by Pat Simmons
“Huh?” She didn’t step back. “Why?”
He snickered as he jiggled his keys. “Because I happen to like you, and even though I didn’t miss a word your aunt shared with me, I was very aware of you listening and pretending to work.” He paused and looked deep into her eyes. “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t mean because you’re pretty. There’s something else about you that I want to explore in a relationship.”
The bombshell made her blink until she processed what had come out of his mouth, then she released a fit of laughter until tears fell. The annoyed look he gave her made her laugh even more. “And you realized this when? The other day when you wanted to bite my head off.”
“Blame that on having a bad day, but today, I want to be your hero.” His eyes pleaded with her to believe him. “Sue me.” His lips curved into a lopsided grin, and sure enough, the dimple came into view.
Her heart fluttered in awe, but her head overruled. “I’m a caregiver. I’m one hundred percent committed to my aunt’s needs for six months. I have five more to go. I don’t have time for the distraction of being attracted to any man. In case you haven’t noticed, I can barely get up in the morning without her going missing.”
He lifted a silky, thick black brow. He bit his lip and nodded. “Challenge accepted. Good night, Miss Knicely.” This time he laughed as he turned and made long strides to his car.
She went into the house smiling. He had called her pretty.
Chapter 14
T
he next morning, Marcus strolled across the warehouse floor with an extra swag in his stride. The day before had been scary, an eye-opener, endearing, then enchanting. He’d drifted to sleep, dreaming of Tabitha—from the sadness to the fire in her eyes, he was hooked.
He was attracted to Tabitha—a little at first when he saw her outside his door—and it kept growing with each encounter or clash. He grunted at her reasoning for not wanting to get involved. A relationship was what a couple made it. He didn’t take no for an answer when it came to something he really wanted, whether it was business, a hobby, and now one special woman. He had to show her that she could have it all.
Marcus was almost at his office when Chess intercepted his musings.
“Morning, boss, hate to spoil the good mood that you’re apparently in, judging by that grin cemented to your face, but we have a situation that I wanted to tell you about last evening.”
“Right.” Marcus bobbed his head. “What’s up?” he asked, unlocking his office door and resting his things on a nearby chair. Folding his arms, he sat on the desk’s edge and stretched out his legs. “I’m listening.”
“Latrice showed up last night wanting her job back. I told her you don’t do re-hires.”
His smile dropped at the same time his shoulders slumped. Why? Why won’t Victor and Latrice go away? “I don’t.”
“She left Victor and—”
He perked up and stopped his employee. “Hire her back.”
Chess’ eyes bucked and his jaw dropped. “Huh?”
“She was under the influence of her ex. Maybe now, she can do something for herself and her children. I’ll call her.” He paused. “Any other problems?”
“Ah, no,” he answered slowly, dumbfounded, then cleared his voice. “Quality control has no issues.”
“Thanks, and thanks for coming through for me last night.” Marcus walked behind his desk, dismissing him. How come women were so complicated—damsels who needed rescuing? As he turned on his computer, his thoughts drifted back to Tabitha. She was independent. Too much for her own good. Latrice, on the other hand, was in the process of declaring her independence. He was rooting her on. Searching through the folders, he opened the document with his employees’ contact numbers and called his former employee.
She answered right away. “Mr. Whittington. I know I don’t deserve to ask for my job back—”
“You have it, Latrice, as long as you are committed to stand by your word and not be swayed by Victor.”
“I am. I love Victor or I’d never have had his children, but I have to take care of my boys.”
“Great. Stop by my office before you start your shift to fill out paperwork,” he told her and disconnected. “The things I do for my employees—women.”
“Yeah, and Mama would be proud,” Demetrius teased from his spot across the room. Marcus hadn’t heard him enter.
He grunted. “I try to help our workers, especially our single mothers. I take pity on Latrice for getting tangled up with that loser. Anyway, I have a late lunch at the country club with Thomas Dell. He’s a referral, and I hope to wow him with why we’re different.”
“You coming back?”
“Nope. Anything else I need to do, I can take care of it from home.” For the rest of the morning, Marcus stayed focused on work-related tasks, gently pushing thoughts of Tabitha aside. She and Aunt Tweet were taken care of during the day. It was at night he had to watch out for her. He was reviewing company expenses when his phone reminded him it was time to go.
Marcus turned into The Fairway Grille & Lounge’s parking lot off the main lobby of the country club at the same time as his prospective client. After parking, Marcus stepped out of his car and greeted the man with a handshake. Thomas Dell was a stout man with thinning hair on each side. What strands remained were more gray hair than brown. His facial wrinkles were as deep as his tanned skin.
The good news for Marcus and his brother was Mr. Dell was sold on Whittington Janitorial Services without hearing a pitch. Word of mouth had recently landed his company new contracts. His business could double by this time next year, which meant he could hire more workers.
While they lunched, their conversation was as lax as the atmosphere.
“Marc,” the man said, shortening his name without permission, “Randall Camp can’t say enough great things about your company and employees. Randall is convinced their work ethic is unmatched, and that’s what I’m looking for, someone to take pride in their work, whether it is sweeping the floor or proofreading a business proposal or assembling a motor at a car plant.”
He accepted the compliment with a grin. Randall Camp’s company was a major contract. His word carried weight among businessmen.
Despite the accolades, Mr. Dell hinted on a one-year commitment. Even though Marcus preferred two-and-three-year agreements, he wasn’t going to push his luck. WJS had to prove their worth to Thomas Dell, and that was no problem. The mindset was based, in part, on the state’s motto, “Show-Me-State,” and Missourians challenged each other to show them their word was good.
“Our hard workers are the face of WJS. Some of them needed a second chance to prove their worth. My brother and I are hoping clients like you would consider them for employment, if any entry-level positions become available.” It was more than a spiel to win new business. For the Whittington brothers, it was a mission statement.
Mr. Dell bobbed his head. “I’ll take that under consideration on a case-by-case basis.”
“Understandable.” They enjoyed the rest of their lunch chatting about sports. Before leaving, Marcus had a signed contract and check. “Yes!” he shouted in the confines of his car as he drove away. It was another open door for opportunities.
The breeze, sunshine, and blooming flowers made it too easy for him not to go back to work, especially when he was only ten minutes away.
With business finished, thoughts of Tabitha drifted back to the forefront. How was her day going? What was Aunt Tweet up to? He wanted to do something to lighten her burden. Dinner might be a good gesture, so he headed to the grocery store for the ingredients of whatever his mother told him to get.
“So, you’re cooking for someone special again hmmm? It’s been a while,” she teased. What’s her name this time?”
“Actually, it’s two special ladies. My neighbors.” She was quiet, and he wondered if they had lost a connection. “Mom, are you still there?”
“I am, son, but that doesn’t sound too romantic.” She sighed,
clearly disappointed.
“You know I’ve always been about building friendships first.”
“Yes, but that’s your mantra when it comes to your business. When it comes to relationships, you should follow your heart. So what’s on the menu?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
“Of course!” she said excitedly. “Chicken parmesan would be perfect with asparagus...”
Marcus jotted down everything she rambled off. In the store, he checked off the items on his list. He was about to check out when small floral bouquets got his attention. He purchased two. His mother was right—it wasn’t romantic with Aunt Tweet around, but without the aunt, they might not have met. Back in his car, Marcus detoured to her house. He left a note and the flowers on her porch where she could see them.
In the middle of preparing his meal, it dawned on him that the two might have already eaten. If that proved to be the case, Demetrius was always on standby and wouldn’t turn down a home-cooked meal, compliments of his younger brother.
TABITHA WASN’T EXPECTING the note stuck between her screen and front door when she arrived home, and there were flowers too. Removing the paper, she read Marcus’ invitation to dinner. Plus, he advised her to bring her “homework.” He included his phone number. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the roses fashioned in the bouquets.
Her steps were lighter when she returned to the car. “We have flowers!” She handed Aunt Tweet hers, then slid behind the wheel and continued up her long driveway to the back patio.
“Sure are pretty,” Aunt Tweet said. Tabitha agreed. “Randolph used to send them to me all the time.”
There was that Randolph name again. Could she coax her aunt to open up about the past like Marcus had done so effortlessly? “Ah, what did Randolph look like?”
She wrinkle her forehead. “I can’t remember.”
Tabitha groaned out her frustration. She craved more details. After parking the car, she walked around and helped her aunt. Lately, she seemed to be unsteady on her feet.
Inside the kitchen, only a hint of the smoke remained. Tabitha took two vases from her cabinet, filled them with water, and gave Aunt Tweet the honor to arrange the bouquets while she called Marcus. “The flowers are beautiful...thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome. Is there a yes that you both are coming to dinner?” He sounded hopeful.
“I’m beat—”
“But you have to eat,” he insisted. “Come on, Tab.” He chuckled.
She withheld her giggle at hearing a nickname her sisters hadn’t called her in years.
“Don’t forget, I know where you live,” he feigned a threat.
“Don’t remind me of the circumstances of why you know that.” She spun around to check on Aunt Tweet who was fumbling with the door on Sweet Pepper’s kennel. “Let me call you back. The dog needs to go out.”
“By the time you call me back, I’ll be on your door step to pick you up.” He disconnected.
Frowning, she glanced at her phone. Did he just end the call? Instead of being irked, she dismissed his rudeness and helped Aunt Tweet with Sweet Pepper’s leash. While watching them walk the length of her patio and driveway, Tabitha planned to warm up leftovers in the refrigerator. She stretched, craving a long hot bubble bath, then climbing in bed with her laptop.
After about five minutes of wishful thinking, Tabitha was ushering the dog and her aunt back in the house when Marcus drove up and parked. He stepped out and swaggered toward her with a fierce expression. It reminded her of his intimidating smirk the first time they’d met, but this time his towering presence didn’t make her tremble with fear, but excitement.
Tabitha didn’t have time for this attraction or admire his handsome face. She barely had time for herself. Resting her fists on her hips, she lifted her chin in defiance. “What are you doing here?”
“To take you, Aunt Tweet, and even Sweet Pepper to my house for dinner.” She didn’t move as he stepped closer. “You once said ‘try walking in your shoes.’ It’s time to switch pairs. Let me do this for you.”
They stared at each other until his puppy-dog expression won her over. “Okay. Who am I to turn down a free meal?”
He grinned. “Exactly.”
“Do you mind giving us a few minutes to freshen up?”
“I’m perfectly comfortable with what I have on,” Aunt Tweet said, reminding them of her presence.
I don’t think so. Remnants of lunch at the adult day care had stained her blouse. “Give us five minutes,” she mouthed to Marcus. She tried to limit her aunt climbing the stairs. Usually when they returned in the evening, Aunt Tweet stayed downstairs until bedtime.
He nodded, slipped his hands in his pockets and walked back to his car.
“You and Sweet Pepper don’t move,” she said once they were inside, then she hiked the stairs. In her bedroom, she ditched her suit, then slipped into a pair of jeans and an oversized T-shirt. Leaning over the bannister, she yelled downstairs. “You doing okay?”
“Umm-hmm.”
Great. Tabitha rushed inside Aunt Tweet’s room and rummaged through her closet for a top. Next, she grabbed shower gel, powder, then hurried downstairs to find her aunt in the pantry. She had opened a snack size package of vanilla pudding and had it smeared all over her mouth and blouse.
Come on, give me a break, she thought. Couldn’t you have given me five minutes? Without saying what was on her mind, she guided her to the first-floor bathroom, cleaned her up and removed her top.
Incidents such as this was evidence of why she couldn’t go to Marcus’ without advance notice. Tabitha could never know what her beloved aunt would do next to cause a delay. Even getting to work in the morning was challenging.
Holding her tongue triggered tears she wanted to stall. Marcus only saw the finishing touches on her aunt. He was clueless to what it took to get her to that point.
“Thank you,” Aunt Tweet said softly.
Sniffing, she composed herself, then she kissed her aunt’s cheek and smiled.
Opting not to take the dog, she placed him back in the kennel. After doing a final sweep of her kitchen to make sure she hadn’t turned on anything, she grabbed her purse and Aunt Tweet’s hand. They walked out as Marcus stepped out of the car and opened their doors.
“Sorry it took longer than expected,” she mumbled, mentally exhausted.
“You all right?” He seemed genuinely concerned.
Evidently, she wasn’t hiding her distress too well. “Never ask a caregiver that unless you’ve got the time to listen.”
“I have time,” he said then went around the car and slid in the driver’s seat.
“I don’t have the energy to tell you.” They were quiet the short distance to his house.
The aroma of food was like a sweet fragrance when they walked in his front door. “Whatever you cooked smells good.” Their stomachs rumbled at the same time.
“If it doesn’t taste good, I’ll owe you another dinner.” He winked, then squeezed her shoulder. His touch was comforting.
In the breakfast nook, the table was already set for three. There was no fancy china or stemware, but it was the thought that counted. “Thank you for the invitation,” she said as he pulled out her chair.
“Thank you for accepting.” His eyes sparkled. “After we eat, you can set up in the study, while Aunt Tweet and I play cards or watch television,” he said effortlessly as if he had it all planned out.
In her haste, she had forgotten her laptop and told him so. “I hate to eat and run, but we have to leave—” She sighed and gritted her teeth. “I forgot I didn’t drive.”
“Here.” He lifted the keys off a hook and handed them to her to use his vehicle. “Relax. If you trust me, you can leave her with me and go get your work. But something tells me, you don’t, so I guess you’ll hurry.”
“Or you can take me home, and we’ll be fine,” she countered, planting a fist on her waist.
“I have no plans to hold yo
u hostage, but I think you’re too distracted at home.”
He was right, but Tabitha wasn’t going to tell him that. “Do you always have a backup plan?”
“No, but I think I just started with you. Come on, let’s eat.” Joining hands, he said a short blessing, then said, “In Jesus’ name. Amen.”
Marcus was the distraction. His brand of cologne proved it. He was charming, easy to talk to, but most importantly, he seemed to really listen. She could see why he was a good businessman. Despite his attentiveness toward her, if Aunt Tweet stirred, his eyes darted in her direction. It was comical.
They chatted about family, and she told him about her sisters’ upcoming visit in a week.
“That’s the same weekend as Pasadena Hills’ Summer Kickoff Street Party.”
“I know. When we were younger, we couldn’t wait until the end of the school year for the street party.”
He smiled. “I can imagine you as a little girl, getting into all sorts of trouble.”
“Not with a big sister like Kym. She fulfilled her role as the oldest like a drill sergeant, and Rachel and I got in line.”
Once they finished eating, he gave her five minutes to go home for her work and come back. “You’re just like Kym, a task master.” Her comment seemed to soften his look.
“Let me know if I’m too hard on you,” he whispered. “I’m trying to keep you on task. I do want you to relax some. Go while I clear the table.”
Aunt Tweet stood to help.
“Watch her. She’ll throw away silverware in the trash.”
“I got this.” He winked. “Four minutes, Miss Knicely.”
She did as he suggested, and minutes later, Tabitha was adjusting his seat behind the wheel. It felt odd for Aunt Tweet not to be a passenger. Marcus was right. She didn’t know him well enough to trust him with her aunt, so she hurried.
When she returned, she inspected her aunt for signs of any abuse. It might be overkill, but that was her aunt.
“I’ll show you my study.”
Following Marcus, she sucked in her breath when he separated wood double doors to reveal an executive office suite. The light-colored carpet was plush. It complemented the wood in the room—wall bookshelves, the massive desk, crown molding, and even a window seat with shutters. This room would be perfect for her in her house. “Wow. This is like a different world from the other parts of your house.”
