by M. Leighton
Evie’s lips curl into a smile that I can only label as mischievous. “The one with the brown hair helmet?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“Don’t let her bother you. She got all her teeth knocked out in an ‘Ugly Girls of Delta Psi’ mud wrestling tournament in college. Since then, she’s had a hard time finding false teeth to fit that Mr. Ed mouth of hers. If you hit her just right, they’ll come flying out and skitter across the floor. She’d have to get down on all fours to find them, and you know how that would look with that lumpy butt of hers. The lumps, Cher! They’re just so big!”
Evie’s friend’s expression brightens considerably, and she giggles. “You’re the best.”
“All in a day’s work,” Evie replies with a sweet smile for her friend.
She lets herself get dragged in for a hug and a kiss to the cheek before Cherelyn turns to pin me with shrewd hazel eyes. “You hurt her, and my two brothers from Texas will come to your house and show you what they do to turn bulls into steers.”
I hold up my hands in surrender. “I mean no harm. She’s the one who keeps coming on to me!” I tease, impressed when Evie swings her purse and manages to connect with my arm. “Can she see and I’m just a sucker?” I loud-whisper to her friend, ducking when Evie swings again, this time at my head. She misses by a mile. “Never mind. The first time was obviously just blind luck.”
Cherelyn smiles, but it’s Evie’s laughter that I find most rewarding.
“You’re an asshole.”
“But I’m a hot asshole, so…”
“Do you really think that matters to a blind girl?” she asks dryly.
“Barking up the wrong tree, am I?”
She just shakes her head and moves past me toward the door. “Get me some food before I get grouchy. You do not want to see how that ends.”
“Then by all means, move that sweet ass.”
She tosses me a saucy grin and reaches back to slap said sweet ass.
“I can do that for you if you need to focus on not falling,” I offer, wishing she’d take me up on it. I’d love to get my hands on that ass, preferably sans clothing.
“Thanks, but I think I’ve got it under control.”
“Well, the offer stands. Anytime you need it smacked, slapped, stroked, spanked, or otherwise touched, I’m your man.”
“Bring her back in one piece,” Cherelyn shouts as we step out into the hall.
“I think she just called you a hot piece. Something I should know about you two?”
Evie reaches back to grab my tie and tug me along behind her. I willingly follow in her citrus-scented wake. “Come on, cowboy! All this banter is making me ravenous.”
Damn, she’s sexy! Even when she isn’t trying to be.
“Ravenous,” I repeat with a growl, not at all ravenous for food.
The trill of her laughter bounces off the walls of the hall, and I find myself smiling.
Again.
Or maybe still.
********
“So, where are you taking me?” Evie asks when we exit the cab.
“You’ll see soon enough.” When she gives me a wry look, I correct my gaffe. “I mean, you’ll smell soon enough.”
“Better,” she says with a sanguine smile.
“I know we tease a lot, but you really are tolerant of other people’s blunders, aren’t you?”
She shrugs one shoulder, the bare one, drawing my eye to the feminine sweep of her neck and the alabaster skin of her throat. For a second, I imagine the feel of her under my palms, under my lips, but then she responds and brings me back to the present. “It’s that or get angry and offended. Besides, most people don’t do it on purpose.”
“Except for me. I totally do it on purpose. Anything to antagonize you.”
“A man who tries to win me through insults. It’s a new approach, but I must say it’s working so far.”
“Is it?”
My question is sincere. Yeah, we tease and joke, but the more I’m around Evian de Champlain, the more interested I am in spending more time with her. With making her laugh, winning that smile, seeing the world through her blind eyes.
When she doesn’t answer, I open the door for her, placing my hand at the small of her back to guide her. Evie doesn’t move, though, but stops right beside me. “Very much.”
“Very much what?” It doesn’t take much—touching her, smelling her, thinking about the way she feels against me and why we seem to fit so perfectly—to derail my train of thought.
“Your approach. It’s very much working so far.”
Her voice is low and serious, and her expression is pleased. There’s a twinkle in her eye that’s not so much amusement as it is something else.
“Are you ever gonna let me kiss you?” I mutter before she moves on.
“I was wondering if you were ever going to try.”
“I’m not fond of getting slapped.”
“I promise not to slap you,” she pledges softly. “Besides, my aim is terrible.”
She gives me a cute grin and steps into the restaurant. She stops only a few feet in and inhales deeply.
“Problem?”
“No. Just savoring the aroma. It’s a steak house. And a really good one. I can tell.”
“As much as you enjoyed the bread from that little bistro, I thought there might be a few things on this menu that would tickle your taste buds.”
“Well, if nothing here does the trick, maybe something afterward will.”
Her lips are curled up at the corners in a sexy little smile.
“Are you flirting with me?”
“What would you say if I said yes?”
“I’d say do it again.”
The hostess chooses that moment to return to her stand. “May I help you?”
“Reservation for Michaelson.”
The small brunette scans her list and then looks back up at me with a very bright smile. “Yes, right this way.”
Evie tightens her grip on my arm and scoots in closer to me. I feel the tension she’s suddenly carrying in her body. She’s as taut as a bowstring. “Tell me, do the aisles narrow?” Her voice is small, laced with concerned.
I look ahead and see that they do.
“They do. Why?”
“Can we fit side-by-side?”
“Probably not.”
“Oh. I, uh, I didn’t want to use my white cane if I could help it, but…”
“Why not?”
Her face pales noticeably, all except the red stains on her cheeks. “I didn’t want to embarrass you. People will stare.”
My mouth falls open.
I just hate being treated differently.
Jesus.
My hold on her tightens. “You won’t embarrass me. I don’t give a shit what people think or who stares. Do what makes you comfortable.”
She chews the inside of her cheek for a few seconds before she reaches into her bag and takes out a collapsible white cane. “I could use this or you could hold my hand and I’ll walk behind you. I’ll leave it up to you.”
I think carefully about my answer, feeling damned if I do and damned if I don’t. In the end, I just let her decide.
“Okay, so here’s where my head’s at. Of course, I’d love to hold your hand, but I don’t want you to think it’s because I don’t want you to use your cane. You will not embarrass me either way, so I’ll let you decide. Whatever makes you more comfortable.”
Evie’s sigh is a visible thing, her shoulders sagging with relief. She slips her collapsible cane back into her purse and feels for my left arm, sliding her right hand down until her fingers are laced with mine. I give them a squeeze.
“Why was that so hard?” I ask.
She shrugs, but this one is different. It’s shy and insecure. Even her face is tilted down. Not at all the Evie I’ve seen thus far. It makes me realize what the previous men in her life have made her feel, what they’ve done to her self-esteem. What the cruel, cynical, shitty world has
done to her self-esteem. “Handholding is a little intimate. I didn’t know if you’d want to give that impression.”
I raise our joined hands to my mouth and press my lips to her knuckles. “Keep talking like that and I’ll be kissing you for the first time in a very public place.”
Her smile is barely there. Wary.
I look up, and the hostess is on her way back to us, her eyes wide. “I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to lose you.”
I can tell by the way she glances at Evie that she’s just realized something is off. Evie isn’t wearing her glasses, but her eyes aren’t quite focused on the hostess. It’s clear they aren’t focused on anything.
The young woman is visibly flustered. Her gaze is shifting from Evie to me and back again like she has no idea what to do. I imagine this is the reaction Evie gets from a lot of people. Probably most people. They treat her differently because she makes them uncomfortable. She makes them flounder, but not because of anything she does, but because of their own lack of experience with disabled people.
“It’s fine. Lead the way,” I tell the girl with a smile, stepping between her and Evie and tugging Evie along behind me.
She holds tight to my hand, and for the first time since I saw her at the showing, I feel a deep pang of sympathy for Evie. Not because she’s disabled, but because of the way everyone else acts when they find out that she is. No wonder she wanted to be treated like every other woman on the planet.
We are cautiously making our way in and around the other tables, heading toward ours, when a familiar voice calls my name.
“Levi!”
I bite back a strong curse by clenching my teeth together.
I know who it is before I even look to the left. Julianne is rising from her chair at a table for two, moving around it to come right at us.
The hostess, who has been continually looking back to make sure we are still with her, pauses as Julianne grabs my right arm and hauls up to kiss the corner of my mouth. “I’m so glad I ran into you! I’ve been wondering what happened to you after the showing.”
“Been busy.”
“Daddy and I just got here,” she says, glancing back at her table. “It’s just the two of us as well. Can we join you?” Her eyes stray to Evie, but only briefly, like she’s inconsequential.
“I had reservations for two. I’m sure our table—”
“It’s a four top. There’s plenty of room,” the hostess supplies with a big smile, like she just did me a huge favor. It’s the first time all night that I’ve felt like strangling her.
“See? Plenty of room. Let me get Daddy. He’ll be thrilled to see you.”
Before I can protest, she’s already walking away, which I’m sure she did on purpose so that I couldn’t argue without looking like an ass and embarrassing Evie. Julianne is the type of woman that doesn’t let much stand in the way of her getting what she wants. I just happen to be the one thing she hasn’t been able to get, but damn if she doesn’t keep trying.
I notice that Evie has become a little stiff as I lead her along when the hostess resumes leading us to our table. I want to explain, but I’m not sure how. Making excuses might make matters worse.
Maybe things will go smoothly and it won’t matter.
Maybe.
Maybe Julianne will be on her best behavior in front of her father.
We are seated, Evie across from me, and seconds later, Julianne arrives to claim the seat beside me. Her father, not far behind, sits beside Evie.
He claps me on the shoulder as he passes. “Michaelson,” he says in his gruff voice.
“Sir.”
“How’s the shipping business?”
“Good. How’s the real estate business?”
“Hopefully recovering. Who’s your friend?”
“Gerald Pine, this is Evian de Champlain. She’s a local artist. Evie, this is Gerald and his daughter, Julianne. Old family friends.”
“I’ve known this scamp since he was a scrawny high school kid.”
“He means brawny high school kid.”
Gerald booms a laugh.
“So, Ms. de Champlain, an artist? What kind of art are you involved in?”
“I paint,” Evie supplies politely.
“Is there much money to be had in that field?”
“I’ve sold a few,” she replies vaguely.
“Good, good. Before having to cut off an ear, I see.”
He laughs again, a robust sound that makes Evie flinch almost imperceptibly.
Thankfully, the waitress arrives to take a drink order. Without asking, Gerald orders an expensive bottle of red wine for the table.
When she leaves, Julianne is the first to speak. “Daddy, Evian is the artist Levi and I went to see the other night. She’s…impaired.”
The way she says it, the way she emphasizes it is insulting. And knowing Julianne like I do, she means for it to be. She’s nothing if not cool and calculated. But she’s losing her cool with Evie, showing her claws in public (and in front of her father) which is very unlike her.
I narrow my eyes on Julianne. Her smile is plastered on, but her eyes are flashing hotly. I thought her jealousy from the other night was odd, and this I find even more so. She obviously sees Evie as a threat, which is also unlike her. Julianne doesn’t feel threatened by anyone.
Unless she sees something in the way I look at Evie.
Gerald’s thundering voice interrupts the thought. “She doesn’t look impaired to me,” he offers, nodding to approve the wine when the sommelier brings a bottle to the table.
“I’m blind,” Evie explains without hesitation. She says it boldly, her chin rising with her declaration.
“And a painter? How unique.”
“She’s definitely that, Daddy. You should see her work. It’s…something else. And Levi was kind enough to save her from a dreadful fall at her show. I’m sure she would’ve been humiliated had he not caught her.”
“I’m sure it was no hardship, getting your hands on a beautiful woman, eh, Michaelson?” he asks with another hearty laugh.
“No, sir. I was quite pleased to help.”
Julianne continues as if we hadn’t interrupted. “And then to bring her out this way. You’ve always been a big softie, haven’t you, Levi?” Her voice is dripping with condescension.
“If by ‘big softie’ you mean that I enjoy the company of a smart, gorgeous woman, then yes. I’m a big softie.”
“So sweet of you,” she adds, unwilling to let it go. “And what about you, Evian? Isn’t it nice to get out occasionally?”
I grind my back teeth together.
“Evie’s actually here to help me. Her palate is unmatched. She’s got a great nose, too. I’m sure you’d appreciate that, Gerald. She could probably sniff out a good Cuban faster than you.”
“Mind if I borrow her later?” he asks genially.
We both chuckle, and I hope my compliments ease any tension Evie might be feeling.
“Surely you can find better parlor tricks than that, Daddy,” Julianne interjects. There’s a venomous edge to her tone that raises my hackles. “I mean, a blind woman sniffing out cigars? Don’t they have dogs for that?”
She laughs like she just said something hilarious rather than insulting.
“Julianne,” I growl warningly.
“What?” Her face is the picture of innocence. “Surely she can take a joke. You’ve probably heard all the blind girl jokes, haven’t you, Evian?”
I glance across the table at Evie, who is sitting perfectly still with a small smile etched on her face. If her posture weren’t stiff, I would think her completely unfazed.
But she’s not.
That much is obvious.
“I have, yes.”
“And I’m sure you’d much rather others treat you like one of the crowd rather than some pathetic cripple, wouldn’t you?”
“She’s not a cripple,” I force from between my teeth.
“Of course, she is. It’s a matter
of fact, Levi, not opinion. She’s a cripple and cripples—”
“Stop it!” I snap at Julianne, slapping my palm onto the linen-draped table.
Julianne jumps and I glare at her, daring her to finish her sentence.
I swear to God if she says cripple one more time…
Evie reaches across and unerringly places her fingers over mine. “It’s fine, Levi. Really.”
“See? She’s a big girl. She can take care of herself. Mostly,” Julianne says from my left. I don’t even look at her.
“It’s not fine. I’m not going to sit here and let her—”
“It’s fine,” Evie reiterates calmly. “Julianne is right. I’ve heard it all. Luckily, I’m not the type to let the baboons at the zoo bother me. They fling their shit at the glass all the time, too stupid to realize I’ll never get splattered.”
Her tone is even, placid. Cool. Her expression, too. She is an iceberg, poised steadily on the surface of the water, but I feel like I know her well enough now to sense the turmoil that’s bubbling underneath. Julianne is chipping away at a crack in the crust and burning hot magma is seeping closer and closer to the top.
“Did you just call me a baboon?” Julianne asks waspishly.
“I don’t know. Did I? You know how dumb us cripples are.”
“You little—”
“How about some more wine?” Gerald cuts in, refilling everyone’s glass.
“Thank you, but I think it’s time we get going. I’ve lost my appetite.”
I scoot my chair back.
I’m done.
Over it.
One more second and I’m liable to throttle the bitchy redhead to my left.
Besides, I’m not going to put Evie through this. I’ve known Julianne for a lot of years. I know she can be elitist. I know she can be callous. I know she is ruthless when it comes to getting her way, but I never would’ve expected her to be so cruel. Otherwise, I’d have turned and walked right back out the door when she invited herself to our table.
“Evie, shall we?”
I toss my napkin onto the table before going around to give Evie my hand. When she stands, we step away from the table and I nod to Gerald.
“I’m sorry, sir. I hope you can enjoy the rest of your meal.”
