by Jordan Marie
Even if I shouldn’t.
“Say what?” I ask as she gets closer. Her steps fall just as soft as her voice. Every other step I see her foot peek out from under her dress, revealing black flip-flops and long toes. The tops of her nails are painted a clear gloss so they shine. Simple, understated, and somehow it manages to look… sexy. Her long brown hair has been brushed until it shines and it’s kept in a large pony tail that starts at the top of her head and swishes when she walks. Her face doesn’t have makeup on it. She has the same clear gloss on her lips that caught my eye on her toes. Even her fingernails are fixed that way.
Something about her calls to me more than any other woman I’ve met—maybe because she isn’t trying with clothes and makeup, I have no idea, but it’s true.
“I said you could make that at home. Really you don’t need to make anything, just buy some coconut oil at the store.”
“Coconut oil?”
“Yeah, that’s basically what this is. I’ve just added a few things to help with growth and scents… lemongrass on this particular one,” she says in her same quiet voice, and she blushes as she gets closer to me.
“Aren’t you in business to make money?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, you’re telling me not to buy something instead of pushing more products my way,” I explain, watching in fascination as her blush deepens.
“Well, you didn’t like my product,” she argues back, reaching up to take the bottle from me. She does have to reach up too, because I’m a good seven inches or so taller than her. She’s tiny. Tiny, beautiful, and…dangerous to my wellbeing.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”
“You did, you—”
“Only that I didn’t want to smell like a lemon cake. A man likes to smell like a man,” I explain to her, enjoying the way she blushes again.
“Try this one,” she responds, her voice nervous. She reaches up to another shelf and hands me a second bottle. I give her the one I’m holding and look at the new offering doubtfully.
“Is this one going to make me smell like flowers?” I ask, unable to stop myself from grinning at her.
“This scent is very manly,” she laughs, opening it up.
Out of the corner of my eye I notice Ana walking away, but I forget everyone in the room but this girl. Her effect is that potent to me.
“What’s that smell?” I ask after she holds it up to me and I sniff.
“Sandalwood. See? Very manly.”
“How does it work?”
“You just put it in your beard and leave it.” She shrugs.
“And go out with white stuff hanging off my face?” I joke.
She laughs, which is what I wanted, but not all of it. She gives me the rest though and I’m surprised by how much I like it.
“You gather some on your fingers like this,” she explains, “and then you rub it together.”
My eyes are glued to her hands as she slowly smears the white, foamy concoction between them.
“Then what?” I ask, daring her to show me more. Everything in the room is quiet but me and her. I can hear Ana, Roman and even my nephew chattering in the background, but I’ve blocked them out. All of my attention is on this girl.
“You rub it in your beard,” she murmurs, her eyes round. I pick up a noticeable hitch in her breathing.
Does she feel the same pull between us that I do?
3
Jessie
“Show me,” he says and my breath lodges in my chest.
“Excuse me?” I question, my voice breathless. I’m sure I heard him wrong. He couldn’t have just asked me to—
“Rub it in my beard, show me what I’m supposed to do.”
“I don’t think—”
“It’s your job to make sure the customer is happy, right?” His voice is slithery sweet, as if caked in sin. I should back away, but something inside of me compels me to not back away, to give in… to touch him.
“I don’t…” I start, but then stop because I’m not sure what I want to say. I’m not sure what I want to do.
“Make me happy,” he coaxes and my body feels alive.
“You uh…” I rub my fingers together, reaching up to his face. I moisten my lips and breathe to get air into my lungs—afraid if I don’t I might pass out.
“Do it, Mouse. I dare you.”
His pet name jars me. I jerk up to see if he’s making fun of me. “Mouse?”
“Skittish, cute, afraid of their shadow,” he explains, his large ink-painted hand pushing a stray strand of hair from my face.
“Mice aren’t cute.”
“They can be,” he argues.
“They’re gross.”
“We’ll agree to disagree. Are you going to show me how to use your product?”
Before I can second-guess myself—or admit I’m falling into his trap—I reach up and rub my fingers through his dark beard. I bite my lip hard, a flash of pain moving through me as I try to ignore how good it feels to touch this man. He’s a stranger. I shouldn’t be doing this, but I can’t stop myself.
“It does feel good,” he says, his dark gaze holding mine.
“It’s made from vanilla and coconut,” I answer, trying to concentrate on what I’m doing. It’s no use, though. Instead, I’m lost in the feel of his beard against my fingertips, the minty fresh smell of his breath, the dark color of his eyes, the thickness of his lips and the way they move as he talks. I’m under a spell he has woven and I don’t know how to fight my way out of it…
I don’t even want to.
“Sweet like you,” he whispers, his warm breath skittering against my skin. I swallow as his voice seems to vibrate inside of me.
“How do you like it?” I ask him, leaning my body into him because my knees are weak. My breasts brush against him and I fight to stop from moaning.
This is crazy.
“I love everything about it,” he answers and it might be wishful thinking, but I don’t think he’s talking about the beard conditioner. Before I can reply, the bell above the door rings again. I jerk away, my eyes going to the door in shock—the moment completely broken. That’s probably a good thing. I watch as a couple of older women file inside, immediately going through my inventory. Then my gaze moves to the man and woman from earlier, leaning against the counter with their child still there. They’re looking at me and Allen and their gazes are knowing. I feel my face flame with embarrassment.
“I’ll take it,” Allen says and my gaze jerks up to him. It’s only then I notice he’s taken the bottle from me and replaced the lid. I swallow down my embarrassment and paste a smile on my face.
“I’ll just ring you up,” I tell him. I walk to the register as if I’m in a daze. I steadfastly choose to ignore the stares Allen’s family are giving me, but I can feel the heat of their gaze. “That will be thirty-two dollars,” I murmur, turning around as I put the bottle into one of my sage green bags with the store logo on them.
He tilts his head to the side and studies me. This unnerves me and I fight down the urge to go into hiding.
“The tag on the bottle said forty-one,” he responds.
I shrug. “I gave you a discount since it’s your first purchase. You might decide you don’t like it,” I explain.
He puts a hundred-dollar bill on the counter and I move to pick it up right before he captures my hand.
Uh-oh.
4
Allen
“What’s your name?” I ask her, needing to know it more than anything else I’ve ever wanted in my life—and that includes proving to Roman he was right about me.
That’s a scary truth. A fucking terrifying one.
When Roman captured me I was a junkie wanting to die. I’m not proud of my past, but it’s the truth. That’s who I was. I was running from my past, from an abuse so dark that it colored everything I was, everything I did. It destroyed me. I was wanting to die. I was prepared for Roman to deliver that death. I knew he would. I’d crosse
d him on purpose.
I never expected that he’d captured me to dry me out. I never expected he would give me a chance to get revenge from a monster who had hid in the corners of my mind for way too long. I’ve never wanted anything more than to make Roman proud. That’s the only thing that has driven me since that day years ago that I was locked up in one of Roman’s warehouses and chained like the damn dog that I was. Roman gave me everything and somehow he managed to find a way to give me my sister back too. I owe the man everything. But, suddenly, in a flash my priorities change and they all center on this tiny woman who barely comes up to my chest, with soft hair the color of dark honey and eyes bluer than the Florida sky.
“I’m Jessie,” she whispers. “Jessie Hart.”
Her voice is so sweet I have to close my eyes at the sound of it. She holds her hand out so innocently, not realizing the monster she’s inviting into her life. I should back away, leave her for another man to claim. A man worthier than I am; a clean man without darkness inside of him. I look down at her hand while a battle rages inside of me. I slowly reach out and grasp it in mine. Electricity moves through me and I swear I can feel the ground shift under my feet. I should have never touched her. I should have let her go.
Roman’s words come back to me.
“You will go down on your knees to keep her and if she’s a good woman, Allen, you’ll do it gladly.”
She’s it. She’s the one.
She deserves better and she definitely deserves cleaner, but her fate is sealed.
I’ll be damned if I give any other man a chance to take her away from me.
She’s mine.
“Allen.”
“Hi, Allen,” she says, her hand tightening against mine.
I don’t know how long we stand like that. I couldn’t tell you how long I stare into her eyes. I just know that I never want it to stop.
“Excuse me. Could I get your help picking out a shampoo?” one of the customers asks from behind me. I squeeze Jessie’s hand, not wanting to let her go, but knowing I need to.
“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” Jessie answers, but she doesn’t take her eyes away from me. “I’ll uh… just get your change,” she says, pulling her hand away.
I force myself to let her go, but I don’t do it happily.
“Keep it,” I respond.
“But—”
“I said keep it,” I tell her, and I know that comes out grumpy. I hate the way the tone of my voice makes her flinch.
I try to get a handle on my anger; she doesn’t deserve it. I’m annoyed as hell right now because I have to leave her, and I don’t want to.
“I’d really rather not,” she says huffily, obviously put off because of my tone, and I can’t blame her. She pushes a button on the register and the drawer slides open. She pulls out the change and hands it to me.
My gaze travels to the money and then back to her. I do all this frowning.
Jessie’s face is closed off now, the light out of her eyes and the blush changed from embarrassment to anger. I don’t know how I can read her that clearly, but I do.
“I want you to keep it, Jessie. You can give me a discount on my next purchase,” I respond, closing my hand around hers in such a way as to hold her without taking the money.
“You’re coming back?”
“Nothing could keep me away, Mouse. Nothing at all,” I promise her and Roman grabs his son from the counter, takes my sister’s hand, and they start walking to the door. I follow them, resisting the urge to look back at Jessie until I get to the door and then I have to turn and look at her again.
“Down on your knees,” Roman mutters and I rub the side of my neck, unable to argue with him.
“My bro has moves,” Ana laughs and I grunt my frustration at her, which only makes her laugh harder. I sigh, following them through the street as we’re joined by Bruno, another of Roman’s men.
Unable to stop myself, I look back at Jessie’s shop one last time, knowing I’ll be back sooner rather than later. I won’t be able to stop myself. One touch from her was more powerful than any drug I’ve ever had in my system and I know without a shadow of a doubt that she will be the one habit I’ll never be able to kick.
Down on my knees… damn.
5
Jessie
Three days.
That’s how long it has been since I stood in the middle of my shop, rubbed my fingers through a customer’s beard, and made a complete and utter fool of myself. That essentially means I’ve had three days of hell, reliving a myriad of emotions that range from embarrassment to desire, joy, sadness, and a million other things. Whatever I’ve felt, though, it all goes back to the same thing in the end. Sadness that Allen is gone. Sadness that I might have met this great guy and nothing happened.
Well again, besides making a fool of myself—nothing happened.
As I close the door to my shop and make sure the deadbolt is secure, I feel defeated. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s that moment of knowing you’ve met someone special, it doesn’t make sense, but it’s true. I’ve heard friends talk about it, and I always thought they were insane… until now.
“Let’s go for a drink.”
I jump and squeal before I can stop myself. The street outside is lit, but it’s late. So late that most of the town has shut down. Which means there are few people about. I turn around to face Troy. He’s a pain in my ass. We dated for all of a hot mess—fucked-up—minute. He was an ass of epic proportions, and by date I mean three times. His “asshole-ism” was so huge I informed him I didn’t want to see him again. That was two months ago. Two months, and while most men would have taken that and walked away—not Troy. Troy seems to think my decision was an invitation to make himself more present in my life. He calls no less than twice a week. He shows up outside my shop at closing time and once he even followed me to a movie theater.
“How many times have I told you to stop following me around?” I grumble, barely looking at him. Troy has been harmless, but my bumping into him has become more frequent. I finally find the small bottle of pepper spray I keep in my purse and wrap my hand tightly around it.
“Oh come on, Jess, don’t be like that. I was just in the neighborhood and thought I could look in on an old friend. That’s not so bad, is it?” he whines.
His voice is whiney too… and way too nasally. That’s just one of the things I don’t like about him. The thing is, if he was a nicer person, the voice probably wouldn’t bother me—at least not as much.
“I don’t want to share a drink with you, Troy. I told you the last time we ran into each other at the movie theater, I think it’s best if we just remain acquaintances.”
“You don’t even want to be my friend anymore? That’s just messed up, Jess.”
“My name is Jessie. I don’t like it when you call me Jess—which you would know if you bothered to listen.”
“Wow, you’re really pissy today, aren’t you? Shit, are you on the rag?”
“You did not just ask me that,” I growl, thinking it’d be a great time to use that pepper spray—in his eyes—until the canister is empty.
“I think he did.”
My breath lodges in my throat and I close my eyes as my heart rate kicks up in speed.
“Who are you?”
“Jessie’s man,” Allen says from behind me, and his words allow me to become unstuck and turn around to look at him.
“Allen?” I whisper, my voice hoarse as breath still feels like it won’t fill my lungs.
“Hey, Jessie,” he says and looks down at me, his lips spreading into a smile. “Sorry I’m late,” he adds, and I blink, not sure I’m understanding the conversation.
“Late?”
“For our date, sweetheart. I got held up with work.”
“Oh… That’s okay,” I whisper, trying to snap out of the Allen “haze” I seem to have fallen in.
“Date? You’re dating?” Troy asks, his voice thick with anger.
“We
’re doing a lot more than that,” Allen says, and he pulls me to him, and then hides me behind him as if he’s protecting me. I play along, shocked at what’s going on, and trying to process it all. “Who are you?” Allen adds.
“Me? I… uh… Jessie and I are… we used to… date.”
“You what?”
“We dated,” Troy says stubbornly.
“You dated this guy?”
“It was a moment of insanity that lasted three dates,” I answer, embarrassed.
“How long ago?” Allen asks.
“A couple of months,” I murmur.
“We’re trying to work things out,” Troy answers and my mouth drops open. I move from behind Allen, shaking my head no, feeling my own anger rise.
“You’re delusional. I told you on our third date I didn’t want anything to do with you anymore,” I yell. “You keep following me around! It’s bad enough you show up at my shop, but you even followed me to the movie theater. That’s harassment!”
“This fuck-wad has been stalking you?” Allen asks, and until he phrases it that way I never really thought of it like that.
“I, well… I don’t… Oh my God! You have been stalking me!” I exclaim—like an idiot.
“That stops now. I even think you are breathing the same air as Jessie, I’ll make you regret it. Are we clear?”
“You don’t have any control if we bump into each other. I live close by. There’s always a chance—”
“Then you need to move.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am deadly serious. You do not get close to Jessie. Not again, because if you do, you won’t like how I deal with it.”
“You’re being ridiculous. There’s nothing you can do.”
“Try me, Troy,” Allen replies, basically daring him. He also makes sure his body is between me and Troy now. Even in my mini-panic at discovering Troy is probably following me around I recognize what he’s doing and I can’t help but like that he’s protecting me. I don’t know if I’ve ever had that in my life. Actually I know I haven’t, not by a man. My mother always did, but this… this is different and it feels different.
