by J. D. Walker
No Snarkasm in Love
By J.D. Walker
Published by JMS Books LLC
Visit jms-books.com for more information.
Copyright 2018 J.D. Walker
ISBN 9781634866033
Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com
Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
All rights reserved.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
* * * *
No Snarkasm in Love
By J.D. Walker
I have a smart mouth.
Sure, it’s a defense mechanism against a world that seems to rarely ever do me any favors, but why mess with the status quo?
Take, for example, my late-morning bicycle ride into work on Friday for my usual twelve-hour shift. It was cloudy after a recent rain burst. And cold. The streets were wet, and I avoided puddles with care. Motorists, however, weren’t as solicitous, which meant I was soaked through and freezing in a matter of minutes.
Shouldn’t it make a difference that I wore a bright green reflective vest, and had reflectors and lights on both me and the bicycle, whether day or night? Apparently not. I even wore vivid clothing so I didn’t blend in with my surroundings. I got no respect on the road.
When I reached the next traffic light, I rode up to the dude in the shiny puke-yellow convertible who’d been the last to splash me, and said, “You blind or something?”
Dude looked at me and smirked, then rolled his eyes and went back to checking his hair in the rearview mirror. Ooh, was that a bald spot?
I couldn’t resist. “Must be compensating for something with a car that ugly. It won’t get your hair to grow back, though. Get laid much?”
“Hey!” he said, but before the man could say more, the light changed and I turned to the right while he went straight ahead. I might have heard “faggot” as his tires screamed down the road, but hey, whatever. I was proud of the rainbow sticker on the back of my vest.
I would be the first to admit—maybe—that being snarky wasn’t the way to make friends and find lovers, but being nice hadn’t done that in the first place, so I’d either find someone who could handle it, or die alone.
And at forty-two going on ninety, the latter was highly likely.
* * * *
“Nye, not again.”
Ingrid Norris, my business partner in the small, thriving courier service where we both worked six days a week, sighed and shook her head. “It’s as if the universe has a bull’s eye on you twenty-four-seven.”
I grunted as I walked by, uncomfortable and squishy in my soaked attire as I headed to the small locker room in the back. “You’re probably right.” Once I was changed and dry, if not in better spirits, I clocked in and went through my inbox, which was piled high, as usual.
“I don’t know why I ever let you talk me into this crazy business ten years ago,” I said, grumbling as I tossed the junk mail in recycling and separated bills from the other detritus. She handled the early shift, and I worked until closing, which was around eleven at night, depending on the delivery schedule.
“Drink your coffee. You’ll feel better,” Ingrid said. True enough.
I let her pat me on the shoulder before going to the kitchen. At the coffee station with our fabulous Keurig, I chose a dark roast cup, which I brewed at twelve ounces. It would be the first of many for the rest of the day. Sure, I was grumpy and snappish as a matter of course, but without coffee? I was intolerable, or so I was told.
After practically inhaling two cups of the black brew, my world was mostly right again, until I heard Ingrid swear all the way from her office near the front. I took my third cup of heaven-on-earth with me as I went to see what was wrong.
“Problem?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe as she glared daggers at the phone receiver in her left hand.
“That was Hogan calling in sick. Again. For the third time in two weeks. We have a pickup from that architectural firm on Spring Lane in half an hour, and it needs to go to the blueprint place immediately, and then wait to take the documents back to the firm. I don’t have anyone to spare.” She looked at me and I knew what was coming. “I hate to ask you this, but—”
“No.” There wasn’t enough coffee in the world to get me to do this. The managing partner of the firm in question, Donal Soames, was a man I’d encountered a few times, the first when we negotiated our contract back in the spring. “Hard-ass” didn’t even begin to define his character. A smile would likely break his handsome, if austere, gray-eyed face. Just because he was hot and fit and fucking fine didn’t mean he was God’s gift to every sex dream I’d ever had since we’d met. Or something.
I had seen Donal around town on occasion because he seemed to work late hours, just like I did, and needed to eat. I wasn’t sure if he’d ever noticed me, but I’d sure noticed him, as did a whole bunch of people who he ignored as a matter of course.
“There has to be someone else.” I knew there wasn’t, but I had to try. For whatever reason, I felt inadequate around the man, which meant my snarkasm would be on full display in his presence.
“You know there isn’t. Just do this for me, and I promise I will fire Hogan and get someone to take his place as soon as possible. This is important. You don’t want our business to fail, do you?”
Why did she always have to play that card? “You owe me,” I mumbled. I finished my coffee in a few gulps while walking back to the locker room to get out my other set of backup gear to ride.
* * * *
“I didn’t realize you did courier runs as well, Mr. Havers,” Donal Soames said as he came toward me in the reception area of his office. Today, he wore a black sweater over a gray shirt with black slacks. He was always dressed in severe colors, every time I saw him. It made me wonder if he’d ever heard of pastel.
It wasn’t that he was very tall. In fact, we were of the same average height. He was just built a bit bulkier than my own skinny body could ever manage. His very manner and serious mien was intimidating. He was probably conservative and staid in every part of his life. Who knew if he even played for my team?
I hid a sigh and took the package from him. “I do what is necessary. I’m sure you understand.”
“Mmm.” I could feel his eyes on me as I tucked the envelope in my messenger bag, aware that I was slightly sweaty and wearing bicycle attire from neck to ankle. What an impression I must make. And no, it didn’t really matter, did it?
“You’ll get that to the blueprint place immediately, yes?”
“That’s what you asked for, isn’t it?” Okay, that was snappier than it needed to be.
He continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours, then?”
“Of course.” I turned and hurried out the door, aware of my old, scratched-up
bicycle helmet and skin-tight clothing that just didn’t seem to hold up well against Donal’s stark perfection, no matter how much I might hope it would. At least, when I would let myself admit to being interested. Maybe obsessed.
Thankfully, everything went smoothly and I was actually back at the architectural firm before the two hours were up. I handed the blueprints to a minion since Donal was nowhere in sight and had the receiver sign the electronic pad.
When I returned to work, Ingrid greeted me with a hug and kiss. “Thank you, thank you! I’ll make you coffee.”
I grunted my thanks and changed before heading to my desk, only to see the message light flashing on my phone.
I settled in, sipped the coffee that Ingrid had provided, and checked my email before listening to the voicemail. Usually it wasn’t anything urgent, since most clients contacted Ingrid regarding deliveries.
The message was from Donal. Surprising. In it, he thanked me for taking care of the delivery today, as it had been an urgent job for a presentation later that afternoon. His tone was brisk and matter-of-fact. He sounded like he was dictating a letter or something. I shrugged and hit DELETE before getting on with the rest of my day.
* * * *
Riding a bicycle at night wasn’t something I did lightly. I took every precaution for safety, and practiced good road habits. At least, since I rode in the late evening hours, the traffic was light and most people just wanted to get home to bed. Few were the times when the odd driver would attempt to scare me with a honking horn, or tailgate, just for fun. It usually took me half an hour to get home, not including if I stopped to get groceries for some reason.
As I waited at a traffic light, I heard a car come up behind me. I looked back, just for the sake of caution. I couldn’t see much through the tinted windows, but at least the person wasn’t crowding me. When the light turned green, I took off, and the car stayed behind me for about a mile before finally deciding to pass. I looked over and noted the passenger side window was down.
It was Donal. He nodded and went on his way, his older-model Lexus steadily increasing speed until it disappeared in the distance. Huh. Guess he’d worked a late night, too. How weird that we were in the same place at the same time.
Putting the coincidence out of my mind, I pedaled hard to get to my condo. I lived on the seventh floor of my building, and kept the bicycle on the porch facing the park in the back. Once I’d showered, I hopped into bed and closed my eyes, hoping to fall asleep quickly and not dream about him. I didn’t hold out much luck, however.
* * * *
As the next day was Saturday, work slowed down a bit, which meant I could catch up on the financial side of the business, as well as advertising and website management. Both Ingrid and I worked the same shift from eight until five, and typically treated ourselves to seriously good pizza from the Italian place ten minutes away.
She went to pick it up, deciding to forgo delivery, for some reason, which left me manning the front. I sipped coffee and checked over the deliveries scheduled for that afternoon when the front door opened, letting in cold air.
My eyes widened when I saw Donal Soames striding toward me, wearing a black button-down shirt and gray slacks. His gray jacket hung over his left arm, and his short black hair looked fricking perfect.
My brow furrowed as I discretely cleared my throat. “Mr. Soames? May I help you?” I forced myself not to fidget or attempt to tame my curly copper hair, which never seemed to stay in once place, no matter what the label on the hair product bottle said. At least my yellow shirt was pressed and my navy-blue pants didn’t have coffee spilled on them. This time.
“Mr. Havers, I was in the area and thought I’d stop by.” He looked around the room, then focused on me once more. “It’s smaller than I thought.”
Naturally, I had to respond. “Size doesn’t always matter.” Gosh, my mouth.
Donal raised an eyebrow. “Are you always this…forthcoming with your points of view?”
Nice way of saying I was a smart-ass. “When the situation warrants it. Was there something you needed?”
“I was just curious. Have you always been a bicycle rider? Have you never owned a car?”
“I like the exercise.”
“Is it safe, riding so late at night? Though I can see you’re prepared for it, from last night…”
“It is as safe as I can make it.” What the fuck was with all these questions anyway?
“I see.” He cleared his throat, then looked around the room again, and it hit me. He was nervous.
I always found it best to be direct. “Tell me why you’re here, Mr. Soames.”
“I, uh—”
At that moment, Ingrid came in through the door, carrying two boxes of pizza. She raised her eyebrows in surprise at seeing our client. “Mr. Soames? Is everything okay with our account?” Ever the worrier, was Ingrid.
“Everything is as it should be, Ms. Norris. I was simply in the area and thought I’d stop by and see this place, as I’d never been inside. Have a good afternoon.” He left without another word to me, or a glance in my direction.
Ingrid’s brown eyes stared me down. “What did you two talk about? You weren’t your usual self, were you?”
“Haha.” I took the boxes from her and set them on the lower counter so they wouldn’t be visible to passersby. “He was about to say the reason when you arrived.”
She grabbed a slice of pepperoni pizza. “How long was he here?”
“Not long,” I replied around a mouthful of meat lovers. “He was acting a little nervous, which is unusual for him, in my experience.”
Ingrid grinned. “Oh, and how much experience is that exactly?”
“Shut up,” I snapped. “You know what I mean.”
“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “The way you were looking at him, you wanted to eat him up like that slice of pizza you just gulped down. Didn’t you notice the way he was looking at you?”
I almost choked on my breadstick. “What are you talking about?”
“Men.” She snagged another slice and chewed for a minute before continuing. “Did you know that every time I get an order from Donal’s firm, he’s the one who calls it in? Not his secretary or one of the other architects, but the man himself. He always asks how you’re doing when we’re on the phone. The man is smitten, I’m telling you.”
“Why am I just now hearing this?” I groused, not sure what to do, if anything, about this new knowledge.
“Because I didn’t think it was important until I saw you with him just now.” She wiped her hands on a napkin. “I know he’s a bit rigid, but I think you and he would work well together.”
“Based on what evidence?”
“A woman knows.”
“Pshaw,” was all I had to offer.
* * * *
I loved Sundays, mainly because I did absolutely nothing except sleep, eat, and read, or sometimes watch a show or movie on my laptop. Ingrid was married to Sheena, and with their two pugs and three cats, they had a happy family of their own.
I had tried relationships before, but I was either too acerbic, or not adventurous enough in bed, or not the right build, or looks, or whatever. The dating game had gotten old fast, then work had become my passion because I could at least exert some sort of control over that.
If Ingrid’s instincts were correct about Donal’s interest, then what did I do about it, if anything? Was I kidding myself, or was that just years of bitterness talking?
As difficult as I could be, what was it like for someone like Donal? Did I even have a chance with the man? And how did I go about finding out more? So aggravating, this dating thing, or whatever it was.
Thoughts in a whirl, I decided to go to the grocery store early, for once, and stock up for the week. There was a Publix five blocks from the condo, so I chose to walk, especially since the wind was brisk and in the teens with wind speed. At least the sun was out.
I dressed in dark green jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt and sw
eater, with a jacket on top. A thick red scarf around my neck, I added a fuchsia knit cap and matching gloves, and put on sturdy boots before heading out with my shopping bag, wallet, keys, and cell phone.
The walk to the grocery store was chilly enough I could only focus on getting to my destination, and not Donal. When I stepped inside the warmth of the store, I stopped and stood for a minute, trying to get feeling back in my legs and hands.
“Excuse me, you’re blocking the way,” a familiar voice said. I closed my eyes. No, it couldn’t be.
I turned and saw the man of my thoughts, dressed in midnight blue and dark gray today. Speak of the devil. “Sorry,” was all I said before moving toward the carts to get one of my own.
I decided it best to focus on my reason for coming to the store and not think about the man being in the same place as me. These coincidences were becoming unnerving. I went down the necessary aisles, grabbing what I needed before heading to the self-checkout.
When walking through the parking lot, I saw Donal again, in his Lexus, pulling up beside me.
“Need a lift?” he asked, gloved hands clenched on the steering wheel. His black hair looked a little windblown, which I didn’t think he’d ever allow. Mmm. Okay, enough of that.
“Er, no, I’m fine, thanks, Mr. Soames.” I kept walking, and he kept pace with me in the car. “Something you need?” I said, staring straight ahead.
“Are you always this stubborn, Nye?”
My heart stopped. He knew my first name? Well, of course, he did. I was being silly. But hearing him say it like that…Wait a minute.
I looked at him briefly. “Stubborn? Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Soames.” I kept walking. He followed.
“You can call me Donal, you know? We’re not working right now.”
“What, so we’re friends all of a sudden?” Please say yes.
“I don’t know. You have this prickly shell that makes it hard to tell what you really feel.”
I stopped and faced him, hands clenched with my shopping bags dangling from my fingers. “Excuse me, Mr. Perfect, but you’re not exactly a prime example, are you? You’re so stiff, a block of ice would melt before you ever could.”
