by Amber Burns
She flushed and looked away. Her hand reached out to fix the business card holder at her side. It didn’t need to be fixed.
“Sorry. I wasn’t calling you out or anything,” I said. She must have heard my note of remorse as I had her attention again. “I just have trouble forgetting a pretty face.”
Yeah, it was cheesy, yet it gave me the desired result. Her giggle, while short and sweet, tightened my boxers.
Oh man, I realized, I’m a goner.
Like an invisible hand, her smile stroked me, bringing me to attention. At this rate, I’d have to excuse myself for a washroom someplace.
I felt the responding smile pull at my lips and that’s all I did: sit there and grin like a freaking fool. I got a hold of myself and took a long sip of coffee to ground my thoughts. Rejuvenated, I asked, “Do you have an appointment? Or are you helping your brother and sister?”
“Appointment? Uh, no.” Her dark brows came together. In the blink of an eye she went from hot to downright frosty, rivaling the temperature outside. I needed to tread carefully and not ask directly about her mood change. I was putting together the words when Vanna smiled and continued. “I’m more of the helper. I’ll answer the phones when Wes or Vi aren’t around. I keep the order book in check and prepare lunch when they’ve got back-to-back clients. Sometimes I sweep, mop, or dust.” She paused for a moment before she remembered another of her duties and her smile returned. “Oh, and bookkeeping.” I nodded, impressed by her list of duties, while she tapped her chin. “I think that’s it.”
“And the display?” I asked, knowing full well she had been working on it… seeing as I had ogled her while she did so yesterday.
“And the display,” she repeated, slowly stretching out the syllables.
I smirked with my drink to my lips. The bitter coffee hitting my tongue made me realize that I had gotten nothing for Vanna on my trip out to the coffee house. “Wait here,” I told her as I held out a finger, and then left her hanging. One way or another, I was planning to rectify my mistake.
I made the ten-minute walk into a jog of five and came up to a line that was out the door of the café.
Of course it fills up when I want to get back to Sterling Outfits quickly.
Eight customers later, some that left with orders in both arms, I picked up a blueberry muffin, black tea, a stir stick, and two sugars and two creams on the side. I asked for a tray and added my half-filled coffee to the cardboard holder.
I can’t jog back this time, I realized. But speed-walking isn’t off the table.
In a somewhat dignified fashion, I made my way back to the shop in just 7 minutes. Vanna was waiting exactly where I left her, though her attention was now on a big book that I assumed was the order log she was talking about organizing. I pulled my coffee from the holder and offered the tea and muffin to her, mustering my best smile as I presented her the tray. Vanna dropped the book and stared at the drink and muffin in my hands.
“I –” she started.
“No worries,” I interrupted her, knowing exactly what she was going to say. “It’s plain old tea. I even asked for the sugar and cream on the side.” I gestured to the little packets sitting in the tray to punctuate my point.
She was a little hesitant, but then accepted my offering with a nod and meek, “Thank you.”
No, thank you.
She set the tray on the counter behind her and didn’t speak while she split open a bag of sugar and a creamer. Stir stick set to the side, Vanna did a taste test. I moved to gauge her expression, trying to present low key while I was actually nervous as hell and bounding with energy. While on active duty, I was never given a breather long enough to wonder what to do with myself. Now, almost two years out of the Marines, I was left with too much time on my hands.
I worked at a gym back home in Atlanta. Training meatheads and skinny socialites helped keep me busy. But four days in cold and boring upstate New York was undoing all the inner Zen I had worked to maintain.
And now, Vanna was completely shattering it.
“It’s good,” she said, as if finally noting my impersonation of a Roger Rabbit hop.
I was overjoyed by this tiny admission. Hell, I was practically ready to sweep Vanna up and haul her to the closest church to claim her forever. I was planning the first dance when my fantasy was broken by Wes joined us. He was giving me a look. One of his brows was raised at me and he looked suspicious of my motives.
Oddly, where Vanna’s locks were dark, Wes was fairer. Violet could have been a natural blonde, she was even bubbly enough. They all had the same eyes though, and the pair that belonged to Wes were staring at me like I’d grown an extra head in the time we were apart.
“Vanna?” he asked, stretching her name out. An unspoken question filled the air. His gaze flit from me, to her, to the paper cup in her hand, to me, and back to her again. I figured it was enough time for him to get over his analysis of the situation to remember whatever he was going to say. “Sorry to do this to you, but can you head out to Woodlawn? Mrs. Kingston’s making her demands again, and this time I don’t think we can avoid a house call. Or is it, afford to not take this house call?” He sighed. “I have no clue what I’m saying. She does that to me.”
“But she didn’t call.” Vanna was rounding the desk when Wes stopped her.
“She called my cell. The jury’s out on whether it was a bad idea to give her my number in the first place. She’s been calling about all these tiny changes, and then this.” Wes scrolled through this phone and then set it to his ear. “I told her I could come, and then I realized that I can’t. Not with another appointment in an hour.”
He rolled his eyes and then his tone went all syrupy. “This is Wes Sterling calling from Sterling Outfits for Mrs. Kingston. Yes, I’ll hold, thank you.” Phone to his chest, Wes pegged Vanna with puppy eyes. It only took a moment for Vanna to cave.
“Sure I’ll go,” she said, almost enthusiastically. “It’s for the good of the store.”
I ‘hmmmed’ to myself. She was taking it pretty well considering her brother had sprung this chore on her out of nowhere. It seemed that my Vanna is a do-gooder - maybe even too much of a people-pleaser - but that only made me realize that I needed to protect her; both from others taking advantage of her and her own do-goodness.
“Thank you. As usual, you’re a lifesaver.” He mouthed the last part when his phone went to his ear again. Wes’ voice went up an octave for the lady on the other end. “Good morning, Mrs. Kingston.” He took the phone call to the doorway dividing the back dressing room area from the front reception.
Vanna left the tea I had brought her on the counter and grabbed a dark green wool jacket from a coat hook I hadn’t noticed until then. She was quickly back at the front desk and collected her keys from the drawer as well as the tea. She looked longingly at the muffin bag, the debate clear on her face as to whether she should take it and try to eat and drive or leave it and go with her tea only.
I decided to settle that for her.
“I’ll drive,” I said as I held out my hand for her keys. I closed my hand a couple times to signal that she should drop them in my hot little palm.
Vanna blinked, apparently confused at my offer. She looked to her brother, who was both out of earshot and occupied as he spoke to Mrs. Kingston. It was the perfect time for me to set my coffee down, grab her hand, and trap it between mine.
“I need something to do, anyways.” I nudged my head back. “I got kicked out of there, and I’m bored. Let me help.”
Wes was back and doing that weird stare again. He waved his phone between us. “What’s going on here?” He turned his gaze to me. “Are you hurting my kid sister?” Before I could emphatically deny such false allegations, his eyes snapped to Vanna. “Are you chasing away a client?”
“No,” we answered together. I chuckled and Vanna let out an adorable giggle. I smiled at the sound. She had me going hard for her. Nervous giggle aside, she looked a little overwhelmed by my pl
an and turned to Wes for help.
Just what was she running from? Not me, surely. I could be pretty forward, but I had been nothing but a good boy with Vanna. I had controlled the impulse to take her against a wall, or the desk at her back. So what then? Was she hurt by some bastard in the past? Her timid nature was novel to me, and I had run through enough meat markets to know that it wasn’t some coy ploy to get the big, tattooed Marine into bed. Whatever the hell was going on in that pretty head of hers, it was frustrating the crap out of me.
While I mused on how exactly Vanna worked, she quickly filled Wes in. Her part done, she waited for Wes’ intervention. A signal of my victory started with that twinkle in his eye. Vanna seemed to know it wasn’t going her way, too, because she dropped her head and ringed an unpainted fingernail around the rim of her cup’s lid.
“Perfect idea,” Wes beamed.
His smile didn’t wane when Vanna, head down, stammered, “Is that really all right?”
For the first time, I was glad Wes was there.
He shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t care how you get there, just as long as I get Mrs. Kingston to open that big, fat purse of hers.”
Sorry Vanna, Big brother isn’t coming to her rescue. He’s throwing you to the tiger, and the tiger wants you.
“Ready to go,” I declared as I grabbed the muffin in its paper bag. Moments later I was escorting her out the door before she could think up another excuse.
You’re mine, Vanna.
3
Wes’ Bug was exactly where Vanna said it would be. Once we were on our way, I kept her busy with feeding me directions. I wanted to avoid her turning tail and wriggling her cute tush out of my grasp. From there, I feigned an intense concentration on driving and keeping to the directions she would periodically give me between bites of her muffin and sips of her tea.
It gave me immense pleasure to help her. I was buzzing with a natural high that had nothing to do with the recent caffeine in my system.
“It’s that one there.” She pointed out her window toward Mrs. Kingston’s house.
I parked the car by the curb and noticed the girth of the house and immensity of the property. I shook my head and exited the bug so I could escort Vanna to the front door. I knew by the veritable mansion we were approaching, that Wes wasn’t exaggerating about this Mrs. Kingston’s fat purse. How much were they making with this lady as a client?
Vanna didn’t seem to catch my curious stare. She was a woman on a mission. Her lower lip was stiff with determination and her sneakers were blazing a trail to the gated entrance of the Kingston residence.
I made it as far as the gate when she stopped me. Vanna was turning from the intercom she apparently had spoken into while I stared at the house in awe. She unlatched the gate door at the buzz to enter.
“Thank you for driving me,” she said, though her tone made it sound like it had been a chore for her.
“It was my pleasure.” The words came out a bit cheesy, but I liked the small smile she gave me. I kept the image of her appreciation with me as returned to the car. After reaching the bug, I turned in time to watch Vanna disappear through the dark red front door which itself was under the large pillared porch of the mega house. Once the door closed behind her, I scrubbed a hand over my beard-in-progress. I would wait for her, that much was obvious. It was what to do in the meantime that was up in the air.
The hours went by slowly. I listened to music, took a walk around the block, and even did pushups on the sidewalk. That one earned a visit from one of the curious neighbors. I managed to talk him out of both calling the police and towing Wes’ car.
Figuring I should keep a low profile until Vanna returned, I just listened to some more music and tapped my foot to the beat while staring out at the vast grounds of the home before me. Before I knew it, my eyes had drifted and my music listening had turned to a nap. Being unconscious to the world allowed time to fly by without me feeling too much of it.
It was nearing five when my stomach grumbled and woke me from my nap. It also reminded me that coffee isn’t a good substitute for lunch and now dinner. I didn’t want to leave, but I couldn’t ignore the hunger any longer. Figuring the only solution was for food to come to me, I called for pizza. But my brilliant plan was nearly dashed when the operator asked for an address. With a sigh, I got out of Wes’ bug and found a street sign at the nearby intersection. I triumphantly read the street name out to the girl on the other side of the phone.
“House number?” she asked, making me growl with further frustration. I glanced around, trying to find a mailbox, or numbers painted on the street… something! I squinted at the house next door and could spy the gold numbers displayed on the gate. After repeating the number and giving her my order, I hung up and waited for my oven-fresh pepperoni.
I kept a lookout for both Vanna and a pimply teen carrying the duffel with my pizza. I hoped the latter would arrive first so I wouldn’t have to stall Vanna until my dinner arrived. Luckily a car with the restaurant logo came down the two-way street before I saw any sign of my shop girl. The car parked a little ways down on the opposite direction of where I stood by the bug’s driver side door.
To my surprise, the delivery person was not a freckled face teen at all. “Over here,” I called and raised a hand, trying to flag down the bearded, middle-aged pizza guy.
“Mr. Amos Fuller?” he inquired.
“That’d be me. Do you need to see ID?” I asked due to the confusion that had washed over his face. I figured he rarely delivered to random cars on the street. He shook his head and held out the pizza box for me. I passed him back two twenties, well past the amount due for the medium. “Keep the change.”
He asked me twice if I was sure. Once I convinced him I was, he’d forgotten all about his curiosity. His face was nearly beaming as he ran across the street, probably wondering at his luck for driving this route.
I polished off half the pizza before I came up for air. A check of my phone showed it was just past six, and there was still no sign of Vanna. I tossed the pizza box to the back seat and wiped my mouth. I considered checking in on her, but then remembered how cautious she was of me already. I didn’t want to go barging into her client’s house all chivalrous and ready to save her from a threat that didn’t exist. Instead, I settled back into the seat, readying myself for however long it took Vanna to reemerge from the mansion.
It started to rain not too long after had I settled back again. Alone with my thoughts, my determination began to waiver, and I again thought about going after Vanna. I even tried to make an excuse to myself for why I should go to her.
She’ll get soaked the second she steps out from that pretty house, I told myself. Appealing to my sense of duty had worked, and I searched Wes’ car for an umbrella. When I came up empty handed, I chastised myself. I needed to be patient. So, I settled back in and kept watch for my girl. I soon found myself sinking back into the seat and my eyes closed once again.
It felt like only a second later when a knock had me upright and I found myself staring back at Vanna. So much for keeping watch on her…
She rounded the front of the car and I had the passenger side unlatched by the time she reached the door. It was the least I could do since I had abandoned her to the rain. I also cranked up the heat. She would need it judging by how drenched she looked.
“Sorry,” she began, pulling her soaked self in from the pouring rain. Once in the bug, she drug out a long sigh. I thought I was tired, but something, or someone, had put her through the ringer. Vanna sunk back into the seat with another sigh following. “I should have said something about being late.”
“Your apology is unwelcome.” I stopped quickly, realizing that sounded harsh. A little softer, I said, “I wanted to help, and that’s on me, not you.”
She shifted her head to face me, and a smile touched her weary expression. “You didn’t wait for me long did you?”
“No, not too long,” I lied, not wanting her to feel responsible f
or my decision to spend the day sitting in her brother’s car.
Her eyes fluttered closed but her smile stayed on her lips. I put the car into gear and was ready to head back in the direction we came. I was comfortable with reversing the directions she had given me on the way over, so I wouldn’t need to bother Vanna in her exhausted state. Just as I thought Vanna had fallen asleep on me, she said, “Thank you, Amos.”
I really liked it when she said my name.
Say it again.
“What?” Her eyes flew open.
Crap. I must have spoken aloud.
Slamming my head against the steering wheel was out of the question; I didn’t need to scare her more. I probably should have covered for my smart mouth. Instead, I did the exact opposite.
“I wanted – want – you to say my name again.” She sat up. “Come on, it’s pretty obvious I want you, Vanna.”
