He marched back to his cubicle and plopped onto his seat. This was sick and wrong. Sick. And. Wrong.
The Ted Darrows of the world got everything—height, good looks, cool clothes. Women. Candy other men paid for.
By lunch Kyle had made an important decision. He needed a new suit.
“I thought I’d grab a sandwich down at Filly’s,” Mindy said.
Kyle didn’t have time to go to the in-house café. He had an important mission. “I’ve gotta run some errands.”
“Oh. Sure. No problem. See you later.”
He barely heard her. He was already bolting for the door.
He tried not to look as Jillian came out of Ted’s office wearing a smile. Office romances—the big boss frowned on them, especially when one of his higher-ups mingled with the little people. That wasn’t stopping Darrow from trying to mingle with Jillian. He was going to use her up like toilet paper and then toss her.
But not if Kyle had anything to say about it. Some new clothes, a dinner date, and Jillian would be safe with a man who really appreciated her.
Now she was alone. Maybe he should turn around, go back and explain that he’d gotten that candy for her. He wheeled around to go and talk to her but was thwarted by the appearance of yet another pair of females, purses in hand and ready for lunch. Yakking away, they flanked her on both sides.
Okay, not now. Kyle left the building wearing a frown as well as his unimpressive clothes. Why did women always run in packs? Sheesh.
He was still feeling grumpy when he walked into the Wenatchee Valley Mall. Even trying on a nice suit didn’t cheer him up. Yes, the suit fit fine, and he looked pretty darned good, if he did say so himself. But he saw more in the mirror than the suit. He saw a short man. Ted Darrow had a good six inches on him and there wasn’t a thing he could do about that. Unless...
He took out his smartphone and did some quick online research. Hey, here was just what he needed, a shoe store that sold “heightening shoes,” which promised to add five inches to his stature. And they had overnight shipping. Sold! He purchased a pair of black dress shoes and some loafers. Oh, yeah. Mr. Suave meets Mr. Big.
* * *
Betsy did a double take as she drove by the theater. “Oh, my gosh!” she cried, and pulled her car off to the side of the street. She got out of the car and stood on the curb, gaping at the marquee.
Instead of the latest movie title, it read Betsy, I Need You. And there, by the ticket window, stood Gregory, looking hopefully at her.
She tore across the street and threw herself into his waiting arms.
He hugged her as if he’d never let her go. “Baby. I was so wrong. I’ll get it right from now on, I promise. Give me one more chance.”
“After this, how could I not?” she said, laughing.
He crushed her to him, taking her lips with all the passion he’d stored up on those long, lonely nights apart. When he finally released her, he had tears in his eyes. “I almost lost you, all because of my stupid pride. But never again. I’m a changed man.”
“Are you? Really?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Count on it.” He gestured to the marquee. “This love story is going to have a happy ending.”
Adam shut the paperback Jonathan had left for him on the kitchen counter, with a Post-it marking this particular scene. There it was, a perfect example of item number five on Jonathan’s list, the romantic gesture.
Also a good way to make a public fool of yourself. But if that was what it took, Adam was willing. Tomorrow morning, he was going to show Chelsea how much she meant to him. He tossed the book on the floor and rolled over on the blow-up bed, trying to get comfortable. Man, he hoped this worked. He couldn’t take very many more nights on this thing.
More than that, he couldn’t take too many more nights away from Chelsea. He missed her smile, missed being able to tell her about his day, missed having her curled up next to him as they slept. Sleeping alone felt wrong, like half of him had been cut away.
He sure hoped this romantic gesture would do the trick. He wanted his other half back.
He took the next morning off and went to see Emmit Brown, the crusty old man who owned Falls Cinema.
Emmit wasn’t as cooperative as the theater owner in that book had been. “I put some love message up for you, then I have to do it for every yahoo in town who’s having woman trouble. Pretty soon, nobody knows what’s playing, only that Johnny loves Suzie, and pretty soon I don’t have anybody coming in to see a movie,” he said, and went back to stocking candy.
“You don’t, anyway,” Adam said. “You get stuff in six weeks after it’s hit every other theater in the state.”
This turned out not to be the best way to argue his case. Emmit looked at him in disgust and shooed him out of the theater lobby. “Go buy some flowers.”
“I tried that,” Adam grumbled.
“Then carve your initials in a tree. Hire a skywriter. I don’t care what you do as long as you do it somewhere else.”
“Fine. See if you get my business,” Adam said. Damn it all, now what was he going to do?
Inspiration hit him when he drove past the Safeway. That could work. Plus he knew the manager. He parked his car and went into the grocery store to see his pal Denzel Wilson. He hoped he didn’t strike out again. At some point he had to get back to the office and do some work. How did the men in those romance novels manage to earn a paycheck when sorting out their love lives took so much time?
Fortunately, Denzel was in his office and had a few minutes to spare. Denzel had a wife who was high-maintenance, always expecting him to take her places, making him hang out with her family every Sunday. If anyone would understand Adam’s plight, it was Denzel.
Still, Adam had learned from his encounter with old man Brown. After the bro hug, he dangled a carrot. “Been fishing lately?”
Denzel shook his head sadly. “Been too busy.”
“Well, whenever you want to borrow my VXP rod...”
Denzel’s eyes lit up like the Las Vegas strip at night. “Yeah?”
“Sure. I don’t have time to use it right now.”
“Sweet. So, what can I do for you?”
“I need a favor. Chels and I are having problems.”
“I feel your pain.”
“I need to do something nice, get her attention.”
“Flowers,” said Denzel. “That always works with Letitia.”
Adam shrugged. “Tried that. But I did have an idea. You know that sign out in your parking lot where you post what’s on sale?”
Now Denzel was looking leery. “Yeah.”
“Can you put up a message for me? Just for this afternoon, long enough for Chels to see it.”
Denzel rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. That’s for our store specials.”
“Come on, man, I’m not asking for long. I’ll pay.”
“You don’t have to pay.” Denzel thought a moment. “Just for this afternoon?”
“That’s all. Once she sees it you can take it down.”
Denzel scratched his head and thought again. At last he said, “Okay. After all, the store’s an important part of the community.”
That would be Denzel’s story for his regional manager, most likely. Well, it worked for Adam.
“Only for this afternoon, though. That’s the best I can do.”
“That’s all I need. Thanks, man.”
“What do you want it to say?”
Oh, that. Too bad Jonathan wasn’t here. He’d have been able to think of something. Adam tried calling his cell but it went straight to voice mail. Bernardo would have all kinds of ideas, but he’d be working in his orchard and ignoring his cell. Kyle was clueless and Vance would laugh at him. He was on his own. What to say?
Keep it simple, he decided. “Put ‘Chelsea, I love you.’”
Denzel nodded his approval. “Sounds good.”
Adam clapped him on the back. “Thanks. I owe you.”
“Let me bo
rrow that fly rod this weekend and we’re even.”
“You got it. Come by Templar’s place anytime and pick it up.”
“Templar? Jonathan?”
“I’m staying there.”
Denzel looked shocked. “You mean she kicked you out?”
Humiliating to have to admit. Adam nodded.
“You weren’t kidding when you said you were having problems.”
“We’ll get it sorted out,” Adam said. He sure hoped he was right.
He said goodbye to Denzel and went to the office, where he tried to concentrate on the data about several new medicines he’d be repping soon.
Once late afternoon arrived, he found it almost impossible to keep his eyes focused on his computer screen. His gaze kept straying to his phone. Chelsea would be done at the nursery now. Any minute she’d be driving by the grocery store on her way home. She’d see the sign, know he was serious, call.
Finally his phone started playing Luke Bryan’s “Drunk on You,” Chelsea’s ring tone. He’d selected it a few nights back when indulging in a maudlin moment of self-pity. The memory of better days of her dancing around the house in her T-shirt and shorts, singing along to the country station, had been enough to make it too hot for him to sleep in Jonathan’s spare room, no matter how wide he’d opened the window.
Now he grabbed his phone like a lifeline. “Chels.”
“Very funny, Adam. Was I supposed to think that was cute?”
No, she was supposed to think it was romantic. What had gone wrong? “I thought you’d like that.”
“You thought I’d like being on sale for a dollar ninety-nine a pound? That was mean. And tacky.” She ended the call before he could say anything more.
Well, this was a far cry from what had happened in that book he’d read. He left the office and drove back to Icicle Falls to see what had gotten his wife so steamed. It wasn’t hard to figure out once he hit Safeway. There, for all the town to see, the big sign outside the store said Chelsea...$1.99 a Pound.
“What the hell?”
He parked his SUV and marched inside the store. The place was packed with shoppers picking up dinner essentials on their way home from work. He found his pal Denzel busy overriding some problem on one of his grocery checker’s stands.
Denzel finished up and, catching sight of Adam, smiled at him. “So, how’d it go?”
“How’d it go? I’m in deeper shit than I was before, thanks to whoever put my wife on sale for a buck ninety-nine a pound.”
“Huh?”
“Come and see.” Adam wheeled around and marched out of the store, positioning himself where they’d get a good look at the very effective job Denzel had done of humiliating Adam’s wife.
“Aw, shit,” Denzel muttered.
“You can say that again,” Adam snarled.
“Man, I’m sorry. I sent one of our baggers out to take down the flank steak loss leader and put your message up. We got busy and I called him in. I thought he was done, since he was just standing out there talking to a girl. That kid’s ass is fired.”
Another man’s life in the toilet all because of a woman. Well, that didn’t seem right. “Hey, don’t fire him on my account,” Adam said.
“I’m not. The kid’s a screwup.”
Like me, Adam thought miserably as he walked back to his SUV.
He called Chelsea. Of course she didn’t pick up. “It wasn’t supposed to read like that, Chels,” he told her voice mail. “It was supposed to say I Love You. Somebody screwed up.”
He ended the call. Somebody screwed up all right. Damn. Why was love so hard?
* * *
Juliet was having computer problems. This came as no surprise to Jonathan. Juliet was always having computer problems. This time she’d lost an entire file of recipes. Jonathan wasn’t sure if that was a bad thing or a blessing in disguise, but he’d promised to come over and help her after work.
He walked in the front door, with the book he’d drowned in the toilet hiding in his back pocket. He’d baked it in the stove on a low heat and now it was almost as good as new. The pages were a little wavy, but hey, it was a used book. She hadn’t looked at it all that carefully at the library. She’d probably think it had come like that.
She started to lead the way into the spare room that served as a study. Her back was turned. It was the perfect moment to return the tycoon to his home. The stack of books was still on the stairs (not unusual since Juliet was a clutterbug). He would subtly drop the book on top of it.
The tycoon didn’t have a good landing. The book caught the edge of the pile, making it tip over. Three other books bounced down the stairs. The stairs were carpeted, but Jonathan heard, boom, boom, boom, boom, BOOM.
Oh, no. He bent to put them back just as his sister, who could hear better than all the dogs in Icicle Falls put together, turned around.
Think fast. “Uh, they fell.”
She looked at him oddly.
He scrambled to put the books back before she could get too close a gander, slipping the purloined book under the others.
But his sister not only had keen hearing, she had the eyesight of an eagle. In two steps she was standing by the stairs. She picked up the traveling tycoon. “My book! I thought I’d lost it.” Now she was frowning. She opened the paperback and flipped the pages.
Uh-oh.
“It looks like it got wet.”
“Maybe it did at some point,” Jonathan said. “It’s a used book. Who knows what happened to it? Come on, let’s go check out your computer.”
“Okay,” she said slowly, and followed him down the hall.
The wheels were turning in that busy brain of hers; he could sense it. This was so not good. He sat on the chair in front of her desk and hurried to deflect her attention. “Did you back up your file?”
“I meant to,” she said, still leafing through the book. “You know, I would have noticed all this water damage. It looks like someone dropped it in a sink or something.”
Or something. “Jules, you’ve got to back stuff up,” Jonathan said, steering the conversation back into safer territory.
“But you can recover it, right?”
“Probably,” he admitted. “Still, you should make a habit of backing up anything you don’t want to lose.”
“I know. And I will from now on,” she promised, pulling up a chair next to him. “It’s funny about this book,” she said as he began his computer detective work. “It was on top of the pile last week, and then I went to read it and it wasn’t.”
“You should put your books away.” Oh, man. Why couldn’t she drop the subject already?
“What, or Neil will get into them?” A moment of silence was followed by, “Those were my library sale books.”
He shrugged and kept his gaze glued to her computer screen. He could feel sweat beading on his brow.
“You were over here for dinner the day after the book sale.”
“Jules, I’m trying to concentrate here.”
“And then, just a few days after that, I went to get this off the pile and it was gone,” she finished thoughtfully.
He could feel her eyes burning into him.
“Did you take my book?”
He cast about desperately for some plausible answer.
Before he could come up with one, she pointed an accusing finger at him. “You did!”
“No,” he lied, searching for his poker face.
“Oh, yes, you did, and after all that talk about how dumb romance novels are.”
“I—” He stopped there. How to explain this?
“Why were you reading my book?”
“I just thought I’d check it out. Okay?”
“I’m not buying that.”
“I’m trying to get your file here,” he said. And I can’t lie and find your lost file at the same time.
“Jonathan, you may as well tell me. I’m gonna bug you until you do.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” At least not to his siste
r.
“Well, could you tell me what happened to it?”
He frowned. “I accidentally dropped it.”
“In the sink?”
“Uh, in the toilet.”
“Eew.” She let go of the book and this time the tycoon landed on carpet.
“Don’t worry. It doesn’t have any germs on it.”
“I doubt that,” she said, disgusted.
“I’ll buy you a new one,” he promised. If he’d done that in the first place, he might’ve gotten away clean with no one the wiser. Dumb, Jonathan. How could he be so good at math and computers and so stupid at...life?
She was silent again, but only for a few seconds. “Why would you be interested in romance novels all of a sudden?” she mused.
“I’m not. I just thought I’d give one a try. That’s all...” ...you need to know.
“You could’ve asked me. I’d have lent it to you. In fact, if you want to read a good story, let me give you the Vanessa Valentine I got.”
“I already checked it out.” Crap! Had he really said that? “Jules, I can’t concentrate on retrieving your file with you talking.”
“Never mind the file. What’s going on?”
He frowned at her. “I’m doing some research. Okay?”
“Research on what? Are you going to write a romance novel?”
“No,” he said testily.
“Then what?”
“I just... Never mind.”
She fell silent. Of course, that didn’t mean she’d abandoned the subject. It only meant she was thinking of a new way to wrangle the information out of him.
“Okay, got it,” he said.
“Thank you. You’re amazing.”
“That’s me,” he agreed. And now he was going to beat it before Juliet began another round of twenty questions. He started to get up.
She grabbed his arm. “Not so fast. Tell me what’s going on. I’ll find out, anyway.”
“There’s nothing going on,” he insisted. “Come on, Jules, let go of my arm.”
What She Wants Page 10
