Unable to Resist

by Cassie Graham

  Now that there’s new light, it’s a real concern. The more I think about it, the more I think it’s possible. The holes in the investigation make me question everything.

  Duane types something on his laptop and looks up at me apprehensively. “I can’t say, but God, I hope not.”

  That doesn’t sound promising. I pinch the bridge of my nose and bite my lip.

  Duane is immersed in his laptop, typing so fast I’m worried the poor keyboard might break, if he taps any quicker.

  I look down at the floor and smile to myself. He’s really great at what he does. Totally committed. I’ve only spent thirty minutes with him in this setting, watching him work, and I can see that he really wants to find answers.

  Maybe it’s Duane’s drive and passion that make me have an immense desire to confide in him. I felt the same way last night, almost like I could tell him about all of the dark holes in my life—the things I’ve hidden away. He makes me want to get better. He makes me want to be better. Duane makes me want to stop hiding and be who I really am, instead of acting like someone I’m not.

  I never believed in love at first sight. Hell—I hadn’t believed in love at all since Kyle. Duane though, he makes me feel all sorts of things I’m not quite ready to decipher yet.

  Of course, now that he is professionally involved in my case, I don’t even have that option to think about the ‘what-if.’

  It’s a tug-of-war with my emotions. I keep going back and forth in my head. My insides twist. I should have kissed him last night when I had the chance. Now, I’ll never get the opportunity again.

  Why does that thought make me want to throw up? Literally, makes me sick to my stomach.

  Duane closes his laptop, and loads it into his satchel. No briefcase. I love that he has a satchel; it fits him. It’s business-like but also laid back—much like its owner. Mr. Delicious Lawyer man.

  Ugh.

  “I’ll look into it and see what I can do,” he says, swinging the bag over his shoulder.

  I nod my head, unable to form any sort of intelligent words.

  “Hey,” he cups my cheek, taking me by surprise. “I’ll see you soon. Don’t worry.”

  Can he read minds? I lean into his hand, blurring the lines of our newly formed business relationship.

  I kind of want to fire him. Solely for selfish reasons, of course. One being: I want to jump him and never let him go.

  Geeze, I sound like a horny schoolgirl. Seven years is a long time.

  No, I need to sort out my priorities. I can’t fire him; I have a feeling he is the answer to all this insane nonsense in my life. I push that thought away with the others and thank God I have him in my life at all. Last night could have been the last time I saw him. I’ll take what I can get.

  My body is screaming at me to keep him close. So, I’ll do what I can.

  I nod my head, still in his hand.

  “Call me in the next couple of days. I’ll dig into your case more and we’ll discuss it,” he says.

  There it is. Bam. Those lines are clear again. No chance of a relationship. None. End of story.

  Instead of pouting like a three-year-old, which is what I really want to do, I agree. “Okay, I’ll call you.”

  He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and looks into my eyes.

  This is torture. Does he know what he’s doing to me? Is he this comforting with all of his clients?

  He looks conflicted. Pained. Much like myself, which is oddly comforting. He takes a deep breath, slowly steps away and goes toward the door. Giving me one last look, he waves and leaves.

  I make my way upstairs to my room and slump in my reading chair, chewing on my fingernail. I hate when I do that. I quickly remove my finger from my mouth and frown. I have no idea what I’m going to do. My feelings are so clashed, I feel like I might burst from the confusion.

  Incapable of sitting still, I start cleaning the loft. Starting in the kitchen, working my way to my back bedroom. Three bedrooms and two bathrooms, the loft is perfect for Liv and I—definitely a change from that one bedroom we used to share.

  We designed everything up here as well. My front door is easily accessible from the shop and the door leading out back. Once you step inside, you’ll see my huge kitchen to your right, which opens up to the living room. We aren’t huge on TV, so most of the living room is adorned with walls of books. Three of the four walls house every kind of book imaginable.

  Yes, you can say it. I’m a book whore. I’m not ashamed. I can honestly say I’ve read most, if not all, of the books that sit on the shelves.

  How does one do that when one owns her own business? Well, my friend, I read while I bake, which is all the time.

  I read until the timer goes off. I make a new batch, put it in the oven, read and do it all over again. You get the picture. Then, instead of watching TV like most people do, I read.

  It’s a constant thing, my escape. I love to live within each book’s world. Doesn’t matter the story, I’ll read it. That’s the beauty of books. Within the pages, I make sense. I’m not a lost girl looking for answers to my father’s death, or the girl unable to let go of the past. I’m the heroin…or hero, depending on the book. I live their lives. They are my home away from home.

  As I was saying, my living room does have a small TV; we do watch TV on occasion. Movies, mostly. We also have a huge leather sectional couch, and an ottoman. I honestly have no idea what the purpose of my ottoman is. I mean, honestly, I can’t set a cup on it, and it’s not long enough for anyone to lie down on—whatever. We also have beautiful end tables made by an artist here in Nashville, who carves the wood himself. They are gorgeous. He also made my sleigh bed and the bedside tables. The man can whittle like no other.

  Moving up the stairs and to the right is the master bedroom. I fought tooth and nail for Liv to have it, but she refused and slept on the couch until I agreed to sleep in the damn room. She’s one selfless, stubborn bitch. I love her dearly.

  Painted in a soft yellow with white crown molding, I need my room to be bright and open considering the nightmares I live every night when I close my eyes.

  My walk-in closet holds more shoes than clothes. Don’t get me wrong, I love clothes, but I hate laundry. If it didn’t cost so much to get someone else to do it every week, I would do it in a heartbeat. That’s not the case, so I buy shoes. Lots and lots of shoes.

  I glance at my cell phone and see it’s well past noon. I scrub the cleaning supply chemicals off of my hands and head down to the bakery. I’ve wasted enough time, and I feel a little better. I’m sure we’re about to get swamped with customers, so Liv will need help.

  Taking an apron off of the hook, I tie it around my waist and make my way toward Liv. Loading cupcakes and cookies onto a tray for the front display, she’s silently mumbling to herself that people need to slow down on the sweets.

  I cover my mouth and look toward the main floor of the shop. Mia, the third to our Trio and a valuable co-worker, has long, curly, black hair and olive skin that makes me envious. One word: Tan. Being a redhead, you can understand why I’m jealous. Tan and I don’t mix.

  She turns to look at me from across the shop and waves. Writing the customers’ orders down, she walks to me with a bounce in her step.

  “Morning, Annie.” She grins and hugs me. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in a couple of days.”

  I smile at her nickname. She’s been calling me Annie since the first night we took her out drinking, three years ago, and she told me I looked like the redheaded orphan from the movie.

  In my defense though, it was pouring buckets of rain and my already wild hair looked even crazier due to the humidity. She was probably right, so I was never offended.

  The sight of her walking like an hour-old, baby horse out of the bar was enough ammunition for me to tease her for a good while after. She thought it was hilarious as well, and we still talk about it. It’s an ongoing joke in our friendship.

  Wanting the scoop on last
night, she practically bounces in her leopard flats.

  I’ve grown to really love Mia. When she first started working at the bakery, she was a freshman at the University of Nashville. Super quiet, sweet and innocent, I knew she’d make a good addition to my team. The day she stepped into the shop, I sensed something different about her.

  Since then, she’s been our cohort. The three of us are extraordinarily close. She doesn’t know everything about my past, just like Liv, but she knows it’s troubled and doesn’t push for information, which I am so thankful for.

  She’s mentioned on more than one occasion she never really had any close girlfriends, and that she was kind of a loner in high school. I’d like to think Liv and I have opened her up to girlfriends. She’s no longer the quiet, timid girl I knew three years ago. She’s lively, sometimes loud and speaks her opinion.

  She fits right in.

  Now that she’s twenty-one, and living the busy life of a girl who graduated a year and a half early from college, works part-time at the shop and full time at a veterinary clinic, she goes out for drinks with us every Saturday.

  It used to not be so legal though.

  For her twentieth birthday, Liv chose to get her a fake I.D. Mia was mortified seeing it.

  Liv being, well—Liv, thought it was a good idea to sneak her into a bar to have cocktails with us. Mia and I weren’t too sure the plan would work out at the time.

  “I got you that fake I.D. for a reason, Mia. Let’s use it.” Liv begs, with big, puppy dog eyes that only work on poor, unsuspecting men.

  Mia puts her hand up to block Liv’s imaginary magic stare. “Guys, I can’t pull this off! I may be twenty, but let’s be honest, I look twelve! No bouncer is going to believe me.”

  Liv huffs and trills her lips. “You don’t look twelve, Mia. You look fourteen—maybe fifteen.”

  Unfortunately, for Mia, Liv is right. She’s five feet tall in heels and weighs maybe a hundred and ten pounds dripping wet. She’s drop dead gorgeous, don’t get me wrong, but she has yet to hit her woman growth spurt.

  With that said, Liv needs to encourage her if she wants to pull this off, not make fun. I throw a pillow at her head, hitting my target. Score!

  Liv pouts and throws the pillow back in my direction but misses me completely.

  “Anyway,” Liv drones. “As I was saying, the I.D. is fool-proof. Did you study your information, Andrea Lowell?”

  Mia blows a curl from her face and rolls her eyes. “Yes, Andrea Lowell, age: twenty one; home: Portland, Oregon; weight: 105; birthday; October twentieth, nineteen ninety.”

  Liv nods and high fives Mia.

  “Yep, you got it. Plus, if we need to, Ann and I can distract whoever we need to in order to get you in.”

  I snort. “Riiight, you mean you’ll distract while I watch.”

  “Whatever. Same thing,” Liv says.

  Later that night, the bouncer took one look at Mia and let her right in. No questions.

  Granted, Liv and I had played up Mia’s strengths. She may be short, but she has legs for days. Add in smokey eyes, a short black dress, nude heels, and BAM, you got one hot woman.

  Men are so easy.

  Mia’s green eyes sparkle again with anticipation of hearing my recent happenings and I hug her again.

  She’s grown into her womanly looks now and is flat out gorgeous. Teenager no more.

  “I’m okay. I just met with the lawyer. It brought up a lot of emotions,” I admit truthfully, though keeping her in the dark a bit. They were emotions I didn’t know I still had until I met Duane.

  Shake it off, woman.

  Mia’s eyes roam over my face, and she nods. “You know I’m here for you.”

  “I know, and thank you. Maybe a girl’s night tonight? Just movies in the loft?” I ask.

  It’s Saturday night, and we usually go out, but I’m not really up for it.

  Mia instantly perks up. “Sounds great. I’ll bring the junk food.”

  “Okay, yay! I’m going to go talk to Liv really quick, then I’ll come back and help you out here.”

  “Don’t rush,” she starts, “I know Liv has been worried about you all morning. Take your time. I’ve got it out here.”

  She is such a great friend. I thank her again and turn in search for Liv.

  “Hey, Annie,” Mia calls.

  “Yeah?” I turn around to face her.

  “I have a feeling things are going to change. Everything will be okay. Have some confidence.”

  She always tells me to have confidence. Maybe I should start listening to her. I smile and nod.

  Liv is still loading pastries when I walk into the kitchen.

  “Damn, woman, are we completely out?” I ask.

  Liv huffs and brushes her short hair out of her eyes. The long hair she had when we first met is gone. Her dramatic, short bob makes her already intense beauty that much more powerful.

  “Yeah, we had a crazy rush this morning. Thank goodness we baked our asses off yesterday.”

  I turn to look at the glass counter out in the shop. Sure enough, it’s empty.

  “Well, we can make more tonight before we head up. We are going to have a movie night with Mia, is that cool?”

  “Sure, sounds fun. After last night, I don’t feel much like going out.” Liv adjusts the cupcakes on her tray.

  “You doing okay? How’s the hangover?” I ask with a grin.

  She gives the cupcakes a murderous glare. “I’m not going to be eating cupcakes any time soon, but I’m fine. How did your meeting go?”

  “Well, you aren’t going to believe what I’m about to tell you.” I lean on the island.

  Her eyebrows shoot up as she trades a full tray for an empty one on the table. “What? What happened?”

  I can’t help but laugh. Only my life would be so crazy that a guy I’ve been thinking about non-stop after a chance meeting in a bar would be my damn lawyer.

  “It’s him. Duane from last night. He’s my friggin lawyer,” I blurt.

  Her eyes go wide. She drops the empty tray and it clangs loudly on the ground.

  I snort at her reaction. “No shit. My thoughts exactly.”

  “Oops,” she says and quickly picks up the tray to put it in the sink. “Holy shit, Ann. How is that possible?”

  I shrug. “It’s not like I got his whole back story in the five minutes I talked to him in the parking lot.”

  I make it sound simple, like I’m over it, but I’m not. I’m pissed at myself for getting excited about a man, and I’m sad. How is it that I finally meet a guy I’m interested in, the first one in years, and he’s unobtainable?

  I’m not worthy of his love—or like. But still.

  The past set my future in stone a long time ago.

  “True. So, no chance of you and Mr. Delicious getting together, then,” Liv adds solemnly.

  Having Liv say it out loud makes the sting a little worse. “Nope. Guess not.”

  No chance of it now.

  She wipes her hands on her apron and pulls me closer for a hug. I wrap my hands around her, thankful to have someone who understands that, even though I wasn’t going to pursue him, he’s the first guy in a long time to make me feel any sort of—anything. She may not know exactly why I hurt so much, but she could tell, even in her drunken state last night, that I was pretty taken by him. I’ve never blatantly sought out a man. Ever. So, this debacle really comes as a hit to my heart.

  Liv releases me from her arms. “So, what else happened?”

  I brace myself for the long haul and tell her everything. From the fact there’s nothing in the report about Dad supposedly being followed to the odd coincidence that there’s still no suspects.

  “You’re kidding me,” she spews. “This just keeps getting more and more out of hand. What are you going to do?”

  “Hell if I know. Duane is going to look into it and we’ll get together once he gets some answers.”

  Biting her nail, Liv nods and pats my shoulder. “It�
�ll be okay. Mia and me are here, and Jason is just a phone call away.”

  “I know. Thank you, but let’s get through the day, and have a fun night with Mia. I could use the distraction.”

  We fill the glass cases with cupcakes, cookies and pieces of cake, and get back to our routine for the day.

  With happy customers and a good time, we laugh and drink coffee with everyone.

  This is the exact reason why I opened a shop like this. I wanted people to come here and have a relaxing read while eating delicious pastries. I wanted the place to resemble someone’s living room. Somewhere people feel safe—comforted.

  I want this to be a second home.

  Once the last customer leaves, I flip the OPEN sign to CLOSED and sigh. Mia went home to pick up some movies and candy, and I decide to make a couple batches of cupcakes before she gets back. A head start is always smart, especially if today was any indication how tomorrow will be.

  Turning on my heel, I head to the back of the shop to my kitchen. I feel so blessed to have a top-of-the-line kitchen. Five ovens, a walk-in refrigerator, two sinks and tons of space to create anything I want. It’s no wonder I spend most of my time here, tweaking recipes and testing new creations. Just being here relaxes me.

  I feel a smile slide onto my face.

  Duane would make it better, though. It’s easy to picture him sitting on the island in the middle of the kitchen, with his feet dangling off the edge, smiling at the flour on my face. His legs crossed at the ankles while he balances his laptop on his lap looking over some case that he’s working on.

  Oh, wait. That case he’s working on is mine and that fantasy can’t happen.

  Ugh. I need to stop picturing him in my life, get a handle on my emotions and move past this.

  Chastising myself, I add the ingredients into my industrial sized mixer and wait for it to finish working its magic. I get a few dishes cleaned before I need to pour the batter into over-sized muffin tins and put them in the oven.

  Our monster-sized cupcakes are a big reason why I’ve made a good name for myself. Two people could easily share one and still have some left over. Hey, this is America and we like more—the bigger the better, Super Size it. Especially in the South. They love it.