Way To My Heart

by Barbara C. Doyle

  Clenching my hands into fists, I stormed over to the dryer containing my clothes, and began taking them out of the machine. At this rate, it’d be quicker just to air dry them at home.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like?” I fired back.

  “Oh for the love of—” He stopped himself, walking over to the machine and inserting the rest of the coins I needed. Grabbing my wrist to stop me from shoving the rest of my clothes into my basket, he took them out and put them back into the machine.

  “Stop it!”

  “You stop! Jesus, you’re impossible, woman.” His eye caught a tiny piece of hot pink lace at the bottom of the basket. My panties were already in his hand before I could snatch them up.

  “Drop the underwear,” I hissed.

  His crooked grin reappeared. “Nah,” he replied, winking at me. “If you don’t want to get coffee or lunch with me, then this will be payback enough.”

  With that, he slipped the panties into his back pocket, then closed the dryer and pressed start.

  “You can’t just take a stranger’s under things!”

  “Good thing we’re not strangers. At this rate, we’re friends.”

  My nose scrunched. “How do you figure that?”

  “I rarely talk with anybody this long,” he said casually. “And never usually a woman. Hell, anytime I’m with women, we’re doing anything but talking. Catch my drift?”

  I scoffed. “Whatever. Even if we were friends, which we aren’t, then it gives you no right to take my underwear. Friends don’t steal other friends’ panties.”

  His palm flew to his chest. “Does this mean that you don’t want to borrow mine?”

  I burst out laughing, pushing his shoulder over the unexpected reply. It felt good to laugh without forcing it. When he smiled without some ulterior motive, it softened his features, making the exchange somewhat bearable.

  He sighed lightly. “But seriously, you could have just agreed to go to lunch with me. I had to get something out of this exchange.”

  “You couldn’t have just been a nice person?”

  He thought about it for a second. “I’m not a gentleman, remember? That implies I’m nice. Nobody said I had to be.”

  I was over this conversation. “You know what? I have better things to do than talk to you about this. You better burn those panties when you’re done doing whatever disgusting thing you’re planning on doing to them, because I sure as hell don’t want them back.”

  And that was tragic, because he took my favorite pair of boy shorts that showed just the right amount of cheek. Sure, I’d gotten them on clearance at Walmart, but they were hot pink with a little bow in the front. Plain, simple, but still kind of sexy.

  I walked to the door, shoving it open. He followed behind me, hot on my heels. I jerked to a halt, with him plowing into my back. Stumbling forward and nearly falling on my face, his arm hooked around my waist to steady me.

  “Damn, falling for me already,” he mused, and sending me what I supposed he thought was a sly wink. It wasn’t. He looked like he had a twitch.

  I smacked his arm away. “You were the one who pushed me.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You were the one who stopped without notice.”

  I glared at him hard. “Well, excuse me. Next time I’ll put break lights on my fat ass so maybe you’d notice!”

  He stepped closer to me, wiggling his eyebrows. “Is it wrong that this conversation is making me hard? You’re sexy when you’re flustered.”

  I’m…what?

  Nobody had called me sexy before.

  Taken aback, I muttered, “You’re…you are…” I didn’t know how to finish, so I let my voice fade.

  He grinned victoriously, and something told me so long as he was around, that grin would be a permanent feature on his face.

  Tapping my foot against the pavement, I asked, “Are you just going to follow me around all day? I’d just love to add ‘stalker’ next to ‘creep’ and ‘perv.’ You’ve got quite the list going for you.”

  “Who said I was following you? There’s only one exit, Paisley. We both needed to leave the laundromat, which means walking out the front door.”

  “Ug! Go away!”

  “You first.”

  Neither of us moved.

  “Do you not want me knowing where you live?” he guessed, studying my face. I didn’t want to show him any emotion, so I just blinked.

  He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not going to hurt you, Paisley. You have no reason to be afraid of me.”

  There was genuine hurt in his tone, which immediately sobered my bitch-o-meter from a solid eight down to a two-point-three.

  Damn it!

  Staring down at my feet, I wiggled my toes. “I know you’re not. I just like my privacy, and I’m not used to having people I know around. Everybody tends to stay away from this part of town, because it doesn’t have as much to do as downtown.”

  Oakland catered to the college kids because they knew they made up most of the local economy. It was why Main Street had restaurants, diners, clothes stores, thrift shops, tattoo parlors, and cafés stretching along the road. During the summer, it was nice to take walks and chat with the owners—most who were Oakland University alum who opted to make a living off the future generations that inhabited our tiny city.

  Seeing new people around in the middle of August was cause for the newspaper to investigate. And I doubted Caleb needed that kind of spotlight on him. His big head wouldn’t fit the picture slot attached to the article.

  The tension in his shoulders eased, and his expression lightened up. “Yeah, I get that. I like my privacy, too. But it doesn’t seem like a coincidence that we ran into each other. Iris never told me where you lived. Seems a bit odd that we’d bump into each other here of all places.”

  My brows furrowed in, thinking about it. If he was implying that this was some weird act of fate, I didn’t buy into that. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in fate, but fate had better things to do than let me run into my coworker’s hot brother in a laundromat.

  Although it was strange that the new washing machine in our basement was out of order, which had never happened before. At my old apartment, we’d had an old fossil of a machine that never once stopped working. This was the first time I’d had to come to the laundromat in my three years of living at this complex.

  He tapped my nose. “I see the wheels turning in your head. Do you believe in fate, Paisley?”

  Nibbling my inner cheek, I debated on my answer. I could be honest with him, but I didn’t want to give him the hope that something was playing on his side, his team. I couldn’t lead him on.

  Reasonably, newer machines broke down more often. They weren’t built like they used to be, so it wasn’t that strange that the washer was out of order. It had to be a coincidence that we ended up in the exact same place at the exact same time.

  “I believe in a lot of things,” I answered, skating around the question. “That doesn’t mean I have to share any of them with you.”

  I nodded my head once and started walking away from him, stopping in my tracks when I realized he was probably watching me. Glancing over my shoulder, I caught him staring at my ass for the second time in two days.

  “Do you mind?” I snapped.

  His eyes sparkled as they found mine. “No. Do you?”

  I huffed. He laughed.

  He gestured toward my apartment building. “For the record, I saw you leave there earlier. Don’t worry, I don’t plan on inviting myself in. You’ll do that on your own soon enough.”

  He gave me a cocky grin before turning his heel and walking the opposite direction.

  And me? My eyes were locked on his ass until he disappeared.

  How You Know It Won’t Work:

  He purrs while you kiss

  “No, ma’am, I can’t check you out here,” I told the old lady for the thirtieth time. Why she couldn’t understand was beyond me. The fit
ting room counter didn’t have a cash register. She could see it. I could see it. The customer standing behind her waiting could see it.

  “But I don’t want to walk up front.”

  She’d told me this twice now.

  To which I replied, again, “Well that’s the only place you can purchase your items. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do.”

  I showed her my sickening sweet smile that hid my desire to wrap the dress she had in her hands around her neck. Tonight was the night for pushy customers, because I already had a young couple try getting into one of the men’s dressing rooms together to do God knows what.

  Well, I had a pretty good idea of what it was they wanted to accomplish, but I was so not losing my job because of a couple horny teenagers.

  The old lady turned up her nose, smacking the dress onto the counter. “Since you’re obviously not going to help me, I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

  Good riddance.

  My smile remained, though I internally rolled my eyes. “There’s a JCPenney’s right across the mall. I hope you find what you’re looking for there.”

  She turned on her heel, leaving behind her cart full of random knick-knacks before strutting away.

  I blew out an exasperated breath. “Sorry about that,” I said to the other customer.

  After the fitting room was cleared, I opted to go through the return rack and separate the clothes based on department. When the familiar beat of Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off” came over the speakers, there was no stopping my hips from moving to the rhythm. I wasn’t ashamed of being a Swiftie—the woman was an idol of mine. And despite Wilkins playing the same songs on repeat (Every. Single. Day,) the catchy break-up anthem never got old.

  Swaying in the black wrap dress I wore, I shook my hips as the chorus played out. Brushing out the wrinkles in a sweater hanging on one of the hangers, I hummed along to the lyrics, knowing that singing them aloud would be detrimental to anyone’s ears within a five-mile radius.

  “Somebody is having fun,” an amused voice chuckled from behind me.

  The voice made me freeze mid-sway. Slowly, I turned around to find nobody there.

  Blowing out a breath of relief, I peeked around the corner to be sure I was alone. Except, I wasn’t. Nathan Evans backed up with a half-grin on his face; brown eyes twinkling over catching me shake my ass in public.

  Awesome.

  “I have no chill when Taylor Swift comes on,” I informed him, trying to play it off. It was hard to do when my face was the color of a fire truck. Why couldn’t I have been caught by a customer who I’d never see again?

  He tried hiding a smile behind his fist. “Hey, you’ve got to have fun at work.”

  Nathan and I had worked together since the Christmas holidays, seemingly always gravitating toward each other no matter where we were stationed. Okay, maybe I purposely found him while he did recovery, but that never stopped him from making conversation. He’d even sought me out if we weren’t working the same shift, which made butterflies flutter in my tummy. Or maybe that was gas, but I was aiming for butterflies.

  He wasn’t like the typical guys I harbored crushes on, and I took that as a good sign. If I didn’t attach myself to the same type of man, they couldn’t hurt me like others. After all, Nate’s laidback carpe diem lifestyle was one I admired. He wasn’t afraid of anything and lived how he wanted without hesitation. In a lot of ways, I aspired to be like him.

  After Iris and Janine pressured me into cyber stalking him for a picture a few months back, I’d learned that he was ten years older than me, a former army vet, loved hiking, and had a cute chocolate Labrador named Denny. Thankfully, the profile picture he had was from before he’d grown out his goatee and shoulder-length hair.

  The problem with crushing on your coworker was how awkward it got when everything went wrong. I’d made that mistake once, when I’d first been hired over a year ago. Only then, Connor Mason had been the one seeking me out—I just tricked myself into believing I’d be happy with his advances since I’d never been on the receiving end of one before.

  And that went sour quick.

  Maybe it was destined to. I mean, who had two first names? That was up there with naming your kid North West or Brook Lynn. It wasn’t cute, it was cruel.

  The biggest problem I had with Connor was his determination. While persistence could be sexy, he made it…well, not. And after hanging out twice as friends to get to know each other, he’d already had three names picked out for our future children—Raymond, Leroy, and Nellie.

  As if that didn’t shrivel up my ovaries on the spot, his sudden move to kiss me did. It wasn’t just a bad kiss, it was terrible—one that would be engraved in the back of my mind forever, officially kicking Lucas Croft’s kiss out of the realm of awful.

  Like make out-session-turned-weird-when-he-started-purring kind of awful.

  Yep. Purring. Like a cat.

  And sure, he knew I loved cats, but there was no amount of love that could get me past the fact that he’d sounded like one while we swapped spit. I didn’t want him kissing me to begin with, much less snogging me like he as living some furry fantasy.

  I shivered over the memory.

  “You cold?”

  I’d forgotten Nathan was standing in front of me. “Uh, I’m good.”

  It was chillier towards the back of the store, but there was nothing he could do about that. Tugging on the hem of my dress like it was suddenly too short under his gaze, I moved behind the kiosk.

  “So, I was thinking,” he began, leaning against the top of the counter. “There’s usually this bonfire my buddies and I do when the weather is nice, and you should come. It’s at my house.”

  My heart leapt in my chest. Did Nathan just ask me to hang out with him outside of work?

  Holy crap.

  Unlike Purr Boy, I actually liked Nathan. There was no tricking myself into believing there could be something between us, or anticipate anything to grow. The feelings were already there.

  He pushed off the counter, giving me a crooked grin that melted away some of my hesitation. “It’s a casual thing, you know? We’ll grill some hamburgers and hotdogs, and chill by the fire.”

  Did he mean that things between us would be casual, or the bonfire itself? And if I went to his house, what would his friends think? Did he bring girls home often? Invite them to hang out? The questions were endless and saying ‘no’ was on the tip of my tongue when my heart decided to overpower my brain.

  “Sure,” I found myself saying. I forced a small smile, hoping it didn’t show any of my fear or nerves. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

  He drummed his fingers against the counter. “Cool.”

  In a moment of rare boldness, I wrote down my cell number on a sticky note and passed it to him. “You should text me your address.”

  Slipping the paper into his pocket, he shot me a cocky grin. “I definitely will.”

  His lingering gaze made my whole body feel flushed, my weight shifting from one leg to another as we stared at each other without blinking.

  Backing out of the fitting room, he tipped his head to where I was standing before. “For the record, you can shake your ass anytime you want near me.”

  He shot me a wink before disappearing.

  I blinked.

  Some song I didn’t normally dance to came on.

  I danced anyway.

  My leg bounced in a rapid rhythm against the pavement as my eyes watched the black phone screen, willing a message to appear.

  “Maybe he isn’t going to text me.” Biting down on my thumbnail until it cracked from the pressure, I thought about Saturday night all over again. It’d been two days since I’d given Nathan my number, and while I hadn’t expected him to use it right away, I figured he would have said something by now.

  Iris smacked my hand away from my mouth. “He’s just following the three-day rule.”

  “He’s thirty-three, not a teenager,” I grumbled.

 
; She offered me a cheeky grin. “Look at you, getting flustered over something with a penis. It’s like my little baby has finally grown up. Does this mean you’re not going to give my brother a shot?”

  “I like Nathan.”

  She put her hands up in surrender. “Fine. I’m just saying…”

  I thumbed through old texts, like his would magically show up. “I know what you’re saying, and I’m not going there. Isn’t there a rule about not dating your friends’ siblings?”

  “That’s a stupid rule,” she informed me.

  Couldn’t argue with her there.

  “Plus,” she added, “You two are adults. Who cares what I think if you want to be together?”

  I set my phone down on the table. “Well, we don’t. So, stop trying to make it happen, Gretchen Wieners.”

  She propped her chin in her palm and looked up at the sky. “Imagine your freckles and skin tone and his eyes on a blond-haired baby.”

  My eyes popped open at the thought. “Back waaaay up, cowgirl. There will be no baby making with Caleb. Or anybody. Got it?”

  “Not even Nathan?”

  I shook my head.

  She eyed me for a few moments too long, then relented. “Fine. I still think you and Cal would make really adorable babies, though.”

  Shivers wracked my spine. It wasn’t that I was against having children, but I couldn’t see where they fit into my plan. I was twenty-three with a bachelor’s degree in English working as a laundry attendant and retail associate. My life was a mess that I had yet to figure out. There was no way I could add another human being—one that depended on me—into the mix.

  Looking around the lawn, I took note of the same setup I’d seen for years. The ten parking spaces, old wood fence, huge pines separating our property from the neighboring motel. In the distance was Otsego Lake and docks where people kept their boats during the summer.

  Janine always told us that she knew this wasn’t a forever job. Nobody was expected to stay, though there were a few who were here longer than my seven years. But it was hard leaving behind something you knew so well. Familiarity and comfort were fickle friends.