After we ended our call earlier, I had a gut feeling if I left it up to Special, she’d never commit to anything. Since she mentioned something about going to her grandmother’s, I knew it wouldn’t take a whole lot of digging to figure out where she lived. With a few clicks of the mouse on the internet, I was able to find Special’s previous addresses, which only included one. The thing that stuck out at me was even though it was outside of Atlanta, it wasn’t too far from where the bar is located. When I pulled up the long drive and saw her red Vespa sitting there, I sort of hoped she’d be happy to see me—and I don’t mean trigger-happy. When she heard my voice, I figured she’d recognize it was me and back off with the gun thing. Damn, was I wrong.
I shift mental gears and focus on the food in front of me. Its delicious aromas remind me I haven’t eaten today. That’s because after I decided to see Special, I ran around Buckhead until I found a floral shop that was willing to create a bouquet of fresh cut flowers. It cost me a pretty penny because none of them were open so I basically had to bribe the owner. Taking some of the weight off of my right screaming butt cheek, I lean over so I can eat in some sort of comfort and not feel like I have a red-hot poker sticking me in the ass. I lift a forkful of potatoes to my mouth. Fuck are these good. They taste better than the woman’s who has cooked for my family for years, but I won’t ever tell her that. It would hurt her feelings.
“Mrs. O'Malley, this is delicious. Thank you for inviting me to dine with you.”
“Weston, you must call me Mimi. Everyone does. Mrs. O'Malley is way too formal for this old country gal.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I’m pretty sure Special just growled, but her grandmother smiles sweetly and nods. “I’m glad you’re here, Weston. My Honey Bear needs company and works way too much. I was saying to her the other day that what she needs is a nice young ma—ow!” She suddenly glares at Special and they have some kind of a silent argument, which I’m sure has to do with me. A smug grin spreads across my face and Special glowers at Mimi. She doesn’t bother to conceal it either.
My brows lift in question, but her scowl is duct taped to her face. She goes back to stabbing her chicken like the thing is still alive. I’m sure glad she didn’t come after me with a fork and knife like that. I prefer my bullet wound. Then she says, “I’m glad that wound didn’t affect your appetite any.”
“No, this is too delicious for that.” I give my best smile to Mrs. O’Malley. She pats my hand.
“So, Weston, what is it that you do?” Mrs. O’Malley asks.
Wiping my mouth with the napkin, I say, “I’m an architectural engineer.”
“Can you drive a train?” Cody asks with interest.
Special fails at holding back her laugh when I say, “That’s a good question because engineers do operate trains. But I’m a different kind of engineer. I design and build big buildings.”
“Oh,” Cody says and returns to scooping up his mashed potatoes.
“What buildings have you worked on?” Mimi wants to know.
I launch into the boring details of my work, and she listens as if I’m telling the most fascinating tale in the world.
All of a sudden, Cody bursts out, “Mister Wister, are you smart?”
No one says a word for a long moment and then Special says, “Cody, his name is Weston. Mr. Weston.”
“Oh. Are you smart, Mr. Western?”
I chuckle for a second at my new name. “Not as smart as Special here.”
“Why do you say that?” he asks.
“Because she’s smart enough to start her own successful business, whereas I have to work for my father.” And that’s the ugly truth.
“But don’t you like working for your daddy?”
“You know what? Some days are fun, and some days aren’t so much fun.”
“I don’t have a daddy. My mommy said he went away when I was little.”
“I’m sure he misses you, wherever he is,” I say.
“Mommy said he probably went to heaven. Do you think that’s where he is?”
Aw, fuck. Poor kid doesn’t have anyone except Special and her grandmother. Thank God for them. “Yes, I’m sure of it, if that’s what your mommy said. I bet if he could see you now, he’d be very proud of you.”
If I’m not mistaken, Special’s mouth turns up a bit. Finally—a bouquet that cost me a fortune and a bullet in the ass get me nothing. But a few words to a cute little kid and—bonus! Not that I didn’t mean it. This kid is sharp. His dad, whatever happened to him, would be proud of him.
Cody grins and I want to laugh at the missing tooth in front. I bite the inside of my cheek instead.
Mimi says, “Cody, swallow your food before giving us that full on smile, baby. We don’t want to see half-chewed chicken and mashed potatoes.”
“Oops.” He giggles, then adds, “Yes, ma’am.”
“And no talking with your mouth full either.”
He swallows and says, “Yes, ma’am,” with a wide grin. “Is this better?” he asks.
“Much,” Mimi says.
What a difference between my family and this one. My father would’ve had a conniption. No laughter at all in that scenario. His fist would’ve slammed the table and we would’ve been sent to our rooms hungry. We weren’t allowed to talk at the dinner table under any circumstances and God forbid if we ever laughed.
Jeb, who’s been quiet this whole time, asks, “So, Cody, how much did that tooth bring in from the tooth fairy?”
“A whole quarter!” Cody says. “I’m saving up for Six Flags.”
“Good deal, big guy,” Jeb says.
The tooth fairy. I never experienced that. Lucky kid.
“Six Flags, huh?” I ask.
“Yep. Honey Bear says she’ll take me when I’m seven.”
“So, how old are you now?” I ask.
“I’ll be six years old in March,” he says proudly.
Shit, the kid has to wait over a year to go to Six Flags!
Trying to cover up my shock, I say, “Wow! You’re getting up there, aren’t you? You’re what? In first grade?”
“Kindiegarden.” He beams.
Special lowers her head so he can’t see her laughing.
“I’ll be in first next year.” The way he says it is like I have absolutely no idea of how the educational system works. It’s fucking cute and it makes me want to hug him even though I’m not very affectionate. No wonder. I never got hugs when I was his age.
“Weston, may I get you more to eat?” Mimi asks.
“Why, I’d love some. That is, if there’s enough. But I can get it myself.” I move to get up.
“Don’t you dare get out of that seat, young man. Just rest your, er, bottom,” she says.
Cody giggles, then adds, “He’s not young. He’s old.”
“Right now, I feel it too. But, Mimi, are you sure there’s enough for seconds?”
“Weston, don’t worry. Mimi makes enough for an army,” Special says.
I glance around the room for the first time and take note of the simple decor. It’s off-the-charts country—ruffled curtains that have seen better days, wooden floors worn bare in spots from age and covered by a threadbare area rug, and a large primitive table that was probably handcrafted by Mimi’s great-grandparents. I rub my palms against the smooth grain that’s been aged by time and use. My father would turn his nose up at this room, but the hospitable feeling in here comforts me. I’ve never gotten this feeling from anywhere in my parents’ home. Maybe they should take a lesson from Mimi.
A plate loaded with food appears in front of me and Mimi announces, “Leave room for dessert. I’ve made apple cobbler, and you don’t want to miss out.”
She’s right about that. When dessert is served, it’s the best I’ve ever eaten. The warm cobbler sits under a scoop of sweet vanilla ice cream and I’m as content as I’ve ever been.
“Mimi, I don’t know when I’ve had a better meal,” I say honestly. “This was delicious.�
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“Is your tummy gonna ’splode?” Cody asks.
“It just may,” I answer, laughing.
“Mine too,” he says as he rubs a circle on his.
Special gets up to clear the table and Cody helps by carrying one plate at a time in his miniature hands. My attempts to assist are quickly shot down by Mimi.
“Weston, relax. You deserve it after what Honey Bear put you through.”
A deep rumble comes out of normally quiet Jeb. “Yeah, she did do a number on you.”
Leaning forward on my elbows, I say quietly, “I’m just happy she’s a terrible shot. What the devil is she doing running about with a gun anyway?”
Mimi and Jeb glance at each other, but don’t say anything. She shrugs it off by saying, “That girl has quite an imagination. She’s always worried about me.” Then a forced laugh ripples out of her. I wonder what that’s all about.
“If you ask me, you need to keep that gun away from her. Next time she might kill someone.”
An ominous silence thickens the air, but Cody bouncing back into the room breaks the tension.
“Does anyone want to play catch with me?”
His features spark with hope, but that gleam quickly dies when I say, “I’d love to, but I’m not sure I could do much with this.” I point down toward my ass.
Jeb rises out of his chair, saying, “I’ll play with you, big guy.” Cody’s excitement returns as he scampers through the kitchen with Jeb on his heels.
“The boy is getting too old for me to play with anymore. He minds me well, but he has so much energy and needs more activity.”
“I wonder if he’d like soccer. There are a lot of leagues he could join,” I casually mention. “But I’m not sure if he’s old enough.”
“I think he’d prefer football, but either way, out here they don’t have a five-year-old team. Special only wants him to do school activities, but he’s smart and gets bored easily.”
Thinking back, I never had time to get bored. My life was one block of scheduled time after another. My nannies didn’t even spend a whole lot of time with me. They were always dropping me off or picking me up from somewhere.
“Are there school kids he can play with?”
“Not yet. Kindergarten is a little early for that,” she hedges. “Maybe next year when he gets to first grade.” Then she leans in close to me, as I’m seated at her right, and says, “I honestly think he needs a male influence. Jeb is great, but he doesn’t show up enough.”
What’s that supposed to mean? Does she want me to take over? A weird sounding laugh rolls out of me and I change the subject. “Have you always lived out here?”
“I was born in this house.”
“Really? That’s something.”
Special joins us and declares the kitchen is clean.
Mimi points a finger at her, saying, “You clean enough kitchens. You should’ve let me do that.”
“Aw, come on, Mimi. It was nothing. Besides, Jeb thinks he has someone who may be the perfect solution for me.”
Mimi says, “Tell me about him.”
“It’s a her.” Special describes this person as someone who could help her in the kitchen and fill in at the bar if needed too. From the sounds of things, Special is neck deep in work and can’t seem to find quality people to hire. Now I get why she never has time for herself. This is all the more reason to get her to go out with me.
Lost in my musings, I miss her question. I sit and stare at here like a fool. “Well?” she urges.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?” I can’t pretend to know what she asked. I’d look like a bigger idiot than I am.
“Do you want to sit in the living room?” Both women stare at me.
“That would be great.” When I stand, a shooting pain buckles my knee. That bullet wound is no joke. Grabbing the table for support, I steady myself.
“You okay?” Special asks.
“Oh, just dandy. Only a tiny gunshot wound, but I’ll be fine.” I smile sweetly. Maybe she’ll feel sorry for me and grant me a mercy date, or that’s my plan anyway.
9
Special
Every time I think about how I could’ve killed him, bile rises to the back of my throat, and I have to shove it back down. Dinner was a bust. I could hardly eat a bite and ended up pushing my food around on my plate, making swirly designs with my mashed potatoes. Luckily, Mimi is so enamored with Weston, she doesn’t notice. She all but licks the man, salivating over him the way Mokey does right before we give her a hambone. This whole situation has me grinding my teeth in frustration. Mimi is doing her best to play matchmaker as I’m still processing everything that happened. My emotions are erratic and all over the board.
I’m not gonna lie—I pretty much am drooling over the man and checking him out too. Only it’s under the safe cover of my eyelashes and napkin. My gaze constantly strays to the rough scruff of his beard and I remember how it felt when he kissed me. I peek as his squared jaw chews his food, how his lips wrap around the fork, and my throat constricts, almost choking me. Lucky for Mimi, she doesn’t have to hide that crap. She’s older and doesn’t care anymore. As for Mokey, I’m going to leave that dog outside next time I come here. Maybe her bark would’ve scared him off if she had been out on the porch and not sound asleep on Cody’s bed.
Jeb leaves about an hour later, claiming he has to get back to town. It’s time I head out as well.
“Honey Bear, can’t you come back before next Sunday?” Cody asks. This is the part I hate the worst. It makes me hear Sasha’s voice and my stomach crumples with grief.
“I wish I could, big guy. You know I can’t stand to be away from you for even a minute.” I drop to one knee and put my arms around his compact little body. He’s small, but stocky.
“I’ll miss you, I will.” His arms squeeze me hard.
“I’ll miss you more.”
He plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek and I say, “Well, now, I’m not going to be able to wash there for a whole week, ’cuz that was some kind of special sugar you just gave me.”
“That wasn’t sugar. That was a kiss.”
“It’s all the same to me.” I softly pinch his nose. “Now, you be a good little man for Mimi and study hard in school.” Holding out my fist, I wait for his little one to bump mine. He jams his against my knuckles and we share a laugh.
After thanking Mimi for the wonderful Sunday meal, Weston follows me out and walks me to the Vespa.
“So, what are your plans?” he asks.
What are my plans? I don’t have any other than to go home and finish my chores.
“Go ahead and ask me,” I say. No use in beating around the bush.
“Can I come over? I figure you owe me. After all, half of my ass is missing.”
“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“Never.”
“Follow me.” He stays inside my rearview mirror all the way back to my place. After I drive around the back of the building to park, I walk up front and find him waiting for me.
“Where’d you park?” I ask.
“Over there.” He points and I see his giant truck hugging the curb about half a block away.
“Where’s your fancy black sports car?”
“At home. I drive the truck more often.” He points to A Special Place and asks, “Would you mind if I came in for dinner some evening?”
“Well, seeing as it’s a restaurant, I can’t really stop you.” I try to play it off with a serious face, and for a moment I think I’m getting away with it when he answers me with, “You could always shoot me again.” His eyes dance with mirth and that bubble of laughter I was holding back gushes out. “Maybe I should invest in some Kevlar boxers,” he adds.
As we’re standing there, still laughing over his little joke, we both hear a feminine voice call out, “Weston? Weston Wyndham? Imagine running into you here.”
I peek over his shoulder as he spins around to see who it is. I spy a tall, beautiful blond
e-haired woman, maybe in her late twenties, and much more sophisticated than me.
“Weston, where have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages,” she declares.
“Yeah, I stay busy.”
She leans around to get a glimpse of me and says, “I can see that.” Her voice carries an edge of contempt as she scans me from head to toe. Undoubtedly, I’m below her pay grade. In fact, the way she wrinkles her nose would lead one to believe I might need to bathe.
Turning her focus back to Weston, she asks, “I imagine you’re going to the fundraiser next week.”
“Fundraiser?” he asks.
“Surely you haven’t forgotten?”
He rubs his temple and says, “I, ah,” then he clicks his fingers. “Damn, I almost didn’t remember.”
A tinkling laugh that reminds me of church bells hits me and Miss Socialite says, “Oh, Weston, don’t let your father hear you say things like that. After all the money his company donated, he would have a stroke.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not sure he won’t have one anyway.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks.
“Nothing. I guess I’ll be seeing you next week, Kelsey.”
She leans in, presses her silk clad body against his, and kisses his cheek. “You can count on it.” Then she walks off.
I’d be a big fat liar if I didn’t say I wasn’t the tiniest bit jealous.
“She sure is pretty,” I say. “Is that your girlfriend?”
“Who? Kelsey? My girlfriend? You can’t be serious?”
“Why, yes, I am.”
“That woman would chew me up and spit me out if I gave her half a chance. Mary Kelsey Thornwell has claws ten inches long and would love nothing more than to sink them into any man with money. No, she is not, nor will ever be my girlfriend. I can barely tolerate the woman.”
That’s a relief. “You didn’t act that way.”
“Of course, I didn’t. You never give women like that the impression you despise them. They would ruin your life forever. The only way she’ll ever leave me alone permanently is when I marry someone else. And that someone won’t give a rat’s ass about my money or where it can take them in society.”
A Special Obsession Page 7
