[Adventures of Anabel Axelrod 01.0] A Date With Fate

by Tracy Ellen

  I used the Omnipotent Sister trick and called back to him through the screen, “I heard that, Reg. Good thing you have three other ‘most favorite’ sisters who get their tushies out of bed and bake for you.”

  I snickered when the immediate response was, “Oh, peace out, Junior! You’re so sensitive.” I heard a low voiced, “Shit, she’s got the hearing of a bat.”

  I passed through the sizeable living room set up with four sawhorses instead of furniture. The flooring was still at the plywood subfloor stage, but I observed it was screwed down in place since the last time I had stopped by.

  There were two ancient six panel doors laid across the sawhorses in the process of being stripped of their multi-layers of old paint. I wrinkled my nose at the noxious odor. That job I did not want to do. Thankfully, the doors and windows were wide open to let the breeze in and the toxic fumes out, but it was still a brain tumor waiting to happen.

  In the spacious but outdated kitchen, I reached on pointed toes for a few of Reggie’s endless supply of paper plates located up in an old cabinet. When that didn’t work, I jumped up and down, boosting off the cracked Formica countertop to get leverage to reach far back into the overhead shelf.

  I expertly bounced, jumped, boosted, and stretched in one fluid motion. I almost managed to grip the plates.

  Before my next attempt, I called out, “I’ll get the napkins and plates, and then meet you guys on the deck. Do you need anything else out there, Reg?”

  “He sent me to remind you to bring paper cups for the juice.” Luke’s quiet voice was right behind me. I whirled around in surprise. I could feel the counter’s metal edge cool against the exposed, bare skin of my lower back.

  He smiled slightly, his glance briefly lingering on my hands covering my racing heart over the V neckline of my halter-top sundress.

  He leaned towards me.

  I caught myself from puckering up just in time. Luke was only reaching around me into the cupboard. He placed a stack of paper plates onto the counter, and then politely stepped back. His expression remained blandly neutral, but I had seen the flare of momentary reaction passing over his face when I’d whirled around at his voice. I also saw the amusement now glowing in his eyes.

  Flustered, I automatically smiled my thanks back without a thought. I was too busy trying to figure out if I had been flashing him when expertly boosting since my sundress was short and sassy. I usually only do that sort of thing by accident on purpose. He was definitely silent and tricky.

  I wouldn’t even let my mind dwell for a microsecond on the realization that I had been willing to kiss him without conscious thought. I breathed in deeply. I grabbed a firm hold of my usual sangfroid with both hands, exhaled, and settled into my normal cool.

  Our smiles slowly faded. We stood a foot apart, unabashedly sizing each other up. I’ve never met a man before, who wasn’t also a gross pervert, who made absolutely no bones he was taking his sweet time looking me up one side and down the other. Weirder yet, I stood still and let him. Speaking of bare bones, I’ve never before told a man I was planning to date him, either. Both were oddly exciting notions, even as I wondered what in the hell was happening to me.

  Luke spoke first. “You are one scary sister.”

  I nodded. Not exactly what I expected to hear, but I’ll accept any compliment thrown my way. “Why, thank you.”

  “I understand you hit curbs while driving.” He said it as a serious statement, arms crossed at the chest and eyes narrowed.

  I ducked my head and scuffed my foot, and then peeked up quickly at my interrogator. “Yes, but only the curbs on the left side. A mere nothing, I assure you. Anyone could do so, if they only covered their left eye and tried.”

  He kept a stoic face, but his eyes had that glint I was already coming to recognize. “Shooting the nail precisely into your brother’s thigh? That had to take a cold, calculated aim. I believe there was the added bonus of an infection. Is that correct?”

  I airily waved him off. “Yes, that’s correct, but enough with the compliments. You’ll make me blush.”

  He frowned severely down at me. “I’m to understand you bite, too?”

  “Okay, that’s it. I can only take so much sucking-up flattery.” Laughing, I reached up and lightly shook his shoulder. “Please, snap out of it, I beg you!”

  We grinned at each other for a couple of seconds.

  I reluctantly remembered to drop my hand. The same hand that twitched to start smoothing across his broad shoulder.

  Luke leaned forward and loosely bracketed me against the counter with an arm on either side. “Anabel, are you thinking what I am thinking?”

  “It would be proof there is a God,” I answered fervently.

  Faces inches apart, he quizzically cocked one black eyebrow at my happily enthusiastic answer.

  ‘Oh, that move is no fair! Totally below the belt.’

  I was enslaved with that diabolically arching eyebrow. He was so hot while looking all cool, calm, and yes, in control. Also, I couldn’t cock just one eyebrow in question if my life depended on it. I had to settle for cocking my head to one side in question back at him.

  A small smile hovering on his lips, Luke went on smoothly, “I’m thinking we need to go out on a date,” he paused infinitesimally, “tonight.”

  “Oh.” A little bit of a letdown in the originality department, but he made up for it in the urgency department. “I was thinking I want to have your children, but if you want to start with a date,” I shrugged, “I’m up for that.”

  Luke gave a shout of laughter, but started shaking his head emphatically in denial when I continued speaking. “I can’t accept for tonight, though.” I shrugged lightly again. “Sorry, but I have previous plans.”

  “Oh, no you don’t. You can’t do that to me. Now that we’ve established what we will be doing on our first date, I can’t wait for another night.” He stopped laughing and laser beamed me from those dark green eyes. “Seriously, cancel your plans and come out with me tonight.”

  I opened my mouth, firmly intending to answer with a resounding, “Seriously, dream on, buddy-boy.”

  Imagine my surprise when what came out instead was a breathless, “Okey-dokey.”

  I looked around in shock to see if it was really me who had said that peculiar answer. Luke didn’t give confused me a chance to renege. He stood back and was all sharp teeth and smiles, radiating male satisfaction with closing the deal.

  “Cool. Seven o’clock?”

  After a pause, I grumpily replied, “I guess that’s okay.” I have a firm rule never to break existing plans with friends to be with a man, unless it’s his funeral. I added a muttered, “Svengali.”

  Luke looked taken aback for a second. Then he grinned while again shaking his dark head in amusement, or maybe bemusement, I couldn’t tell which. He probably couldn’t, either.

  He placed a few paper cups on top of the plates sitting on the counter.

  He brushed my cheek with a knuckle. “So you know, my future plans include a large family.” His glance traveled slowly down and stopped on my hips. He nodded. “Good. Your short and a little on the oldish side, but those look like sturdy, childbearing hips.”

  It was my turn to burst out laughing. “I’m so happy you like midgets and antiques. But, hmm, maybe I misjudged your brains. ‘Sturdy’ is a word no woman ever wants to hear in association with any of her body parts.”

  I probably shouldn’t set a precedent of cracking-up when teasingly insulted, but Luke was too funny and I didn’t have a PC bone in my body. After adding plastic utensils and napkins to the pile, I nudged him out of the way with my healthy hips.

  Giving me a sly grin that brought his dimple into play, he stood aside with a slight head bow to allow me to pass.

  I sashayed my loaded plates through my brother’s dining area, working it with my swaying hips to get around the card table and chairs sprawled haphazardly in the path to the deck doors. I angled my left butt cheek up to open the
lever door handle.

  I looked to see if Luke was following. He wasn’t. He was leaning against the kitchen doorway. Arms folded, he was seemingly engrossed watching my childbearing hips in motion.

  Straightening up, Luke shook his head decisively. “I stand by my choice of sturdy. Your hips are workhorses.” I was smiling again when he started walking the opposite way, to the front door. He tossed back over his shoulder, “I’ll pick you up at seven tonight, Anabel Axelrod of Bel’s Books.”

  It took me a second to realize he was leaving. He had probably been on his way out when I arrived earlier. Then his words sunk in and cheered me right up. He recalled our almost meeting those months ago, as well.

  When agreeing to go on a first date with a man, I always avoid being without a getaway car. I have gratefully escaped early from many brutally boring date nights with that sensible rule.

  I thought of my day ahead and took a few steps back into the dining room. Luke was at the screen door in the living room and had it opened.

  “Let’s make it eight. Oh, and I prefer to meet you there, Luke. I may want to have your children, but I don’t really know you, right? So where shall we meet?”

  Luke gave another crack of laughter like I had said something hilarious. “Anabel, I’m picking you up. Eight is fine.” Across the room, he gave me that appraising look again while his fist tapped out a quick, staccato beat on the wooden doorframe. Brow creased, he said, “Listen, I’d really like it if you wore a dress tonight.”

  Seeing my surprised, wary look at his clothing specifications, a huge grin transformed his harsh face with boyish charm.

  He snapped his fingers. “Oh yes, I almost forgot. Tiny, pink panties are optional.”

  It was extremely difficult, but except for a small moan of agony and squeezing my eyes so tightly shut I saw stars, I stifled my mortification knowing he had seen my bare ass within five minutes of meeting me. Those weren’t just tiny, pink panties I was wearing, but a butt-flossing thong.

  I opened my eyes to frown very sternly at his smiling face. “Look, Luke, if I break my rule about being picked up can you promise not to dismember me on the first date or worse yet, bore me?”

  Pushing the door open, Luke casually shrugged a shoulder. “I never make promises I can’t keep. You may prove irritating.”

  I blinked in disbelief. By the time I recovered to retort, I was talking to the screen door. Stunned, I realized Luke really had left. After a moment of taking this in, I started laughing in rare enjoyment. Our first date may prove very interesting indeed.

  I went out on the front porch to the top of the stairs. He was almost at his truck.

  I called out, “You didn’t even ask me where I live, Mr. Will-of-the-Wisp. You’d better show up!”

  He opened the truck door and called back, “Somehow, I don’t think finding you will be difficult.” I could see his confident grin. “You’d better be ready when I get there.”

  I have to get in the last word; it’s a failing and a gift. “Let it be on the record, I am very disappointed you have something against tiny, pink panties!”

  War-god was laughing behind the light tint of his windshield when with a final wave; he drove away in my shiny, new truck.

  I stood on the porch staring unseeingly outside.

  By my track record, I have a tendency to go out with men who are fun and possess a sense of humor. They generally share the personality trait of being easygoing. Or to rephrase the great Chief Jack Banner, they are pansy-asses who jump through my hoops. They don’t find my rules a problem and they don’t try to control me.

  If Luke’s personality matched his persona, he was no docile, nice guy. I didn’t see any voluntary hoop jumping in Luke’s future. Control was his first name and probably his middle name, too.

  It was puzzling I felt such an intense attraction to a man I had a sneaking suspicion fit none of my criteria. I smiled to myself; I probably fit none of his either. I was most definitely aware that men thrive on the challenge of the hunt. Never before in my dating career had I skipped to the kill and offered myself up on a platter, complete with a red, juicy apple in my mouth, like I had today. I laughed out loud recalling the expression on his face.

  I cheerfully decided it would take more investigation, up close and personal, to unravel this mysterious behavior on my part. I highly doubted I’d prove too easy for war-god Luke, no matter what his thoughts may be right now.

  I brightened a little at my next thought. Maybe Luke and I just needed to hit the sheets and I could get it out of my system. Although honestly, I have never before felt such a sexual attraction for a man with no basis on anything but being in his presence for a few minutes. Even after I had a basis of knowing most men, I’ve never felt so…whatever the hell I was feeling. This was off the charts for me, but I wasn’t too concerned.

  You can never tell what life may bring. Anticipation of the unknown is half the fun of living. The other half is doing it.

  This stirring of interest for our first date was worth it, regardless of what happened down the road.

  I had a hop in my step, as I headed for the deck to grill my brother about his new neighbor. I also wanted to make sure my cousin, Candy, of the light blue Honda Civic, was eating all the donated, and probably poisoned, bakery cookies. Not stuffing her face with my yummy banana bread.

  Chapter III

  “Son of a Preacher Man” by Sarah Connor

  Saturday, 11/17/12

  6:45 AM

  The life of a small business owner means there’s always work to be done. I am fortunate to love what I do. I’m also lucky to be surrounded by an experienced, loyal staff who has become my second family. I’ve developed some habits over the years that are hard to break. One of them is routinely working six or seven days a week. My family and friends know where they can find me most days from ten in the morning until eight at night. I do have a life outside of Bel’s Books; it just doesn’t start until after store hours.

  In theory, I take the odd weekend free from work to enjoy my life. In practice, I pop in and out of the store frequently, even on my days off. Living as I do above the shop, it can hardly be avoided. Or so I tell myself.

  Stella’s opinion is that I’m a control freak and a workaholic. She supports her logic when pointing out that I describe working seven days a week as only a habit, and not a bad one. She has been encouraging me on the weekends to let go and let Stella. I have a feeling she is a wee bit right, so I’ve been giving my niece more responsibility. I’m making a concerted effort to live a less vampish lifestyle by actually going out and having fun during daylight hours, not only later at night. Both ideas are a work in progress.

  This Saturday morning, I silently slipped out of my warm bed and from Luke’s warmer arms. It was harder than I liked to leave the bed. It was harder yet to do it quietly; my antique bed is a real springy squeaker. I did both, though, because I like my morning alone time. I have my rituals. I guard this time so zealously from friends and family, all but one hardly remembers that I exist before ten in the morning.

  My brain wakes up around the same time every morning, regardless of the amount of sleep I’ve had. Luke said that his brain was trained to sleep whenever and wherever he got the chance.

  After our first date two months ago, and to explain his sudden and frequent absences, Luke told me in the vaguest terms about his current career. He is employed by a consulting firm based out of Chicago. The firm specializes in prevention security- whatever that is. I could only picture Liam Neeson beating up bad dudes all around Paris in the movie “Taken.” If that’s what Luke does for a living, I’ve never noticed any bloody knuckles or nasty wounds when he’s returned, so he must be good at preventing.

  His work involves travel and long hours. He’s gone from town for varied lengths of time, most often for a few days, but sometimes a week or more. I don’t know who or what is being prevented and secured, or if it’s a dangerous career, but I can’t picture Luke placidly manning a de
sk without going nuts.

  What Luke has told me about his recent past is also very sketchy on the details. He saw right away I was skeptical with his glossed over, surface descriptions. It was probably the raised eyebrows and scoffing noises that gave me away. He bluntly suggested I trust him in general about everything, and not to ask specific questions about his job. The job part was non-negotiable.

  Oh hello, am I female and breathing? Of course that made me want to ask a million questions, but I honored Luke’s “suggestion” and haven’t asked him a single one.

  Generally speaking, if a man says the words ‘trust me’ with the implied message ‘or else,’ it doesn’t exactly inspire my confidence. However, it does inspire my hilarity at their belief I can be so easily manipulated. Those types of men think they’re pulling a fast one. Typically, they are asswipes hiding a wife or girlfriend. Unfortunately, we’ve all seen women fall for that line of BS. Most likely it’s because the ‘if you love me, you’ll blindly trust me’ men are pretty slick at romancing girls wanting so desperately to believe in love, and to be loved.

  I don’t think I’m delusional about Luke. I do trust Luke has legitimate reasons to be closemouthed about his professional life. He isn’t telling me to trust him so that he can have his evil way with me. I love letting Luke have his evil way with me. No, I believe he’s in a profession where loose lips sink ships and any knowledge can be dangerous to the unwary. I can easily see him killing someone, if there’s a good reason. Chances are I’d agree if I knew the reasons. Whatever his job entails, what I don’t sense is a mindless, gun-for-hire mentality. Luke is no thug.

  I’m happy to give people their privacy, as long as it doesn’t coincide with my needs. So far, Luke’s detailed career path isn’t on my need-to-know list.

  That’s my trust for Luke in his career. Luke’s a man. As programmed, it’s only natural he’d take advantage of my agreeable silence on his professional life and try to carry that unquestioning trust over to his personal life. Most men balk at sharing their private, innermost thoughts and feelings at the best of times. Telling a woman they’re starting to get involved with to ‘trust them in general, no questions asked’ was a nice move, if a man could pull it off.