BABY FOR A PRICE

by Kathryn Thomas

  Camille smiled as she drew, thinking about the thrill of someone actually picking out one of her comics and purchasing it. Actually paying money to read something she had written, and see something she had drawn. Hopefully, it would happen again.

  She finished sketching a figure of Cammy on the sheet of paper. Cammy looked nothing like Camille, and purposely so. Cammy was tall, wore her shiny red hair in a loose fishtail plait, had thick, glossy red lips, and wore a black velvet jumpsuit and a mask at night when she fought evil. By day, Cammy helped her father on their family’s farm and donned plaid shirts with rolled up sleeves, and loose jeans with the kneecaps cut off. By day, Cammy was just another ordinary country girl… just like Camille used to be, and too long ago.

  She stared at her drawing of Cammy, smiled again, and then in a sudden fit, balled it up and threw it in the bin. Who was she kidding? Publishing her own comic books was a hilarious fantasy; something she needed to stop if she wanted to save the very little money she had made from the store.

  Camille walked around the desk and over to the stand where the more popular comic books were housed. She found the latest issue of Punisher and pursed her lips. She ran her finger over the sketched abs, the ripping torso of The Punisher. She grinned at the thought that somewhere out there, in some parallel universe, someone like him might actually exist. A man who was a daredevil, brave, rugged, and willing to avenge his family’s death through any means necessary.

  Camille shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes. As if. She was kidding herself again.

  ***

  The bell above the store door tinkled just as Camille turned the third page of Punisher. When she looked up, she saw a guy walk in, and she immediately felt her cheeks blush. It couldn’t be real, it couldn’t actually be happening! Just when she was daydreaming about a comic book hero, a guy straight out of her fantasies had walked in.

  This guy was ripped. She could see that, even through the tight jeans and black leather biker jacket he was wearing. He had magnificent black hair that was brushed away from his face like an old photograph of Marlon Brando. His eyes were small, the color of chocolate, and he was clean-shaven with straight angular jaws.

  He hadn’t quite caught sight of her when he walked in. In fact, he hadn’t seen her at all because the first thing he did was close the door and twist the key in the lock. Then, without turning to look at her, he turned the sign on the door so that it read, ‘Closed.’

  Camille cleared her throat, while the comic book lay open in her hands.

  He whipped around as if he was surprised to find anybody in the store at all.

  “Thanks,” he said immediately, and his lips broke out into a wide smile.

  Camille noticed the shape of his face, it was long and angular, and there were deep long dimples on both his cheeks as he smiled. She felt the back of her neck burning up, but she raised her chin, not quite sure what was going on.

  “I’ll open the door in about five minutes, yeah?” he stated rather than asked and splayed open his palm to indicate the number five.

  A strong whiff of his scent had filled the small space of the store, and now Camille felt overwhelmed by it. How could a man look so great and smell so good at the same time? Was she dreaming him up?

  He smelt like polished oak furniture, with a hint of brandy and some old masculine aftershave. He took a few steps in her direction and Camille was struck by the scent of him again.

  “Excuse me?” she managed to ask, as he smoothly walked past her and obstructed himself from her view with the help of one of the shelves.

  “Like I said, you can open the store up in a few minutes,” he repeated, but it didn’t clarify her confusion.

  A sudden rage combined with panic overtook Camille, and she crossed her brows as she watched him browsing the shelves for comic books. Who did he think he was? What made him think that he could simply waltz into her store, lock the door and shut shop whenever he felt like it, with no explanation? No matter how drop dead gorgeous he was, she wasn’t going to allow it.

  Without exchanging another word with him, Camille walked over to the door and twisted the key in the lock, ready to open it again. But before she did, she bit down on her lip and turned back to the guy.

  He was looking at her too; appearing to study her. Despite the fact that she was defying him, his gaze was calm. He was lazily looking her up and down, examining her hair, her breasts, her bare legs… Camille could feel her cheeks burning red again.

  Slowly, as she watched him, he dragged his gaze away from her and pulled a book off the shelf. Camille had caught a look at the cover before he opened it. It was the first issue of Country Crowns, and Camille’s heart started beating fast. He had picked her comic book, even if it was by chance; he had her artwork, her story… in his hands!

  Her hand froze on the key in the lock as she watched him turn the first page of the comic. His eyes were scanning the pages quickly, and he appeared to be engrossed in the story.

  Before she could say anything, she watched him drop to his knees and then sit down cross-legged on the floor. The whole thing flabbergasted her. What was going on? He was sitting on the floor, in the middle of thousands of comic books, hidden by aisles, and quietly reading one of her books. He had still not given her any explanation as to why he had locked the door or turned the sign.

  Camille hadn’t realized that her mouth was hung slightly open. It didn’t matter though; he wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was more interested in the book. Her book!

  Camille shook her head to try and clear her mind and start thinking straight again. It wasn’t a good idea to be so carried away by the presence of a handsome man in her store. She turned on her heels and yanked the door back open, just for show, just to give him an indication that the shop was open again.

  Then she turned the sign so that other people (if there were going to be any) wouldn’t be dissuaded from coming into the shop by a ‘Closed’ sign. Then slowly, taking a deep breath in, she turned back around again. It was time to think straight, to gather her wits about her. It was time to behave like the responsible adult store owner that she was, instead of a giggling blushing teenager.

  It was true that not many, in fact, not any, customers who looked like this guy ever walked into her shop. But he should be treated like every other customer, even though he had somehow picked one of her books out of all the other choices.

  But when Camille turned to look at him again, she wasn’t prepared for what she found. He was still sitting on the floor but had reached up with his long muscular arms for the rack of novelty masks on the shelf above him. In that split-second, when she had turned to open the door and turn the sign back around, this Greek-God of a man had picked out a unicorn party mask and was now fitting it over his face.

  Camille’s brows crossed and she felt her lips stretch to a straight line. This was too unreal, what was going on?

  “Excuse me, but what are you doing?” she asked, taking a few steps towards him.

  “Just checking out your merchandise,” she heard him say, but his voice was muffled slightly by the unicorn mask. Camille tried to stifle a laugh. It was hilarious to watch this grown, seriously athletic looking biker dude in a pink glittery unicorn mask. But Camille took it in her stride and walked over to him.

  She hooked her hands on her hips as she stood before him, with her legs spread apart.

  “You have to take that mask off,” she told him, trying to sound as adamant and serious as she could.

  “Why?” he asked and looked up at her. She could see him blinking through the eyeholes of the mask, and this time she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

  “Are you seriously thinking of buying a unicorn party mask?” She tilted her head to one side and raised her brows.

  “Why not?” He shrugged his shoulders, with her comic book still on his lap. He had already finished reading the first few pages and a nervous jolt shot up Camille’s spine. Just the fact that somebody who had decided to r
ead her book hadn’t violently thrown it across the room after the first few pages was a welcome feeling. Was he actually enjoying the story?

  “I know you’re just fooling around,” she said, trying to compose herself again.

  “Do you always treat your customers like this? Or just the ones who are trying to buy something?” he asked in an innocent voice. Camille licked her lips as she stared at him. Soon, she realized that she couldn’t have a proper conversation with him while he was still wearing that ridiculous mask.

  “Look. You have to take this off now.” She walked closer to him, hovering over him as he sat crouched beneath her. He didn’t say anything or protest, and before she knew what she was doing, Camille reached down to him with both her hands and started to pull the mask off his face.

  “You can have it back if you like,” he said casually as the mask came peeling off. Camille dangled it from an upright forefinger, still looking down at him with suspicion.

  From this close, she could see every angle and every freckle on his skin. He looked flawless like a male underwear model. Camille bit down on her lip again as they stared at each other, and she couldn’t help but imagine him naked.

  What was she thinking?! As he had reminded her, he was a customer at her store. Why was she picturing him naked?

  “Did you open the door again?” he asked, looking past her and interrupting her inappropriate thoughts. Camille felt nervous in his presence now. He was too good looking for words, even though he was acting strangely enough to make her uncomfortable.

  “Yes, I did.” She took a few steps away from him. What did this guy want? Was he trying to rob her? Alarm bells started to ring in her head, and she stepped further away from him.

  “Well,” he simply replied, with a shrug of his shoulders. He was looking around him now, and his gaze fell on the rack of novelty props, his eyes seemingly focused on the cloth sacks with dollar signs - the ones that bank robbers in cartoons carry. She watched him smile… those damn dimples again.

  “If you’re going to kick me out, I’ll need some kind of disguise,” he added, and slowly turned his head to look back at her. Camille’s brows crossed again. Kick him out? Disguise?

  “I’m not kicking you out. You are free to browse for as long as you like. We close at eight,” Camille said, trying to hold his gaze, even though she could feel her heart dancing. His chocolate brown eyes were focused on her now, and she felt like he could look into her soul.

  “I need that door locked if I’m going to stay here though.” He tipped his head towards the door.

  Camille could feel her heart thumping loudly in her ears, but something made her turn around and walk to the door again. She turned the key in the lock. What was she doing? Why was she taking orders from this guy?

  “And turn the sign too,” she heard him say, and she again did as she was told. She could feel her hands shaking, ever so slightly. Was he going to rob her? Was he a threat to her life? What did he want to steal from this store? Camille turned around to look back at him again.

  He remained sitting on the floor, his back against one of the shelves. Her comic book remained open and splayed on his lap. He was peering back at her, and she thought she saw a look of gratefulness in his eyes. Was he actually thanking her for locking the door?

  Camille licked her lips and wished she had used some lip-gloss earlier. But this was not how she had imagined her day to go. In an effort to calm her throbbing heart, and relax her soul, she decided to say something.

  “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” she asked, and he smiled at her. That terribly wonderful, dimpling smile that had an obnoxious way of warming her heart.

  Chapter Two

  Devin

  The girl in the store was asking him what was going on, and all he could do was smile at her. How on Earth was he supposed to explain to her that he was in the middle of running away from two guys from a rival club, The Choppers? Where was he even supposed to start so that she could understand that he was always looking over his shoulder to make sure that he wasn’t going to fall into a trap? That was his life now: a life of an outlaw.

  So Devin just shrugged.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said instead, watching her standing at the door, with her hand still frozen on the lock.

  From the moment he had caught sight of her, a comic book in her hand, he had wanted to rip her clothes off. Damn she was hot. She had the perfect body; the kind that always turned him on. She was in a pair of denim cutoffs, and her legs looked smooth and long. She had an old sweatshirt on, through which Devin could tell was hiding an impressive set of breasts.

  This girl’s hair was wild, and her blue eyes were even wilder. She had a small pink mouth and a frightened look in her eyes. He wanted to hug her, envelope her in his arms and stroke her hair at the same time. He wanted to ravage her body too, one inch at a time. Up until now, his strategy had been to avoid looking at her. That way he wouldn’t be tempted. This was not the time or the place to pick up a girl. Not when he was on the run. But she was insisting on grabbing his attention. Now he had no other choice but to stare at her. And damn was she fine.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Why do you need the door closed and the sign turned?” she asked in a sweet voice. She had the voice of a girl who could sing, although she also had the demeanor of someone who wasn’t aware of her own talent. She took a few unsure steps towards him, and the whole time her eyes were darting, from him to the door to around the shop. Was she afraid of him? Couldn’t she see that he wouldn’t ever hurt her? That all he wanted to do, from the moment he saw her, was to protect her? As ridiculous as that sounded.

  “Okay, you got me,” Devin replied, smiling again, and her eyes softened a little. His brain, on the other hand, was racing a mile a minute. He needed to come up with a good excuse. Something she would buy. He didn’t want to take advantage of her apparent naivety, but he didn’t have any other choice. He couldn’t just simply tell her the truth.

  “I’m a celebrity,” he told her and watched as her eyes widened.

  “I knew you looked familiar,” she replied, and a soft grin formed on her lips. “You’re a musician, aren’t you?” she added, and Devin nodded. That was good enough, he could go with that; even though he hadn’t picked up a musical instrument in his life, nor could he sing to save his life.

  “But what has that got to do with any of this?” she then asked, and a look of distrust entered her eyes again. Devin licked his lips. It wasn’t as easy to distract her as he thought it would be. His gaze fell to her legs again, and he imagined how it might blow his mind to have them wrapped around his neck. He felt himself stir in his pants.

  “I don’t like cameras. I don’t like screaming fans,” he blurted out for the lack of any other explanation. She softened again.

  She was standing several feet away from him, but he had studied her closely enough to know the way her skin shone. How translucent and perfect her complexion was. How slender her fingers were and the way she hooked her left hip to one side when she stood. She was driving him crazy, even though he was pumped with adrenaline at the thought that the guys from The Choppers might discover him hiding there. In the first place that they could find.

  “You’re running from your fans?” She crossed her arms over her breasts. Devin’s eyes were drawn to her chest again, and he allowed them to rest there before looking up at her face. She was grinning now, no doubt at the idea of a famous musician hiding in her comic book store, away from a throng of crazed fans.

  “It makes me claustrophobic, and I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” he said and shrugged his shoulders again. She shook her head and bit down on her lip.

  “What’s your name? I’m sorry, I’m not big into music,” she said, and had an apologetic look on her face. She actually seemed embarrassed that she hadn’t recognized him. Devin felt relieved. The fact that she wasn’t into music much meant that he might actually be able to pull this off
.

  “Devin, Devin Rock.” He leaped to his feet and extended a hand to her. She looked at it for a few seconds before accepting his handshake. Her hand felt small in his, delicate as lace and soft as butter. Devin held onto it for longer than necessary while he looked deep into her eyes. She appeared to be struggling to hold his gaze. She was shy, embarrassed, and probably still a little afraid of him.

  “Camille Griffin,” she replied softly, introducing herself. “Rock, what a curious last name. Is that the kind of music you specialize in?”

  He had no other choice but to laugh at that.

  “No, trance isn’t really…” he paused to look down at his clothes, “my style,” he said, and thankfully she grinned at that.

  They were standing closer to each now that he had stood up, and he could smell the warm vanilla scent of her skin. He wanted to touch her and feel her cheeks under his fingertips. He imagined how delicious she might taste if he were to trail his lips along her throat and then the grooves of her shoulders. She simply stood there, though, still grinning at him.