Glazed

by Ranae Rose

  “Can I help you?” A receptionist looked up from desk, eyes narrowed over the rims of her glasses.

  Derek responded with a sharp look of his own. “I’m Derek Kerr, and I want to speak with whoever’s in charge here. Immediately.”

  She seemed surprised when Derek first identified himself, but that quickly faded to a look of agitation. “Have a seat.”

  Derek remained standing. Kelly stayed at his side, ignoring the small collection of mismatched plastic chairs that’d been shoved against one wall. The receptionist disappeared down the nearby hallway and into an office, presumably to announce Derek’s presence.

  “Mr. McGuire will see you now,” she said when she returned a few moments later.

  Kelly followed Derek down the hall and through an open door into Mr. McGuire’s office. Inside, they discovered a middle-aged man sitting behind a desk that featured a small brass plaque stamped with ‘editor in chief’. Kelly narrowed her eyes at the engraved title, wondering just what kind of man would slander one of the relatively few local businessmen Blue Mills had for the sake of earning a few bucks off an unfair scandal.

  “Mr. Kerr,” McGuire said, extending a hand across the desk.

  Derek didn’t take it, but plunged immediately into the heart of the matter. “I’m here because of the article you ran about me.”

  McGuire withdrew his hand slowly, a frown spreading across his face.

  “The article was absolutely ridiculous!” Kelly exclaimed, since McGuire appeared to be having a difficult time determining what to say.

  “It’s news,” McGuire replied, turning his palms up in a plaintive gesture.

  “It’s sensationalistic, inaccurate news,” Kelly snapped. She’d brought a copy of the paper along and she raised it now, reading a passage from the article aloud. “Some have suggested that Mr. Kerr was fleeing a romantic spat when the picture was taken, or perhaps just enjoying the novelty of public nudity.” She peered over the top of the paper, narrowing her eyes at the editor. “Who suggested that, one of the protesters from the First Baptist Church of Blue Mills?”

  McGuire shifted in his seat in a way that lent credence to Kelly’s suggestion. “I’m not sure. I didn’t write the article.”

  “But you published it,” Derek said, placing a hand on Kelly’s shoulder as if to calm her, “and by doing so you’ve threatened my business – my livelihood, as well as my employees’.”

  “Well,” McGuire snapped, “may I suggest that you refrain from running nude through the streets if having people find out about it bothers you so much?”

  “I never would have done so on purpose,” Derek said coldly, launching into an explanation of how someone had stolen his duffel bag that night at the gym, leaving him bereft of his clothing and truck keys. “My towel slipped at one point,” he concluded, “and it just so happened that someone snapped a photo without my knowledge at that very moment.”

  McGuire had gone slightly red. Was he beginning to feel embarrassed over the purposely misleading article he’d published? Banking on the hope that he was, Kelly employed her next argument. “And you had no right to use that photo.”

  McGuire’s brow furrowed, and he shot her a challenging look. “We had just as much right as anyone else to use it.”

  “No one had the right to use it,” she countered, “that photo is property of the photographer.”

  “The photographer spread it all around town and the internet,” McGuire retorted. “We didn’t do anything he or she hadn’t already done.”

  “How do you know? You didn’t get the photographer’s permission to use the image.”

  “We don’t know who the photographer was.”

  “It was me.”

  McGuire’s eyes bulged. “You took the photo and you’re here complaining?”

  She nodded. “I never meant for it to be spread around town or posted on the internet. It wasn’t me who did those things. And you most certainly don’t have my permission to use my personal photo of my boyfriend.”

  McGuire was loosening his tie now, his face gone distinctly red. “You should be more careful with your ‘personal photos’.”

  “And you should think twice before publishing a nude photo of someone that was taken by a lover.” No need to mention that she and Derek hadn’t been together at the time.

  “Maybe so,” McGuire conceded, sighing and resting his elbows on his desk. “The protesters have been at our throats about it all morning. I thought they’d be happy with the article, since they’re the ones who’ve been raising such a stink over it. But they’re livid that we included the photo, even with the censoring.”

  “Looks like you made a mistake,” Derek said tersely.

  McGuire shrugged. “Hindsight is twenty-twenty, but it’s already gone to print and been spread around town. The church is boycotting the paper now too.”

  “So what are you going to do about it?” Derek asked.

  “Well, we won’t print the photo again, I can tell you that.”

  Kelly cleared her throat. “Don’t you think you should print an apology?”

  McGuire looked helplessly from side to side. “I guess we could manage something along those lines.”

  “Not something,” Derek said, “a front page story, retracting all of your previous insinuations and explaining the truth.”

  McGuire appeared in danger of offering a rebuttal, so Kelly cut in. “Anything less and I’ll make it very clear to the people of Blue Mills that the Times published unauthorized copies of a couple’s intimate photo.” She considered asking him what he thought the church would think of that, but it was clear that the wheels in his mind were turning just fine on their own.

  “Alright,” McGuire agreed, looking as if he’d swallowed a lemon whole.

  ****

  “I have a surprise for you,” Kelly said, smiling into her phone. It’d been almost two weeks since she and Derek had confronted the Blue Mills Times.

  “What a coincidence,” Derek replied from the other end of the connection. “I have a surprise for you too.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Sure. You’re working the evening shift at the steakhouse tonight, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So can you meet me at the shop sometime before then?”

  “Sure. When?”

  “The sooner the better.”

  “In that case, I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”

  Kelly picked up the cardboard box she’d set on her coffee table, snatched her purse and headed for the door, suppressing a giggle. Whatever Derek had in store for her, she didn’t think she’d be as surprised as he would when he saw the contents of the box. Although she was curious about what he had planned for her. She’d always loved a good surprise, and happily savored ten minutes of mystery and wondering as she drove across town, the cardboard box riding in the passenger seat beside her.

  “Is that my surprise?” Derek asked, smiling at her as he turned from a bowl of batter to greet her as she strode in through the donut house’s back door, the box in her arms.

  “It is. Do you want to go first?”

  “No,” he said, eyeing the box appraisingly. “We’ve got to leave the shop for your surprise, so why don’t you go ahead and show me mine?”

  Leave the shop? Kelly’s curiosity spiked. Would Derek’s surprise upstage hers? There was only one way to find out. “Ok,” she said, “you know how I texted your infamous photo to my best friend Amanda?”

  His face split in a wry grin. “How could I forget?”

  “Well, Amanda felt bad about spreading the photo around and causing you so much trouble. She wanted to do something for your business to try to make up for the scandal, and she’s a graphic designer. So…” Kelly opened the box, reached in and pulled out something soft and black.

  The T-shirt unfurled as she held it by its shoulders, displaying the front graphic to Derek. It featured the silhouette of a running man, clearly muscular and with a towel fluttering around his h
ips. Below, the words ‘I like mine glazed’ had been emblazoned. Derek’s mouth trembled, whether on the verge of speech, laughter or an indignant comment, she wasn’t sure. Hastily, she dropped the shirt back into the box and pulled out a second one. This one had the same running-man silhouette, but it was sprinting toward a building with a large sign that read ‘Blue Mills Donut House’. The slogan below said ‘When craving strikes…’ Both shirts featured words ‘Blue Mills Donut House, Blue Mills, Maryland’ on the back.

  “Oh God,” he said. “This is how she helps?”

  Kelly grinned. “They’re hilarious. They’ll be a hit. You can sell them here at the shop. And look, there’s a pink version of the ‘I like mine glazed’, just for women.”

  “I am not selling those,” he protested, glaring at the pink baby doll cut tee.

  “One more thing,” she said, ignoring him and reaching into the box again.

  “What’s this?” he asked, staring down at the thick envelope she’d handed him.

  “That’s the cash from the shirts Amanda’s already sold.”

  His dark eyes bulged and his jaw went slightly slack. “What?”

  “This is actually the last of the pinks,” she said, waving the shirt. “I think your fan club girls bought them all up. I’ll have Amanda place an order for more.”

  He tossed the envelope of cash onto the counter, shot it a wary look and turned to Kelly. “Time for your surprise now.”

  She started toward Derek’s truck when they stepped out the bakery’s backdoor and into the parking lot, but he laid a hand on her arm to stop her. “It’s only a short walk from here.”

  She let him guide her in the opposite direction, toward the sidewalk, bubbling with anticipation. She’d been racking her mind for possibilities as to what his surprise might be, but hadn’t been able to come up with much. It was close to noon. Was he taking somewhere to lunch? That didn’t seem likely, but it was the best she’d been able to come up with.

  “Here it is.”

  She stared around, perplexed. They were standing on the sidewalk, only a couple yards from the bakery. There was nothing out of the ordinary in sight. “Here what is?”

  He fixed her with one of his sexy smiles and waved an arm in indication. “Your new building.”

  Her heart leapt, and she turned slowly to stare at the empty storefront Derek was facing. It was directly next to his, and nearly identical to it, with its brick front and large display windows. She had a vague memory of it once being an antique shop, though that had closed a year ago, at least. “My new building?”

  “I bought it. It’s yours, for your café.”

  Her head spun, and for a moment she was afraid she’d collapse onto the sidewalk in paroxysms of giddy, incredulous shock. “You bought it? For my café? You mean you’ll rent it to me?”

  He shook his head. “No rent necessary.”

  She gasped. “Derek, I can’t accept that! This building must’ve cost a small fortune.” Though it hadn’t been used in a year, it was in excellent condition, and the location was fabulous, as far as Blue Mills real estate went.

  “Well I guess I could rent it to you, if you really want me to. But I think I’ve got a better idea.”

  She waited for him to continue, too overwhelmed to say anything.

  “I was thinking we could knock down the wall between the two buildings to make a combined donut and premium coffee house.”

  She gaped at him, stunned.

  “All I serve now is the plain stuff I brew on the coffee maker,” he continued. “I think my customers would love your gourmet coffee products. What do you think?” For the first time, a shadow of doubt showed in his eyes. “Is going into business with me something that appeals to you, Kelly?”

  “Yes!” she cried, throwing her arms around him. Doing so proved to be a smart decision, as her knees went suddenly weak. “It’s the best idea I’ve ever heard.”

  He beamed down at her. “Then I guess there’s only one question left.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Are you going to have your friend make promotional T-shirts with your naked silhouette on them?” He reached down and gave her rear end a quick squeeze. “I can see it now – ‘I like mine strawberry glazed’.”

  She laughed. “I don’t think so!”

  “Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be the first in line to buy one.”

  About the Author

  Ranae Rose lives on the US East Coast and is an avid reader and writer who can’t resist a good love story, and the hotter the better. To learn more about Ranae and her books, please visit: www.ranaerose.com

  Ranae loves to hear from readers! She can be reached at: contact@ranaerose.com

  Connect with Ranae on Twitter: Ranae_Rose