by Natalie Ann
Mallory never talked much about Trixie or her relationship with the older woman. Nothing more than it was a neighbor she met, and helped out or kept company now and again. Just keeping it simple.
“I’m not originally from Richmond. I moved there when I was ten, and only stayed about seven years. Not long enough to acquire an accent.”
She’d moved a lot in those ten years prior. Her father had climbed his way up at the national bank he’d worked for, each promotion resulting in a move. She and her mother happily went along.
Her mother had never needed to work, but enjoyed it. She’d loved sales and customer service. Mindy had always been outgoing and friendly—nothing at all like Mallory—and never had a problem finding a job if she wanted something to occupy her time.
The pharmaceutical rep position was the first full-time job her mother had that Mallory could remember. In the end, it was the job that stole her mother away.
“Learn something new every day,” Quinn said, happily.
That Quinn had made that many comments was surprising as it was. Mallory always suspected Quinn didn’t ask a lot of questions of Mallory because she didn’t want them asked of herself. It worked in both of their favors.
“What can I get you two to drink? Sorry, didn’t mean to get sidetracked,” Quinn asked, her pen ready.
“Water with lemon for me,” Mallory said.
“Same here,” Nick added.
“Do you know what you want to eat, or do you need a few minutes to look at the menu?”
“A few minutes,” Nick said.
Mallory watched Quinn walk away to get their drinks, and turned back to Nick.
“So where did you live before Richmond?” he asked.
“What?”
“We have to start somewhere, right? Why not there, before any of this happened?”
He understood she didn’t want to have any deep conversations in a public place and she appreciated that. “Lots of places. We moved five times, I think, before Richmond. I lived in Colorado, California, Utah, and North Carolina before moving to Virginia.”
“Moving with your dad’s job?”
“Yeah. It was nice to stay put for a while.” That was the first time she’d ever said that.
“Do you regret leaving?”
“No.”
She’d never regret leaving in the middle of the night. She might regret the way it happened, or what caused it to happen, but she would never regret the act of saving herself.
“Okay, I’ll change the subject. I won’t ask about your work, since you’d only be feeding me lies.”
She felt the heat immediately fill her face. Guess he still didn’t trust her. “Why do you say that?”
“Mallory Dexter is an insurance adjuster.”
“Oh,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Yeah. No use talking about that.” Quinn came back with their drinks and took their orders, then left them alone again. “Why don’t you tell me about NB Innovations.”
“What, you want me to put you to sleep?” he asked, smiling at her.
That smile again, the charming one she remembered from so long ago. The soft look in his eyes, the tender expression on his face that relaxed his jaw, and the honesty that she hadn’t seen from someone in longer than she could remember.
“I doubt you could do that. But I know quite a bit about it. I’ve followed your company.”
“Really?” he asked, surprised.
“Yeah. I’ve always followed you or your family when I could. Trixie talked about you guys, but not often, and I’ve always been afraid to ask.”
“So what do you want to know then? Seems anything you want to know about my company can be found online.”
“True. Maybe that’s a conversation for another time. How’s Rene?”
She missed her closest friend from childhood. Even though Rene was two years younger than her, they’d always gotten along so well.
“She’s good. Went back to school again. She’s finishing up her degree to be a physician’s assistant.”
“Rene?” Mallory asked, unable to believe what she was hearing.
“Yep. She’s still as nerdy as ever, and still as clueless at times, too. Book smart, that was always Rene. Whenever she wasn’t daydreaming about fairytales, that is.”
“I can’t believe it. I never would have expected that of her.”
“Says she found her calling. She loves every bit of it. We’ll see how she does when she’s actually dealing with patients and has to work fast on her feet and not just memorize stuff in books.”
“She’ll do well. You Cannons always do.”
“Cannons huh? You remember that?” The tender smile again, the one she’d fallen in love with as a teenager. The one that he always gave her after he made her laugh.
She’d always called them Cannon rather than Buchanan. He’d never known why at that time though.
She’d been so nervous when they all came over to her house to introduce themselves that she didn’t hear the first part of their last name. For months she thought their last name was Cannon. By the time someone corrected her, she’d gotten so used to saying it that she continued to as a joke. “I remember a lot of things.”
And some things she’d rather not.
Good Sign
Nick lay in bed staring at the ceiling, willing his mind to shut off and his eyes to drift shut. He’d been in that position for hours already. Nothing was going to relax his mind and he wasn’t sure why he was even trying at this point.
He and Mallory had eaten lunch and talked, but about nothing in general. Mundane topics, nothing of substance.
Part of him was frustrated, but the other part realized it was probably for the best. It was better that they start out as strangers. After all, they pretty much were at this point.
He was a bit surprised that Quinn seemed to be a friend of hers, someone who invited her out for drinks, since they almost seemed like strangers, too. Then he remembered Mallory had never had a lot of friends as a kid either.
She’d always spent most of her time with her parents…when her father was alive. Then afterward, she stayed close to home. Not in the yard having fun like she had before, not after her mother remarried, but staying home just the same.
He’d never known anyone that was as alone as much as Mallory. That was part of her charm though, that she didn’t need to be around people, that she always seemed happy alone with her own thoughts and books. Not many people could say that.
At one point toward the end of the lunch, he’d looked over at her. Her head was down, and she lifted her chin slightly, looking up at him under her lashes, then she tucked her hair behind her ear. A move she’d done so much as a teen. The shy glance, the nervous placement of her hair away from her cheek.
On another woman, now, it might have seemed like flirting, but on Mallory it was a deep memory full of longing. That shy vulnerable girl that appealed to him so much. The one that was so contradictory in her actions from her appearance.
She’d matured late in life, but when she did, she’d blossomed like no one he’d ever seen before. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one to take notice, even though she tried her hardest to hide it.
She’d never worn a lot of makeup or revealing clothing. Just clothing that fit her like it should. Nothing too tight, nothing too provocative, but you still saw the body she had under it all.
She’d always been tall and lean, slim even, but proportioned well. Long blonde hair, big bright blue eyes. Eyes that were piercing at times, they were so light. Like the sky on a beautiful summer day.
In the summertime there was often a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Just like now.
And innocence. That was what he remembered about her eyes. How she could look at you and make you want to protect her and want her like a man craving for his mate at the same time.
She was any boy’s walking fantasy—the girl that looked like a model, like a mature woman, yet was young and playful
, fun even at times. At least to those she was close to, which weren’t many.
His memories were making him feel uncomfortable, especially since he’d resigned himself to keeping things light today.
When lunch was done, he’d said, “If you aren’t in a hurry, how about a walk down Main Street? I need to replace the sunglasses that are now taking up residence at the bottom of the lake.”
“Sure. There are a few shops that have decent ones.”
“Is the sporting goods store still here?”
“Yeah. We can head that way first if you want.”
So they walked toward the opposite end of Main Street. Not that it was a long street, because it wasn’t.
Quaint, that was what many people would call it. Lots of shops with knickknacks for tourists and travelers mainly.
Inside the sporting goods store, he walked around, found the sunglasses and asked the clerk if the case could be unlocked. They didn’t have the same ones he’d lost, which would have been convenient if they did.
He reached in and grabbed a pair, then turned to her. “What do you think?”
She grinned. “I think bright orange isn’t your color.”
He wasn’t honestly going to buy them, but he wanted to make her laugh. She hadn’t laughed enough for him and he was missing it, trying to bring back anything of the girl he remembered. And her laugh was something he’d always loved hearing.
“Probably not.” He put them back and picked up a pair of thick black ones. “What about these?”
“Those make me think you need gooey white sunscreen on your nose.”
“Guess you’re right,” he said, his lips twitching.
She turned, leaned over the case and pulled a pair out, stood in front of him, and placed them on his face. Then she reached forward to adjust the frames a bit more with her fingertips, and stood back to admire the way they looked. The move was almost possessive and he liked the way it made him feel. “These remind me of Top Gun. More your style anyway.”
He looked in the mirror the clerk had pulled out and decided they looked good himself. “Then I’ll take these. Anything you need while we’re in here?”
“No. I’m all set.”
He purchased the sunglasses, put them on, and placed the empty case in the bag. As they walked out of the store, he said, “Where to?”
“Wherever you want.”
It’d been a while since he’d been down Main Street. He’d never had a need for knickknacks when he visited, or anything else at this end of the street.
“Popcorn,” he said, seeing the shop. That was one thing he remembered as a kid, and one thing he was suddenly craving.
His parents always brought home flavored popcorn when he visited here as kid. A childhood memory was something he desperately needed right now.
Together they crossed the street and made their way to the shop. When he opened the door he was assaulted with the scent of butter and sweetness, chocolate, and even coffee. A little bit of everything. He browsed around the shop at the different flavors, trying to decide on what he wanted. “What are you in the mood for?”
“Oh, I thought you wanted it?”
“I do, but it’s no fun to eat popcorn alone. What’s your poison?”
“Poison, huh? Makes me want to dive right in when you phrase it like that.” Her eyes seemed lighter now, almost glowing. She looked around at the different flavors and pointed to the bright pink and blue one. “Cotton candy.”
“That’s a little gross,” he said, wrinkling his nose.
She punched his arm playfully. “You said it was my choice. If I’m going to eat popcorn I might as well get a funky flavor. I can eat buttered popcorn anytime I want. I can even add chocolate to it at home easy enough.”
“True. Well, I’m going to be boring and get the rocky road. I suppose I could just add marshmallows and chocolate to it at home too, but I’m too lazy.”
He bought their popcorn and they exited, neither of them eating it at the moment. It would have melted in their hands and made a mess anyway; better to hold off until they were back at her place.
Quietly they walked down the sidewalk, skirting other people, some runners and some bikers. He never understood the appeal for vacationers to run or bike on such a busy street when others were strolling along.
His hand kept brushing hers, not on purpose, but it was hard when they had to move in close to each other with so much traffic.
The next time their hands grazed each other, he slipped his fingers around hers, then intertwined them. She seemed surprised at first, but didn’t pull away. He took that as a good sign.
He’d been itching to touch her since he first saw her and finally found a way to do it. It was all still there, every feeling he’d had before. Every nerve ending sizzling in his fingers up to his arms and into his chest. The thrill of knowing she was next to him, that he was touching her and it was real. It wasn’t just in his dreams anymore.
Sighing deeply, Nick turned now to look at the clock in his bedroom. None of the thoughts of today or the entire time he’d been here were helping him sleep.
His eyes landed on his wallet on the nightstand. He reached for it and stopped. No need to open it up. He knew what was in there. He’d looked at it enough times and it wasn’t going anywhere.
Dropping his hand down, he threw the covers back and put his bare feet on the floor. He’d go get a drink. Maybe walking downstairs would tire him out enough to fall asleep.
Silently making his way to the kitchen, he grabbed a glass and turned on the faucet.
Once his glass was empty, he put it in the sink and looked out the window toward the lake. Someone was kayaking. Moving quickly, but quietly, just gliding seamlessly with a purpose in mind.
He walked forward and unlocked the back door, then stepped out on the deck, mindless of the fact he was only in his boxers. No one could see him this far away from the water. Not unless they were looking, and why would they be in the middle of the night with no lights on in the house drawing their attention?
The air felt hot and sticky on his skin and he immediately missed the artificial coolness of the air conditioning.
But there was something almost freeing about standing outside in his underwear under the stars, in the peace and quiet of the lake, and knowing no one could see him. That no one knew he was there, or what turmoil was filling his soul.
He moved to the lounge chair, sat down and leaned back, looking around. He must have dozed off, because suddenly he was sitting up, his heart beating loud enough he swore he could hear it, the eerie feeling that he was being watched. He looked around some more, but didn’t see anyone or hear anything. Must be his imagination.
Standing up, he walked in the house, made his way back to his room and climbed into bed, this time closing his eyes and relaxing into sleep.
Right Decision
It seemed like Nick had just fallen asleep when he heard his phone go off.
Blindly, he reached his hand over toward the nightstand and just started patting around until it landed on his phone. Bringing it close to his face, he opened one eye to see his father calling. “Yeah.”
“Nick?” he heard his father ask, sounding mildly confused.
“Yeah,” he said again, clearing his throat. “Sorry.”
“Did I wake you?”
More confusing sounds from his father. Turning his head, Nick looked at the clock and saw it was almost nine in the morning. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept that late.
Always up at the crack of dawn, sleeping was never anything he thought of doing unless he was sick. Too much work to do, too many responsibilities, and too many bad dreams. “Guess so.”
“The mountain air must be good for you.”
“Something like that,” he mumbled. If his father only knew, Nick thought. No matter how much Nick wanted to confide in his father, he wouldn’t. He’d keep his word to Mallory.
“Getting a lot accomplished?” his father asked.
“Actually I am.” With the exception of yesterday, but he didn’t add that. For the first time in a long time he hadn’t gotten any work done at all, hadn’t even thought about work, and that stunned him to realize it.
“I’m surprised your grandmother is letting you work so hard,” his father said, laughing on the other line.
“Not too hard,” Nick grumbled.
Nope, his grandmother was keeping a keen eye on him. He never seemed to work for more than a few hours when she was around. It didn’t matter where he was—his room, the living room, the deck—she’d find him and interrupt him, then bring him a snack and tell him to get up and stretch his legs, to give his brain a break.
The first time she told him to take a break he started to balk, until she raised an eyebrow at him…sharp and serious. He felt like a child again and refused to argue with her. Instead he did what she said. Surprisingly, when he returned to his laptop he was more productive.
“I didn’t think she’d let you get away with too much.”
Tired of the small talk when he was half awake, he asked, “Is everything okay at work?”
“Yes. No problems.”
“Then why did you call?” Nick asked, sitting up and putting his shoulders against the headboard.
“Do I need a reason to call my son?”
Nick laughed lightly. “I guess not.”
“So tell me what you’re working on.”
Nick smothered a yawn and proceeded to tell his father about the new program he was working on. Not that his father wasn’t aware of it, because he was aware of most things going on right now, but Nick never talked about specifics like he did this morning.
“It’s coming along. I haven’t hit any snags yet, but I’m sure I will. The goal is to make life easier for those that are caring for loved ones.”
“I’m still in awe over what you do. Creating software at all. Me, I don’t know the first thing about all those letters and numbers on the screen when I see you working. What made you go in this direction? How are you even doing it with so many diseases and illnesses out there?”
