Or take The Outsiders, for example. S.E. Hinton wrote a great story about boys being boys and growing up in different social standings than other kids. That’s a classic, because there was definite truth to his story no matter where you grew up. There would always be cliques and people who thought they were better than other people.
It was getting closer to evening, when Marilyn's phone rang. Tyler! She hesitated ... "Hello?"
"Hey Mar, what’s up?"
"Not much, just at the store. What about you?" she asked.
"I’m just down the street, I'll pop in. See you in a second."
Great, Marilyn stared at her phone flashing the call-ended button.
A minute later, Tyler came knocking on the front door. She let him in.
"Hey, you look stunning as ever."
She looked down at her purple halter top and black skirt. "Thanks!" He leaned in and kissed her cheek.
"What are you doing here?"
Unlike his normal demeanor, he instantly became defensive, "What? I can't come and see you anymore? Just because you're seeing my business partner it means we can't be friends?"
Marilyn blinked, "Not at all. That's not what I was getting at and you know it. I was just curious what you wanted when you called. I said nothing about not being friends. Ever."
"Don't act so snobby then, Marilyn. I had a feeling that once you started seeing Blake you'd turn into a royal bitch and you have, haven't you?" He stepped closer to her. She took a step backward.
"Fuck you, Tyler. What is your problem? Are you jealous?" Marilyn couldn't believe he was acting this way. Was this all about her seeing Blake? Were she and Blake seeing each other for all intents and purposes?
"I’m not jealous of Blake, Marilyn. Are you fucking him?"
Tyler had a mean look in his eyes that she had never seen before. One that conveyed jealousy despite what he said. She was starting to get nervous. Would he hurt her? A week ago she would have said no, never! But now, looking at him inching closer and closer toward her, she wasn't so sure.
"Don't tell me he’s already gotten into your pants?” He reached out and grabbed her arm.
"Tyler knock it off! What the hell? That is none of your business. Let go of my arm, you're hurting me!" She pulled her arm from his grasp, noticing the fingerprints he left behind.
"Get out! I don' know what has gotten into, but leave!" She pointed angrily towards the door.
His mood changed in an instant. He backed off. He gave Marilyn a look she couldn't quite decipher and turned on his heel and left. She was quite shaken up. What was he thinking? He had never made her feel more nervous in her life. When he grabbed her arm, she wasn't sure what he was going to do to her. Asking her those kinds of questions about her and Blake, she was utterly appalled. The best thing to do was avoid him, she thought. Great, how was she going to do that when he co-owned the brewery with Blake? Never go to the brewery again?
At that moment, her phone pinged with an incoming text.
She laughed at his silly pick-up line and put her fingertips to the screen.
Marilyn smiled at her phone. He was a character, she thought. True to his word, a minute later there was a soft knock on her door. Still holding her phone she looked up and was happy, and relieved, to see Blake's twinkling green eyes looking in at her.
As always, he took her breath away. Wearing his tan cargo shorts paired with a black collared shirt he looked like a man of many talents. Seeing him standing on the other side of the glass gave her strange butterflies in her stomach. She had to admit it was somewhat erotic. He was giving her that look that she had come to enjoy - the look that gave her the impression that he was thinking the same thing she was. Which in this case was that he was absolutely gorgeous. His shirt stretched slightly over his chest, making his robust muscles stand out.
He was wearing a hat today - a black one with the home state's baseball team logo standing out in small letters on the front. It was such a contrast to the white hat she had seen him in, that she continued to gaze at him through the window, long enough that Blake cocked his head to the left and got that sexy-as-hell lopsided grin on his face. While she ogled him, he did the same to her in return.
She was wearing a black skirt that hugged her hips perfectly. From ten feet and a sheet of glass away he could make out the curves of her legs and where they met her hips, running up to her abdomen. What he would give to run his hands all over her sleek body - no doubt soft as a newborn baby.
Marilyn walked up to the window and unlocked the key, all the while keeping her eyes on Blake. She felt so incredibly sexy at that moment - standing behind the glass, with his eyes noticeably roaming over her body, whilst appreciating his body in return and never breaking eye contact. It was a little much for her. She idly wondered how much longer her body would be able to hold out before it caved into his. Literally and figuratively, she thought.
The slight breeze helped push the door open into the store and with it came the scent of Blake. All male, all powerful, mixed with cologne and all too sexy as hell.
"Hey, Angel. As much as I enjoyed watching you through that window, I was dying to get my hands on you. Come here."
She went without hesitation, into his arms. She needed this, she realized. After her encounter with Tyler, she was a little frightened, she had to admit. It felt good to be able to walk into another man's arms and know that she could trust him. She felt safe in his arms, comforted. She felt like for once in her life, there would be someone else there to help her with her problems - someone she could lean on and ask for advice.
She knew she was getting carried away; it’s not like they were even exclusively an item yet. But she couldn't help what her heart was feeling. As everyone knew, hearts had a mind of their own when it came to feelings.
"It feels good to be here." She told him with her head resting on his chest, breathing in his scent.
From the sound in her voice, Blake instantly went on alert. She didn’t sound right, not quite like her happy-go-lucky self.
"What's the matter?"
He pulled back and lifted up her chin, toward his face. Searching her brown eyes, he noticed how the lighting highlighted her green flecks, making her eyes hazel. They definitely looked sad, he noticed.
She hesitated to say anything to him about her encounter with Tyler. First of all, she had known Tyler for a long time and would be surprised if what happened today would ever happen again. That was a first and he never, ever was that harsh and vulgar with her so she didn't want to cause a scene. Second of all, he and Blake were now business partners and that would make for an awkward situation! So she did what she thought was best for all and, hedged.
"Nothing. Tyler stopped by for no reason really. But he isn't really happy with you and I being together. Which I don't exactly know if we're together, but he made it very clear he doesn't like it. Which, for a while there I thought he accepted it. But what was there to tell him because I do not even know what is happening between us."
Oh boy, there she goes rambling on again. She hated when she did that. She did it mostly when she was nervous. Her eyes were darting back and forth between Blake and the Sci-Fi bookshelf; she hated being nervous! She felt like it made her look weak, lacking in confidence, and a business owner couldn't be uncertain.
"Angel, slow down. I guess I've been messing this up since the beginning, haven't I?"
Marilyn looked confused.
"I want to be with you. Do you want to be with me?" he whispered.
He looked so seductive, his head was cocked to the side, his - Wait, he wanted to be with her? He actually did!
"Yes," she didn't hesitate.
"Then it’s settled. You and I are together. Just you and me. No one else. I should have said this a week ago." Blake smiled a megawatt grin, showing off his teeth and his come-hither dimples. He seemed relieved. Had he been nervous, she wondered? Men like him who were confident, seemingly on top of the world, how could he be nervous over a little topic li
ke that? Maybe she was reading too much into it.
Blake couldn't remember the last time he actually asked a female out. It had to have been his senior year in high school when he asked Amy Van Hogan to go with him to the prom. It was guy's choice and that meant a guy had to ask the girl. He hated that. He was so used to females coming after him that it was awkward to find one he truly wanted to ask out. One that fit his bill, he supposed. So he ended up asking Amy because she was beautiful and extremely shy and had a good head on her shoulders. They never ran around in the same circles, had never dated and never really talked before the prom. But he never heard gossip about her like he had all the other high school girls so he figured she was a good choice.
He had done all the obligatory things for prom - rent a tux, a limo, buy the corsage and take her to dinner. They had had a really great time. In fact, they were still friends.
But boy, asking Marilyn to be with him just now, made his palms sweat. Which he didn't quite understand because he was a man of war. He had spent his fair share of time fighting and with that came all the horrible and gruesome realities that no one talked about and he actually dealt with that fine. How could asking Marilyn if she wanted to be with him make him so nervous?
Marilyn brought him back to the present.
"I was just doing some minor work if you'd rather leave and go somewhere else, I can close everything up in just a second."
"No, its fine. I don't mind staying here for a while. I have time. Would you like me to help you with something?"
"Truthfully, there isn't much to do. I was here inputting books and then Tyler showed up and now you and with you here it’s not like I can concentrate," she waved her hand in the air.
In a split second, she felt Blake's body pressed up against her backside. His arms came around her middle, "You can't concentrate with me around? Why's that Angel?"
Some perverse part of him took pleasure in watching her blush and get flustered when it came to sexual energy between the two of them. She could feel his breath up against her ear, barely feel his lips touching it. She shivered. How could this man with a body worthy of applause be into her? Was it really possible? She turned and faced him.
Smiling, she said, "Come on...with you looking the way you do, all...enticing, how could I concentrate on anything? Is it just me that you have this effect on or do women throw themselves at you on a daily basis?" She was blushing, she could feel the heat in her cheeks. "You know, never mind. Don't answer that, I am positive that you do."
Blake laughed, "You are the only one I care about. The only one that makes me think beyond today."
He lowered his head to hers and kissed her fervently. Her arms came up around his neck, her thumbs skimming his neckline just where his hair ended. He gently pushed her up against the nearest bookshelf - Romance, she knew by heart, knew with her eyes closed. Fitting, she thought. So fitting.
He caressed her lower back, thinking what type of panties, if any, she was wearing underneath. He'd give his left arm just to know what color they were. His hands slowly traveled south and she didn't stop him. His hands cupped each butt cheek, gently pulling them apart.
Marilyn let out a moan. God that felt good. She absolutely didn't mind his hands roaming freely over her body, over her butt. She didn't mind his tongue licking her lips, mingling with her tongue, trapping it inside his mouth with his lips.
She could feel how hard he was between the small amount of fabric that kept them apart. Aside from her flimsy skirt, all she, or he, would have to do was pull her suddenly constricting panties away from her needy body and she would be putty in his hands. With her eyes closed, she silently wished him to do that. Oh please, Blake, touch me please, she moaned again. He pulled back far enough from her mouth that she opened her eyes. Stormy emerald eyes bored into hers.
It was a moment of truth. Was she going to let him do what he wanted or was she going to pull away? Her stormy hazel eyes stared back at him, "Don't stop, Blake. Touch me, please." Whatever thoughts he or she may have had only moments ago, were gone. It was just him and her, both burning with a desire and passion that neither had ever felt before. The chemistry they felt every time they were around each other was finally coming together.
Her lips were flushed from his kisses. He kissed the corner of her lips, moving to her cheek, nuzzling down to her neck. His hands came up beneath her black skirt, pushing her buttocks up against the shelf where she was awkwardly perched on the edge. He stood between her legs, holding her up with no effort.
His right hand skimmed the inside of her thigh, moving up to the vee between her legs. Ahh, yes, she was wearing panties. Soft ones. Cotton, he guessed. He pushed her skirt up her legs, moving it out of the way. White cotton panties. How was that such a turn on for him? His vixen, who had naughty thoughts and did naughty things with him (hello, bookshelf!) was wearing the proverbial white panties? She killed him, slowly she was turning his strong soldier stance into that of a begging puppy. Begging for her. How had she managed that when he was able to resist every other woman?
He rubbed the hard nub that outlined her panties. She was ready - her clit was hard and protruding. She didn't know this and Blake hadn't until that moment, but there was no way he could take her here. The gentleman in him couldn't do it. She deserved better than this. Better than a wham-bam in her store. Hell, Blake could give her better than this. He wanted to.
He continued to rub her there, never allowing skin to skin contact. His mouth darted back and forth between her lips and ears and neck as she squirmed beneath him. She was getting close, he knew. Her fingers dug into his back. He reveled in the feel of her getting close to orgasm.
Her head fell back, hitting the shelf behind her and she cried out in pleasure. Her body became slack and he continued to hold her up.
"Did you like that Angel?" he whispered in her ear.
Not opening her eyes, she responded with a meek yes.
He carried her to her couch in the back room and laid her down, making sure she was covered modestly. Her eyes kept drifting open, watching him.
"Don't go," she managed to mumble.
"I'm not going anywhere, Beautiful." And he snuggled down beside her.
Chapter Fifteen
Blake went into work the next morning, first working in his office, as was always the case. He liked to read the Wall Street Journal, respond to any emails and listen to any voicemails from the brewery's direct line. Since he had stayed with Marilyn most of the night at the bookstore, he got there earlier than usual. Which he enjoyed. It was quiet. He got work done.
There was a voicemail from Jim with the Sherriff’s office asking him to return his call. Blake did just that. Curious as to what, if any, news the man had about the delivery truck. It'd been a week now since Blake last heard anything from him.
He punched in the number and Jim came on the line.
"Hey Jim, Blake Bryant here returning your call. How are you doing?"
"Blake. Doing well," he was a no nonsense man, he got right down to business. "We got back the fingerprint analysis from the crime lab and we did get a partial print off the back of the door. Aside from you and Tyler Clark, we weren't able to identify any other prints. That partial we found, though, is all over the lock too. As well as the underside of the door." He paused for this to sink in.
"My question to you is who would have the key aside from the delivery driver? We checked his belongings and your key was still in his pant pocket. Which means, since the truck wasn't forced open, someone had a key."
Blake didn't like where this conversation was going. He had a key. He always had a spare in the safe and then he gave the driver a key. Not a great system, he admitted to the officer. But when you hired out drivers what else could you do?
"Who would have access to this key? Is it possible someone could swipe it from you and make a copy?"
Blake thought about the many times he left his car keys sitting at his desk. The same keys that had the truck lock too. Fuck. Just ab
out any person could swipe it. Any patron could mosey down the hall and if they knew what they were looking for, could probably take it. But would they have enough time to take it down to the hardware store and make a copy before Blake noticed them missing? That'd be the tough part. A patron wouldn't know that much. If anything, it would have to be someone that worked inside the brewery.
At the very least, the culprit would have a general idea of his whereabouts and his working schedule. If he happened to be in the brewing room, hell, sometimes he found himself in there for hours before he realized the time was slipping away. Anyone could have easily taken his keys, or that particular key, made a copy and brought it back with no one the wiser.
He told as much to Jim.
"Our next direction is to look at people working inside the brewery. I'm going to need a list of everyone who works there and for how long. I also want you to go back as far as a year out of past employees. When can you get it over to me?"
Blake ran a hand through his hair, "I can have it for you sometime today."
That ended their call and Blake kicked his feet up onto his desk. Son of a bitch. He steepled his hands underneath his chin and thought of the past year. How many employees had they gone through? While he'd been working alone, probably six. He was such a grouch when it came to responsibility that he knew he fired at least three people. In the past year, maybe five, seven if he stretched it.
Of course it wasn't the amount of employees he had in the last year that bothered him - it was how many times could the stupid truck key have been spread from person to person? He was such an idiot. As an excuse, he kept trying to tell himself that nothing like this ever happened in Windsor, that's why he was careless with precious cargo. That made it sound like a bumper sticker. Truthfully, he was sick at heart. How could he never think to take better care of something as important as the key to their possessions? It had never occurred to him that someone would be this malicious, especially in a small town, so no, the thought of something like this happening never occurred to him.
Gun Shy Page 10
