by Holley Trent
Wow.
Daisy understood the stakes. If people liked the soaps, her success would mean Nikki would trust her with more creative endeavors. Maybe it could mean finally ducking out from under her mother’s wing—to have something of her own. Something that showed she had a pretty good brain under all that red hair, and wasn’t just a robot people fed instructions to.
This was her chance to grab some confidence and hold it in her heart forever.
She nodded at Nikki. “Three hundred and thirty by Friday night. I’ll need to get some supplies, but I’ll start tonight after Momma leaves.”
“Good. I’ll need you to be there on Saturday to explain the ingredients, because Ben’s not going to remember that shit.” Nikki walked around her desk and picked up her phone. She dialed an internal extension and put it on speaker.
“Yes?” Trinity answered.
Nikki sunk into her cushy leather seat, rubbed her tired eyes and said, “Turn off your speaker, Trin.”
A beep, then a squeak as the receiver cleared the phone base. “What’s going on?”
“Do either you or Jerry have corporate cards with you today?”
“I have mine. I never clean my wallet out.”
“Don’t share this with anyone other than Jerry, not even Francine. This is an R&D issue.”
Silence, then, “Do I need to come in there?”
“No, there are already too many bodies in here. Right now it looks friendly because Ben doesn’t work here. Listen, Daisy’s going to make test soaps for Saturday’s skin and hair show. She needs supplies ASAP.”
“Shit, we’re not going to be able to get a delivery that fast. We’re going to have to go to Chesapeake.”
“I know. Leave now.”
“Right.” Trinity hung up her extension.
Nikki stabbed the hot line’s button so the light went off. She looked at Ben first, then Daisy. “I don’t have a whole lot invested in this show, but if you two make a splash, I’ll make it worth your while. You know I always pay favors back two-fold.”
Ben rubbed the soul patch beneath his lip and pulled his bottom lip through his teeth. He was a million miles away, and Daisy would have given much to know what was running through that mind of his.
As she stood and gripped the doorknob, her thoughts spun in her mind in perfect clarity. She’d be spending an entire Saturday with the man she practically threw herself at.
Universe, sometimes I don’t get you.
CHAPTER SIX
Louis Rouse paced in front of the wide picture window of his temporary office, and stared out at the light traffic on Broad Street. Edenton was a quiet town, but being in town at all meant distractions. He would have much rather been at his home office in absolute quiet, pondering his current dilemma, than in this makeshift spartan box he leased out of necessity.
He snatched his phone off the receiver, and dialed his long-time secretary at her home where she was working that day.
“Yes, Louis?”
“Hi, Alice. Did you get a signature confirmation for that package you sent to Clara Thys?” He sat for the first time that morning, pulled the one item of adornment in the room across the desktop, and gripped the edge in his fist.
“Yes, she accepted it and signed personally two days ago.”
“So, no return?”
“No, not as of yet.”
“Good.”
Better than good. He’d feared she’d read the return address and refuse it without knowing the contents. He would have done the same had he been in her shoes.
“Any messages from corporate?”
“A couple. The major gist is they need you to fly to Thailand to visit that shoe manufacturing facility again. Thursday next.”
He blew out a breath, set down the picture frame, and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his free hand. “Am I going to be back in time for the wedding?”
“You’ll skid in by the skin of your teeth. I suggest you get in and get out early.”
“Make it happen.”
“Immediately. Before I go, is there…anything else I can do for you?”
He willed his shoulders down from his ears and rolled his head on his tense neck. Sleep hadn’t been coming easy, and what little bit he’d been getting had been while he was upright in front of cable television. “Did you speak with Jesse?” he asked.
“I did.”
“What’s the verdict?” Did he really want to know?
Silence for a moment. “He told me to pass on the warning that she’s asking for a lot of money to settle this.”
“Is this…going to break me?”
“Do you care?”
He picked up the frame again and stared at the two men within the brushed nickel rectangle. Undoubtedly his from their noses, sharp cheekbones, out to their broad shoulders and down their tall, athletic bodies to their feet. Undoubtedly Clara’s with her fair hair, blue eyes, full lips, and cynical expressions.
She hadn’t been so cynical when he first knew her almost thirty-five years ago. That grew over time with every new promise he made and broke. He’d been so weak back then. He was through with being weak, especially now that one of those men was getting married. That meant grandchildren soon. He didn’t want his grandchildren to think him weak and cowardly. He was supposed to be an idol, but he had some work to do to get there.
“I probably care less than I should.”
Alice sighed. “Lou, I don’t know all the details. He’s forwarding the paperwork to you to review by courier. From what he hinted at, it’ll hurt, but you’d keep most of your cash assets.”
“Losing the house and family property, then.”
“That’d be my guess.”
He propped his head atop the back of the desk chair and stared at the drop ceiling. Is it worth it? Two hundred years of family history signed away with some paperwork?
His fingers wrapped around the frame one more. It was missing one more person he loved—never stopped loving.
Yes. It was worth it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Daisy startled when she looked up to find Ben leaning onto the end of her worktable. She pushed back her headphones and clutched her chest as she scanned the barn behind her. It was late and she’d been there alone. Sneaking up on her probably wasn’t the best idea he’d had all day, but hadn’t wanted to frighten her by entering the building with a lot of door slamming and foot stomping, either.
“It’s just me.” He pulled a stool over from a nearby table and perched at the end of her workstation. “I went out for a ride. Giving Jerry and Trinity some space. They’re very tolerant of me, but I like to get out of their hair sometimes. Saw the light on and figured it was you in here finishing up.”
She nodded and peeled off her latex gloves before pushing some errant curls back from her face. Her hair was untamed beyond what the simple elastic she’d looped around a tenuous bun constrained. It looked ready to collapse at any moment, and he wanted to help it along—to free her curls so they fell over her shoulders. Maybe thread his fingers through them. See how soft they were.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets.
“Momma doesn’t know what I’m up to, and it took me a long time tonight to shake her off my trail.”
He pointed to the untended tray of soap at her elbow and made a beckoning gesture.
She passed it down along with a roll of plastic and some seals.
They wrapped in silence for a while, though he occasionally looked up at her to find the blush in her cheeks gradually receding as she became consumed by her chore. He knew his presence there was affecting her, although he couldn’t be sure of why. Being easy to talk to was one of his charms. At least, that’s what everyone said. Getting Daisy to talk to him was like trying to get a kid to give up her ice cream cone.
He held up one translucent yellow diskette of soap and inhaled its scent. Lemon, but not cloying or overpowering. It smelled like real fruit and not some chemically manufactured substitute. “Have you tried
these?”
She yawned as she nodded her head. “Yes, but just limited tests to make sure they lather. You don’t really need a good lather to get clean, but there’s something mental about having bubbles that makes people feel like soaps working. I think they need a bit of tweaking, but I don’t have time.”
“Hmm.” He wrapped the soap and placed a silver foil Natural by Nicolette sticker where the plastic edges came together. “How do you normally troubleshoot?”
He heard the sharp inhalation of breath and looked up to find her cheeks flooded yet again.
“I don’t.” She stacked her packaged soaps into the short, wide cardboard box at the center of the table and added a divider. “Momma does all the troubleshooting around here if there are any soap issues. This is the first recipe I’ve devised on my own for N-by-N.”
“What do you think she will say when she finds out?”
Her eyebrows flitted up for a barely a second and she blew out a scoff. “I guess that’ll depend on whether this endeavor tanks.” She grabbed a few creamy swirled soaps off his tray and set them on plastic in front of her. “If people don’t like them, she’ll probably say I told you so or something similar.” Her lips pulled up into the barest smirk and she stole a glance at him.
He nodded his encouragement.
“She doesn’t trust me to think independently, I guess. I don’t think she’s read the memo that I’m a grown up and am allowed to take risks if I want.”
Would she consider me such a risk?
He stood and carried his soaps to the box, never taking his gaze from hers. Her eyes were some shade between blue and gray he had no name for, at least not in English, framed by thick, lush, lashes. If she was aware of her beauty, she certainly didn’t act like it. Any other woman would be batting those captivating lashes at him. She could barely make eye contact.
“And if you succeed?”
She shrugged and resumed her packaging. “She’ll either downplay it as a fluke or tell me how ungrateful I am for going at it alone.”
“Sounds like you lose either way.”
“That’s Momma. She’s always been like that, but maybe got a little worse after the divorce.”
“Divorce?”
Her hands stilled. “Yes. Mine.”
Ah. That explains it. It’s like tiptoeing across a minefield and not knowing where the detonators are.
The situation required some delicacy, and he certainly didn’t want to pry. He wanted her comfortable—at ease with him. But he knew how to seize opportunities when they were presented. He might not have another chance to broach the topic again, so he stuck his neck out and put as much cheer in his voice as he could.
“What happened? Did he decide he wasn’t good enough for you and gave up on trying?”
She pulled her lips back to reveal the broadest smile he’d seen her manage in nearly a year. “Not even close. Just the typical irreconcilable differences type of thing. We were okay dating in high school, but actually having to move in together under the same roof turned out to be a real eye-opener.”
“I see.” He really didn’t. She was so gentle and had the mildest demeanor he’d ever encountered in a woman, redhead or otherwise, and couldn’t imagine anyone not getting along with her. Maybe she had a temper she kept hidden away?
She pushed some hair behind her ear and pulled over another stack of soaps. The line of her neck, now visible with her hair tucked back, was long and his eyes followed it down to the crook of her shoulder. There was a smattering of freckles on either side of her tank top straps as if she’d run outside shirtless when God was sprinkling extra bits of color from the sky. Beyond her shoulders, she didn’t seem to have freckles anywhere else. Not her arms. Not her cheeks.
His gaze trailed down to the pert mounds of her breasts.
Maybe there.
He blew out a breath and stood. “I’m going to check the refrigerator for bottled water,” he said, already in transit, and adjusting the front of his pants as he moved. “Do you want something?”
“No, thank you. I’m almost finished and want to get home. Bad enough driving in the dark without having to do it tired. The deer are awful on the roads this time of year.”
We walked around the partition, opened the refrigerator and let of whoosh of air escape his lungs in relief in seeing the row of water bottles in the door. He held one against his forehead and leaned against the wall, hidden from her sight, swearing to himself in Dutch.
It hadn’t been that long since he’d held a woman. Had it?
* * *
Dork.
Daisy kept repeating it to herself throughout the morning. Every time she looked across the center console at Ben driving them in his brother’s Jeep toward the trade show, she thought it again.
Dork.
She’d never seen a man look so damned good in pink in her life, and two of Jerry’s best friends were female impersonators. Nikki had handed him the N-by-N logo tee with her apologies the previous day during their covert briefing saying, “Sorry, it’s the only thing left in your size. Maybe you can find a gray one in Jerry’s laundry.”
He’d shrugged and tried it on for size then and there. He’d taken his own shirt off to reveal cobblestone abdominal muscles, a trim waist, and the strong shoulders of a swimmer.
Daisy could hardly see straight until he’d put the pink thing on for Nikki’s assessment for all the blood in her head.
Dork.
He didn’t force her into conversation during the drive, mostly because Nikki kept calling with last-minute tips and instructions. “Daisy,” she’d scolded. “Don’t let those people bowl you over. Just smile pretty and try not to blush yourself to death. Let Ben do the talking and if he has to defer to you, just keep it simple. We’re not trying to win awards for public speaking, you hear me?”
Even Nikki thinks I’m a dork.
Then as they were setting up their booth, she’d caught sight of a tattoo between his right third and fourth fingers and had grabbed his hand to study it without asking. When she realized what she’d done, she drew back with her apologizes.
Dork.
That put them at the current moment, as Daisy stood paralyzed, watching trade show patrons file into the long rows of vendors.
He stood in front of her and held out his hand, backside up, with his fingers splayed. “Go on,” he said with that damned grin. “It’s not scandalous. Can you make it out?”
Hands trembling, she held his fingers apart and stared at the ink. She stared some more. She squinted. Finally, she conceded. “That’s not quite English, is it?”
“No.” He drew his hand out of hers, gently, and studied his tattoo up close to his face. “Dutch sometimes looks a lot like English. Sometimes you can sound it out and guess. Zwemmen. Swim.”
He held his other hand out to her and splayed the fingers. “That one’s not so easy. Zweven. Float.”
“I get swim, but why float?”
He grinned at her and turned his attention away momentarily as a forty-something woman in a killer skirt suit approached the table with her map and goody bag.
“So, what’s new at N-by-N?” she asked, trailing the tips of her fingers along the freebie soaps.
“We’re having fun with soap this summer,” Ben said, handing him one of the folded products sheets Jerry threw together at the last minute the previous night.
She pushed her glasses down her nose and stared at him over them. “You’re not Jeremiah. Jerry’s got South in his mouth and prettier hair than an eleven-and-a-half-inch fashion doll. Who are you?”
He held out a hand and she immediately placed hers inside it.
Daisy’s core temperature cranked up a tick, and she ground her teeth at the way the woman beamed at his touch.
Hag.
“Ben Thys. I’m that guy’s brother.”
“Oh?” She clung to his hand long after he stopped shaking. “Any more where you come from, or is Nikki cloning you?”
He laughed and
carefully extricated his fingers from her grip. He was so graceful about it, there was no way she could be offended. “No, just the two of us, although on some days I’m sure he wouldn’t mind having a clone. Nikki keeps him busy. That’s why I’m here.”
“More brothers should be so accommodating. Now, tell me why my shop should stock this new stuff.”
When she was gone, with a purse full of soap and an updated catalog, Ben turned back Daisy. “I don’t think that soap’s going to last long,” he said.
“The sooner we can leave, then,” she mumbled, shooting daggers at the departing shop owner’s back with her eyes.
“So, float.” He held his hand up again, gesturing to his tattoo with his other hand. “It’s there as a reminder for me. I was scared of the water as a kid, so floating was very hard. I couldn’t relax into it, and you know you can’t float unless you relax.”
She shifted her weight and offered a smile to a woman approaching with a clipboard. “I don’t know. I never learned to swim.”
“Really?”
She shrugged as he offered a glossy catalog to the newcomer. The woman took one of each soap and walked away. When she was gone, Daisy whispered, “Currents at the beach used to scare me so I never learned there and we didn’t have a pool, so…”
“I see. I’ll make it my ambition to teach you how before I fly home.”
“Yeah, you’ll never see me in a swimsuit,” she mumbled.
“What’s that?”
She glanced down the aisle toward the crowd clumping around the booth a company demonstrating a new hair straightening serum. Her curiosity was piqued, not that she would actually volunteer to be a guinea pig. “Nothing, Ben. I just…I doubt you’ll have time.”
“Why, are you hopeless?” He chuckled, and the deep sound made her pull her attention away from the ruckus and look at him. His sunburn was giving way to a deep tan that looked wonderful in contrast to the pink of his shirt. Barry would have never worn pink anything. Barry wouldn’t have looked so good in it, anyway, with his ruddy coloring. Barry had certainly never made all of her feminine muscles clench at the mere sight of him, whether in or out of a shirt.
