“Don’t say that. You know you can. This might be the big break your business needs to really launch you out there, make a name for yourself.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind? I hated to call you so last-minute, but I want to move fast while they’re interested.”
She forced a perky tone. “We’ll go to dinner tomorrow. Or whenever.”
“Okay great. Absolutely. Tomorrow.”
“Perfect,” she lied. “That’ll give me a chance to work late too, so I won’t have to work this weekend.”
Relief sounded plain in his tone. “Good, this works better for both of us then.”
“Yes. Go charm the pants off them.” She had no doubt he could.
He chuckled. “Okay.”
After they said goodbye, she held the cell to her chin. Who, exactly, were ‘they’?
Hugh stopped on his way past, his man-bag strapped sideways across his chest. “I thought you’d taken off.”
“Not yet. I want to finish up a few things. Have a good weekend.”
“You too. Don’t stay too late.” With a wink, he strolled out, texting away.
Too late. The phrase kept turning in her mind after she found herself alone in the office. What had she done? Jumped from one guy to another without any thought. Fucking like bunnies in Spring – and loving every second. So unlike her usual cautious self.
Or was it? When she was with Hank, she felt freer than she’d ever been. More herself than ever before. She didn’t have to try to be something else to please him; he already liked her the way she came. He’d liberated her from her inhibitions because he set no expectations on her, no limits. And none on himself. She’d never met anyone so open.
Still, something nagged at her. The tension in his voice when he’d called – so unlike his usual easy self – set her nerves on edge. Of course he’d be nervous, she told herself; to be successful in his business, he needed paying customers. Her boss expected the same from her, so she forced her concentration back to work. By six, she’d finished all but a few minor details that could easily wait until Monday. Heading out, she almost wished it had taken longer so she’d have something to fill her time instead of waiting for Hank.
Passing by The Coffee Shack, she decided to stop in for cranberry orange muffins. Hank loved them as much as she did. Maybe she could tempt him to come over after his meeting, if it’s wasn’t too late.
For early Friday evening, the shop’s ten customers appeared a good turnout. Dana waited in line behind a thirtyish couple and a guy about her age. If only the woman who owned the shop had allowed Dana to reconstruct her web site, the shop might do even better.
She stepped up and asked the boy behind the counter for three muffins. Enough for breakfast tomorrow morning. Her gaze drifted to the back of the shop when two people emerged from a room. Hank. With the shop owner, who appeared taller, blonder, and was definitely showing more cleavage than Dana remembered.
The boy behind the counter said something, but it didn’t register in her consciousness.
The woman touched Hank’s arm and moved closer, smiling up at him the way Dana probably did – after they’d fucked. Her cheeks flushed warm. No woman stood that close to a man unless she knew his body intimately. Or wanted to.
Hank’s smile seemed frozen, his motions stiff, but he didn’t step away. Her throaty laughter drifted above the background music and conversation. He nodded and glanced around. His expression blanched when his gaze met hers.
She snapped her mouth closed, and forced her gaze back to the cashier. “How much again?”
“Seven forty three.” Over-enunciating the amount, the teenage boy’s eyelids drifted halfway closed, as if overcome with weariness or extreme boredom.
Dana fished in her wallet. She only had a five, and not enough change. From the corner of her eye, she saw Hank still talking to the woman. He leaned away from her now, his back straight, but carried on the conversation.
Dana held a hand to her forehead, unable to think straight. “You take debit cards, right?” Maybe she should just forget it and leave. Two of the three muffins were for him, which he clearly didn’t deserve. And seven dollars for three muffins? Were they kidding?
Swiping the card brought back unpleasant memories of the night she first met Hank. Déjà vu all over again, so the saying went. From now on, she should do all her shopping online. Less of a hazard, boyfriend-wise. A hysterical giggle burst from her, and the boy behind the counter leaned away with a wild stare. Reassuring him wouldn’t work, so she didn’t bother. She probably really was crazy.
“Thanks.” She grabbed the bag and headed for the door.
“Dana. Wait.”
Hank touched the woman’s elbow, nodded and strode toward Dana. She caught the glare the owner shot in her direction, apparently sizing her up.
“I didn’t want to interrupt your, uh, meeting.” Sarcasm weighed the last word, her subconscious winning out.
“We were wrapping up when you came in. What are you doing here?”
Did he think she’d spied on him? Her laugh came out as a ‘ha.’ “I was going to surprise you with your favorite muffins. Surprise.” She held up the white bag.
“You’re so sweet.” He leaned toward her.
She ducked her head. “I’m not feeling particularly sweet at the moment.”
“What’s wrong?” He looked as innocent as a five-year-old. But wait, hadn’t some five-year-old recently committed murder? Looks were deceiving.
Glancing at the owner – who now stood behind the counter, watching – Dana couldn’t help but wince. “Seriously? You have no idea?”
He tilted his head. “None.” He glanced back. “Do you mean…you think I’m here with her?”
“You were with her.” And apparently liking it a little too much.
“Yes, but not that way. I told you I had a meeting.”
“True. You never said what kind, I suppose.” The sarcasm sounded ugly even to her.
This time it hit where she intended, judging from the look on his face. He grasped her arm and tugged her outside. “I made her a proposal—”
Dana rolled her eyes.
He scowled. “—for new chairs. If she decides to buy them, it’ll be the biggest order I’ve ever had. Something that could lead to more business.”
She studied him as he spoke. His voice held no teasing, no warmth. Still, something held back her trust. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t quite believe him.
He must have seen it in her face. “Dana….” He jammed his hands in his pockets and blew through his lips. Those wonderful lips had turned against her.
“So she’s buying chairs?” Like that Travolta movie – he kept buying the girl’s chairs until she fell in love with him. Only this was Travolta in reverse.
“Maybe. I showed her a few designs. She’s thinking about it.”
“What designs?” She didn’t see any papers in his pocket.
“You want me to go get them back from her?”
Oh, right. She’d still have them. “No.” She toed a pebble on the sidewalk. “I, uh….” No. No apology. Her reaction had fit the situation, given the lack of information. Why hadn’t he told her who his meeting was with?
His mouth hardened into a thin line. “I should get going. I have some work to finish.” Anger and disappointment edged his tone. And his sharpened features. “I’ll see you.” He strode toward his motorcycle.
“Don’t you want your muffins?” It sounded ridiculous. She wanted to call him back, explain. She had a feeling there was no need. He already knew – jealousy tainted her, made her temporarily insane.
Lifting his helmet from the bike, the look he threw her stung. An accusing look, as though she’d betrayed his trust, instead of the other way around. She’d thought, at least. Now she didn’t know what to think, but she sure felt stupid. She’d blown it.
For the first time, her fears of him not returning seemed real. She could only watch his motorcycle roaring across the par
king lot and down the street. If he didn’t come back, it would be her own fault.
A glance inside The Coffee Shack told her maybe not entirely. The owner met her gaze, her arms folded beneath her full bosom, and she turned away with a smirk. If that woman only wanted Hank’s chairs, Dana would eat one instead of these muffins. If she ever had any appetite again.
Dana dumped the bag in the waste bin and went to her car.
****
Two days had never stretched like an eternity before. Her cell phone’s silence seemed an accusation. Her empty apartment confined her, more a prison than a sanctuary. Life went from blissful to dismal in a heartbeat. Or in the time it took to purchase three muffins.
A debate raged in her head: call him. Don’t call him. Let him call you. No, you take the first step. It was your fault, idiot!
As many times as she took her cell phone out and began to dial, she stopped again. By Sunday night, she knew another sleepless night lay in store for her. She needed to see him. In person. A phone call wouldn’t quite work this time.
Grabbing her keys, she climbed into her car. Traffic lights stopped her at every possible turn. She wasn’t even certain of his workshop location, though he’d told her, said he wanted to show it to her soon. Well, tonight he’d have the chance – hopefully. She hadn’t even decided what to say. Her gut said her instincts about The Coffee Shack owner hit dead on.
She pulled up outside the garage that served as his workshop. His motorcycle sat at a slant, and sawdust flew out the door. Giving the spray a wide berth, she went to the other side of the table saw and waited.
He pulled a long piece of wood across the blade and pulled up his safety goggles to inspect the edge. When he glanced at her, his face filled with surprise. “How long have you been there?”
Now she felt like a stalker. “Not long. I didn’t want to startle you. Cause an accident or something.”
“Yeah. Good thinking.” From his tone, he wished she’d applied the same thinking a few days ago. He switched off the saw’s power. “What’s up?” He slouched his hips, appraising her.
“Nothing. I wanted to see you. Talk to you.” Why did he stand so far away? Why couldn’t she cross this short distance to him?
He lifted his chin. “About what?”
He wasn’t going to make it easy for her. “I’m sorry,” she blurted. Damn. “No, I mean, I’m not sorry. You have to admit, it looked bad.” Desperation came through in her pleading tone.
His voice softened. “Only if you’re looking for something bad. It was a business meeting, Dana.”
For you, she wanted to say. Not for her. But she couldn’t very well blame him for other women’s intentions. “I know. If I’d known before I went in, I wouldn’t have assumed—”
“Why would you assume anything? Can’t you trust me?”
“Of course.” It was everyone else of her gender she couldn’t trust.
He winced. “I don’t think you can.”
His comment stung her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re punishing me for what Sean did to you.” His eyes pierced hers. “I’m not Sean.”
“I know that. And no, I’m not punishing you.” If anything, he’d punished her all weekend by staying away. Depriving her of his touch, his kisses – daily essentials, now.
He swung his head away. “Then what was that all about?”
“I told you. I was surprised to see you. You never said where your meeting was. Or with whom.” Despite her best intentions, sharpness slipped into her tone again.
He strode to a desk in the corner of the room, rummaged through the mess atop it, and carried an appointment book to her. “There.” He pointed at the entry for three days ago. “In black and white. Now do you believe me?”
The heat of his body warmed her. His presence always pricked her senses to red alert, especially when so near. It wasn’t desire that warmed him now, but anger.
“I never said I didn’t believe you.”
He snapped shut the book. “You didn’t have to say it.”
Had her one mistake been so grievous? “Maybe I’m not the only one with trust issues,” she ventured.
His cold smile chilled her. “Don’t turn this on me.”
“I might have made a mistake, but you’re making it seem like high treason. Why?”
“You’re too much.” He took long strides back to his desk and tossed the book onto it.
“Am I? Then why did you bring me to Alfred’s? Really? Wasn’t that a test, to see if I’d react the way Tanya had?”
His uneasy glance told her she’d struck a nerve. She’d suspected as much that day, though then it seemed like a victory rather than a hoop to jump through. Another memory flashed: he’d warned her of his mood swings. He’d said he became miserable when he didn’t get back to the wilderness often enough. It had only been a week. How often was often enough? It had been a great weekend, but she didn’t want to go there every damn weekend.
He raked a hand through his hair, staring off at nothing.
This conversation would go nowhere tonight. She’d taken the first step to reconciliation but slammed into a wall. No sense knocking herself unconscious with repeated efforts.
“I’ll let you get back to work.” She hesitated only a moment before heading toward her car. A moment would be all he needed to stop her. He didn’t.
****
Each day’s passing felt like Chinese water torture, every second dropping with a huge splat, reminding her of another moment wasted without Hank. Each night lying in bed, the space beside her stretched like a barren desert. By the end of the week, she missed Hank so much, she’d have settled for a mirage image of him next to her.
His smile. That’s what was so different about him. He hadn’t smiled – that authentic signature smile of his – since they’d returned from camping. Oh, she missed his happy look. His shining eyes, his full lips parted in open-mouthed laughter.
But she hadn’t exactly been the same person since they’d returned either. Out in the wilderness, her tension had melted away and she’d let loose as never before. Returning home brought back all her insecurities and misgivings, and she’d let it show. She couldn’t let this go on any longer.
Instinctively, she reached for her cell phone. Twelve thirty-three. She flipped it shut and set it down. Tomorrow, she’d call him. Tell him she missed him. If this went on any longer, she would lose him for certain. Though too early to say he was the one she’d waited for, she knew she wanted to find out.
****
Friday arrived like a time bomb. Only so many hours before her window of opportunity would close, possibly irrevocably. Yet she let each hour pass, marking it off mentally sitting through the staff meeting, returning her emails, and completing her workload.
Around three-thirty, Hugh leaned on her desk. “So, big plans this weekend?”
“I hope so.” She’d put off calling, uncertain how to begin the conversation. If she waited any longer, the afternoon would be gone, then the weekend, then she’d end up here Monday, more miserable than ever. “Excuse me.” She grabbed her cell and hurried to the stair well. Once the door slammed shut behind her, she dialed. His answering machine picked up, and her heart sank. She closed her eyes, her finger poised to close the phone. Her message wasn’t suited for a voice mail. The thought of a miserable Monday loomed, and words spilled out.
“Hank, it’s me. Dana.” Do you think he forgot already? “I called because I wanted to talk to you.” Well, obviously, that was stupid. “I want to see you. Talk to you in person. Can you call me back? Or better yet, just…come over tonight, will you?” She exhaled. Just say it. Tell him. “I miss you. Please call me back.”
Closing her cell, she laid her head against the wall. “Oh my God.” What would he think after hearing that message? “Oh my God!” He’d think she’d lost it. Maybe he’d be right.
The clock ticked down toward five, and Dana felt ready to explode. She really had blown it. He w
asn’t going to call.
Following her usual end-of-the-day routine, she walked to the break room to toss her water bottle into the recycle bin. On her way back to her desk, her cell rang. She froze. Hank’s name showed in the display.
Hugh sauntered past. “A few of us are going to happy hour. Why don’t you come?” His gaze crawled across her in a way that made her want to shower.
“No thanks.” She flipped open her phone, breathless. “Hi.”
Hank’s low, scratchy voice sounded as weary as she felt. “Sorry I didn’t hear the phone because of the saw.”
“That’s okay.” Her pulse raced. So he hadn’t been ignoring her.
“I meant to call you this week, but it’s been crazy. I’ve been working sixteen hour days trying to finish this order.”
“The order? For The Coffee Shack?” She hoped her voice didn’t betray her trepidation.
“Yes. She wants eighty chairs, as soon as I can finish them.”
“That’s great, Hank. I’m happy for you.” Her voice caught in her throat.
“Dana, I want to see you too.”
She still had a chance! Her breath hitched, and she couldn’t speak.
“If I come by at eight, is that too late?”
“Not at all. Eight is perfect.” It would give her time to do a little work of her own – on a special project. All her pent-up hopes rushed out in a breath. “Come over whenever you’re done.” She’d wait.
****
Three department stores. How could three department stores not carry a simple item? She’d found the smaller things she needed, but without the biggest one, the project would fail. Her last hope was a specialty store. Luck was on her side, finally. She rushed home with the last, most vital item and began setting up. By quarter to eight, she’d finished. She bit her lip, standing back to appraise her work. Everything appeared to be in order. If this didn’t work, she’d give up on Hank once and for all.
Wilderness Girl Page 9
