Admission of Love

by Niobia Bryant

  She hung up the receiver and looked over to where Chloe stood by the door. “We better change these clothes, we’re both soaking wet.”

  “First, if it’s alright, I’ll make a cup of tea to take up with me.”

  Lil removed her rain cap. “You go ahead. As soon as I change and warm these old bones I’ll smother some chops for dinner.”

  Chloe walked into the kitchen as Lil entered her bedroom. She filled the flowered teakettle with water and placed it on one of the gas burners she turned on. While she waited for the water to boil, she searched for the tea bags and found them in the cupboard over the counter by the sink.

  Once the kettle whistled, she hurried to make the cup of orange pekoe tea, adding lots of sugar and lemon the way she liked it. Turning to leave the kitchen, she carefully held the cup in the matching saucer, making sure not to spill any of it. Just as she reached the end of the short hall, Devon entered and they collided.

  Chloe yelled out in pain as the cup fell to the floor, with a good bit of the hot liquid sloshing onto her right hand and wrist.

  Devon swore before forcibly turning her body back toward the kitchen, headed for the sink. “Let me run cold water onto it,” he ordered roughly.

  The area was an angry shade of red and the cold water from the tap stung at first before becoming soothing. He stood directly behind her, his strong callused hands holding her wrist under the stream of water.

  Chloe stood still. His body was too close to hers for comfort. Strong, muscled thighs pressed against the back of her legs. The touch of his fingertips was almost gentle against her wrist, and his breath fanned warmly on the side of her neck.

  Why was she so attracted to this angry and brooding man? No, correction. This man who was angry and brooding just toward her.

  “Next time be careful where you’re walking with hot liquid in your hands.”

  Chloe was almost shocked by the anger in his voice. When wasn’t he angry at her? But now she was angry, and he obviously hadn’t heard of her infamous temper, which was legendary when awakened.

  She whirled on him, her body knocking his back a bit as the water on her hand flew wildly in his direction. “No, next time you be careful of trying to knock down someone carrying hot liquid. If you weren’t so busy striding around this house with a huge stick up your ass and a chip on your shoulder, you would have been more careful.”

  Hazel eyes flashed angrily as she faced him, her hands on her hips, her stance firm. She didn’t care one bit that his hands clenched into fists at his sides, or that he frowned so deeply that his eyebrows connected into one burrowed slash on his forehead.

  “A stick up my ass?” he roared.

  Chloe lifted her chin in defiance. “No ... a huge stick, you bully!”

  “You’re an airhead that shakes what little ass she has on a runway for money.” He looked pointedly up and down at her slender frame, as if to emphasize his point.

  Twenty devils flew down her spine and she marched straight up into his face until her nose was touching his square chin. One slender finger poked into his hard, muscled chest. “Well this airhead with the little ass strutted her stuff until she made herself worth twelve million dollars last year alone. And then this little airhead donated nearly forty percent of that twelve million to charities. Now, did you bang enough nails last year, you hammerhead hick, to make twelve million dollars? I . . . don’t . . . think . . . so.”

  Anger like he never knew filled him. All of his opinions and accusations were confirmed about her just then. She called him a “hick,” obviously a snide reference to his southern upbringing, of which he was proud. Then she bragged on the millions she made for being an overpaid, underweight, untalented, no-account model. Hell, he’d seen better-looking, and a hell of a lot more voluptuous, women right in Holtsville.

  He wanted her out of his sight. Now!!

  But first . . .

  “Who would pay a twig like you money to model anyway? I’ve seen better-looking faces on horses!”

  Her eyes widened in shock and he knew he hit home . . . her vanity.

  Chloe was shocked. He called her ugly!

  “You . . . you . . . pig!” She stomped in frustration, close to tears but refusing to show it.

  “You crackhead.” His expression said, so there.

  Chloe nearly fainted at his accusation. “A what?” She exclaimed. She felt like clawing at his neck and choking him until his head exploded.

  “What’s going on in here?”

  Lil was the voice of reason in their heated, insult-filled argument. And the interruption was well-timed, because it was about to get real nasty.

  “Nothing Nana Lil,” Devon muttered, his eyes locked with Chloe’s in a battle of wills. “Just stay away from me, Ms. Bolton.”

  Chloe eyed him back, not willing to be the first to back down. She poked him in the chest, enunciating each word. “You hurry. . . . up . . . and . . . build . . . my . . . house . . . Mr. Jamison.”

  She used her arm to try to move him aside when she walked by him, giving him round one as she broke the stare. Nana Lil’s eyes were concerned. “I’m sorry Nana Lil.”

  She left the kitchen and was halfway down the hall before she suddenly turned and marched back into the kitchen. Devon was still standing where she left him, his hands on his narrow hips as he took deep and even breaths. “While I’m here, let’s both try very hard to stay away from each other. If nothing else we have one thing in common . . . neither of us likes the other.”

  Chloe whirled dramatically out of the kitchen and flew up the stairs nonstop until she was in the comfortably decorated spacious attic room. Angrily, she snatched up a pillow and began to choke it, pretending it was Devon.

  Back in the kitchen, now dressed in one of her loose-fitting flowered caftans, Lil calmly walked over to the sink and turned off the running water. Devon growled and threw his hands heavenward in exasperation, before leaving the kitchen to stomp his way up the stairs to his own suite of rooms with a final slam of the door that vibrated through the house.

  Lil shook her head before beginning to make preparations for dinner. A smile touched her lips at the way Chloe stood up to Devon. Seconds later she was howling with laughter until her sides ached.

  ∞

  Their heated argument, which had raged hotter than the summer weather, created tension in the entire household for the next two weeks. Dinner was always a strained affair as both Chloe and Devon pretended the other didn’t exist at all. Any discussion on the house was handled by Deshawn.

  Several times Chloe had offered to return to the hotel, but Nana Lil had looked hurt, and Deshawn had asked, “For what?” so simply that Chloe forgot about the idea. Besides, she got a childish thrill out of spiting Devon, just because she knew he didn’t want her there.

  The last time she spoke to Anika, her friend had jokingly advised her not to argue too harshly with him because country people were known for inbreeding, which probably meant he was mildly retarded. Chloe knew Anika said it more to make her laugh than because of any actual belief in the old myth.

  To hell with Devon, she thought any time her mind crossed the argument, which seemed to be every other five seconds of the day.

  Chloe concentrated all her efforts on shopping for more furnishings for her house, with the help of Nana Lil. The two women became very close, even though Chloe knew from his grunts and his frowns that Devon didn’t like it one bit. As if Chloe would willingly do anything to hurt the sweet older woman that she had come to think of as a surrogate grandmother.

  And Lil was just as fond of her. She proudly made the introductions whenever Chloe met someone new in the small town. It wasn’t long before Chloe was on a first-name basis with nearly everyone she greeted. The entire town was curious about their celebrity. Cars with curious passersby drove by and then had to turn around and drive by again because the road was a dead end. Bold visitors, who knocked right on the door, were a constant at first. She also had to refuse several offers fr
om local newspapers for interviews. A local cable station’s “Dream House,” which showcased unique homes built in the area, had also offered for her to appear on the program, but again she declined.

  More and more each day, as she walked or drove through the small community, she felt she was home. She began to understand the love and wonder her mother had for her home town. And Cyrus was her frequent tour guide, even directing Chloe to the small cemetery where her grandparents were buried, as he had promised. Life moved at a leisurely pace, and she loved it.

  One bright and sunny afternoon, Chloe was at the house alone. The twins were at the site and Nana Lil was at her social club meeting at one of the member’s houses. She felt bored and contemplated calling Anika, but she knew she was busy at work and didn’t want to interrupt her for nothing.

  Briefly she thought about strolling over to the office to talk to Alicia, but she just as quickly scrapped the idea. The woman’s friendliness always seemed false and forced. She immediately picked up that the woman didn’t like her. Chloe knew Alicia was jealous of her beauty and her wealth, although she made sure to flaunt neither.

  Well, except for the night Devon and she had argued, but he deserved that. She still seethed when she thought of him telling her a horse looked better than she did! Was he blind?

  Sighing, Chloe left the house to sit on the swing. Warm sun rays kiss her bronzed skin as she rocked. The mystery novel she was reading lay open next to her, forgotten as she enjoyed the sun and dreamed of moving into her house.

  “How ya doing, Miss Chloe?”

  Her eyes snapped open as she turned to see who was yelling to her from the paved road. A smile replaced the frown as she recognized Cyrus walking in the road. Every day he closed his store at noon to walk because his doctor told him he needed the exercise.

  “Hello Mr. Dobbs. How are you?” she called back, using her hand to shade the sun from her eyes.

  When she saw him turn to walk into the yard, she got up and walked down off the porch to meet him in the driveway. Chloe thought his wiping his brow was more out of habit than necessity as he removed his handkerchief from the back pocket of his overalls. “Getting some exercise?” she asked.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he chimed as he placed the cloth back in his pocket. “Just a little exercise for my heart. I’ll walk down to the dead end just past your house and back as always.”

  “Mind if I join you? I haven’t seen the house since my first day here.”

  He laughed and whipped out his handkerchief again. “I would’ve minded if you hadn’t offered.”

  Slowly they walked together and Cyrus, being a hopeless but lovable gossip, filled her in on all the latest news of who was sleeping with whom, who was cheating on their spouse, who had brought what new item, and any other bit of info he could remember. She only slightly recognized some of the people he spoke of, but she listened anyway.

  They both heard the sound of the tires on the road before seeing the rust-colored pickup truck turn around the bend. It obviously had to be leaving from Chloe’s land, since there was only a dead end beyond her house.

  “Oh, that’s Wilson. He just drove down there to get a look at your house is all. That man is nosier than me,” Cyrus snapped before taking out his handkerchief to flag him down. “I’m going to get this ride back. You coming?”

  “No, I still want to see how the house is coming along.”

  The truck slowed down in front of them. It was an older man Chloe had met in town before. Cyrus hopped into the cab and she waved as they drove off. She continued on with her walk, enjoying the scenery.

  Never before had she seen such densely wooded areas. The scent of pine was heavy in the air from the trees, and the creatures of the forest called out to her as she walked the road. She was careful to look out for snakes as both Nana Lil and Deshawn had warned her to.

  Within minutes she saw the beginnings of the cleared area and heard the sounds of construction as she neared the site. She smiled and clasped her hands when she saw how much progress had been made in the two weeks since she had last been to the site. The walls were in place and the roof completed.

  Excitement filled her as she walked closer. An urge to pick up a hammer and join in the work filled her, but she of course squashed the absurd idea. She knew absolutely nothing about building a home.

  Her steps faltered when someone called out Devon’s name and a shirtless, muscled figure climbing a ladder to reach the roof turned in response. Her womanhood jumped in response, and she hated herself for it.

  Even after their angry arguments with his hurtful insults, and the weeks of ignoring her, Chloe still found the stubborn idiot to be one of the most attractive men she had laid eyes on. As she watched the hard contours of his body, she could forgive him anything!

  Chapter Six

  Devon had pushed his loyal crew hard for the past two weeks, all in a rush to get that woman out of his house and into her own as soon as possible. Under normal circumstances he would be pleased with the progress, but this “situation” he was in was far from normal.

  He found Chloe’s constant presence in the house to be insufferable. Anywhere he turned, she was there or some reminder of her presence was left behind: the smell of her perfume after leaving a room, or the scent of her soap in the bathroom. He had to leave his own bedroom when she would take a shower, not being able to take knowing she was naked behind the one door connecting the two rooms.

  He had to share every meal with her, and put up with those inane conversations she and Deshawn seemed to enjoy about absolutely nothing. Or she would be downstairs watching television, laughing at a sitcom or actually crying during a drama. Or she was on the phone with her friend from New Jersey for hours at a time. He would have to stalk upstairs to his room to get away from her constant presence. She grated his nerves, and he found her to be as aggravating as fingernails dragged across a chalkboard.

  Yet he couldn’t deny the way his heart pounded when she entered a room or the disappointment he felt when she left a room just because he entered it. And it irked him how Deshawn and she were as thick as thieves. Many times he found them sharing a joke that would send them both into a fit of laughter, or she would turn to Deshawn to ask questions about the house, completely ignoring him.

  Even though he didn’t talk to her, he still noticed a lot about her. Yes, some of it even surprised him and made him began to rethink his opinions of her. She loved to read and many times she could be found huddled in a corner or on the porch, her head buried in a book. And the emotions she felt at what she read were always easily readable on her face. A brief smile ... a frown ... or even a tear, all depending on the mood of the story she was reading. And he was completely floored when one of the books he eyed her reading was The Miseducation of the Negro by Dr. Carter G. Woodson. Beneath the glamour and beauty was an intellect.

  She loved to eat. He had honestly thought she had been starving herself to stay so thin, but he now believed she could easily eat him under the table. It didn’t help that Nana Lil was serious with her mission to “put some meat on her bones.” And she wasn’t embarrassed by her healthy appetite as she spoke of the years she had to watch what she ate as a model. He remembered well the first time she had easily put away three pieces of cornmeal battered croaker, cole slaw and an extra helping of seasoned french fries. He thought she would eat properly with a knife and fork, but she dug in just like they did and even sucked tartar sauce from her fingers, a move that had sent blood rushing to his head.

  And she could curse like a sailor when angry enough, and only if Nana Lil was out of earshot of her. Late one night he was sitting in the chaise lounge in the comer of his bedroom, reading Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God, when he heard her stumble while getting out of the shower. Who knew such foul language could fly out of such a pretty mouth?

  Everyone in town loved her. Younger girls looked up to her because of her fame and celebrity status, women wanted to be her with the beauty and wealth
, older women wanted to adopt her as their grandchild because of her kind nature and friendly demeanor, and the men wanted her for . . . well, obvious reasons.

  Yes, Ms. Chloe Bolton was turning out to be quite an enigma.

  Devon was just climbing down from the roof where he had been inspecting it again, when he spotted her standing by the driveway. He nearly fell off the ladder, because it was such a shock to his senses to see her standing there so suddenly after she had just been in his thoughts. He let his gaze rest on her momentarily. How could he deny what all the men in the town thought and talked about? She was beautiful.

  He had only told her she resembled a horse to spite her in anger. Her hair was long around her shoulders with tendrils caressing the side of her face. The bright lime tank and khaki drawstring shorts she wore could not hide the slender yet curvaceous figure underneath, hinting at the shapely figure that could bloom.

  He turned away and finished climbing down the ladder, quickly striding to his pickup truck. Just before he reached his vehicle he passed a group of men from the plumber’s crew sharing a private joke. The words “what I wouldn’t give” and “riding all night long” filtered to him. He paused in his steps to listen.

  “I saw a picture of her in one of the sports magazine’s swimsuit issues. She wasn’t wearing nothing but a thong and a smile, with her hands covering her breasts. Lord, it was like looking at a Playboy magazine in the bathroom!”

  The men all laughed and snorted.

  “She’s just as pretty as her pictures,” one of the men said.

  Another nudged him playfully. “Why don’t you ask her out?”

  They all laughed again, knowing he never would.

  “She’s probably a wild one in bed. Think you can handle it?”

  Devon’s blood boiled in anger and some other emotion he refused to name. He whirled on them like a tiger about to pounce. “Your boss is paid by me to have his crew do the plumbing, not to dream. Move it,” he roared.