Driving Her Crazy

by Kira Archer

  A clear plastic poncho covered the entire ensemble, even her hair, which she’d taken out of the pony tail. It was now half swept up with some sort of plastic doo-dad. A bright yellow umbrella dangled from her hand. The tag proclaimed it “a smile for when the skies were gray.” He snorted. The damn thing must have a giant smiley face on it. She looked…absolutely adorable. Like a regular girl on her way to a picnic. Only he knew she was anything but regular.

  “What’s with the getup?”

  “It’s pouring again. Can’t you hear it?”

  He frowned, listening for a moment. Then he realized that dull roar he hadn’t really acknowledged was the sound of rain hitting the roof of the giant store.

  She held out her foot and shook it around a bit. “No more wet feet.”

  “I see that.” He grinned and gestured at her outfit. “Very nice.”

  She took the compliment, even if his tone was a bit grudging, and graced him with another one of those smiles that made the sun come out and warm him through and through.

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded, a bit knocked off guard, and glanced around, expecting his pile of stuff to be waiting on a conveyor belt somewhere.

  “Where’s all my…”

  The guilty look on her face immediately gave her away and his momentary lapse of judgment induced by her “girl next door” outfit evaporated under the anger that licked its way through him. He took a deep breath, his hands clenching at his sides. She wouldn’t have…would she? Who the hell did she think she was?

  “Cherice…”

  Her eyes widened at his use of her full name. She should have been worried. He hadn’t been this pissed in a very long time.

  “You had no right—”

  “Just hang on. Before you go getting your chauvinistic knickers in a twist, let me just explain.”

  He stopped at that. Okay, he could be an ass when he wanted to be, he’d give her that, but he didn’t think he was chauvinistic. But hell, she could think whatever she wanted. She had no right to go throwing her money around whenever she felt like it. He wasn’t some charity case.

  “I know I’m not quite as well off as you are, Ms. Debusshere, but I’m perfectly capable of purchasing my own clothing.”

  She stiffened, the warmth fading from her eyes, her smile disappearing. “I never meant to imply anything differently. I just wanted to do something nice for you, that’s all.”

  “How is buying my clothes nice? I’m not some charity project. I don’t have any need or desire to be your good deed for the week.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she drew in a deep breath through her nose. He’d hit a nerve with that one. Good. How dare she treat him like some poor country bumpkin who couldn’t even clothe himself without her help!

  “You are such an insufferable ass!” she shouted at him, startling the cashiers and customers closest to them.

  Oz blinked at her, momentarily surprised speechless. She shoved the bags containing his items into his arms.

  “I was just trying to doing something nice—to say thank you for driving me. You paid for the car and you paid for lunch and the snacks and you didn’t have to drive me in the first place. You could have just left me stranded there, but you didn’t, so I just wanted to do something nice, so I thought maybe I could get your new interview clothes for you. That’s all! I wasn’t implying you couldn’t afford to get your own clothes. And besides, it was easier to just toss your stuff in with mine. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.”

  Oz flinched. Even when apologizing she managed to show just how far apart they really were. She’d probably spent less on her entire haul than she did on a pair of socks at one of her usual stores. It didn’t help that he had been a bit worried over the new outfit. He had the money to cover it, yes. But it really wasn’t money he should be spending. The fact that it was about as momentous to her as buying a pack of gum dug at his pride.

  However, there wasn’t much he could do about it now unless he wanted to make her return the items so he could rebuy them. However, as good as that sounded, it would be a huge waste of everyone’s time and a major slap in her face. Whether she understood what a slap in the face she’d just dealt him or not, at least he was pretty sure she hadn’t done it intentionally. Besides, the customer service department was a total zoo.

  Cher was eyeing him warily. He blew out a huge breath. He was still pissed, but she’d never understand why. And he didn’t have the time or energy to try and explain it to her. He’d be better off explaining it to the soda machine they’d passed on the way in. At least then he was guaranteed to get something out of the conversation. Whatever. They needed to get moving.

  He shifted the bags in his arms so he could carry them all in one hand, then reached out for the ones she held. She hesitated just a moment before handing them to him.

  He nodded. “Thanks. I…appreciate the thought.”

  She looked like she wanted to argue but thought better of it. “You’re welcome.”

  “Let’s go before it gets too bad out there.”

  She nodded and led the way. But she didn’t get much further than the doors.

  The rain was coming down steadily in big, fat drops—it was like someone was standing on the roof aiming a fire hose at them. All the minor showers earlier in the day must have been a warm-up for the main event. The setting sun was trying to shine through the clouds and now the sky was a weird mustard color. Without saying a word, Cher reached into her bag and pulled out one of those cheap, disposable ponchos and held it out to him.

  “Thought you might need one.”

  He snorted. “Thanks. Here.” He handed the bags to her and took the poncho, slipping it over his head before taking them back.

  Cher turned to him. “Can we drive in this?”

  “We’re going to have to, unless you want to spend the night here.”

  She shook her head but her brows were still puckered with concern.

  “Come on,” he said. “It’ll let up in a few minutes. You know how fast the weather changes. We’ve been in and out of this the whole trip so far. Let’s go.”

  Cher took off for the car, not worrying about the puddle this time, though it had grown considerably. Protected by her new foot gear, she stomped straight through it, looking so happy and carefree it took him a second to realize he was grinning like an idiot in the pouring rain, just staring at her.

  He gave himself a nice mental slap and high-tailed it to the car. Cher jumped inside while he shoved the bags into the backseat, hurrying to the driver’s seat as fast as he could. Truth be told, he’d rather not drive in the mess that was falling all around them. He didn’t mind driving in the rain normally, but it was a total bitch when it was coming down so hard. But it should let up after a good hard downpour, and then it would be much more manageable.

  He snapped on his seat belt and turned on the car. “We’ll just take it slow. I’m sure it’ll let up soon, and if it doesn’t, we can find a nice bridge to park under.”

  “If you say so,” she said, her eyes glued to the road in front of them.

  “Try not to worry about it.” His irritation with her dissipated a bit with the very real fear that shone from her eyes. “You want to listen to some music to take your mind off it?”

  She shook her head. “Talking is better.”

  Well, that was debatable, but now probably wasn’t the time to point that out.

  She took a deep breath. “How about we get you ready for your interview? I can help you practice your responses. I’m pretty good at this kind of thing.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes. I told you I do more than ‘shop,’ as you call it,” she said. Her lips were smiling but one eyebrow was raised to let him know she hadn’t forgotten that remark. “Interview prep is one of the things I do at work. It could help to run through some possible responses.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I have done a few interviews before in my life.”

  “Yes, but som
e of these recruiters can be sharks. Especially in New York City. They are paid to weed out the weak links.”

  “So, you’re assuming I’ll be a weak link.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “It was implied.”

  “It was not! Stop putting words in my mouth.”

  Oz sighed. “Okay, I’m sorry. Grill me.”

  She glared at him, obviously not sure if he was joking or not.

  “I mean it. Go ahead and grill me. I probably could use an interview refresher. It’s been a while since I’ve gone to one that requires a tie.”

  “All right. Who are you interviewing with?”

  “Does that matter?”

  He was reluctant to give her that kind of ammo. This was his dream job. And a long shot. He knew it. He just didn’t want her to know it. He’d wanted to be a writer his whole life, had even gone to school hoping to eventually end up with a creative writing degree. Life responsibilities had derailed that for a few years. But now, a high-profile magazine was looking for a desk editor in his neck of the woods. It was a chance he couldn’t pass up. To work for a big New York publication and still be able to stay at home…it was too good to be true. Definitely something he had to go for.

  But the second he told Cherice, he knew he’d see that pitying look in her eyes. That oh how cute, he thinks he can play in the big leagues look that he’d been seeing on the faces of just about everyone he knew, once he’d gotten the interview. It was bad enough coming from his friends. He didn’t want to deal with it from her.

  She released a long suffering sigh. “I guess not, but I don’t get what the big secret is. Anyway, first off, your handshake.”

  “Yes, walk in, look confident, firm handshake. I think that one is pretty well understood by most people.”

  “Yes and no.”

  He refrained from an eye roll. Barely. “Unless I’m planning on going in there and fist-bumping the interviewer, there aren’t a whole lot of ways I can play this. It’s a handshake. Either limp noodle or firm and confident.”

  “Not necessarily. You want a firm handshake, yes. But not too firm. Too loose, and like you said, you come off not confident. Too firm, you might come off as too confident, cocky, arrogant. Someone who won’t take direction. Someone who has problems with authority. Too far the other way and you aren’t outgoing enough, you won’t take the lead. They want a go-getter but not a glory hog. And not a person who is desperately trying to pretend they are confident when they really aren’t. It’s all about balance with these companies.”

  Oz opened his mouth to argue but she actually made some good points. Go figure.

  “What are you, the Interview Whisperer or something?”

  Cher laughed and Oz found himself smiling along with her.

  “Hardly. I’ve just been around my mother my whole life. She can size up an opposing counsel by their handshake alone. She passed on a few pointers.”

  “All right, Yoda, teach on.”

  Cher opened her mouth, blinked twice, and let the Star Wars reference go. Hmm. Bonus points for her.

  “Okay, well, like I said, it’s all about balance. Just like when they ask where you want to be in five years or what your future plans are. Yes, they are looking for someone who will be loyal and stick with the company long-term. And yes, they are looking to fill a certain position. But they don’t necessarily want someone who wants to be in that same position five years from now. Nor do they want someone who is going to bail. They want someone with some ambition.”

  She stopped talking and pointed out the window. “We’re crossing into Maryland. Aren’t we going to stop and take a picture?”

  Oz cocked an eyebrow at her. “I think we’ll skip this one. I don’t want to drown.”

  She grinned and shook her head. “Okay, so…where were we? Oh yeah, where do you want to be in the future? A safe answer would be something along the lines of how you are looking for a career, not just a job, and you hope that their company is one you can grow in, that kind of thing. That way, you aren’t implying you will jump ship at the first opportunity, even if that ship is within the company, but you are still letting them know you are willing to work hard to get ahead.”

  Huh. “Never thought of it that way. I usually say that I hope to still be working for them, but never really articulated that I’m interested in being promoted.”

  Cher nodded. “That’s not a bad answer, but showing them you have the drive to work hard enough to get ahead with them goes a long way, too.”

  Oz tried not to show his surprise at the brains she was displaying. Not that he’d thought she was just an empty-headed, spoiled shopaholic. Not totally. But the woman seemed to have some smarts. And that was sexy as hell.

  “Pennsylvania coming up. Wow, that was fast.”

  Oz laughed. “We’re just going through the corner of Maryland. It doesn’t take long.”

  “Ah. No picture?”

  “Not unless you found some scuba gear at the store you didn’t tell me about.”

  “Sorry,” she said laughing. “So how much longer until we get to Montauk?”

  “Six hours.”

  “I thought it was six hours last time I asked you. That was two states ago.”

  “No, it was about six-and-a-half hours last time you asked. It only takes about forty minutes from where we stopped in West Virginia to here.”

  “Oh. Are you going to stay in Montauk or…”

  He shook his head. “I’ve got a hotel booked in New York. I’ll drop you off and head back to the city.”

  She just nodded, leaving Oz to wonder how she felt about their trip coming to an end. Not that she really should feel anything in particular after only knowing him for a day. But still…it hadn’t been quite as bad as he’d feared. Mostly.

  “Hey…Thanks, Cher. For…all your help with all this.”

  Her cheeks flushed and she looked out the window. “No problem. It’s no big deal.”

  “Yes, it is.” The words he hadn’t said to anyone regarding this job trembled on his lips. Saying them out loud made it more real, made it so much worse if he failed. Ah, the hell with it. “I really want this job, more than I’ve really wanted anything. I really appreciate your help. With the clothes and the interview prep. All of it. Thank you.”

  Cher beamed at him, that beautiful smile of hers lighting up her face. “You’re welcome, Nathaniel.”

  An answering warmth spread through him, happiness like he hadn’t felt in quite a while filling him.

  Damn.

  Chapter Eight

  Cherice sat in a warm little bubble of happiness. Nathaniel had thanked her, and had seemed genuinely grateful for her help. The whole episode just helped solidify in her mind what she truly wanted to do with her life. What made her truly happy was her work with DressHer. Helping women find good jobs, teaching the seminars on interviewing and career building. It was something she loved to do. Something she’d love to continue doing.

  She’d let Nathaniel think she was a personal shopper because she’d thought it’d be easier than the truth. He wasn’t really wrong. She just hadn’t trusted his reaction if he’d heard the whole thing. Maybe she should have. Maybe she would.

  She’d love to open another location. The one she worked at offered a lot, but it wasn’t set up to expand with more donations of clothes or other equipment, such as computers and printers, etc. If she were to open a location that stocked well-made, very affordable, stylish clothing, it would give their clients more options. She could offer business attire for women and men, and even prom or special-event dresses for teen girls. She could continue to teach the seminars but run the clothing store on her own. She would have everything her clients would need in one place at extremely affordable, even way-below market prices.

  Calming relief spread through her. There was something freeing about knowing what she wanted out of life. It was weird to think it was thanks to Nathaniel. She was very well aware she’d been sticking her damn foot in her m
outh the whole trip. Although it wasn’t entirely her fault that he seemed determined to make everything about money. It didn’t matter what she said, he twisted it to be some “rich person picking on a poor person” slam.

  His face when he’d realized she’d purchased his clothes still made her cringe. She’d just wanted to thank him for helping her out. Looking back, it might not have been the best way to go about it. In her defense, she’d still been in a bit of a lust-crazed haze induced by his impromptu strip show.

  It was just…wrong. He’d been laughing at her, though. Maybe it was just his way of getting her back for invading the dressing room. She had sort of asked for it. And if he wasn’t totally off-limits, she’d ask for it again. That wasn’t a sight she wanted to forget. Good gracious, it was criminal for anyone to look that good. Her palms were still sweating at just the memory of his bare chest, corded muscles tapering into the band of his slacks. She wanted to crawl inside his pants and find out what the rest of him looked like. And then lick every inch of him. Shame-filled guilt edged that thought out of her head before she could dwell on it too much.

  Then again, Nathaniel’s amazing body was a much more pleasant image to dwell on than the infuriated look on his face when he’d seen her standing there with those bags in her hand. Ox. Was it really so hard to graciously accept a gift nowadays? It would have served him right if she’d bought him some jammies and fuzzy slippers, too. Maybe a nice pair of tighty-whiteys.

  She halted that line of thought in its tracks before it could get out of hand.

  Still, he seemed happy with her now. And the sheer pleasure that spread through her at that thought was…disturbing. She tried to shove it aside. She liked that she’d made him happy. And she really didn’t want to pick apart the reasons why, because she was pretty sure she wouldn’t like it. And neither would his wife.

  She was so going to hell.

  The car fishtailed slightly and Nathaniel’s hands gripped tighter on the steering wheel. Cherice’s stomach somersaulted.

  “What was that?”

  Nathaniel kept his eyes glued to the road. “Just hydroplaned a little.”