Mugs of Love

by Norma Jeanne Karlsson

  Watching Emily Garner is my one enjoyment in life. I feel when I look at her. I’ve never spoken to her or entered her shop, but I watch her daily from mine. I own a custom furniture store. Everything sold in my store is built with my hands. It’s fulfilling, strenuous and satisfying. I wish it brought me joy, but it doesn’t. It does occupy my mind though and that’s a necessity.

  “You starin’ again?” Clyde’s overly southern deep drawl pulls me away from my moment of warmth.

  “Fuck off,” I grunt and move back to sanding the simple country-style cabinets for a kitchen remodel I’m working on.

  “Just go talk to the girl, Garrett.”

  I shake my head and continue my work. I’m not much for conversation, but this is one I’m definitely not having. Keeping my head down, I concentrate on the grain of the red oak, smoothing and gliding across it. The rhythm pulls me under and I forget Clyde.

  He’s a good man. Always trying to help the kid with nothing, from a double wide in a trailer park in the urban hellhole of Independence. He knew Daryl, my father, did a nickel with him when they were in their late twenties. Clyde got out of the life after that and Daryl didn’t. Instead, he groomed me to take over Clyde’s spot.

  I’m good. I can boost a car in thirty seconds, pocket your wallet with an insignificant bump, pick a lock with my eyes closed and handle a gun when necessary. That’s the simple stuff. I started working with Daryl when I was twelve. By the time I was eighteen, I was the one he was working for. He wasn’t much of a leader, and I’m dominant by nature, so the roles fit us well. Until four years later when they didn’t.

  One night gone wrong, Daryl’s doing life for murder and I found out there’s something more valuable than the loyalty of family. Plea deals. I served eight of my fifteen-year sentence. I was a model prisoner and overcrowding lessened my time.

  Clyde was waiting outside the prison for me and brought me here to quaint, quiet Bluffside. I opened this shop a few weeks later and haven’t looked back. There’s nothing to look back at and not much to look forward to. I’m free, so there’s that.

  I finish the last cabinet and swing my gaze out the small panes of glass at the end of my workshop. My store is connected to it, but I spend most of my time in here.

  Emily’s closing up her shop, as I watch her. I always get to see her lock-up because the coffee shop closes at three o’clock. I don’t blame her for shutting down early since her day starts at the crack of dawn. She never looks tired though. Her sandy blonde hair is always up, but as the day goes on, pieces fall around her perfect face. I’ve never seen them up close, but her eyes are light. Green, I imagine. Never a stitch of make-up on her face, because she doesn’t fucking need it. Her nose slopes elegantly and her mouth is broad, full-lipped. Those damn cheeks kill me every time. They’re soft and creamy, the left one sporting a long dimple. Not the kind that pinches in, the kind that creases when she beams.

  Then there’s her body. She’s the reason cavemen chiseled on walls. I was lucky enough to open my store in May and witness Emily’s form in a tank top and shorts for the entire summer. I spent a lot of time with a semi. Still do. Her skin is smooth and unblemished. I’m a man, so of course my gaze falls to her tits. They’re well beyond a handful, and I’ve got massive hands. Her waist nips in only to flare out to rounded hips, flowing down to long slender legs. I want them wrapped around me. I can almost feel her heels digging into my ass as I watch her sway away, waving at residents as she goes.

  She’s too good for me. I’ve never heard her voice, but I’m sure it rivals an angel’s. I don’t get an angel in life. I don’t get anything. I don’t deserve anything as good as the woman who always stops to talk to elderly women and gives away free samples to any kid that comes her way. She’s selfless and kind in a way I’ve never experienced. I come from a world where everyone expects something in return.

  Not Emily.

  She gives willingly and the rewards are just the smiles and kindness she receives in return. I’ve watched her for six months and I know that to be a fact. There isn’t a fake bone in the woman’s hot as fuck body.

  Emily’s pure and untainted. I’ll never have anything more than these few moments, so I cherish them every day.

  After chatting with the guy who’s constantly with her, Jordan Monroe, she wraps her arms around his waist in a tight hug before pulling her scarf closer to her chin. It’s cold for October, but not what I would consider coat and scarf weather. I’m staring at the fabric around her neck when she turns toward me. She can’t see me through the dingy glass and the glare of the sun streaming in, but I swear she’s looking right at me. Then she begins to move toward me.

  I watch every step she takes until she’s no longer in view because she’s walking into the store.

  “Hello?” she calls out.

  Her voice hits me in the gut like a sledgehammer. It’s hot and heavy, a bedroom voice. Fuck me. I’m no longer sporting a semi. Clyde had better get his ass in gear because I’m not going in there with my dick raging hard.

  “Hello? Clyde? Mister Sharp?” Emily calls again.

  Shit. I’m stuck. I can’t move toward her. I’m barely drawing an even breath. I’m the calmest motherfucker I’ve ever met and in this moment, I’m in a frenzy. Maybe she’ll leave if I don’t respond. That’s it. I’ll just stay silent like a pussy.

  The door into the workshop creaks as her stunning face peeks around the edge.

  “There you are,” she says with a kind smile sweeping across her face.

  She moves to walk through the door and I respond, “Don’t.”

  My tone is harsh and cutting, deep thunder. She stops and her green eyes full of gold flecks pop open wide as she halts, her smile dropping. I’m a complete asshole.

  “There’re a lot of sharp tools,” I say devoid of any emotion as I walk toward her.

  “Of course. I’m sorry. I can come back when you’re not busy,” she apologizes quickly as her eyes drink me in.

  If she doesn’t stop looking at me like that, we’re going to have problems. Eight years inside and I still haven’t touched a woman since I’ve been out. Pussy causes problems. I learned that lesson that fateful night too.

  “What do you want?” I growl as I stop in front of her.

  There’s heat in her gaze as it rakes down my torso and settles on my crotch. Thank fuck my dick’s not still straining against the zipper. Her breath catches and her eyes flick to my face then swiftly away.

  “I…I’m sorry. You’re obviously busy. I’ll come back and speak to Clyde,” she mumbles staring at the floor, chewing on her thumbnail.

  “Emily.” There’s warning in my tone, causing those golden green eyes to spring to mine.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers again.

  “Stop apologizing and tell me why you’re here.”

  “I need you,” she mutters and then blushes brightly as her eyes go wide. “I’m sorry. Dang it. I’m sorry…I just did it again.”

  I want to laugh at how cute she is. I haven’t laughed in so long, I don’t even know what it would feel like. But I want to right now as she shifts uncomfortably, searching for her words.

  She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, drops her assaulted nail, straightens her shoulders and says, “I need some more shelving for my shop. I was hoping you could come over and take a look at the space I need filled.”

  Her eyes go wide and both of her small hands fly to her face as she groans. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. I’d love to fill her space, and look at it all fucking day long. I let her off the hook.

  “When do you want me to stop by?”

  “Whenever you have time. I’m there all day except for Sundays. Jordan could show you if I’m not around,” she mumbles into her palms.

  I should deal with Jordan and not her. I know her schedule so I’ll go by when she’s out or on a Sunday when she leaves early.

  “I can—”

  “Hello?” a man calls from the store.


  You’ve got to be kidding me. We’re never busy and I don’t think two people come in here at once unless it’s the summer.

  “Hide me!” Emily squeals and darts into the shop.

  “What the fuck?” I ask, completely puzzled at her bizarre behavior.

  “I’m sorry. Just please let me hide in here. I won’t chop off my fingers,” she says, shoving her hands in her coat pockets, flicking her eyes all around looking for a space to hide in.

  “Don’t move,” I command and stride into the store, shutting the shop as I go.

  The shop door is behind the counter that I built to keep people away from my work area. Not that it worked on Emily, but the guy waiting for assistance is leaning against the maple patiently.

  “Can I help you?” I ask as professionally as I’m able.

  “Yeah. I’m Adam Warren,” he says sticking his hand toward me.

  “Garrett Sharp.”

  I grasp his palm and retrieve my hand quickly.

  “I live in the old Victorian up on Cliff Drive. I’m gutting it and need new cabinets. The Sanders said you’re doin’ theirs. I was hopin’ you’d be available to do mine too.”

  He smoothes his hands down his pea coat that’s covering a three-piece navy suit. His hair has I don’t know what in it, to keep it slicked perfectly to the side. Dude looks like a model or a boy Barbie, if there is such a thing.

  I flip open the appointment book and move to an opening with my finger marking the spot.

  “I can come out and give you an estimate next Friday.”

  “I’ll make sure my girlfriend’s there. What time?”

  “Ten.”

  “Em’s usually at her shop then. Do you have anything after three when she closes?”

  I feel my finger dig into the paper as he asks. Why is his girlfriend hiding from him in my shop? Why the fuck don’t I know she has a boyfriend? I’ve seen this guy in town maybe once since I’ve lived here and I’ve never seen him with Emily.

  I eye him for a moment while he fucks with his phone, running through his schedule. When his questioning dark blue eyes flick back up to mine, I respond, “Ten’s all I’ve got until two weeks later. We’re pretty slammed right now.”

  It’s not a lie. I’ve got orders to fill eighteen months out. But I could go to his house anytime I feel like it because I make my own schedule. I’m not willing to budge for him.

  “I’ll make it work,” he assures me.

  I pencil in his details, and he rushes out the door with his phone to his ear. I think it’s safe to say Adam’s a douche. I smack the appointment book shut, and stalk back into the shop. Irritated.

  I come to a halt when I find Emily out of her coat and scarf, bending over at the waist, stroking a coffee table I’m working on for my house. My dick is almost at full-mast instantly at the sight of her tight ass in a snug pair of black jeans. She’s trying to kill me.

  “I told you not to move,” I snarl.

  She jumps with a start, screaming out as she begins to stumble. I’m on her before I know I’m moving. I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her back to my chest. Fuck me. She feels better than I’ve imagined. Soft and supple, fitting seamlessly against my much larger frame. Her hair perfectly below my face to tip my head down and suck in a lungful of her sweet scent. I don’t, but I could. All. Fucking. Day. Long.

  Her cold hands grasp my forearm before she whispers, “I’m sorry. You surprised me.”

  I can see her chest heaving with labored breaths beneath her pale yellow long-sleeved T-shirt. Her pulse is thrumming at her neck and if I was a vampire, I wouldn’t be able to resist it. I still want to run my tongue across it.

  “If you would’ve stayed where I told you to, I wouldn’t have scared you,” I grumble, releasing her from my hold.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Will you stop fuckin’ sayin’ that?!”

  She jumps as I bellow louder than I should have. I steady her on her feet again, spinning her by the shoulders to face me.

  “You haven’t said a sentence without I’m sorry since you got here. You don’t have anything to apologize for. Knock it off.”

  “I’m…” she trails off, trying not to say it again.

  “Why’re you in here hidin’ from your boyfriend anyway?”

  Her brow furrows tightly and a scowl sets in place over her almost constantly happy face. That’s new.

  “Adam is not my boyfriend anymore,” she seethes as I force my fingers off her shoulders and shove them into my pockets so I don’t maul her.

  “Did he say he’s my boyfriend? Did that jerk really walk in here and say that? I can’t believe him! I broke up with him months ago, Garrett. Months! There’s no question that we’re done. I haven’t even seen him in weeks. Probably because I hide every time he shows up, but still. I haven’t seen him. I don’t want to see his stupid face. I can’t believe the nerve of him!”

  She’s flinging her arms around and pacing as she rants. This is a new side to sweet, warm Emily. A hotter side that’s getting my dick excited again.

  “And then he walks into a store and proclaims he’s my boyfriend! I’m gonna kick his butt. That’s what I’m gonna do.”

  Her Midwestern accent is in full force now, making her sultry voice all the more alluring.

  “What’s his problem? What is it with men and not moving on? Tell me, Garrett. Are all men stalkers that can’t get out of a woman’s life after they mess up? Really! I didn’t sleep with that girl. And I mean girl. She was all of eighteen. Then he tells me it’s my fault! My fault!” she screams, snatching a hammer off the worktable she’s yelling at. Now she’s waving it around as she continues.

  “Two years I wasted on that…that…”

  “Douche bag,” I offer.

  She stabs the hammer in my direction and hollers, “Douche bag!”

  I can feel the bubble of amusement creeping up my throat as she keeps going.

  “That douche bag betrayed me and then blamed me for it! How is it my problem that he couldn’t be loyal to me? I didn’t raise him. I didn’t demand anything outside the norms of a relationship. Okay, so I wouldn’t have sex with him for two years. But I knew something was off. And I was right! Who knows how many others there were?”

  She slams the hammer onto the table and continues to smash the shit out of it until she’s heaving and panting.

  “Can I take this?” she asks, waving the hammer at me. “I’m goin’ up to his place and I’m gonna smash every window on his stupid house. Then I’m gonna find his ugly car and smash its windows. And the headlights! Then when I find him, I’m gonna smash his balls with this,” she threatens, thrusting the hammer at me with a decided nut smashing motion.

  I can’t help it. I laugh. I laugh loud and hard, grabbing my stomach as I do. She’s hilarious when she’s pissed. This tiny woman in front of me talking about smashing windows and balls is about as threatening as a kitten fighting a Rottweiler.

  As I chuckle deeply, her throaty laughter fills the space and that beaming, shiny smile breaks across her face. She laughs harder and harder until tears are streaming down her cheeks as she gasps for air. I just watch. Her joy is better witnessed in person. Fuck if it doesn’t warm my soul. I stand and soak in every morsel of the woman in front of me until she wipes her tears and hiccups a few tiny giggles.

  Then she’s in front of me again.

  “I promise I’m not a crazy person. I don’t usually go off like that, but he infuriates me. Take this hammer before I end up in the sheriff’s office.”

  I pull the hammer from her fingers as she smiles up at me.

  “You have a really nice laugh,” she says tenderly.

  There’s a stray piece of hair on her cheek that I want desperately to smooth behind her ear. My fingers twitch at my side, but I control the urge.

  “Garrett Sharp doesn’t laugh, Emily,” Clyde announces as he strolls in from the back of the building.

  “Well I was pretty hysterical just now
, but I’m certain I saw him laughing. Heard it too, Clyde.”

  “I’ll be damned,” he says with a snort and I scowl over at him.

  He ignores me as usual.

  “Looks like you made yourself at home in our shop, honey. You lookin’ for a new hobby?”

  “No, I was hoping to get some new shelves in my shop. I came by to see if you or Garrett could come by and take a look.”

  She’s no longer nervous like she was earlier. Her face is peaceful and free as she talks to Clyde while still standing in front of me.

  “Was that you beatin’ on this table?” Clyde asks as he examines her handy work.

  “I had a tantrum,” she responds with a bit of guilt in her voice. “I can replace the table. God, Garrett, I’m so sorry. And don’t yell at me again about apologizing. I get to apologize for that.”

  “Boy, you better not be yellin’ at this woman,” Clyde threatens, leering at me.

  “It was more of a growl, Clyde. Like a big bear warning off intruders.”

  “That sounds about right. He’s not much for conversation. Dropped on his head a lot as a child,” he goads me. “Tantrum about the growlin’?”

  “Adam,” she huffs.

  “What’d he do now?” It’s Clyde’s turn to growl.

  “He said we’re still together. He won’t leave me alone and I’m sick of it.”

  “What do you mean he won’t leave you alone?” Clyde inquires, moving toward us.

  “It’s nothing,” she responds, waving her hand dismissively before chewing that thumbnail again.

  “Don’t lie,” I snarl and her eyes snap to mine.

  “I’m not,” she lies again.

  “Honey, you’re not gonna get anything past the two of us. What’s Adam doin’?” Clyde demands, his meaty fists balling at his sides.

  “He shows up at my house, leaves flowers, lots of notes on my car. The calls are the worst part.”

  “Why?”

  “He calls over and over until I have to shut the phone off and then the house phone starts ringing. I’m glad I can turn the ringers off.”

  “Jordan know about this?”

  “Oh Jordan knows. I spend the rest of my time convincing him to leave Adam alone,” she snorts.