The Naughty One

by Michelle Love

  He paused for a moment and her self-conscious mind ran wild; dreading him saying that he wasn’t sexually attracted to her or something else to wound her sudden vulnerability.

  To her immense relief, he said instead, “I’ve managed to already mess this up once. I don’t want to do anything else to put you off or make you think this is an entirely sexual thing. I don’t want to jump into anything.”

  God that accent, she could listen to him talk all day. Her head agreed with what he was saying but the wave of heat in her core didn’t.

  “Yeah,” she nodded, still panting gently. “That sounds like a good idea.”

  Weston chuckled quietly, an adoring smile accentuated his beautiful face. “You’re even more beautiful when you’re… flustered like that.” His voice was sweet and smooth, like honey. Aullie wanted to drizzle it into her tea and drink it up.

  “I should go,” Weston said. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  Still speechless and breathless, Aullie turned in a daze and watched him walk toward the door. Just then, Bruce hopped out of a kitchen cabinet, tail erect and eager to sneak out the door when Weston left. He perked up his ears and meowed a little greeting to the stranger, no doubt trying to be cute for the potential pity of being let out.

  “Well hi, kitty,” Weston bent his knees, squatting down to scratch Bruce’s soft, gray little head between his pointy ears. Seeing him then, his sweet nature and his tenderness toward her pet, Aullie began to consider giving him a real shot.

  In her experience, rich guys were shallow but the more time she spent with him, the more she recognized he really, truly wasn’t. She enjoyed the sight for a moment before she called the cat.

  “C’mere Bruce,” she clapped her hands and clicked her tongue. “You can’t go outside right now, baby.”

  “Listen to your mommy, kitty.” Weston gently grasped the cat by his sides and turned him to face Aullie. He gave his furry little butt a pat and the disgruntled cat meowed in protest and made his crabby way back to his giggling owner.

  Weston placed his hand on the doorknob and turned to face her. “I had a great time with you today, Aullie. I really hope you’ll consider giving me the chance to spend more of it with you.”

  “Yeah.” Aullie nodded. With a sheepish smile, she said, “I think I’d like that.”

  In his sexy, accented voice he said, “Good.” He turned the knob and let himself out, folding his tall frame through a narrow crack in the door to mind the cat.

  Once he had gone, Aullie locked the door behind him, feeling like a silly rom-com star as she leaned against it and smiled.

  Chapter 7

  Tuesday meant two early classes, followed by a shift at work. Those shifts were usually pretty slow but Aullie had a surprisingly good night. Still on cloud nine by Wednesday morning, she decided to treat herself.

  Things with Weston were still good, he texted her the appropriate amount with the right level of flirtatiousness and just a touch of sensuality. For the past thirty-six hours, Aullie had been thoroughly satisfied with her choice to give the handsome Brit another chance.

  Digging through her chaotic closet, she found her favorite pair of shoes; a pair of ratty white converse she had colored with sharpies when she was in high school. She tied them onto her feet, slipped a wad of cash in her pocket and decided to go for a walk.

  The weather was nice, it was probably one of the last nice days left before winter took over completely. The air was crisp, but not chilling, and clumps of crunchy brown leaves littered the sidewalk.

  Aullie zipped up her baggy concert hoodie and wandered down the street. There was an art store there, more of a specialty place than your typical big craft stores. They sold good pencils, higher quality paints, and brushes, and Aullie’s school definitely did a big part of helping keep them in business.

  As her rhythmic steps carried her down the sidewalk, Aullie made a mental list of things she needed and little side list of things she wanted. She wondered if the sudden metaphorical sunny sky in her life, her sudden boost of confidence and happiness, completely had to do with Weston.

  If she was being honest with herself, she’d spent most of her dating life selling herself short; settling for hooking up with whichever guy she happened to spark with and never really building a connection or commitment.

  She knew it was entirely too early to believe she loved him, but for the first time in a long time, she actually felt the potential for her feelings to grow. There was a real possibility of loving him one day in the not-too-distant future.

  The shop she was destined for occupied a small, square space in the local strip mall, flanked by a cheap nail salon that Brittany frequented for her gaudy acrylics she adored so much and a tiny post office and packaging company. On the very end, there was a small, locally owned coffee shop with big, open wraparound windows. Aullie went there to sketch sometimes, they had big leather chairs, the air always smelled like coffee and vanilla, and the atmosphere was so much more relaxed than Starbucks.

  As Aullie rounded the corner, she swept her gaze through the windows of the coffee shop, passively curious about the eleven o’clock coffee crowd. Seated at one of the tall stools at the high-top tables near the back, she could’ve sworn she saw Weston. Upon closer inspection, she could see it wasn’t though, just a man with vaguely similar dark blonde hair.

  Aullie shook it off, laughing at herself. What, was she turning into some dreamy little girl now? Seeing the guy she liked all over town because she couldn’t stop thinking about him? It was so out of character for her, she wasn’t used to it, but oddly she didn’t mind it. I deserve it, she assured herself. It was about time her recently bleak life finally afforded her something to smile about.

  Before she passed the shop all the way, a stunning woman with generous hips and big, firm buttocks sashayed over to the table with the guy who looked like Weston. She had long, beautifully strawberry blonde hair that tumbled down her back in the kind of beachy waves that took hours of styling to look that effortless. She was dressed in tight jeans, pointy-toed high-heeled boots and a silky peach blouse that accentuated a narrow waist and hefty chest.

  The man turned to her, his handsome profile revealed a coy smile as the gorgeous woman placed a coffee cup in front of him. She put her hand on his knee to help boost herself into the tall stool. ‘What a beautiful couple’, Aullie thought.

  Wait a minute.

  She stopped in her tracks, resisting the urge to lean against the glass to get a closer look. When the man turned to face his stunning partner, Aullie realized she had been wrong before.

  The man in the coffee shop, the man with a gorgeous woman putting her hands on him, was Weston!

  Shock hit Aullie like a slap to the face. Sure, they’d only been on two dates, it wasn’t outlandish to think he may be seeing other people. The thought just hadn’t occurred to her. After all, he had been so committed to seeing her again.

  She felt incredibly stupid. And how was she ever supposed to compete with a woman who looked like that? Aullie might’ve been confident enough in herself, but that woman was built like a goddess. How could any man deny someone so beautiful?

  Aullie felt sick. She couldn’t seem to get her feet to move her away from this idyllic little scene that was causing so much pain in her chest.

  The woman’s arms were crossed in front of her ample bosom, her face cast down toward the table. She seemed to be talking, but she was mostly turned away from Aullie.

  When Weston rested his hand on her delicate forearm, Aullie lost it.

  Any excuses she had made for him in her head went out the window with that one intimate gesture. She was done, totally and completely done with him. She waved with big, wide arm strokes, angrily trying for his attention.

  ‘I probably look like a crazy person’, she realized. She didn’t really care, though. Finally, after a couple seconds, he looked up. His face fell slightly, but he didn’t move.

  Aullie flipped him the angriest middle
finger she could manage and stalked away. She turned the corner around the shop, her rage quickened her pace as she walked home.

  Weston didn’t follow her and how she wished she didn’t care.

  Cash Cow Part Three

  Chapter 1

  The first thing Aullie did when she slammed her front door behind her, was to whip out her phone. She swiped the screen open with angry, shaking fingers and stabbed at buttons until she had pulled up Weston’s contact information. Scrolling to the bottom of the screen, she selected the ‘Block This Caller’ option.

  A small notification window popped up, asking ‘Are you sure you want to block this caller? You will not receive phone calls, text messages or video chat requests from people on the blocked list.’

  Yes, I’m sure! Aullie thought. I should’ve just done this a week ago, and saved myself from all this!

  With one deep breath, Aullie exhaled any trepidations she felt about cutting him off completely and confirmed the block. She was so flustered, so hurt, so angry that she didn’t even know what to do with herself. How had she let some stupid guy define her self-worth?

  She couldn’t believe her stupidity and naiveté. Of course, he was seeing other people. Aullie knew she shouldn’t care, that in all reality, their relationship was young and she would’ve been well within her rights to be seeing someone else as well.

  It was the fact she had believed so easily that the sexy, charming billionaire was all hers after a week and a half. It was just as she had been fearing the entire time, they just weren’t on the same level and his choice in other women made it even clearer.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid! She chastised herself.

  Her jeans were suddenly too tight; she tore them off, feeling restless and irritable. Off came her sweatshirt and her bra too, her skin was hot and itchy and Aullie felt suffocated. She found a baggy, worn t-shirt her father had brought her as a souvenir from golf trips. The “Pebble Beach” print on the front was cracked with age and wear. Though she loathed and resented her father, the shirt had always been her security blanket in times of stress.

  Maybe I should paint it out, Aullie thought, seeing her emotions as bursts of vivid color. Then, she smacked herself in the forehead. The whole reason she had left was to get the supplies she needed to paint, and she’d wound up flipping Weston the bird and storming home instead.

  Now the stupid guy was interrupting her art, her dream!

  Still flustered, she found her phone again and dialed Brittany. On the third ring, she answered and said, “Hey I was just about to call yo-”

  Aullie cut her off. “I just saw Weston with someone else.”

  “What?!” Brittany’s screech was so loud Aullie had to move the phone further from her ear.

  “Yeah! I was walking by the coffee shop and there he was with some chick, all dolled up, touching his knees and stuff.”

  “Jesus, really?” Brittany still sounded stunned. “I really didn’t see that coming. I thought you guys had a date yesterday. That’s why I was gonna call you, to see how it went.”

  “Well, it went great, actually. Or so I thought.” Aullie paced restlessly around her apartment. “He took me to the museum for an ‘art lesson’ and we kissed and it was awesome, then I brought him back to my place because he said he wanted to see my art. He said he loved it all, we made out a little bit and probably would’ve gone further but he stopped and said he didn’t want it to be all about sex.”

  “Well, that does sound great. What the hell is this guy’s problem?”

  “It’s not his problem. It’s me. I should’ve known better. I mean, seriously, what waitress gets swept off her feet by some billionaire? Plus, we went on like two dates. It’s not like we’re married or anything. It’s not outrageous to think he’d be seeing other people,” Aullie could hear the exasperation and hurt in her own voice.

  “I still just can’t believe it. He was so committed to seeing you again, you would think if there was another girl in the picture, he wouldn’t be quite so insistent. Damn girl, I’m sorry,” Brittany sympathized.

  Unwelcome tears sprang into Aullie’s eyes. Her voice wavered as she said, “I can’t believe it either. I had really started to like that guy, Brit, even though it was fast. And you know I don’t get like that.”

  “I know you don’t, sweetie. Has he said anything to you?” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t know. I blocked him.”

  “Damn,” Brittany seemed shocked or impressed, Aullie couldn’t tell. “You’re really pissed.”

  Before Aullie could respond, there were three loud knocks on her front door that made her jump.

  “Someone’s here,” she said quietly into the phone. “They just knocked.”

  “Oh shit,” Brittany replied. “Is it him, do you think?”

  “I don’t know. Let me call you back.”

  Without saying goodbye, Aullie ended the call and set her phone on the counter. She began a mad dash to find pants, no matter who it was, she wasn’t answering the door in her underwear. Especially in chilly weather.

  She settled on the jeans she had kicked off earlier, they were better than nothing and yanked them over her legs. Giving up on securing them, she let her long baggy shirt hang over the front to hide the open button and zipper. Two more knocks came through the wooden door, a little stronger and more urgent this time.

  Damn, Aullie thought as she shuffled toward the door, steeling herself for the incoming anger if it was Weston and disappointment if it wasn’t.

  Inhale. Exhale. She opened the door.

  There he was, in all his golden-haired, golden-eyed glory. He almost didn’t look human; his poise, his grace, the flawless structure of his face wrapped in perfectly clear skin. His sad eyes did nothing to soften Aullie’s glare or her seething rage.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  “Let me explain…” he said before he was cut off.

  “Look,” she said, putting her hands up in sarcastic defeat. “I really don’t care anymore. You’re totally entitled to see other people and that’s great, you bagged a real looker, but that’s not my style, ok?”

  Aullie placed her hand on the door to close it. He began to say, “It’s not what it looks like,” but she never heard the end over the sound of the heavy door slamming hard in his face. His words still mumbled through, so she walked away. She had no interest in hearing what Weston had to say.

  She could still hear him outside, he must be close to yelling now, so she snatched her phone off the counter and plugged it into a clunky, dated sound system she sometimes used when she was painting.

  ‘Sorry neighbors’, she thought before cranking up the volume and pressing shuffle.

  Angry guitar chords ripped through the speakers, a tiny bit louder than she had expected, but it was perfect. Aullie didn’t have a set taste in music, she liked to collect music with different moods to ensure variety in her inspiration with painting. Though anger wasn’t her top choice of painting feelings, she was extra thankful for the music and the message it was hopefully sending Weston.

  That is if he was even still out there. She couldn’t hear him anymore and that pleased her.

  I’m done, she thought, blissfully as she flittered around her apartment, collecting mugs and tidying away dirty laundry to a chorus of gritty screams and manic drums. Absolutely done!

  Aullie fell into a rhythm as she cleaned her apartment. She kept her music loud, but the soundtrack in her head was just a slamming door on repeat. Over and over, she replayed the sad little look on his face and the heavy thud that closed him off and hopefully pushed him out of her life.

  The emotional drama was too much, it was bringing out something in her that she wasn’t comfortable with and she was happy to have him gone.

  Good riddance!

  At least that's what she told herself.

  Chapter 2

  An entire week passed. Each of her six shifts at work, Aullie panicked the entire night until it was over and ther
e was no sign of Weston. She didn’t know if he had called or texted, she’d stayed strong and kept him blocked.

  Truly, the time had been agonizing but every time she thought about talking to him and actually hearing him out, all she could see was that long swishy mane of strawberry blonde hair. That beautiful companion he’d had in the coffee shop. It was one thing to think he could do better than her and an entirely different thing to actually see it.

  Thankful for a Tuesday off, it didn’t happen often, Aullie was preparing her things to go to school. There was an open studio and she felt like getting out of the apartment. Maybe the change of scenery would help her feel a little more inspired.

  She loaded her heavy backpack into her car and drove there, thankfully, with no car incidents. The squealing had stopped and, even though it was probably a bad thing, she convinced herself that it was fine.

  The trees were becoming bare, with the on-set of winter, even the last leaves clinging to the branches were brown and crunchy. The heater in Aullie’s Accord rattled, remedying the chilly interior with dry blasts of artificial hot air.

  She took a deep breath and enjoyed the pleasant mood she was in. The first few days after she had slammed the door in Weston’s face, he’d been on her mind constantly, but as time passed she found herself thinking about him less and less. She missed him, sure, but she was happy to have her focus back on her art, where it belonged.

  Aullie parked her car in the school lot, behind the small, boring brick buildings she did a fair portion of her creating in. She carried her backpack inside and swiped her student ID to open the studio door. The big, bright room had two walls of high windows which let in plenty of natural sun and several neat rows of fluorescents that clicked on with the motion sensor when she entered.

  A scene constructed by one of the professors took up the center of the room, big swaths of colorful fabric draped over boards and boxes with an assortment of white objects on top like eggs and ceramic statues. A circle of dozens of paint-stained easels were cramped around the scene, all set at different angles. Aullie picked one at random; she liked her easels like she liked her men - tall and solid.