by Melody Anne
Chapter Thirty-Two
Now
I’m home sipping on a cup of coffee when my phone rings. I ignore it. I’m not interested in visiting with anyone. Mason’s in New York. Some huge gallery noticed his work and flew him out. He was excited, telling me it might be his big break. He invited me to come, but I’ve only been at my job a couple of months. I don’t want to take time off.
I cringe as I tell him that. I never wanted work to consume me, to take over my life. And just like that I turn down a free trip to New York . . . so I can work. What’s wrong with me?
My phone rings again, and I ignore it. I mope. There isn’t a reason for me to act this way. I don’t understand. Audrey’s busy this weekend, so it’ll be a good time to paint my living room.
I love to paint. It makes things fresh and new, a cheap makeover. My dad let me paint my room often. For fifteen dollars I made a crappy room come to life, made it look and smell great.
I went through pink phases, blue phases, even a black and white phase. I finally settled into more neutral colors. But my dad had never minded, had always helped me, and had told me it was stunning when I finished.
I don’t have the proper motivation this morning. When my phone rings one more time, I turn it to silent. I want to finish my coffee, then go to the hardware store to pick out paint. Maybe I’ll go back to pink. A subtle pink might look pretty.
There’s a knock at my front door. Irritated, I look up. It’s too early for someone to stop by. I’m in my favorite pink robe and not much more. UPS is early. Mason gets deliveries all the time and I’m used to it.
I wait a bit, wanting the driver to leave before I grab the package. I take my cup to the counter and start a fresh pot of coffee then finally go to the front door. When I open it, there isn’t a package, and the doorway isn’t empty.
Kaden Alexander stands there, looking far too beautiful in a pair of . . . sweats and a T-shirt. I’m so stunned by his casual appearance it takes anything I might say right out of my mouth.
His eyes travel my body from head to toe before coming back up. His gaze heats as he meets my eyes. I tug on the sash of my robe, tightening it, making sure I’m covered. I feel as if I don’t have a stitch of clothing on.
“Good morning,” he says in a low, deep voice smooth enough to frost a cake. It doesn’t matter what he says just as long as he speaks.
“What are you doing here?” I ask when I come to my senses.
It’s wrong to have him at my house, so wrong. It feels like I’m doing something wrong. I remember how I felt when I found Bella in my home. And I’m fifty percent sure nothing went on between her and Mason. But something has happened between Kaden and me. And now he’s standing at my doorstep. I can’t invite him in.
“You’re stunning,” he breathes. He doesn’t answer my question, just devours me with his eyes. I want to tell him he is the beautiful one. Even out of his perfectly tailored suits he’s incredible, maybe even more so.
It takes me a moment to realize he’s most likely been working out or taking a run. I don’t want to ask. But why is he at my door at nine in the morning?
“We have a work event tonight. I tried to call you, but you ignored me.” I seem to be moving slowly this morning. I can’t process his words.
“A work event? Jenny didn’t say anything was going on this weekend.” I wrack my brain to see if I somehow missed something.
“This came up last minute,” he says. “Are you going to invite me in?”
“No. We both know that’s not right.”
He smiles. “Yeah, I don’t think I can continue keeping my hands off you. I don’t want to do that here.”
He isn’t holding anything back anymore. At least he’s honest. I’m not doing the same — not with him, Mason, or myself.
“What’s the work event?” I ask.
“It’s a dinner with clients. They set up the event. I have to make an appearance.” He shifts, moving a little closer. I’m not retreating.
“Why do I need to come?” I ask.
He raises a brow. “Do you have a problem with after-hour work?” I feel scolded.
“No, of course not.”
“Good. Be ready at eight and dress up.” He turns and begins walking away. I want to call out to him, ask for more information, but I can’t find my voice.
I stand in the doorway and watch him go. It’s a beautiful sight. The sweats hug the muscles of his ass. He has powerful legs. He walks with confidence no matter what he wears, no matter where he is. Still, he seems out of place in my Martha Stewart neighborhood.
He climbs into a shiny black SUV, looks back at me, waves, then drives away. I stare at the car until it’s completely out of sight. What just happened?
My neighbor steps outside to pick up her newspaper, her eyes following the SUV before she turns and smiles at me, giving a wave.
“Good morning, Miranda. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” she calls out. That snaps me out of my haze.
“Yes, Betty, it certainly is.” I force a smile to my lips as I grab my own paper. I’m not interested in reading it, but I need a reason for standing here gaping at the road.
“What are you doing today?” Betty asks. It isn’t that the neighbors are nosy, it’s what we always do in this neighborhood. We share, we visit, and we help each other when help is needed.
I smile. I’m not sure what I’m doing. Going to a dinner, apparently. But that isn’t until later.
“I’m going to do some painting,” I tell her. “I’m ready for a change.” I am ready for change.
“Oh, that’s always pleasant. Do you need any help?” The offer is genuine and she certainly can help me, but she has things to do herself. I smile in appreciation.
“No, I’m going to turn my music up and get dirty.” She laughs.
“I completely understand. I’m going to do the same and drive Mr. Edwards crazy because I’m doing it while I work in my garden.” She chuckles again. Mr. Edwards is a grumpy old man who’s deemed himself the neighborhood watch patrol. He shakes his head in disapproval so much that most of us have decided to have a bobblehead doll made for him. He won’t get the joke, but it’s a fun thought.
“Then we’re both going to have a wonderful day. Take care,” I say.
We say goodbye and each go into our houses. It’s time to get ready for the day. I have eleven hours until I see Kaden again. Maybe I’ll be somewhat normal by then. Doubtable, but I can hope.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Then
I was taking a trip to the coast by myself. I was starting a new job in less than a week and I had five full days off. I didn’t want to stay home. I wanted to be with my dad. Mason was too busy to go along, which was surprising. He hadn’t seen his mother in a while.
But that worked out wonderfully for me because it meant I’d stay with my dad. I didn’t mind sleeping on the pull-out Army cot. He’d bought a nice pad for it just for my visit, excited I was staying with him for the first time since I’d moved away at eighteen.
I blasted my music on the hour and a half drive to the coast and promised myself I’d see Cynthia for at least one lunch. I’d catch hell if I didn’t. There was no way she wouldn’t know I was in town, not in a small place like Newport.
I arrived early in the afternoon. I was going to take my dad out for a nice lunch, some place with a great view. Then we’d go for a walk on the beach and catch up. With my new job, I was unsure when I’d be able to visit next.
He came out to the porch; his trademark smile filling my heart with joy. Any worries I’d been having slowly melted away. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed him until seeing his sweet face.
“Dad!” My face hurt from smiling so wide.
“I get two visits in less than a month. This is wonderful,” he said as he gave me a hard squeeze.
“An
d I’m taking you to lunch. I’m starving.” He frowned when I told him.
“I have some rice and beans prepared.”
I laughed. “I know that’s all you need, but I like flavor.” He frowned for a moment as if planning to argue with me about how real food tasted wonderful, but then he shrugged and smiled.
“You’re spoiled,” he told me.
“That’s because of you. Now get whatever you need because we’re going to be out for a while. I want to play today, do some shopping, and get everything we need so we don’t have to go to town again. I want to spend the next few days doing nothing more than vegging out in paradise.”
That made him smile. He took pride in his home and he loved that I treasured it.
We climbed into my car and made our way down the hill toward the coastline. “Is there anywhere you have in mind?” I asked.
“You choose. You know the area well.” He knew I’d find a place that would fit with his diet. I loved his quirky ways.
“How have you been? I didn’t get to talk to you nearly enough at my graduation. There was so much going on.”
“I can’t complain,” he told me.
“It’s not that you can’t. It’s just that you never will.” It was one more thing about him that was so dang enduring.
“There’s nothing to complain about,” he assured me. “What has you in such a perky mood? Not that there’s anything wrong with it. I’m glad to see you’re looking so much more at peace.”
“I’m excited for my new job. I hated the last one, and I think this company will be great. They must scout the school for potential applicants. I can’t believe they thought I’d be a good fit. I started college so much later than most, and I have a colored résumé. But I want to do well.”
He smiled at me, that fatherly smile that told me he had something to say. I waited. I valued his words of wisdom far more than I had when I was younger.
“Just make sure you don’t make work your life. There’s so much more out there than the hustle and bustle of the nine to five.”
“I promise I won’t get consumed by it. I learned that from you, and I know how important it is to truly live. I remember you telling me there was more to this life than money. I thought you were crazy at the time, but I realize now things are just things. None of it really matters at the end of the day. Sure, it’s fun to buy new clothes and fancy furniture, but if my house goes up in flames, it wouldn’t be the possessions I’d be grabbing first, it would be my photo albums filled with all my happy memories,” I explained. “The memories I have because of you.” I had a hard time not choking up as I finished speaking.
“That’s my girl. I’m proud of you,” my dad said. It sent a glow through me. I liked him being proud of me, loved that there was nothing I could do that would make him feel disappointed in me. We all need that one person we know we can never disappoint. For me, that person was, and always will be, my father.
“I love that you always encourage me, that you make me feel like a good person.” I was emotional as we pulled up to a little dive on the edge of town. It didn’t look like much, but the food was fantastic and the view spectacular. Dad nodded his approval.
“I worry about you all the time. There’s so much bad in this world, and while I don’t want you to focus on it, I want you aware of it. I don’t like you living in the city. But I guess bad things happen in good places just like they happen in those overcrowded metropolises,” he said with a sigh.
“I take care of myself, Dad. I promise. I’ve taken self-defense classes, and I make sure I’m never out late, especially alone. I don’t want to live in fear, but I do live in reality,” I assured him.
“Good. I don’t think there’s too much more I can teach you.”
The diner was crowded, but we managed to get a table on the back deck, the last one available without a wait. We ordered our food and continued chatting.
“How are things with you and Mason?” he asked.
I cringed the slightest bit. I knew we’d have to talk about my husband, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want that good mood to be dampened.
“I honestly can’t answer that. I don’t know. It’s more like we’ve become roommates. Neither of us seems to address any issue. If we do try to discuss something, by morning we pretend the conversation didn’t happen.” I didn’t go into full detail.
“Are you intimate?” he asked.
It didn’t matter that I was an adult, heat rushed to my cheeks at his question. I gazed at my cup of coffee and waited for the floor to swallow me. It didn’t happen.
“No,” I finally said. “Not for a while.” I was mortified to admit this.
“That’s definitely a problem.” Thankfully he dropped the subject after that. My father wasn’t that typical dad afraid to discuss certain topics. He’d raised me to be independent and confident and that included talking to me about uncomfortable subjects. In his opinion that was all part of life, nothing to be ashamed of.
We finished our lunch without any further awkward questions and then strolled on the beach for hours, collecting seashells and looking for glass balls. It was a warm day with a perfect breeze blowing off the water. I felt sixteen again, without a care in the world.
When we were back in the cabin I relaxed, feeling refreshed and better than I had in a while. Things truly were going to be okay. They had to be if I wished it hard enough.
I remembered a church lesson from my youth where I’d been told God would never give us more than we could handle. He might push us to the brink so we would know our own strength, but He’d never push us over the edge.
What I hadn’t taken into account with this beautiful lesson, was that while God might not give us more than we could handle, we might be foolish enough to do it to ourselves.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Now
I feel like another person as I look in the mirror at an almost unrecognizable image. The dress is beautiful and subtle at the same time. It covers my shoulders but makes a small plunge down my neckline, showing a modest amount of cleavage. The dark blue fabric is soft and molds to my curves, but flares out at my hips, the hem ending mid-calf with a flirty slit up the side that can only be seen if I move quick enough for the material to swish.
I’m not sure how fancy this dinner will be. I don’t want to be underdressed, but I certainly don’t want to look as if I’m going to a ball. I bought my paint then ended up at the mall, knowing I won’t feel good unless I have a new dress.
I can wear a business suit, but it’s a dinner. I don’t want to look severe. The moment I tried this dress on, I felt like a million bucks even though I cringed at the price tag. I put it on my credit card and gave myself a break. I make more money at this job and I can afford to splurge once in a while.
My hair is down to partially conceal the plunging back. It’s curled and soft, and I love the scent of my new shampoo. I make my eyes darker, giving them a mysterious shadow. I top the look off with a glossy pink on my lips. It seems I can’t get away from that color. But I like the finished look.
There’s no time to spare. I fussed too long, and Kaden will be here before I’m ready if I don’t slip into my strappy black shoes. I’m not one of those women who keep people waiting. That’s a bad habit I had to break when I was younger, the moment I realized I had a reputation for never arriving anywhere on time.
Just as I buckle the last strap, my doorbell rings. My heart thuds as the sound echoes through the house. Is Kaden’s driver picking me up or will it be him? This is only a work event. It is in no way a date. Still, my nerves are on fire.
I glance in the mirror one final time and trust that everything will be okay. I walk to the front of my house and open the door. My breath catches and there’s nothing that can free it again.
Kaden is here, looking as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. His lips are pressed
together as he looks me over. But I’m not only focused on his face. I study the overall picture. I’ve seen him in many custom suits, in jeans, in sweats. I’ve never seen him in a black tux before. Maybe this dinner is more formal than I’m prepared for, but I’m glad I splurged on the dress.
He wears a crisp white shirt beneath his black jacket. It fits him to perfection, every single inch of the garment molds perfectly to his sculptured body. He’s an artist’s dream to sketch. He’s too beautiful to be real.
“Breathtaking,” he whispers, reaching out and taking my hand. I can’t pull it away. Now I’m fixed on his eyes. Flames appear to leap within them as he stares at me.
He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my fingers. A tingle races up my arm, then slowly travels through my body, heating my core, making me ache in a way that’s nearly unbearable.
“You’re a sight,” I say, my voice husky. I’m unable to hide my reaction to him. He smiles the briefest of smiles as he clutches my fingers.
“I think we’re going to have a difficult time getting business done. You’re definitely stealing the spotlight tonight,” he whispers. He’s shaken off the stunned look, and his normal mask is back in place. I wish I could do the same. I don’t have a response to his words. I try to come up with something to say to ebb the intensity I’m feeling.
“Are you ready?” he asks. The question jolts me back to reality.
“Yes. Let me grab my purse and jacket.” I snatch the flimsy cover-up from the back of a chair and he takes it from my fingers. I turn as he carefully positions it over my back, his fingers trailing the naked skin of my shoulders.
Goosebumps appear on my flesh. There’s no way he doesn’t see my response to him. There’s no point trying to hide it. Maybe it’s time for me to let happen what’s going to happen.
I grab my purse, and he leads me from the house. I don’t glance at any of my neighbor’s homes. I don’t want to know if they’re looking out, if they’re wondering why I’m dressed up, why there’s a strange man escorting me down the walk. I can’t say it’s innocent and nothing more than a work thing, because I know it isn’t.
