by Roxie Odell
“Of course I don’t like it,” she said with a stomp of her foot, “and right now I don’t like you!” She glared at him again, at his handsome face as large as life in front of hers, and she couldn’t help but melt a little at the sight of him. It was tough to reconcile what a bastard Thomas Graham was with his amazing appearance; he was disarmingly good-looking, and that just made her want to smack him. “I don’t like you, and I’m not letting you handle anything.”
“You do…and you will,” he promised.
Chapter 2
The morning alarm sounded more like an emergency siren than a wake-up call, and it buzzed for quite some time, through several sleep cycles, before Cheri came to. She was used to hangovers or waking up drunk, used to feeling like crap in the shadows of the rising sun. This day was no different. If I could just have the day to rest and recover, tomorrow might be different, she told herself. I’m not drinking anymore. I need to get a grip, start looking for a new job. The trouble was that it was the same empty pep talk she’d been giving herself every day for the past month. She always made resolutions to do better and even looked forward to going back to work so she would be forced to maintain her sober streak, but as soon as she started drinking again she no longer cared.
It didn’t take long for her to burn up all her sick days and vacation time by calling in too often. At first, the people at work were sympathetic and tried to be patient, but her tales of faux illness grew more and more elaborate, until they tired of her lies, told her not to bother calling in anymore, and said she could just stay home. She took some solace in the fact that she never had to see her nasty co-worker Marlene again, but it sickened her to think of that woman taking over her office, sitting at her chair with her awful, ugly, clunky, matronly shoes and cankles.
Cheri didn’t really panic at first, because she had a nice little nest egg saved up in the form of retirement. That money created a cushion that allowed her to enjoy her recklessness. That was in months ago, though. “Time flies when you’re getting drunk,” she mused, but she couldn’t seem to summon the energy to laugh. It had been… what? Three months since Thomas had—Stop!
Cheri’s drinking began when her serene, ordinary life was set on fire over Thomas Graham. In that blaze, she burned the bridge to her job, the one she’d held for the past eight years. Now, even worse, she seemed to have burned the bridge to herself, because Cheri no longer knew exactly who she was. To make the whole situation even more horrendous, now that Thomas had returned to stick his prying nose into her life again, as he seemed to have a gift for doing, she knew he would quickly figure out she was unemployed, and his controlling nature would really kick in.
“Dammit! I’ve barely opened my eyes, and I’m already all stressed out,” she muttered.
With a million grim thoughts racing through her head, Cheri wasn’t quite mentally coordinated enough to adjust to the light of day. It took a second for her to realize she was in a strange place, but it slowly came back to her. A quick glance around as her blurry eyes cleared let her know that it wasn’t a strange place at all. Her house just looked completely different, after a facelift from all the damage an unscrupulous contractor had inflicted upon it and then some. Her bedroom still smelled of fresh paint, which she was sure wasn’t necessary, and the fact that the house looked even better than it did before the scamming company damaged it pissed her off for some reason.
If Thomas thinks for one minute that primping up my house will make up for the fact that he stumbled home that last night we were together, drunk as a skunk, with a strange woman on his arm, he’s sadly mistaken.
As if on cue, Cheri heard heavy footfalls climbing the stairs, and her nose caught a whiff of freshly brewed coffee. Are you kidding me? That sorry son-of-a-bitch let himself in, as if I asked him to take care of me? she silently seethed, though her spacy mind couldn’t help appreciating the invasion of the coffee aroma that helped her stir more and more awake. She knew precisely what his strategy was: He’ll try to divert my attention away from the cruel thing he did to me by remedying the basket case I’ve become. Immediately, she planned to tell him he could take his amazingly delicious coffee and go.
As coolly and quickly as she could, she cleared the sleep from her eyes and fluffed her hair in an attempt to avoid looking like roadkill when he walked in.
It was perfect timing, because within seconds his large, intimidating silhouette appeared at the door. His tall, knight-like form with the tattoo of the crest on his muscled arm, the one that bore her name, caused Cheri to lose every ounce of resolve to stand up to him. Her sexual attraction to him was so powerful, so animal, that her insides revved potently. She squirmed in her bed without even realizing she was doing it. Damn. Did he see that? He had to, didn’t he? She kept her mouth shut, thinking it best to just let him think she couldn’t stand the sight of him.
Thomas didn’t say a word to her and just silently walked over to offer her a tray of food.
Cheri silently accepted his coffee and the big sweet roll that came with it. Remaining wordless and not even offering him a glance of gratitude, she took a big sip, only to discover that it was the good stuff, the coffee he made and not the store-bought stuff. Out of this world, she thought. Just like I’d like to knock him!
“Careful,” he said. “That stomach of yours has to be roiling. I’d eat the roll first if I were you.”
“Speaking from experience?” she asked acidly, recalling how drunk he was the night he came home with the stranger, the night she walked out on him. In all fairness, Cheri had to admit to herself that she’d been at least that drunk every night since, not to mention more than a few afternoons. She didn’t even recognize her own house at first and had no recollection of how she got there, so she began to wonder if she was a hypocrite for expecting him to remember his own drunken sins.
“Honestly, Cheri, recent events have made it clear that neither of us should be… indulging in the grape,” he replied in kind.
“Well, gee, thanks, Captain Obvious. Got any tips on how I should chew? Maybe you can come work my jaw in just the right way?” she asked, glaring at him. “I really don’t know what I would do without you.”
“You’ve had your time and space, a chance to get it all out of your system,” he said evenly. “Now it’s time for you to get over it. No more drinking like a longshoreman and no more feeling sorry for yourself.”
Cheri scoffed and sputtered dramatically, “Get over it? Get it outta my system? I can’t un-see what I saw that night, Thomas.” She paused as her rage grew, then went on. “I saw the man I thought I loved with everything I had, the man who begged me to give him a second chance, stumble into the house and basically fuck a woman in front of me. I’m not sure how I’m gonna just get over that!”
His words got caught in his throat and barely made their way out when he said, “I… Look, if I can, um, live with what I did, you can, too.”
“Wow. Sounds like a self-help bestseller, right behind Bullshit for Dummies!” she snapped, then defiantly tossed the warm, sticky pastry in the trash. She did want to eat it, as she’d lost quite a bit of weight the past few months, enjoying a balanced diet which mostly consisted of caffeine and alcohol. In some sort of perverse battle of wills, she wanted to hold on to her new smaller size, even as her stomach growled, and much of that rebellious nature came from the fact that Thomas was a provider who loved to take care of her. To get back at him, she was happy to lob the stupid sweet roll across the room and make a three-pointer with it.
“Don’t have a sweet tooth, huh? Fine. You’ll have eggs,” he calmly said.
“Get out of my house!” she said with a growl that seemed fitting, since her hair had bushed up like a lion’s mane in all her tossing and turning.
“No,” he said quickly.
“You don’t get to come here and tell me how it’s gonna be. Your very presence here disturbs me,” she said. “If I wanna pull the curtains shut and kill a fifth, it’s my own damn business. At this point,
you’re trespassing or stalking or… both!”
Rather than pleading with her more, as she expected he would, he shrugged his shoulders and said calmly, “Well, actually it is my business…literally. You stole credit cards of mine, and there’s plenty of evidence to support that, starting with that bartender who didn’t seem too thrilled with you. You’ll either do as I say like a good little girl, or you’ll pay the penalty.”
“What penalty?” she asked, both hoping and hating that there might be some innuendo in his threat.
“You’ll take care of yourself, or I’ll press charges,” he said evenly. He then added, “As for the fifth, you won’t find any booze in this house. It’ll remain that way, not a drop on the premises and not a drop in that mouth of yours.”
“You can’t handle me drunk, Thomas. You think you have any chance when I’m sober?” she mocked.
“So, you admit you need to be sober?” he replied smoothly.
“Whatever,” she answered, then sat up straight and angrily threw the covers off her body, only to realize she was naked beneath them. She quickly grabbed the bedding and pressed it to her chest to cover herself from him, as if her nudity was a sight he’d not seen many times before. “Credit card theft, my ass,” she said. “If you even try that shit, I’ll press charges on you.”
“For what?”
“Didn’t you hear me before? You’re trespassing and stalking. Not only that, but you’re guilty of breaking and entering, and you took off my clothes without my consent.”
“If that’s the way you want it,” he said, very sure of himself, “hit me with your best shot.” With that, he turned on his heel and walked out.
Cheri scrambled to dress, even though she reeked from the hangover sweat that covered her skin from head to toe. She really didn’t like to look anything but her best, especially in front of him, but she couldn’t afford to let him get away without a fight. “Slow down!” she ordered.
“No,” he said, taunting her. “You asked me to leave, and I wouldn’t want to add to my rap sheet by making you an omelet.”
“I didn’t mean that,” she argued.
“Let’s not play games, Cheri,” he scolded. “You were…very clear.”
“You’re the one playing games. You always do,” she fired back.
“Well, if that’s the case, I’m calling game over.”
They got as far as the living room before Cheri looked around and noticed that far more than just her room had received a makeover. It seemed Thomas and his crew had touched up the whole house. Technically, it was a very nice, generous gesture, but she simply could not allow herself to like or appreciate it, because it meant that no matter where she looked, even in her own home, she’d be doomed to think about him. “Why on Earth is everything remodeled?” she asked finally, flailing her arms around as if the whole place disgusted her. “I never requested all this.”
“Because the guy who took your house apart soiled it,” he said patiently. “He left it open and vulnerable. Too much moisture got in and stained just about everything. So, you’re welcome.”
“Whatever,” she said, anger rising in her.
Thomas grabbed her firmly, forcing her to look at him, now officially as pissed as she was. “Don’t ‘whatever’ me again. Let’s talk like grownups, shall we?” he said tensely.
She looked up at him as he stared down at her, his eyes glistening with intensity, like fine gems. They were so clear and brilliant, lined with thick, dark lashes that any mascara company would have loved to patent. His face was perfectly proportioned, and adorned with the most handsome features. It was nearly impossible to maintain hostility looking at all that absolute gorgeousness, but Cheri did her best. “Yeah, I wanted to go with you and support you through your grief like a grownup before, but you wouldn’t let me,” she said. “It wasn’t very grown-up how you handled it, was it? In case you didn’t notice, you destroyed me.”
“No,” he corrected, “I hurt your feelings. Since then, all this bullshit, drinking like liquor’s goin’ outta style… Well, that’s all on you. We could have fixed things, but you drowned us out in those bottles. Now go take a shower, get dressed, and I’ll drive you to work.”
“No,” she protested sharply.
“Yes,” he insisted. “No more going to the bar. If you don’t straighten up, I’ve got about $25K of bar tabs and hotel charges to lord over you. Please don’t make me, Cheri.”
“No!” she said, even more stubbornly this time. Then, not wanting him to discover that she was now among the thousands of unemployed or, worse, pathetically fired, she thought fast and sighed, as if reconsidering her answer. “Look, I’m not conceding that I owe you a thing, but if I let you give me a ride to work, will you get off my back?”
He eyeballed her, suspicious of her compliance. “For now, I suppose,” he said. “I thought the sugar in the sweet roll would help you with your alcohol cravings, but since you threw that away, eggs will have to do. Get dressed, and then you’ll have a quick bite before I take you.”
“Done,” she said. She then marched into her kitchen, pulled out a cereal bowl, and cracked two eggs in it before setting it in the microwave.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Eggs, you said. By the time I’m done upstairs, they’ll be done down here.”
“You’re kidding me.” He shook his head and his eyes rolled to the ceiling. “Whatever.”
Cheri stopped in her tracks and could not resist the urge to mock him. “Please don’t ‘whatever’ me.”
He blinked rapidly in frustration. “Fine,” he said, as if he was about to give up. “Let’s just get this show on the road.”
For the first time in weeks, Cheri ran up to her bathroom to bathe and dress as if she was going to work. She knew she would have to go to great lengths to fool him, and something inside her insisted on telling her over and over again that it would be a whole lot easier to simply tell her benefactor the truth. On the other hand, it really wasn’t any of his business as far as she was concerned, and she didn’t want him to continue thinking it was. It was a matter of pride. She had lost her job as a direct result of her drinking, and she would not be able to bear the lectures that would surely be heaped upon her if she admitted that she’d crossed that line. She knew she was twisting herself into an impossible knot, but until she could bring herself to confess to Thomas she had to keep up the façade and dress for an office that would no longer welcome her.
Cheri struggled to focus to get herself together. Despite dunking under the cold bath water, her body continued perspiring like mad. She dried with a clean towel and pummeled her body with scented powder, hoping it would at least keep her skin from sticking to her clothes.
She corralled her long, wet hair in a towel. When she was actually employed, she always styled it impeccably, as she was always one to be particularly careful about how she looked. Now, she simply dabbed a minimal coating of makeup on her face and hurried down to Thomas and her freshly nuked eggs.
“What’s going on?” he asked, staring at her as if he knew something was amiss.
“What?” she responded.
“Aren’t you going to do something with that?” he asked abruptly.
“Air dry,” she answered. “Beach hair.”
He shook his head and walked over to the skillet where he’d dumped her eggs to fry them for her. He even cooked them with real butter, which she couldn’t remember buying, and she wondered if he hadn’t also taken the liberty of stocking her fridge and pantry. The eggs were the first real food she’d eaten in a long time, since the pretzels from the bar didn’t count. She started to eat them standing up, but he made her sit down. As she shoveled, he took the towel from her hair and worked it dry. She didn’t know which was better, the divine taste of the eggs in the salted butter or the tingles cascading through her scalp from his fingertips. His touch sent deeper sensations through her than any shot of whiskey ever could, and within minutes it had her feeling so relaxed she
was sure she could easily fall asleep right there in her kitchen chair—into real sleep and not just the crazy, dreams-invaded, passed-out kind. It was the most hypnotic sensation in the world that didn’t involve drugs.
When she swallowed her last bite, he handed her an ice-cold bottle of water and her purse and announced, “Time to go.”
When Cheri stood, her head swam, and she feared she might not be fit and recuperated enough to pull off her charade.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I have to be, right?” she said. “Gotta make good on this little intervention of yours.”
For just a second during their ride, she was tempted to give in and just let him take care of her, but Cheri stuck to the path of resistance. For that reason, the commute to her office felt tense and strained. It was especially awful when he pulled up in front of her building. Her eyes stung with tears because she was so ashamed that she had been fired for drinking.
“I’ll be here at the usual time,” he said, “unless you have to work overtime. Let me know.”
Cheri’s insides twisted as she hurriedly turned to exit the truck. She wanted to get rid of him for good, and she had forgotten about the complication of him wanting to pick her up. “Look, I don’t know what to say to you, Thomas. I mean, I guess I should be nice here, thank you for pulling me out of that bar and for the house and breakfast and everything, but… Anyway, I know I went overboard, and I appreciate your help, but I really I don’t want to see you ever again.”
“Sorry, but them’s the breaks, my terms,” he said. “You owe me, baby doll, and any court in the land would see it that way this time.”
“Why must you say things like that?” she asked, incredulous. “I don’t wanna have an argument with you here, in front of… my job. Stop threatening me with court. You know I could get you busted on a B&E charge, and you already have a bit of a…soiled record.”
