Mugs of Love

by Norma Jeanne Karlsson

  “You need to tell Sheriff Belcher,” Clyde orders gruffly.

  “It’s fine. Don’t worry about me. He’ll give up eventually.”

  “No, he won’t,” I finally speak. Her eyes flare, causing the gold flecks to expand further.

  “He will. You haven’t lived here long. Adam’ll give up and move on to greener pastures. He was already feeding from them anyway.”

  She laughs a little at her own joke as Clyde and I engage in a wordless conversation over her head.

  “Emily, listen to me. I want you to call the sheriff when you get home. Get yourself a restraining order. Don’t be walkin’ around on your own. Lock your doors and windows. You got some kinda protection at your shop or your house?” Clyde sounds like the bear now and he’s scaring her.

  “He would never hurt me, Clyde. Don’t worry about me. Please. I’m fine. I just got riled up and I shouldn’t have. He hasn’t done anything aggressive. Can I write you a check for the table?” she asks me.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “No, you don’t take checks?” she tries to clarify.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “So I’ll bring by some cash?” She flicks her confused gaze to Clyde for help. He’s not offering any.

  “No.”

  “You’re not very good at conversation,” she points out in a grumble.

  “Nope.”

  “Clyde, how much did that table cost?” Emily turns her back on me to face Clyde completely.

  “Don’t know, honey. Garrett bought it.” He plays along well.

  She stomps her foot and spins back to face me. There’s that fire I enjoy so much.

  “Tell me how much money or I’ll just drop off whatever price I find on Google later,” she threatens with her hands on those gorgeous hips.

  I lean into her face, scowl in place and say, “You do that and I’ll bring it right back to you.”

  “Then I’ll bring it back.”

  “No, you won’t,” I snarl.

  “Yes, I will!” she shouts.

  I grasp her with a finger curled below her chin, my thumb pressing gently into it and finish this. “No. You. Won’t.”

  From the fire, her gaze moves to that all too dangerous heat-filled desire. I’ll work with that.

  “Get your coat, Emily.”

  She nods, but makes no move to get it. I haven’t released her. I don’t know if I can. I keep staring into her more gold than green eyes and soak in the warmth she’s giving me. Her breathing is picking up and if I look, her pulse will be jumping again. Her pink tongue darts out to lick her dry lips and I groan internally. She’s trying to kill me.

  “Go on,” I say, forcing my hand to leave her face.

  She turns and hurries toward her coat. Clyde watches her before turning a shit-eating grin at me. I flip him off and wait for Emily to come back to me. I know she will. A few seconds later, she hustles back and stops less than a foot from me, fussing with her scarf. Her hands are shaking so I pull the fabric from her trembling grasp and fold the woolly hunter green swirled material around her neck, tucking the end behind her hair.

  When I meet her gaze, I see tears pricking her gorgeous eyes and a lump forms at my throat. What the fuck?

  “Thank you, Garrett,” she says softly and my heart rate jumps.

  “Let’s go,” I grunt, grabbing her tiny hand in mine. Her fingers curl over the top of my hand as I tug her along out of the shop, ignoring the deep chuckle booming from Clyde.

  “Bye, Clyde,” she calls over her shoulder as I drag her away.

  “Bye, honey,” he hollers as his laughter picks up.

  I pull her out of the shop, through the store and onto the sidewalk. Emily doesn’t struggle or complain at my manhandling of her. She just picks up her pace to match my long strides, holding my hand tighter as we go. There’s no tremble remaining and the chill that was on her skin earlier is warming beneath my touch. I breathe deeply, trying to push down the want that’s consuming me. Why couldn’t she just stay away from me? After her rant, I was pissed about Adam. After she told us how intensely he’s trying to get her back, I was furious and feeling oddly territorial.

  I have no right to feel that way. So I’ll walk her to her car and send her on her way with a stern warning to get that dipshit on the sheriff’s radar. Then I’ll walk away. I’ll watch her from afar like before and steal her warmth every day. I’m good at stealing. It’s all I’m good for.

  “Where are we going?” I ask timidly as Garrett drags me down the sidewalk at a brisk pace I can barely keep up with.

  “Your car,” he grunts.

  He grunts a lot. There are not a lot of full sentences when he speaks. It’s more clipped versions with chin lifts, grunts and grumbles in a deep thunderous voice. He’s intimidating as hell and oddly comforting. Is that possible?

  When I walked in his shop, I thought he was going to lose his mind. He looked furious that I had dared darken his doorstep. I’d never spoken to him before that moment. He keeps to himself. When he opened his store in May, I went over to welcome him, but he never came out of the workshop. Clyde took my cupcakes and told me he’d pass along my welcome.

  I’ve seen him though. How could you miss Garrett Sharp? He’s the most striking man I’ve ever laid eyes on. He’s got medium brown hair that had natural honey highlights this summer from working in the sun. Now that autumn is upon us, it’s turning darker and the honey is transforming to caramel. He leaves it longer on top and buzzed close on the sides. It suits his yummy face, square and chiseled like a work of art, often sporting dark stubble. His nose looks like it’s been broken, but it makes it sexier if that’s possible. Then there’s the eyes. Holy cow, his eyes are unreal. I’m not certain what color they are.

  Today is the first time I’ve seen him up close enough to get a good look at them. When he was mad, they were dark brown. When he was listening to me rant and rave like a lunatic, they were blue oceans. When he was laughing—maybe the most amazing sound I’ve ever heard—they were deep mossy green. And when he pulled my chin toward his beautiful face, they were all three in a hazel kaleidoscope of desire.

  I shiver remembering that look and he pulls me beneath his arm, tucking me close. His body…unreal. I don’t know how a man gets a body like this, but I’m sure books have been written by fitness professionals that can only dream of looking like Garrett. His arms are massive. His hands are at least twice the size of mine. His shoulders are broad and stand back proudly at all times. I can feel the rigid muscles covering his torso and I can only imagine what they look like. I got a look at his back this summer beneath a white, sweat-drenched T-shirt and almost dropped a tray of cookies.

  From across the street, I could see the ridges rippling. It took my breath away. His long legs are defined and powerful. The shorts he was wearing that day gifted me that sight. They also cause him to tower more than a foot over my five feet three inches.

  So yes, I’ve seen Garrett Sharp, but I’ve also watched him. For months, I’ve watched him work in his store and in his shop. I only have brief moments where the light and my perch from the other side of the street allow it, but when it does, I watch him.

  He works hard, always deep in concentration. I’ve never seen him smile or laugh other than today, but he doesn’t seem sad either. I like the times I’ve watched him with Clyde the best. There’s a connection between the two of them. Often not a word spoken, but the way they move with each other is like watching a ballet.

  I feel a fierceness when I watch Garrett. Loyalty and heart are evident in the way he deals with Clyde. And since three days before I caught Adam cheating on me, I’ve wanted to wrap my arms around Garrett’s thick neck and never let go. To feel his embrace and know I’m safe. There’s no doubt in my mind that’s how I’d feel wrapped in his strong arms.

  I’m a love at first sight kind of person. I truly believe in all the stuff that people th
ink is sappy and unrealistic. My mother told me to love hard and love quick because you never know what the world has in store for you. If it’s offering you a chance, don’t squander it playing games. You’ll end up losing.

  Adam and I were playing a game. And I lost big time.

  We come to a stop at my Mini Cooper and Garrett waits for me to unlock it. He pulls the yellow door open and pushes the small of my back, guiding me to sit down. Then he leans into the space, one arm on the roof the other on the top of the door. His eyes are brown again. Dang it!

  “Do what Clyde said, Emily. Go home. Call the sheriff. Lock your doors and windows. Do not answer if Adam calls or shows up. Do not walk to your car alone after you close. Do not go out by yourself at night,” he commands quietly.

  I start to argue when he leans closer to me, his eyes growing darker.

  “If you try that shit with money with me, I will not be happy. Don’t piss me off, Emily. Drive home and do what Clyde told you.”

  “What you told me,” I mumble, looking away from his angry eyes.

  “What I told you,” he repeats coolly.

  “Thank you for walking me to my car, Garrett,” I say softly.

  “Emily.” His tone forces my gaze to his. The dark brown is fading away now. “Be safe.”

  “I will.”

  “Be safe.”

  “Okay.”

  “Be safe.”

  “Garrett, I’ll be safe. I promise.”

  His eyes are blue oceans again. I think that’s the concerned color or maybe…no it can’t be. I’m the sap, not the stunning man before me. I want to reach out and run my hand across his clean-shaven cheek to reassure him, but I don’t. This whole interaction has been odd enough without me adding to it.

  He stares into my eyes for a long while, holding me captive. I can’t pull away from his gaze and frankly, I don’t want to. I find comfort sitting here in my cold car while his large body radiates heat around me. My always-frigid hands are the warmest they’ve ever been just from his touch. I’m soaking his warmth into my soul.

  “Home,” he dictates tenderly.

  I swallow the lump forming in my throat at the gentleness of his tone. His presence is overpowering. So much so that I don’t think I’ve drawn a full breath since I walked into his shop. But I like the weight of him, the charge he forces into the air.

  I nod and start the car. He lingers for a breath longer before standing up and shutting my door softly. I can’t see his face now, but he makes no move to leave. I gather he’s waiting for me to get home as I was told to. So I put my car in gear and drive away, watching his towering presence in my rearview mirror as I go. His arms are across his wide chest, stretching his waffle shirt tautly. He doesn’t move, even as he fades from my view. I wonder how long he watched.

  I want to make a loop around to see if he’s still standing where I left him, but I don’t. If he sees me doing that, I think he’ll get mad. Not that he gets to tell me what to do or that I’m afraid of him, but he seemed genuinely concerned.

  I never considered Adam to be a threat, but the looks on Clyde and Garrett’s faces as I explained the situation freaked me out. Jordan’s been worried. He always worries though. He’s tried to move in with me once a month for five years. He says he can’t sleep at night worrying if I’m safe.

  I always roll my eyes at him, but I feel better knowing he cares that much about me and my safety. My dad calls every other day to check on me too. He says there’s no such thing as the safe small town anymore. I know he’s right on some level, but I feel safer here than I ever did in Kansas City.

  I just blew the thing with Adam out of proportion in front of strangers. Yes, he’s frustrating me. Yes, he’s persistent. Yes, I’m sick of hiding from him. But, Adam would never hurt me. Well, not physically. He’s just not used to hearing the word no. I shouldn’t have gone off about him in front of Garrett. And I definitely shouldn’t have spilled the beans on Adam’s behavior. Not even Jordan knows the extent of it. If Jordan did, he’d go beat Adam to a pulp like he’s been threatening to for years.

  I’ll go apologize tomorrow when I pay for the table I destroyed. It only took my picturesque drive home to clear my head and see things clearer. I feel better as I pull into my single car garage. Adam won’t ruin the tingle from my first interaction with Garrett. I won’t let him.

  I live in a small two-bedroom house on a leafy street only a few minutes from downtown. I can walk to my shop when the weather is nice. I step into my small kitchen and flip on the light before shrugging off my coat. I leave the scarf that Garrett tied around me. His rough worker’s hands were so delicate as he maneuvered around me that I can’t quite peel it off yet.

  I glance at the oversized clock hanging on the wall over my dining room table and notice it’s just after five. I’m not calling the sheriff on Adam. That’s taking this situation to a level that’s unnecessary. Adam’s upset and trying to win me back. He’s not threatening me. He did crush my heart though. That’s why he’s not getting me back. Ever.

  I walk to my entryway closet and hang up my coat. Then I decide to call Jordan and tell him about my bizarre afternoon while I cook dinner.

  “Hey,” he answers quickly.

  “You would not believe what happened to me today after we closed,” I dive right in.

  “What?”

  “I went over to the furniture store.”

  “Sharp’s place?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Huh.”

  “What?”

  “Nothin’. Keep goin’.”

  “So I went to Sharp Furniture to ask Clyde about some new shelving for the shop. But when I got in the store, Clyde wasn’t there so I called out and then started poking around.”

  I keep telling Jordan about the ups and downs of my time spent with Garrett as I put the finishing touches on Meyer lemon and herb salmon. My garlic and onion fingerling potatoes just came out of the oven. It smells like heaven in the house and with Jordan’s laughter filtering in my ear, I no longer feel the need to cling to a stranger as I unwrap from my scarf and throw it over the back of my dining room chair.

  “You beat his worktable with a hammer?” he chokes out through his laughter.

  “While yelling like a crazy person, Jordan. I’m so embarrassed. And when I offered to pay for it, all he said was no.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean all he would say was no. I tried to offer him a check and he said no. So I offered cash, thinking he didn’t take checks. He just kept saying no, so I threatened to drop off money after looking up how much a worktable costs. That did not go over well.”

  I flop onto my faux suede wine-colored couch and cross my legs to enjoy my dinner.

  “Dude sounds like a BAMF,” Jordan says with a little snort of appreciation.

  “What’s a BAMF?”

  “Badass motherfucker.”

  “Ah. That’s a new one for me,” I say around a mouthful of food.

  “I bet,” he scoffs.

  “Hey, I’m not that bad and you know it.”

  “You’re a few cats away from bein’ the full-on cliché, Em.”

  I can hear his thumbs flying over his remote control while he’s surely shooting some video game person through the head.

  I feel foolish even though I can laugh about it. I also feel like I want to see Garrett Sharp again and not act like an insane person. I want to get lost in his kaleidoscope eyes for days. I could do without the angry brown ones though. He seemed genuinely concerned about me—a welcome change from Adam—but who wouldn’t be about some strange woman having a temper tantrum in your workshop?

  “I’m not the crazy cat lady,” I assert.

  “You will be when you get some cats.”

  “I’m letting you go now. Enjoy your evening of murder.”

  “Enjoy reading Pride and Prejudice for the millionth time.”

  “I’m not…” I give up as he chuckles deeply. “Good night, Jordan.”


  “Night, Em,” he ends sweetly.

  I hang up and finish my dinner. While I do the dishes, I try to think of a way to pay Garrett back without making him mad. I don’t want to experience him angry. I do want to pay him back though. I owe him that much for dealing with my crazy. I think my best bet is to go over to his store and give money to Clyde while Garrett’s gone. I want to see Garrett, but not brown-eyed Garrett.

  Decision made, and exhaustion taking me over, I head to bed. I have to be up at three in the morning every day so I’m usually in bed by seven thirty. Maybe I am the old cat lady.

  Nightly routine done, I pull on one of Adam’s old T-shirts. I’ve been sleeping in them since the early part of our relationship and I haven’t quite let go of that. I’m not sure if I’ve let go of him. Somewhere deep down I knew he was cheating on me while we were together. It’s why I never had sex with him. That decision allowed him to put the cheating blame squarely on my shoulders the night I caught him in action.

  My work hours were also an issue for him. I wasn’t able to be at his side for evening functions and refused to hire someone to take on my baking duties to be at his beck and call. Maybe I should have. Relationships are about compromise and I didn’t budge when it came to ours. That doesn’t warrant being betrayed. But, it puts some of the demise of our relationship on my shoulders.

  I lay my head on my pillow and take a steadying breath. I need to let Adam go or give him a chance to fix what he broke. I can’t live like this anymore. And I never want to embarrass myself like I did today again. Feeling mortified and alone, I fall asleep.

  Tomorrow’s a new day that will be filled with mugs of love, even if my cup is empty.

  “A cappuccino please,” the young woman responds softly when I ask her what she would like.

  She’s not nervous like the one yesterday; she looks like she’s going to be sick. Her skin is turning a shade of green that doesn’t bode well for a first date.

  I slide over to the display case and grab a ginger cookie. I plate it up and head back to the woman who’s getting greener by the second.