It's Just a Little Crush

by Caroline Fardig

  I turn slowly and find that my face is inches from his. Poison’s music is pounding, and yes, it’s all about sex, just like every thought in my mind. Blake is gazing into my eyes, then takes hold of me suddenly and kisses me. I’ll be lucky if I can stay conscious through this! His lips are unbelievably soft, but eagerly pressing against mine. One of his huge but gentle hands is cradling my face (a serious weakness of mine—I go all gooey when a man touches my face), and the other is on my back, pulling me toward him. This is hands-down the hottest kiss I’ve ever had, but there’s something nagging me. This is so unfair! Stupid conscience. As much as I want this (and more), I can’t help but think it’s wrong. Blake needs a friend, not another lover. Positive that I’m going to be kicking myself mere seconds from now, I pull away suddenly and look up at him.

  “Wait, Blake,” I frown.

  He shakes his head. “Sorry. You’re absolutely right.”

  “It’s not that I wasn’t enjoying myself,” I explain with a shy smile. “It’s just that, well, I don’t want to be one of your…how did you put it…meaningless hookups. I’d rather be a friend than another conquest.” Did I just say what I think I said? Am I barking mad? Of course I want to be conquested by Blake—over and over again! He’s still holding onto me—maybe I can retract that last statement and pick up where we left off.

  Before I can say anything more, he leans his forehead against mine and whispers, “Thank you.”

  “For turning you down?”

  “For being my friend. Can we just pretend this didn’t happen?”

  “I can pretend. So we’re cool?”

  “Cool,” he answers, smiling.

  ***

  After a couple more hours of friendly conversation, which include me telling him everything I learned from Hannah’s friends this evening, most of which he knew, Blake checks his watch. “It’s after midnight! I’d better get out of here so you can get some rest.”

  He stands up from the couch and pulls me with him, wrapping his arms around my waist and intently gazing into my eyes again. I would love nothing more than for him to plant another passionate kiss on me, but I don’t want to revisit that awkward feeling I’ve just now been able to conquer. He leans in, and as I’m about to say something, he kisses me ever so gently and sweetly on the forehead.

  “Thank you,” he murmurs, “I needed this more than you know. See you tomorrow.”

  He trots out the door, and I give him a wave goodbye. Just in time, too, because my legs have completely turned to jelly. I’ve just spent the evening with Blake Morgan! Granted, it wasn’t exactly a date… Well, now that I think about it, you could technically classify it as a date: we had drinks, food, conversation, and kissing, just not in the customary order. But, even better, he likes me—he really, really likes me! And, he likes me enough not to rush into things and ruin our friendship. Here I am, all gooey again. I think my crush is back with a vengeance!

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  As I enter the office, I hear nothing but silence, again. Today and tomorrow should be particularly somber days at work—today is Hannah’s visitation and tomorrow is the funeral. I was barely able to drag myself out of bed this morning after staying up so late yet again. But, it was soooo worth it. I wonder what it’s going to be like between Blake and me here at work. Will he pretty much ignore me like he has in the past? Will we just be normal office friends or something more? And, most importantly, are we going to get to spend more time together, alone, like last night?

  I don’t have to wait long for my answer, because Blake strides into the office at that very moment. He has a smile on his face and a seriously sharp suit on that smoking hot body. He greets everyone as he passes by their desks, but as I realize he’s walking straight toward me, my heart gives a little flutter. No Blake-vision so far, but the day is young. He sits down on the corner of my desk and hands me a Starbucks cup.

  “I see you as a Vanilla Latte kind of girl. Am I right?” Blake asks.

  “Wow. Very close. Caramel Macchiato.” No way! The closest Starbucks is in the next town, fifteen minutes away, and Blake drove all the way there just to get me a coffee. Yep, he likes me.

  “I’ll remember that next time,” he says with a little smile.

  I take a sip. “Mmm. Thanks for the coffee.”

  “If I take you to dinner, will you help me with an errand I need to run tonight? First you’ll have to go home and put on some sensible shoes though,” he remarks, eyeing my sexy black strappy sandals.

  “O…K…” I reply hesitantly.

  “Don’t worry—it’s only a little illegal.” He walks away chuckling. What? Is he joking again? I swear, I can never tell with him.

  Sarah pops her head out of her office and calls, “Blake Morgan—in my office.” The second Blake disappears inside Sarah’s office, Julia swoops down on me.

  “What’s this all about?” she asks gleefully, gesturing at my Starbucks cup. “Last time I checked, Blake doesn’t randomly bring people coffee in the morning—Starbucks, no less—and sit on their desk, making sparkling conversation.” Her eyes widen as she gasps, “Did you—?” She claps a hand over her mouth, points at me, then points toward Blake’s desk.

  I sit back and smile, completely enjoying myself. I can always count on Julia to be crazy excited anytime I have a date, which I did, sort of.

  “Don’t just sit there and smile at me. Dish!” Julia commands, taking a seat on my desk.

  I peer around to make sure no one is listening, since Julia in her excitement is not exactly being quiet. Maybe I’d better leave out the part about the rock through Jed’s window and me sneaking up on (and wrestling) Blake, who at the time I thought was Hannah’s killer. She might yell at me again.

  “Well, he showed up on my doorstep last night with dinner and an apology. We talked…and now we’re friends.” I’m not generally known for telling lengthy and detailed stories, but this one sounds a little thin even for me.

  “Riiiight…” Julia drawls. “Now tell me what really happened, liar.” When I open my mouth to object, she interrupts me. “All of it!”

  I can’t actually tell her all of it, now can I? Most of what we talked about was in confidence. Maybe if I tell her about the kiss she’ll leave me alone. After all, that’s probably what she really wants to know about anyway. So, I tell Julia all about that fabulous kiss, down to the very last detail. She still doesn’t believe that I was the one that pulled away and that nothing else happened, but she seems relatively satisfied with my kiss story.

  I finish the story with, “I’ve told you all the dirty details I’m going to tell, so get back to work, nosy. We close early today and tomorrow, which means I’m already behind.”

  “Fine,” Julia huffs. “But I’ll get the rest of it out of you sooner or later.”

  I glance across the room and notice that Blake is finished in Sarah’s office. He doesn’t look too happy coming out the door, but when he catches my eye he winks. I’m finding it harder and harder to focus today. I sip my coffee and can’t help but smile.

  ***

  Sarah leans her head out her office door and yells, “Staff meeting in five minutes.”

  Another staff meeting? Really? This will make four in the last five workdays. We normally have only one per week. Then again, this has been anything but a normal week. We pull our chairs together, and I can hear a lot of griping about wasting time on an already shortened workday.

  Mason appears (which rarely happens during a normal staff meeting—I hope it’s not another pep talk like last time) as Sarah announces, “Mr. Mason and I have a big surprise for everyone!”

  Oh, boy. Their idea of a big surprise could very well be that we’re all required to work all weekend, or maybe that they’re expanding our office hours but not our salaries. Mason is grinning from ear to ear and rubbing his palms together in anticipation of dropping whatever bomb he has planned for us.

  His face suddenly turns serious. “I know that this week has been tough on all
of you.” He methodically makes eye contact with each of us, giving us his best (fake) sympathetic face. “We’ve had the biggest story in years practically fall into our laps, and we all got a front row seat.”

  Mason’s speech is punctuated by a soft sob from Paul the Picker. Poor little dude. He found his friend, Audra, dead on Thursday, then on Monday his office crush, Hannah, winds up dead as well. He has missed a lot of work lately—seems that he just can’t get over losing either of these ladies. He’s awfully emotional about the whole thing, not really taking it like a man. His eyes are red and puffy, and his hair is seriously past needing a haircut. He’s starting to look like a deranged sheep. Now that I think about it, since last week he’s also been acting strangely-er. Wait a minute! What if Paul had something to do with the two deaths? That’s kind of ridiculous to even consider. I peek over at him. Paul is such a weakling, I doubt if he could have pulled off killing either Audra or Hannah. I think I could take him in a fair fight, and I could no doubt kick his ass into next week if I thought he was trying to kill me. I’ll have to run my idea by Blake. He may have some insight after his and Hank’s social call on Paul last week.

  Mason continues, “Many of you worked tirelessly to bring this story to our readers, and I salute you for that.” He lowers his voice for effect. “And then came the horrible news that one of our own, our Hannah, passed away early this week, while serving our newspaper.”

  Now that’s just a little dramatic. She didn’t die because she was serving our newspaper. I catch Blake looking at me, and I roll my eyes. He flashes me a quick smile and turns his attention back to Mason’s speechifying.

  “I know how important Hannah was to each and every one of you.” This comment elicits another sob from Paul and a sniff of disdain from me. As the copy editor, I am appalled at my paper’s editor’s constant use of one of my grammar pet peeves, “each and every”. It’s redundant, and it irks me. He drones on, “The next couple of days will be extremely hard on us as a work family. That’s why Sarah and I have put our heads together and come up with a way to boost everyone’s spirits a bit.” He pauses, making sure everyone is giving him their undivided attention. “We’ve organized a little party for you all on Saturday night. We thought a little down time with our team, away from the office, would do us all some good. I have rented out The Liberty Inn for dinner, dancing, and drinks—all on me and the Liberty Chronicle.” Is he puffing out his chest? I think he’s actually puffing out his chest like a Thanksgiving turkey. “I expect you all to be there with your party hats on! Meeting adjourned!”

  An office party. Fabulous. What a way to celebrate Hannah’s life. Good idea, Mason, let’s get a bunch of grieving people drunk and make them dance. This has disaster written all over it. Plus, what is Mason going to expect of us in return? Maybe my theory of working weekends or longer days has merit after all. Or, maybe he’s going to expect all the female staff members to dance with him (ewww—I bet his hands are all sweaty). His wife, Bitsy, won’t even care or notice. She’ll be too busy getting drunk and hitting on every man in the place. And if she gets really tanked, women with short hair had better watch out as well. At the first Chronicle Christmas party Julia and I attended, Julia was the unfortunate recipient of one of Bitsy Mason’s unwanted advances. Julia had just got a short new ‘do and had unwisely chosen to wear pants to the party. A totally blitzed Bitsy came over, grabbed her ass, and offered to buy her a drink. Julia was so startled she fell off her barstool and sprained her wrist. (She also vowed never to cut her hair shorter than chin-length ever again.) Ah, Bitsy. She’s always good for party entertainment.

  By the time I can drag my chair and myself back to my desk, Blake is already standing there. “How about lunch?” he asks.

  This is so surreal. I thought I was lucky getting coffee this morning, then he asked me to dinner and an “errand,” and now he’s asking me out for lunch? This day just keeps getting better and better. “That sounds great! Let’s go.”

  “Where to?”

  “Um, how about the Cherry Tree? It’s close.”

  “Cherry Tree it is.”

  We head outside and down the street to the Cherry Tree Café. On the way, we pass Fascination Hair Designs and the door to Audra Downing’s walk-up. It gives me an eerie feeling knowing that someone simply walked into Audra’s apartment and killed her, and no one even noticed until a whole day later. That’s what happens when you’re a single lady living alone—no one is checking on you on a regular basis, and unless you have good friends, no one is going to even notice that you’re missing. I shiver at the thought.

  Blake glances down at me. “Something wrong?”

  “All this murder is creeping me out. Whoever killed Audra and Hannah is still out there, you know. Anyone could be next.” I shudder again.

  Blake reaches over and rubs my shoulder soothingly. Ooh. I’d like a little more of that! “Don’t worry. We’re going to figure this out. The police are working on the Downing case, and I have something up my sleeve on the Stewart angle.”

  “You do?” I ask.

  Before he can elaborate on it, we reach Cherry Tree Café. Blake holds the door open for me, and we find a table and place our order.

  Once we’re settled, I begin, “I was thinking today during the staff meeting how Paul has been so torn up about both Audra and Hannah. Did you and Hank get any details during your visit with him? All I know about Audra is what was in that Harlequin romance novel you wrote for our bet last week.”

  A mock hurt expression on his face, Blake replies, “I’ll have you know that was some of my best work.”

  “Well, you do have a point there. It was a lot more interesting than the grammatically-challenged drivel you send me every day to proofread,” I tease.

  “Now you’re really hitting below the belt, Hart.”

  I smile. “So what’s up with Paul and Audra? Did he say specifically that they were friends, or did he make you think it was a ‘date’ date?”

  “You mean did he like her, or did he ‘like her’ like her?” he asks mockingly.

  I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean.”

  “Jackson didn’t say, but if I had to guess, I would assume that they were friends, and he dreamed of taking it to the next level. Something tells me Audra wasn’t aware of that, though, when she agreed to dinner with him.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Did you see her photo in the paper? She was a beautiful girl.”

  “Are you saying she was out of Paul’s league?”

  “She was out of his universe,” Blake says.

  “Wow, judgmental much?”

  “Let’s get back to the subject, shall we?”

  “So Paul was crushing on Audra. That’s what I figured,” I say. “Same situation with him and Hannah.”

  All of a sudden, Bethany appears beside our table, totally from out of nowhere. How does she do that? “Hey, guys,” she says, rather loudly, getting a few frowns from people at the surrounding tables. “Working through lunch?” She has an odd grin plastered on her face, but doesn’t seem particularly happy.

  “We’re just trying to take a break from the office. This week has been rough on both of us,” Blake explains kindly. Good thing he jumped in when he did—I was ready to tell her to get lost.

  “Yes. I know,” sympathizes Bethany. “Poor Lizzie, those dark circles are back with a vengeance.” She laughs, rather maniacally if you ask me. “See those, Blake?”

  Oh. No. She. Didn’t. It’s on now. She picked the wrong time to zing me. “Bethany, why don’t you do us all a favor and go to—”

  “Hey, McCool.” Blake, sensing where I’m going with this, interrupts me just in time. “I almost forgot. Jackson’s behind on some of his work due to his absence this week, and Sarah wanted me to let you know that she’s thinking of letting you take over a couple of his assignments, kind of as a trial. She wanted to meet with you ASAP. Sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

  Bethany’s eyes b
ulge out (more). “Me? That’s awesome! I have to go!” She turns and runs straight for the door, knocking over a chair as she goes.

  “Well, that was awkward,” I snarl, crossing my arms. “And, kind of stalker-y.” Although I’m not surprised that Bethany would try to crash my lunch with Blake. I thought I saw her lurking near my desk when he was asking me to go. And I’m still mad about the dark circles.

  “You don’t like her much, do you?” Blake asks, trying to cover a smile.

  “You think? So is she really going to get to write some of Paul’s stuff?”

  “No.”

  I cock my head to one side. “You just made that up to get rid of her?”

  He grins at me. “I learned from the best. And by the way, I think you look great—dark circles and all.”

  “You leave my dark circles out of this.” Did he just say I look great?!?

  “Right. Where were we? Oh, yeah. So Jackson had a thing for Hannah? I never noticed.”

  “Where have you been? Yes, Paul had a ‘thing’ for Hannah. He used to follow her around the office like a little puppy. It would have annoyed me, but of course Hannah was never anything but nice to him. You really never noticed?” Men can be so blind sometimes.

  He shrugs. “No. The first time I ever really talked to Jackson was when Abshire and I went over to his place that night.”

  “And that’s the problem. Paul tends to go unnoticed—he’s a loner. He has a weakness for unattainable women. No one ever goes out of their way to talk to him. It’s the perfect recipe for a serial killer.”

  “I guess you have a point there, but I just don’t see Jackson as that type. He’s so meek and quiet.”