by Laura Burton
“I can’t tell him that! That’s so rude!”
I sighed. “Tell Gabby you already have plans, then.”
“Madden. People skills. And I don’t have any plans.”
“You do now.” She looked at me in confusion and I grinned. “Get your shoes on, sweets. You’re going out with me.”
Chapter Nine—Ellie
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
RE: stuff
I’m good with mysterious strangers, Plyr. There’s something…ironically revelatory about it, don’t you think?
Get the dog!
I’ve always wanted a pet. My parents didn’t like the idea of animals in the house, so I was never allowed to have one.
It’s kind of ironic that you bring pets up. My friend—yes, the one that kissed me—rescued me last night from a truly horrible date (think: karaoke and a me, myself, and I complex) with a story about my kitten. It was perfect, except I don’t have a kitten and I hate lying.
And as far as kissing him again…I don’t know. I don’t think he was really kissing me, kissing me, if you know what I mean. I think he did it because he felt sorry for me, and figured I needed a lesson.
Anyhoo. This is really random, but it’s that time of year, so maybe not. I’ve always had a fascination for school supplies. All the perfect-pointed colored pencils and clean notebooks just waiting to be filled. *full body gleeful shiver* Is that weird?
His emails arrived like clockwork every morning at seven a.m. I was already awake, ears tuned for the little ping announcing its arrival.
I kept hoping for one that said, ‘it’s me, Madden, Els,’ but so far he seemed to be clinging to this idea of anonymity in a way that both amused and frightened me. Why didn’t he want to reveal himself?
If I was honest with myself, though, I guessed I was nourishing the illusion that I didn’t know who the emails were from, either. I could pretend that he was mine. I could pretend that I was someone else.
“Get your shoes,” Madden was saying. “You do now.”
“I do?”
His insistence caught me off guard. He was usually pretty laid back, rocking the good old southern boy image to perfection, but he was almost agitated today.
Almost as if he cared.
Although he had said in that email I was pretending not to know he had sent that I shouldn’t have gone out with the guy if I didn’t want to. Maybe he hadn’t wanted me to, either?
I shrugged off the thought. Madden was only being protective. Like an older brother.
“So, what are my plans?” I asked, finishing with my laces.
“It’s a surprise,” Madden answered. “C’mon.”
I allowed him to tuck me into his vehicle, smiling when he slapped at my hands as I tried to adjust the radio. “My truck, my tunes,” he said, tuning XM to a classic vinyl station.
“All I heard was blah, blah, blah,” I teased. “Tell me where you’re taking me.”
“No.”
“Will I like it?”
He slanted a sideways glance at me. “Do you really think I’d surprise you with something unpleasant?”
“Some big brothers would,” I answered.
He made a choking sound. “Is that what I am to you? A big brother?”
I studied him carefully. Looking for the chinks. Searching for the truth. “Maybe? You’re over-protective and annoying, sweet and selfless. Like I imagine a big brother would be.”
As an only child, I never had the sibling experience. Madden was the closest thing I’d ever had to a brother—or at least, that’s what I’d been telling myself for the past twenty plus years. It didn’t explain why I begged him to kiss me when I was eight and he was ten, or account for my hopeless crush in high school.
It didn’t account for my reaction to his kiss the other day, that flush of warmth in my veins. No, sirree, that was not brotherly at all.
His senior relationship with Emily Schumacher had driven home to me more plainly than anything that he thought of me as a little sister, and nothing more. Maybe I’d been hasty, though. A little voice taunted me. Emily Schumacher was a lifetime ago.
He shifted in his seat and I heard him mumble something but couldn’t quite catch the words. My suspicious side thought it sounded something like screw that.
He looked over at me, and his next words, pitched low in a sensuous tone that was foreign to me, sent tingles up my spine. “I don’t want you to think of me as a brother, Els. Or even a friend.”
Warmth spread through me at the words and their potential meaning. Was it possible that now, after all these years, Madden was seeing me as a woman and not the annoying pest tagging along behind him?
I looked at him, strangely reluctant to voice the fragile hope unfurling inside me. The words came, anyway. “W-what, then?” I surprised myself with my boldness, even as I stuttered the question out.
“Just a man, Ellie.”
Flustered, I gazed out the window at the passing scenery until we finally pulled into a parking lot.
The animal shelter. I turned to Madden in bewilderment as he parked in front of the gray clapboard building. “What are we doing here?”
He smiled mysteriously and opened his door. “You coming?”
Inside the small building, he did not wait but nodded at the woman behind the counter and strode toward the back. I could tell he had been here before; he knew exactly where he was going. He stopped beside a small area that was partitioned by a half wall and peered over the side. “The gray one’s cute. But it’s your choice.”
I looked down and my heart squeezed. Kittens tottered around the compact space, swiping at each other's tails and mewing. I saw the gray one Madden had referred to, a little striped thing with a rotund belly.
“Ohhh...” I breathed. “Cuddle you, I must.”
Grasping Madden’s shoulder for balance, I climbed over the wall and carefully sat down amidst the little creatures. Not shy, they crawled into my lap, their mews interspersed with rumbling purrs.
I looked up at Madden, who stood next to the wall watching. “They’re so adorable! Are we getting one?”
A peculiar expression on his face, he nodded and reached down to scratch behind the ears of one trying to climb the wall. “Why not? I figured we’d make an honest woman out of you.”
“I’ve never had a pet,” I said, stroking the gray one. My parents didn’t like animals in the house, so never permitted a cat or dog.
“I’m aware,” Madden murmured. “I’m going to grab a litter box and some food. You make friends.”
Madden walked away and I sat and played until his return.
With school having recently started up again, I’d been more stressed than I’d realized. Teaching was a quick dive into the deep end: instant immersion in grading, planning, curriculum, meetings, and students who hadn’t yet figured out the sun did not revolve around them. I loved my job, but sitting here, doing nothing more than playing as kittens tumbled gracelessly over my legs... I wanted to cry. I needed this, and somehow, Madden knew it.
The shelter doubled as a pet store—convenient for people adopting. I caught glimpses of him as I sat, pulling an item off a shelf and tossing it in the cart before he disappeared around another corner.
I sighed and pulled my eyes back to the kittens, choosing one that was making biscuits on my leg to pick up and study. She was pale gray with a tiger-stripe pattern running through her fur and had an orange bib and socks. She had blue green eyes that stared curiously back at my own before she wriggled to get down. When I released her, she climbed up my leg and curled into a ball in my lap, settling into place as if she’d been there from day one.
“Guess you’re the one, then, hmm sweet thing?” I whispered the words and stroked her softly.
When Madden returned, holding a box full of supplies, I stood, kitten in hand.
“You decide?”
“Yes. She’s the one.” I held her up so he could see and after setting
the box on the floor took her from me, tucking her under his chin. She snuggled into him instantly and warmth expanded in my chest at the sight of his large, calloused hands holding the tiny animal with such gentleness.
“Aw, what a widdle itty-bitty sweetheart…”
He was cooing. He was actually cooing at the kitten. My ovaries sat up and took notice and I busied myself with investigating the supplies he’d collected. Litter box, check. Kitten chow, check.
“What’s her name?”
I slanted him a teasing look and climbed back over the barrier wall. “Cleopatra, of course.”
“Of course.”
Back in the truck, I settled Cleo in my lap while Madden piled the back with cat paraphernalia. I hadn’t looked at everything what he had gotten, but twisting, I saw kitten chow, a scratching post, a litter box, and a ridiculous number of toys.
“Good gravy, Madden. I think you went a little overboard.”
He climbed in beside me and started the engine. “Only the best for my girls.”
His girls? The kiss that I couldn’t forget raised a hand and waved. “Are you f-flirting with me, Madden?”
He drove with a masculine confidence that drew my eyes to the corded strength of his arms, the lazy sprawl of his legs. There was something so sexy about it and I couldn’t help watching. Without looking at me, he tipped his head the smallest amount in my direction. “Depends.” He paused. “What would you say if I said yes?” Although the question was casual, I saw the tension in his hand as it flexed on the steering wheel. My answer meant something, I realized, biting my lip. I took my time answering.
“I would say... it’s not something I’ve thought about.” His jaw ticced. “I hadn’t thought about a kitten, either, though. I—I’m open to novel experiences.”
Just like that, the tension flowed away, and he released a breath, looking across the cab to me for the first time since we started driving. With his right hand, he reached across and took my left, rubbing a finger over my knuckles. He replied with a single word, but it was weighted with meaning. With promise.
I had the thought that maybe that kiss really was a kiss.
“Good.”
Chapter Ten—Madden
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
RE: stuff; re: stuff
*laughing*
Umm, no. No fascination for school supplies. Not gonna lie, though, that’s kind of sexy in a weird way. I think I like weird, E. Or maybe I just have a thing for schoolteachers.
I do have a slight obsession with books, though, if that kind of obsession counts. I’ve read every Stephen King at least twice.
Which is fitting in view of your feelings about lying. He once wrote, “Only enemies speak the truth; friends and lovers lie endlessly.”
What do you think about that, E?
When we pulled into Ellie’s drive a couple of hours later, there was a car sitting there. Gavin the Great unfolded himself from its low-slung seat. As he took in the sight of Ellie with me, I saw his eye twitch.
He got the message, all right. He decided not to heed it.
“Gavin...” There was surprise in Ellie’s voice as she climbed out. “What are you doing here? It’s close to seven o’clock.”
The low tones of his reply floated to me as I followed. “I got worried when I didn’t hear from you. Thought I’d stop by. What have you been up to?”
Ellie glanced down at her furry handful. “I told you I had plans. I needed to take care of Cleo here.” Inwardly I smiled at her evasion and the red that crept into her cheeks to accompany it. She was a terrible liar.
“I’ll take this stuff in for you, Els.”
“Thanks, Madden.”
“So, Ellery, I thought maybe we could go grab a bite or coffee or something?” At the top of the steps I paused, listening.
“I’m not sure, Gavin. I have school tomorrow and it’s getting late.” She shook her head.
“I’d like a chance to apologize,” he persisted.
“There’s no need, honest… it was just rotten luck—”
“It would make me feel so much better. Please?” And then he pulled out the big guns, and I had to give him credit—I hadn’t realized the guy was that perceptive. “I’ve had my fingers crossed all day.”
Silence. I looked back in time to see Ellie bite her lip and nod slowly.
“Fine. Coffee only, though. Madden and I ate already, and I really do need to keep it short.”
Are you kidding me? I pushed on through the door and dropped everything on the kitchen floor. Needing to do something with my hands, I grabbed hold of the counter’s edge and stared out the window.
As Ellie had said, it was almost seven in the evening. The day was starting to walk that edge between dusk and evening. The light was gentling, turning more golden, limning the beach grass and the white picket fence at the back of the lawn in light. The beach was beautiful this time of day, free of the harsh noon sun, softened by deepening shadows.
Any man in his right mind would suggest a walk on the beach with a woman he wanted to romance. I had no doubt Gavin the Great will play that card.
I didn’t want her out there with him. I didn’t want her out there with anyone that wasn’t me. It was too romantic, and Ellie was too naïve where men were concerned, too oblivious to the signals guys had been shooting her way since she first developed boobs. She had no idea the number of dudes I’ve leveled that “get lost” expression at over the years.
I wish I was confident she could say no and mean it, but I’m not sure she had it in her. Ellie was a pleaser.
The worst thing, though? The thing that made my stomach knot? That she wouldn’t want to say no.
Ellie was thirty-one years old. Although she hadn’t said much, I felt sure she wanted a husband and family like most women her age. Biological clock and all. Could I blame her if she moved on without me? If my attempts were too little, too late?
There came the soft scuff of a shoe against the floor behind me and I tensed. Ellie. Her voice reached me, soft and hesitant.
“Are you mad at me?”
My head dropped and I took a moment to study my hands, clenched on the beveled edge of the counter, before pivoting to face Ellie. I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the counter as I spoke, keeping my voice even. “Why would I be mad, Ellie?”
There was a flash of something in her eyes—anger, maybe—but it was gone so fast I wondered if I imagined it. “That’s very passive aggressive of you, Madden.”
“Passive-aggressive? I’m trying my best to be patient here, kid. If I showed all my cards you’d run far and fast.”
“I’m not a kid.”
“Don’t I know it.” I pushed off the counter and invaded her space, eliciting a little squeak as she backed up into the doorframe behind her. I caged her in with my arms on either side of her, lowering my forehead to hers and closing my eyes. “You’re making me crazy, Els. I know you don’t have a clue you’re even doing it, but I can’t tell if I’m coming or going with you.”
Her hands raised and settled on my waist, the barest graze. Her fingers flexed, uncertain, and then, coming to a decision, she wound her arms fully around me. Her breath hitched and I could feel the fine tremble that coursed through her.
She was nervous.
I was, too.
Moving my hands to her face, I tilted her chin up until she met my eyes. The pupils in their whiskey center dilated, and she pulled away.
“H-he’s out there waiting for me,” she whispered. “I’m being rude.”
“Heaven forbid you be rude.”
Red spots bloomed on each of her cheeks, and her lips thinned. Despite my irritation, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Ellie was a beautiful woman. I’d known this for some time. Angry, she stole my breath. I wanted nothing more than to kiss her anger into submission.
“Go,” I said gruffly. “I’ll watch your cat.” I gave her my back, walking back to the sink and res
umed my stare out the window. For a moment there was only the sound of our breathing, hers uneven, agitated. Mine, deep and controlled.
Then, there was only the sound of her retreat.
Chapter Eleven—ELLIE
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
RE: honesty
Plyr87,
I think you have an intriguing view on honesty between friends and lovers.
While I love King, he’s a little disturbing. I’m more of a classics girl, myself. For instance: “you are sunlight through a window, which I stand in, warmed.” That’s Jessie Burton, The Miniaturist. How lovely is that? To know someone feels that for you...I think I could forgive many faults.
I’m probably boring you to death. I should talk about fishing or football or something similarly manly. Or I should giggle and bite my lip. Not that you can see me doing those things, but that’s what my friend told me I should do to be appealing to the opposite sex. So, you can imagine me giggling and biting my lip. And oh, I’m sure you have the most manly of shoulders.
Is it weird that I want to appeal to you?
This wasn’t right.
I sat beside Gavin in the sand as the sun began its descent into the ocean, listening as he talked about his plans to redecorate his Charleston condo. It was peaceful, pleasant, even if it was none too exciting. I didn’t need exciting, though.
I couldn’t shake the feeling—the knowledge—that I shouldn’t be here.
Gavin had apologized profusely for both the venue and his behavior on our previous date. He was nervous, he said, and when things looked to be getting awkward because of the terrible date spot his app had recommended, he hadn’t known how to salvage things.
“I can understand awkward,” I told him. “I’ve always been a bit of a weirdo.”
“No!” he exclaimed in mock horror.
I saw his mockery and raised it a quarter. “For sure. I’m superstitious—”
