Making Me Believe
By Kirsten Osbourne
Cover Art by Shaina Richmond
Published by Kirsten Osbourne at Amazon.com
Copyright 2011 Kirsten Osbourne
Kindle Edition, License Notes
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
End
Chapter 1
Rose shoved the last load of her laundry into the dryer and climbed onto the counter of the small apartment laundromat. She picked up her novel and opened to the page she’d left off on. Another Friday night, another three loads of laundry. Rose always did her laundry on Friday nights. She didn’t have to work the next day, and no one else was ever there to fight her for the washers and dryers. It was a great situation for her.
She was halfway through her chapter when she heard the door open. She hadn’t seen anyone in there for the past three weeks, so she immediately looked up to see who else could have such a sad lack of a social life that they would be doing laundry on a Friday night.
Her eyes opened wide as she stared at the gorgeous man who’d just walked in. He must have been at least six foot three with broad shoulders. Rose grinned to herself as she watched him over the top of her book. He had black hair, and it looked like brown eyes, but it was hard to tell from here. He was trim and muscular. Rose tried not to drool.
He was carrying two huge black trash bags that were apparently full of laundry. He was either married with six kids and doing the laundry for the whole family, or he had waited way too long to do his laundry. Rose lifted her eyes again to check out his left hand, but there was no ring on his finger. He must have not done laundry in forever.
He opened the garbage bags and started to dump all of the laundry into one washer, not paying any attention to what he was mixing together. Rose cringed and put her book down.
“You can’t wash all that without sorting it,” she told him. “Let me help you.”
He shrugged, “I always do. It takes longer if I sort it.”
“Are you late for something? Most people who do laundry on a Friday night are sadly lacking in the social life department,” she said. “So unless you have a hot date that starts sometime after midnight, then you may as well do it right.”
“No, I’m not in a hurry. I just have to work in the morning, and don’t want to be at this all night,” he said. He shrugged. If she wanted to help him sort his laundry, he was game. There were worse ways to spend an evening that with a pretty girl in a laundromat. Of course, there were much better ways to spend an evening as well!
“It’ll only take an extra five minutes if we work together. Put some money into five washing machines and I’ll start sorting,” she said. She immediately started pulling the clothes he’d packed into the first washer out and spreading them across the first four washers. She put jeans in the first one, colors in the second, whites in the third and towels in the fourth. If he was anything like her, they’d put more colors in the fifth, but whatever it was that needed to go in there, she knew they’d need at least five washers. They ended up needing eight.
Once they had everything sorted, and the machines going, she settled back down onto the counter with her book. He walked over and hoisted himself up next to her, taking her book from her hands. “Hey this is sci-fi! I figured you for a romance reader.”
She shrugged. “I do read romance. It’s my secret pleasure. I only read sci-fi in public.”
He laughed. “I see. I think I do at least.” He looked down at her, liking the way she looked. She was wearing a pair of faded warm ups and a t-shirt, which was a smart choice for laundry on a March night in North Texas. Her long blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Her eyes looked green, but it was hard to tell from this angle. “Do you always do your laundry on Friday nights?”
“Of course, I do,” she grinned. “I have no life!”
“Okie dokie. I can understand that. I don’t really have a life either, but I never do my laundry until it threatens to swallow my apartment whole. I hate laundry,” he said.
“I do too. That’s why I do it every Friday night like clockwork. It never piles up and I never have to do eight loads in one night. You do realize we just started eight loads of laundry for you, right?”
“Don’t remind me. I don’t even want to think about it,” he told her. “Thanks for the help, by the way. I’m sure I’ll be thrilled when my socks stay white and don’t turn pink from my red t-shirts.”
“No problem. I had nothing better to do while I sit here and wait for my clothes to dry,” she said.
“I’m Alex,” he said holding his hand out to her to shake.
She took his hand in hers. “I’m Rose. Please don’t quote Romeo and Juliet to me.”
He looked puzzled. “Why would I quote Romeo and Juliet? Oh! I get it. That whole “a rose by any other name” or something like that.”
“Yes and every literate male I meet quotes that to me. You seem literate, but don’t do it. It gets old fast.”
He laughed, “I can understand that. No one ever quotes Shakespeare to me. Does that mean that there’s something wrong with me?” He had his head tilted to the side as if he was genuinely worried about the fact.
“Nope. It just means your parents didn’t name you after a flower.” Rose sighed heavily. She’d always hated her name. She’d thought about going by her middle name, but that was Lily, which was just as bad. Her mother had a gardening obsession.
“I have to say, I’m really glad they didn’t.”
She grinned, “I don’t know. It could have been a good conversation starter. Do you mind if I call you Tulip?” He loved the impish grin on her face as if she was daring him to agree to her suggestion.
“How about I just come up with a conversation starter instead?” He sat thinking for a moment. “Okay, I got it. Are you ready?” His brown eyes twinkled down at her as he asked.
She tried to suppress a giggle. He was crazy, but in a fun way. “Wait, let me brace myself.” She grabbed onto the counter tightly. “Okay, I’m ready.” Rose couldn’t believe a total stranger could make laundry night fun.
“Hi, my name is Alex, and I’m making a bid for world domination. Would you be my follower?” he asked.
Rose threw back her head and laughed. “That’s a good one. I don’t think anyone would ever talk to you twice, but it’s a good conversation starter!” It sounded like something she might say herself.
Alex looked at the pretty little girl sitting next to him on the counter, trying to figure out why she had no social life. She was sweet, had a sense of humor, and was cute as a button. He loved the way she laughed. So many women seemed afraid to laugh heartily. Why was she in a laundromat on a Friday night?
He grinned down at her. “How about this one? What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this on a Friday night?”
“I already told you that, Alex. Try to pay attention. I hate laundry so try to finish it first thing on the weekend, and I have no life.”
He shook his head slowly. “That’s not going to cut it. There’s got to be a reason you have no life. You’re fun, pretty, and outgoing. Why
do you have no life? And did you just tell me to try to pay attention?” She was not like others girls; that was for sure.
She shrugged. “I don’t put out. I’m very vocal about it too. I think that sex should only take place within the confines of marriage. Call me old-fashioned. Call me boring and ridiculous. I don’t care.”
He nodded slowly. “That would explain it. Are you a religious nut, or just a girl with standards?”
She smiled at him. “I’m a girl with standards. I think that if a guy loves me enough to do me, he needs to love me enough to buy me a ring, and walk down the aisle. If not, there are lots of girls who put out in every bar in town. He can go find one of them.”
He nodded again. “I can respect that. So you’re holding out for a ring, because there’s no reason to buy the cow if you can get the milk for free?”
“There’s no point in locking the barn door after the horse is out,” she replied seriously.
“Guys rent used furniture, but they only buy new,” he responded.
She laughed. “I haven’t heard that one before. I love it!” She had always loved idioms, and was pleased to add another to her repertoire.
One of the dryers buzzed and she jumped down off the counter. “You can’t be finished,” he complained. “I need you to stay and talk to me!” He wasn’t ready to let her go yet. He had to get to know her better. Maybe he could talk her into giving him her number before she left. He didn’t care if she didn’t put out. She was fun to be around.
“I’m probably not. They usually take two cycles to finish.” She glanced at him. “You should bring a book so you don’t get bored.”
“Why? I’d rather talk to you,” he responded.
“So you’re going to start joining me for Friday night laundry,” she asked with a grin. She didn’t expect him to do it, but it would be great if she had a laundry buddy. Of course, the real reason she wanted him to do laundry with her was so she could get to know him better.
He shuddered. “Not if I can avoid it!” he said. “Although, it’s a whole lot more fun with you here.” He winked at her.
“Thanks. I think.” She restarted her three dryers again, and walked back over to him and her book. She put her bookmark in the book and closed it. There was no point in even trying to read when she was entertained far better by the man sitting next to her.
“So I get you for a little bit longer?” he asked.
She just laughed at that. “I guess so. Probably another thirty minutes, and then I’ll fold my laundry, and head on back to my lonely apartment. I need to get a goldfish. A goldfish would keep me company.”
“Dogs are better,” he responded quickly.
“I’m away fourteen hours a day half the time. That wouldn’t be fair to a dog. No, it’ll have to be a goldfish.” She definitely would have preferred a dog, though.
“Too bad you don’t put out,” he said jokingly, “I’m sure you’d never be lonely again.”
“I’m sure,” she laughed.
“Do you clean your bathrooms on Saturday nights?” he asked.
“Nah, I usually get that done on Saturday mornings. Every Saturday night, I make a date with my TV, and catch up on watching everything that I DVRed the week before.”
“You really are a wild woman!” he said.
“I know. I can barely stand the crazy life I lead. Do you know that last week, when I mopped my kitchen, I turned the music up loud, and actually danced with the mop? It was just scandalous!” She said it with an air of secrecy, like she was almost afraid to admit she’d done something like that.
“That sounds scandalous!” he said with a shocked look on his face. “I’m so glad no one was there to see that! You could have been arrested for indecent behavior!”
“I know. I’m really ashamed of myself,” she said with her head down.
“How about doing something more scandalous tomorrow night, and going out to dinner with me?” He hadn’t meant to ask so abruptly, but he had to make sure he’d see her again soon.
She laughed. “Because you’re looking for a girl who isn’t going to put out, I’m sure. All men are.” She didn’t believe that he was actually asking her out. Most men were scared off as soon as she said she didn’t put out before marriage.
“What I’m looking for is a girl with a sense of humor, who hasn’t slept with every man she’s met, who wants to have some fun with me,” he said seriously. “How about it?” He tried to keep the desperation from his voice as he asked. He really did want to go out with her. She was special.
She shrugged. “Okay. I can do that.” She was more than willing to spend time with this great guy. She just hoped he realized she was serious about not having sex before marriage.
They got up, and she helped him transfer his laundry into dryers. “Great. I’ll pick you up at six.”
“Okay,” she said.
He pulled out his cell phone and input the number she gave him. “Just in case I’m going to be late, I’ll give you a call.”
They got back onto the counter where they’d been sitting. “You said you had to work in the morning,” she said. “What do you do?”
“Aren’t you supposed to ask me that before you agree to go out with me? I mean, what if I’m a trash collector?” he asked.
“I don’t really care what you do. I’ll go out with you anyway. I wouldn’t date someone on the merit of his occupation. I’m just curious.”
“I’m an architect, but I own my own construction firm, and with all the rain we’ve had, we’re behind on a project. I need to go check it out tomorrow, and see how everything is going. The client wants a projected date when we’ll be finished.”
“That sounds like it could be exciting,” she told him. “What kind of project is it?”
“Some crazy rich guy wanted me to custom design a home for him. He’s going to be moving up to Westlake,” he said naming a high dollar community north of Ft. Worth. “This place has it all. Indoor pool and tennis court, family kitchen and catering kitchen had to be separate. It’s crazy what all he wanted, but he was willing to pay well, so we did it. I’m hoping to have the whole project done by the end of next month,” he told her.
“Wow. I hope he has a family to live in it with him,” she said.
“He’s a newlywed, and they’re hoping to have a big family. They both come from money, and he makes good money in his daddy’s company, so they’re getting exactly what they want,” he said. “Some people have more money than brains, and this couple is a good example of that.”
“It sounds like it,” she responded. “I joke about wanting a place like that, but I couldn’t afford the maid that I’d want to go with it. I can’t imagine cleaning that kind of space.”
“People don’t really need that kind of space, unless they have fifteen or sixteen kids.” He stretched, starting to find sitting on the counter uncomfortable. “What do you do?”
She sighed heavily. “I work in a cube talking on the phone all day,” she replied. “I talk to rich people about their money.” She hated her job. She knew it came out in her voice, but she just couldn’t stop it.
“That sounds horrible,” he said without thinking.
She wrinkled her nose. “It really is. I want to own a little used bookstore and sit behind the desk and talk to people about good books all day long. I hate what I do.” She didn’t usually talk to people about her dream of owning a bookstore, but she found herself wanting to tell him every detail of her life.
“Do you work for a bank?”
“Even worse,” she said. “I work for a brokerage firm. It pays well, and I’m good at it, but I hate it. I’m saving, though, and someday soon, I’ll have the money to start my little bookstore.”
“Good for you. I hope you have it soon. I can’t imagine you with one of those little antenna things on your head talking on the phone all day,” he said. “I can see you in a bookstore, though. You’d bring people back with your pleasant chatter.”
“That’s e
xactly what it feels like too. It makes my ear itch,” she sighed. “I’m always working as many hours as I can get so that I can save up enough for the bookstore. I’ve been out of college for two years now, and I figure I have about half of what I’ll need.”
“You could give up on your bookstore and become my campaign manager instead,” he told her.
“Campaign manager?” Was he running for office? What was she missing?
“I’m taking over the world. Did you already forget?” he asked.
All of the dryers started buzzing, and they got down. He restarted his, and she took her clothes out and folded them neatly, putting them on hangers, and resting them in the laundry baskets she’d brought with her.
He watched her work, and finally said, “I need to get some of those things.”
“What things?” she asked.
He pointed at the basket. “Those things. Then my dirty laundry would stay contained and not threaten my apartment the way it usually does.” He joked about it, but he really wasn’t exaggerating. His apartment was downright scary to walk into.
She looked up at him. “I like you. You scare me, but I like you.” She picked up the first basket and started toward the door to the laundry room. “Watch my other basket for me. I wouldn’t want the stampeding herds of people who come here to do laundry on Friday nights to steal my clothes.”
He picked up her other basket. “I’ll just carry it for you. That way I’ll know where you live, and won’t have to hunt up your apartment tomorrow night.” He wanted to see her space as well. He expected it to be neat as a pin, but wanted to know. He wanted to know everything about her.
“Okay,” she agreed. She wasn’t going to argue with that. She hated walking through the parking lot alone after dark anyway.
He followed her across the wide parking lot and down a level to her apartment. She unlocked the door, and he followed her in, putting the basket on her kitchen table for her.
“Is it always this neat?” he asked. He’d expected it, but he was shocked by just how neat it was. There wasn’t a single dirty dish in the sink.
Making Me Believe Page 1
