Georgia May checked her diamond studded watch. “Perhaps a glass of champagne, but only one.”
Calla didn’t point out that it was only three in the afternoon. She smiled indulgently and hurried into the back.
There were two bottles in the mini fridge that she kept for women like Georgia May. The labels were expensive and her mother had almost fainted when Calla first got them, but Georgia May and her friends had more than paid for both and then some.
Their session didn’t end until well after six when Calla should have started closing shop. Georgia May was on her third glass of champagne and had bought everything Calla had shown her, plus several items off the floor. All in all, for a day that started out drab with the promise of no sales at all, Calla was satisfied with their final tally.
After making sure the woman could properly walk, never mind drive, Calla closed shop. She put the money from the till into the safe in the back, double checked that the coffee machine was off, grabbed her rose, set the alarm, and left.
The walkway and roads were still clear the next morning when Calla returned. There was a faint, light powder across the pavement, but nothing overwhelming like the day before. She let herself into the shop and had no sooner begun setting up for the day when the bell jingled and someone hurried in.
Calla glanced up from the float she was trying to shove back into the register and smiled. “Good morning, Mrs. Donnelly.”
Tiny with mousy brown hair, Caroline Donnelly always reminded Calla of a hawk with her pointed features and squinting brown eyes. She eyed Calla a full moment before bustling forward.
“You sold Georgia May Hadley a purse yesterday, silver with those thick buckles.”
Calla nodded, slamming the drawer shut on the register. “Yes.”
“I want something similar, but different.”
Of course she did. Caroline was Georgia May’s biggest rival. She wasn’t quite as powerful, or as wealthy, but Calla knew exactly how to play both.
“Hmm…” She pursed her lips and sighed. “Well, I only had the one of that kind and Mrs. Hadley bought it, but…” She cast a thoughtful glance over the store, already knowing what she needed, but making a big show of really having to think. “I do have something else—”
“What is it?” Caroline demanded at once. “Just show me.”
“Of course.”
Motioning the woman to follow, Calla led her to the wall of purses. She pulled down a shiny gold purse with braided gold handles and a thick buckle.
“I only have the two left,” Calla said, motioning to the black one still on the shelf. “Both are hand sewn so completely unique. There are several compartments—”
“I’ll take them!” the woman snapped like Calla’s attempt to sell her things was getting on her nerves. “I also need a dress for that girl’s wedding this weekend.”
“Cho?” Calla supplied, leading the woman towards the rack of dresses.
“Yes.” Caroline sighed. “If her father didn’t do business with my Harold, we could have been going to the city instead.”
Calla said nothing, but pulled out a few of the gowns for the woman’s appraisal. Caroline was still hemming and hawing between the red and the blue when the bell tinkled, signaling the arrival of a new customer.
“I’ll be with you in just a moment!” Calla called over her shoulder. “I think the blue one will look beautiful with your eyes,” she told Caroline, thrusting the sequined gown into the woman’s hands and ushering her towards the change booths.
She left her there and hurried to greet the newcomer only to find them gone. In their place was a single, red rose resting lightly on the counter. A silk ribbon was tied around the stem, matching the delicate petals. A note lay tucked beneath it.
Skirting the case, Calla flipped the folded piece of paper open and read the three little words scribbled inside.
Smile for me.
Her brows furrowed together in a swirl of amusement and confusion. She started to wonder if it was some joke when a small part of her urged her head up. Her gaze automatically jumped to the window, as though her senses already knew he would be there.
He stood propped against the side of the building. His arms were folded, and despite the cold, he seemed content to stand there all day until he got what he wanted. The sight of him, all bundled from head to toe, except a thin slit between the rim of his cap and the edge of his scarf, pulled on the corners of her lips. It was so ridiculous, his request, him standing there, peering back at her with those beautiful eyes, she couldn’t stop it.
She smiled. Like that wasn’t enough, her lips curled back over her teeth and she laughed softly. The fine lines around his eyes deepened, and though she couldn’t see it, she knew he was grinning back. Then he raised a gloved hand and gave her a two finger salute before turning on his heels and disappearing through the crowd.
Calla laughed again and gave a slight shake of her head. The sweet scent of the rose filled her senses, making her unusually lightheaded and giddy. She brought the delicate petals to her nose and bit her lip when another round of giggles threatened to burst free.
The man did not play fair.
The rest of the week was hell. Everyone in Willow Creek had been invited to Ali’s wedding and everyone needed an outfit. Libellule was nearly picked over clean by the time Friday rolled around. Calla didn’t mind. Not only because it kept her mind occupied, but because working meant another rose. Her apartment was filled with the scent of the ones she’d already received. They sat in a crystal vase on her bedroom windowsill. They were the first things she saw when she got up and the last when she went to bed. And each day, he added a new one to her collection.
It was wrong. She knew that. She knew she should tell him to stop, to let her go, but damn if a crazy part of her didn’t get excited by the gestures. It was always a thrill waiting to see where the next one would show up and what the note would say. Each one tugged a little tighter at the strings around her heart. They were always small things like how beautiful she looked that day, or he was thinking about her. They might not have been love sonnets and poetry, yet they never failed to make her chest hurt and her eyes well up.
But she knew it couldn’t last. If she wasn’t careful, he would find out what she’d done, what sort of person she was and he would hate her. He would never forgive her, and that thought killed her. She had nightmares about him turning away from her, his face a mask of disgust. She always woke up in a cold sweat, gasping and choking on tears. Yet every morning, she rolled out of bed anticipating the moment she would see him.
It was so wrong.
“What a week.” Her mother slid a hanger through the straps of a beautiful, burgundy gown. “At least we sold most of our inventory.”
Next to her, trying and failing to get her mind focused enough to write up an order form, Calla nodded.
“Have you decided if you’re going, or not?”
Abandoning the form, Calla straightened. She ran a hand back through her hair and sighed.
“I don’t know. I still don’t have anyone to go with and I’m not sure I’m in the mood to see two happy people getting married.” She glanced at her mother. “Are you and Uncle Sloan going?”
The other woman shook her head. “We don’t really know Ali, or her parents. It would be strange going. Plus I think she only asked us because you and Damon were in her class. Your dad and Beth aren’t going either.”
Calla snorted. “Yeah, I’m definitely not going. I’ll be the only person I know there.”
Her mom frowned. “I don’t think that’s possible. All your classmates will be there. Plus you know most everyone in town.”
“All the more reason not to go,” Calla decided. “I think I see enough of those people here at the shop.”
Her mother said nothing. They stood in silence as the hour shifted from late afternoon to night. It wasn’t until it was clear that no one else was coming that her mother pushed away from the counter and started towards the b
ack.
“I think I’m going to head over to your dad’s place and see Beth for a few hours,” she said. “Then I want to spend some time with Sloan when he gets home.”
Calla didn’t stop her. As much as she loved her mother, being alone was exactly what she wanted just then. There was something uniquely depressing in the knowledge that everyone had someone to go home to, but her. Plus, there was only another hour before she had to close shop anyway.
But no sooner had her mother slipped out the door with a wave than it opened again and another figure, one her shop wasn’t equipped to cater to, stepped inside. The single breath she’d taken in preparation to greet the newcomer lodged in her chest. Her insides gave an unexpected quiver of excitement even before a large, gloved hand was raised to tug free the riot of sandy brown hair from beneath the toque.
Jared offered her a lopsided grin. “Hey.”
Calla had to emotionally brace herself before she could speak. “Hey.”
His clothes rustled in the silence as he crossed to stand on the other side of the counter. “Sorry I’m late.”
It took her a moment to flip through her memory database to remember if they had made plans at some point. She came up empty.
“You’re not,” she murmured. “I don’t close for another hour, so…”
He nodded slowly. His gaze dropped to the assortment of necklaces and earrings nestled amongst a bed of white satin. He stuffed his hat and gloves into his pockets and lightly settled just the tips of his fingers on the glass.
“I was hoping to come by earlier though,” he said. “Work ran a bit longer than we expected and I wanted to shower before I came to see you.”
She said nothing, not really sure what to say. Finally, she ran her tongue over the curve of her bottom lip.
“Did you need something?”
His eyes had focused on her mouth, even while she spoke. It seemed to take a lot of effort to tear his gaze away and fix them on hers.
“What are you doing tomorrow?”
Calla blinked. “Nothing,” she confessed. “I might open the shop for a few hours, but I don’t know if anyone will actually come. The wedding,” she explained in case he didn’t know.
“Yeah, the wedding,” he murmured. “So, you’re not going?”
“I didn’t really intend…” Her words trailed off as she realized where his line of questioning was going. Her stomach churned even as her heart fluttered. Her palms grew damp and she hastily wiped them on her skirt. “Jared—”
“Go with me,” he prompted, ignoring her weak protest. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”
“Jared…” She had to pause to get a handle on her thoughts as they scattered recklessly to the winds. “The wedding’s tomorrow. I’m not ready…”
“I’ve taken care of everything,” he promised. “Just say yes.”
She didn’t know what that meant, but her curiosity—and no small amount of longing—propelled her into nodding her head.
“Okay.”
Relief shimmered behind his eyes as he pulled down the zipper on his coat and removed the rose she hadn’t gotten that day. He set it gently on the glass between them, ribbon and note and all. His gaze never wavered from hers.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Calla.”
With that, he left her staring after him long after his silhouette disappeared down the block. Her attention went to the flower and a familiar surge of giddiness erupted through her, despite the weight stooping her shoulders. She reached for the note and gently opened the folds.
Go home.
She did. Between the cryptic note and his earlier comment, there was no way she was not going to follow his instructions.
Gathering her things, Calla did the quickest close in history and rushed home without crashing her car. She felt like a little kid Christmas morning. Her stupid key wouldn’t fit in the door fast enough and the door wouldn’t open quick enough. She staggered into her apartment lit only by the lamp she kept on in the sitting area. It cast a pale glow over her white sofas and the egg-shell white of her walls. The rest of the apartment remained concealed in shadows and a sort of anticipation writhed through her.
Her pumps hit the corner by the door as she darted further inside and kicked them off. The foyer opened straight against the carpet she’d laid over the hardwood and her bare feet sunk in its fluffy expense. Her purse, the rose, and her coat were slung onto the small, square table nestled between her kitchen and the sitting room.
It sat on her low, glass coffee table. The lamplight shone through the satin ribbon fastened precisely around its width. It glided the crimson length and seemed to catch on the corner of the note tucked neatly against the fat bow. Part of her wondered how he’d managed to get into her apartment without a key, while another part couldn’t get to the box fast enough.
Calla hurried forward and snatched up the note. She flipped it open.
Wear me. Underwear is optional.
“What?”
Laughing, Calla reached for the ribbons.
Chapter Six ~ Jared
His hands shook only slightly as he adjusted his tie. The bright, red slash set off the dark cut of his suit and the white of his dress shirt. Jared wasn’t usually a fan of dressing up. Jeans and t-shirts were his outfit of choice. But his mother had drummed the necessity of a well cut suit into him from a very young age and since then¸ he owned four. Each one had cost him a month’s worth of wages, but they each had a purpose.
There was the black one with the black, silk lapel that he wore to funerals. The black trousers and black blazer with the white dress shirt he wore to weddings. The gun metal gray he wore to special dinners and finally, the white one he planned on being buried in. Maybe it was strange thinking that far ahead, but seeing as he wouldn’t buy another suit for as long as he lived, it stood to good reason that it would eventually come in handy.
Coat on, phone tucked into his pocket, keys clutched in his palm, he left his apartment and made his way down to his truck. The night was cold, but it wasn’t snowing and he considered that a good sign. He kept the radio off, needing the silence to gather what was left of his courage and fasten it firmly to his chest. He double checked to make sure he had the bouquet of roses he planned on giving Calla lying in the seat next to him. The scent of them was strong and sweet through the cabin of his truck. The sight of their wide open petals reminded him of Calla’s mouth, red, soft, and beautiful. When he thought of her, a rose in full bloom was the image that came to mind. Like her, it was a sight to behold, but touch and you get pricked by thorns. At least, that was how he remembered her. Now she was a rose stripped of her barbs. Still a beauty, still breathtaking to regard, but without the thing that made it so strong. But he would give her back her thorns, no matter what he had to do.
Pulling up to Calla’s apartment, it surprised him that he was actually nervous. He hadn’t felt the anxious knot in his gut since he was a teenager and Damon dared him to ask Jackie Bowied to the winter formal. Jackie had said yes, but not before he’d nearly thrown up all over her shoes. Calla had already agreed to go with him and he was a grown man, being nervous was actually a little embarrassing. Nevertheless, his hand trembled when he reached out to knock.
The door opened almost immediately, like she’d been standing on the other side the whole time. The prospect that maybe she was as nervous as he was instantaneously evaporated the moment he took her in.
She was a goddess in a flowing black gown that shimmied down the luscious curve of her stunning silhouette like a glove. The whole thing clung to her in a way no scrap of fabric ever should and stayed in place solely by the grace of a single piece of string across one shoulder. The back … what fucking back? There was nothing but a stretch of smooth, pale skin to the flare of her hips. Her silky mane was twisted and curled and done up the way only women knew how with tiny, red rosebuds tucked into the blonde strands. Her lipstick was fierce, a blood-red that made a man think of sinning. Her eyes were smoky, deep and dark tha
t emphasized the endless blue. Silver earrings brushed the bare stretch of skin at her shoulders and twinkled with every spark of light that cut across the metallic edges. A tennis bracelet glinted at her wrist that matched the diamond choker clasped about her slender throat.
“Jesus…”
His gaze wandered up the length of her again and again, forming a rut that never seemed to get old. He couldn’t stop looking at her. He couldn’t stop painting her in his mind. The front of his pants swelled and he prayed to god it was too dim in the corridor to notice.
“Jesus,” he breathed a second time, unable to think anything past the roar of lust swarming through him.
Calla chuckled, her cheeks pinkening beneath the subtle sweep of blush. “Thank you.” Tiny hands tipped with crimson nails skimmed the delicate fabric from waist to thighs and Jared almost groaned. “It’s a beautiful dress.”
“It’s not the dress.” He struggled to control the beast pacing inside him, the one urging him to claim what belonged to him be damned the consequences. “Christ, I can’t take you when you look like that.”
Her smile vanished. “What?”
He forced his gaze to cease their starving scrutiny and fix on her blue ones. “This town is not ready for you in that dress, baby.”
The blush deepened all the way to her brow. She laughed and the sound was pure magic rippling through the air.
“Then there is no one to blame but you,” she said, peering at him through thick, dusky lashes. “You chose it.”
He hummed softly in deliberation. “I swear it didn’t look that illegal on the mannequin.” He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Willow Creek is either going to thank me by the end of the night, or kill me.”
“Speaking of.” She narrowed her eyes. “How did you get into my apartment?”
“I have my ways,” he replied evenly.
She studied him a moment longer. “Either my mom or Beth gave you their key.”
Be My Baby Page 7
