
“We should go,” I said, surprised at myself and how sore the thought of parting made my heart feel. I’d just found him again! How could I leave?
“It looks like the mall’s about to close,” he agreed, chuckling self-consciously.
“Mm,” I said, noting how most of the shops were already shutting their doors, a cleaner starting to work her way down the central hallway. The lights in some of the stores were already off, customers drifting through the doors before us.
“Macy,” he said softly. “It’s been so good to see you.”
I sighed. “You too.” I started to walk away, then closed my eyes, catching myself. “Are you working here long?” I asked.
“Next year or so,” he said with a shrug. “That’s the plan. It’s good,” he said. “Money’s not bad. And the social aspect.” He was looking at me when he said that, a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. I felt my heart dance as I looked into those mischievous eyes of his.
“I should go,” I said firmly. “See you around.”
“See you around,” he agreed. I made myself walk away. Step to the door. One foot, then another.
I turned around in the entranceway. He was where he’d been when I left, standing outside the boutique store, looking at the door. Staring after me. I swallowed hard.
“Maddox Jefferson,” I said under my breath. “I don’t know if I’m really mad right now, or really, really happy.”
I slid into my car and closed the door, putting my bags on the seat beside me. I leaned against the steering wheel and sighed. My heart was thumping, my body shivering. My toes tingled. In short, I felt alive.
More alive, I realized slowly as I turned the key to start up, than I had felt in a long, long time.
If I was honest with myself—something I always was—I had to admit it. I hadn’t felt this alive since I last saw Maddox Jefferson.
CHAPTER THREE
Maddox
I couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the night. It was just as well my shift ended at eight, or I would have been useless for anything. All the street gangs in LA could have wandered through the mall and I probably wouldn’t have noticed. My mind was filled with thoughts of her.
I drove home in a daze, my body tense with a sort of shaky longing I could barely control. It wasn’t like I’d been on my own for very long—about a month or two—but my loins ached as if I’d been craving release for ages.
At home, I left the car in the garage, running up the three flights of stairs to my apartment. I threw open the door and collapsed on my bed, still in my working uniform.
I can’t believe that even happened.
It still made no sense. As I lay there, contemplating the ceiling, my phone rang. I groaned. That must be Neville, my friend. I promised I’d tell him how the day went in the mall, my second shift there so far.
“Hi?”
“Hi!” Neville said. “How was it?”
“Um…I dunno,” I said. Stupid answer, really. But what was I supposed to tell him? I couldn’t exactly say; guess what? I just saw the girl of my dreams again after years and years since I walked out on her.
Just thinking about it like that made it sound strange.
He laughed. “That’s a bit weird,” he commented lightly. “Seriously, Jeffers. How was it?”
I sighed. “It was okay. Not demanding or anything. I felt a bit ridiculous,” I added, attempting at a laugh. “I mean, you try standing outside an underwear emporium with a gun at your hip.”
He whistled. “That sounds like a great job. I want to swap with you.”
I laughed. “It’s not like I get to see people trying on lingerie, Nev.”
“No,” he sighed. “I guess not. Pity, that. Anyway. You keen to come out?”
I shrugged. “Dunno, Neville,” I said wearily. “I got morning shift tomorrow. And I should catch up on sleep for the week…got another night shift on the weekend.”
“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. “That’s a pity. I had planned to go down to the pub. But not so much fun to go alone, I think.”
“No,” I commented. “I’ll tell you what. One drink. And then you chase me outta there. Okay?”
He laughed. “I’m not gonna chase you anywhere, Mr. Quarterback.”
I chuckled. “Look who’s talking.” Neville had been in the military for a few years and he was still built like someone I seriously wouldn’t want to mess with.
“I don’t think I’m that threatening,” Neville said primly. I laughed.
“You can’t fool me.”
He chuckled and hung up. Of all the people I’d known from my high-school years, Neville Drummond was the only guy I’d kept in touch with. There had been some sort of unifying factor between us. Besides the fact that we both had weird first names, we’d both been from different backgrounds than the rest of them. Neville’s dad had been a military guy who’d fallen on hard times and we’d grown up in similar neighborhoods. We were both physically strong and talented and were there on sports scholarships—he for track and me for football.
We’d both finished high school and gone on to other things—me to more football, him to the military. And we’d both found similar things to do with life after: Neville and I were both trainers in our spare time. I had a few personal clients that I took part time for outdoor workouts. Nev did it full time at the same place, Crossfield Gym.
I put on my coat and headed out into the night.
“Nev!” I greeted him as I walked into our favorite meeting place. I took a seat opposite him, and he grinned.
“Same as usual?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
We placed our order and chatted as we waited.
“How was work?”
“Not bad,” Neville said, rolling his eyes. “No more frustrating than usual. I wonder sometimes if I’m very bad at talking or other people are bad at listening.”
I chuckled. “Never figured that out either, Nev.”
He raised a brow at me, not sure if I was teasing. I was. He laughed. “Damn you,” he said affectionately. “Now, tell me the truth. Are you meeting babes on this new job of yours?”
I closed my eyes and wondered what I could say. “I did meet someone,” I said, deciding to be honest. I could do with someone’s honest advice about this anyhow.
“Oh?” His eyes lit up. “Who is she?”
I sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“Nothing is too complicated for two brains to solve,” he said loftily. Our beers arrived, and he thanked the waiter. He took a swig of his, grinning as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Tell me about it.”
I lifted my glass, studying the amber depths of the liquid as if it held all the answers. “Well,” I said after a wait, “don’t laugh, Nev, but I met her years ago already. She wa
s…special to me.”
“Oh?” Neville was watching me with interest, and he didn’t look like he was teasing. “You dated her, then?”
“I did,” I agreed. “Not for a long time, really.” It had been eight months which, for teens, is an inordinately long time.
“It’s not like these things can be counted in time.”
“True,” I said. “It’s funny,” I added, sighing. “I can’t get her out of my head.”
“Are you seeing her again?” he asked.
I shook my head. “You know what, Nev?”
“What?”
“I didn’t even have the guts to give her my number.”
He whistled. “That’s bad.”
I looked at him from under my brows. “Tell me about it.”
He laughed. “That’s bad,” he said again.
I huffed a sigh. “I didn’t mean actually tell me about it. I know already. I’m so dumb.” I was mad at myself, really mad. I still didn’t understand why I hadn’t just asked her if I could call her sometime. I guess because I wasn’t sure about anything anymore.
Would she even want to see me again?
Probably not.
