Mugs of Love
Page 7
He’s reading the note. I didn’t crumple it or fold it, so the words are on display. Garrett slowly climbs to his feet and I know dark brown eyes are going to meet me when he catches my eyes.
“Okay, you can’t flip out. I can’t control if he leaves me notes. And I’m not gonna call him. I mean, I want to, but I won’t. I don’t wanna call him to talk. I should call him to tell him to back off. Adam won’t listen though, so I’m not gonna try.”
My Midwestern accent is always thick when I’m upset.
“So don’t get mad or growl at me or tell me off about it. And you have to let me pay you for the groceries. I trashed your table and then you buy me groceries? No. That makes no sense. I don’t have any cash because I always forget to go to the ATM. I’ll write you a check. Or I’ll bring you cash tomorrow. I still have time to run to the bank now before I have to cook my sad one-person dinner. I’m so sick of cooking for myself, you know? Eating alone is one thing, but dirtying a kitchen just for myself is annoying.
“Sometimes I get Jordan to come over when he’s not playin’ video games. I’ve gotten Missus Caruthers from across the street to come over twice! That’s a feat because she’s the best cook on the block, probably in the town, maybe in the county. But she came and she said I was a good cook! Can you believe that?”
“You walked home yesterday,” he snarls.
“Huh?”
“You. Walked. Home. Yesterday.”
“Yeah?” I question because I don’t see what this has to do with my second bout of the mouth poos.
“I told you not to.”
Oh. Right.
“I can’t control my mouth around you. That’s a new thing for me. I’m pretty good at dealing with people and sounding like a normal human being. I shouldn’t have said all that stuff to you and Clyde. I’m fine. Adam’s not a threat. I can walk home. It’s okay.”
“No,” he growls, leaning into my face. The brown of his ever-changing eyes getting darker.
I don’t respond.
“Get in your car. Go home. Do not go to the fuckin’ bank. You’re not payin’ me back. When you get home. Lock. Your. Doors. And. Windows. If Adam comes over or calls, don’t answer and call the sheriff. Did you get the restraining order yet?”
Garrett only talks when he has something to say. I know this to be true because he speaks so little and when he does, it means so much. I’m mesmerized by the rich velvety tone. I soaked it in when he talked two days ago and I’m doing it again. I smile at him and then tell him, “No.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Emily.”
I don’t respond. It’s that command again. Only my name coming off his kissable lips and yet it conveys so much. He’s disappointed in me. I don’t want that, but I don’t need to involve the sheriff. Adam will give up. Eventually.
My chin is starting to chatter from the cold. Garrett’s not close enough for me to draw on his warmth. I want to fold into his chest just for a moment to feel his heat, stealing a little for myself. Just as I think it, I’m there.
Garrett’s thick arms engulf my frame. I snuggle against him, breathing in wood and musk. Heaven. I keep my hands folded between us so they can get some much-needed heat. I want to run them around his waist and pull him tighter, but the frigid temperatures stop me.
We just stand there in the parking lot for a long time. It feels like hours, but it’s probably minutes. I swear I could fall asleep standing up against him. My eyelids are heavy and my breathing is slowing. I’m not cold anymore. I’m warm, cozy…safe.
“Isn’t this cute?” Sarah’s annoyed voice rings out.
I go rigid, but Garrett doesn’t move away from me. He doesn’t tense either. Maybe he didn’t hear her.
“Excuse me,” she says dramatically.
I tip my head back and find Garrett’s kaleidoscope eyes turning brown as he gazes down at me. I’m causing problems. Crap. I push out of his hold and he releases me immediately.
“Thank you for the groceries and for worrying about me. I’m okay on my own though, Garrett. I have been for a while now. Have a good evening,” I whisper.
I don’t acknowledge Sarah as I round my Mini and drop inside. I quickly start my car and drive away. I’m cold again. I was standing in the embrace of a man who has a girlfriend. That’s inappropriate. I’m embarrassed and ashamed. I feel bad about myself for the first time in my life. I always try to do the right thing. I’m not perfect. I make plenty of mistakes. But never one like this. And after what I went through with Adam, I feel awful. I don’t like Sarah. She may have slept with my boyfriend, but I won’t sink to that level. I’m not that person.
I slam my head against the steering wheel when I pull into the bank.
I have to go apologize to Sarah.
Dang it!
“Garrett,” Sarah purrs, curling around my front.
I don’t hold her like I was just holding Emily. I don’t want her to touch me so I’m sure as shit not returning the unwanted affection.
“I’m not really the jealous type. If you’d like to add some company, I’d be down with that. I’ll need someone a little more attractive than Emily though.” She spits Emily’s name like the word revolts her as much as the woman.
I’m done.
“Sarah,” I say with a deep seductive timbre.
Her eyes roll back in her head like I just tweaked her clit. She’s easy.
“When I take a woman, I only want one. I savor every single piece of her body with no distractions. No interruptions. For hours. Days.”
She’s actually moaning at my words and it’s making me sick to my stomach. Her long fake fingernails are digging into my ribs where she’s clutching me, on the precipice of a spontaneous orgasm.
“Go home and think about that. I’ll see you Saturday,” I finish quietly, pulling away from her.
She’s still in a sex haze as I fold into my ride. I gun the engine out of the parking lot and turn toward Emily’s house. She looked guilty when she walked away from me. I was too busy stealing her warmth to realize why she looked like that until she’d already driven away.
She thinks I’m with Sarah. No doubt Sarah made it seem that way. I’m not with that bitch. Never. I’m also considering calling in my marker with Devlin for him to kill himself. When Jenna was about to beat Sarah down, I had to do something to intervene. I shouted without a plan and Sarah came running. I used the only thing I could think of to distract her. I asked her out.
Stupid fucking decision.
I don’t think my reputation would stay intact if I had to call Devlin and tell him his woman got in a fistfight less than forty-eight hours after he rode out. So I made my move. I don’t give a shit about Jenna. It was Emily I was ultimately protecting. I could tell by Jenna’s posture that she was defending Emily. Which in turn pissed me the fuck off, so I removed the threat from Emily before I did something really fucking stupid.
I told Sarah I’d take her out after the Fall Festival on Saturday. I have no intention of following through, but I need to drag her along for three more days. It’s going to be a long seventy-two hours. When I make her aware I’m not taking her out, she’ll understand it’s never going to happen. She might get upset or hurt feelings—if she has any—but I plan on making it very clear, I’m done with her. I’m not doing it now because I have the feeling she’ll go after Emily. Try to use her like a whipping boy. Since Jenna’s Emily’s new sidekick, I need to keep Sarah distracted until Devlin gets back and can keep Jenna out of trouble. I’ll string Sarah along.
I thought I’d managed to keep away from Sarah today. She came in the store and Clyde intercepted her, making some excuse for me not being available. I could hear her whining before she left. I watched her walk across the street with the intent of attacking Emily etched in her face. I should’ve manned up and dealt with Sarah. Instead, I had to follow Emily to the grocery store like a stalker to check on her. And now I’m upping the stakes by going to her house. Shit.
I park at the crest of the hill, giving me a vantage point to watch her drive up. She won’t be able to see me. She won’t even look. Emily feels safe. I know she’s not. Men like Adam are a constant threat. If not taken seriously, bad shit happens. Why doesn’t Emily see that?
When thirty minutes pass and Emily hasn’t shown, I start to worry. I’m no longer pissed. I’m fucking livid. I jerk forward and start to turn over the engine just as headlights come in my direction.
It’s her.
Now I have to convince myself to calm down. She’s here. She’s safe. She better be alone.
What?
Okay, I had the thought. A very irrational, territorial thought that I have no right to have. I had it. Nothing to be done about it now. She’s not mine. She’ll never be mine. I’m watching her like a stalker. Maybe I’m worse than Adam. I’m certainly a greater threat to her than he is.
I’d never hurt her physically. But the life I led before I was locked up will follow me. I’ve been waiting for it to catch up to me here since the day I got out. So far, nothing other than Devlin has shown up. I know he won’t rat on me, but it doesn’t take a rat to find me here. I’m not hiding. I never hide.
Emily guides her car into her garage. I don’t see another person in the car with her and she wasn’t followed. That’s reassuring. I watch her unload her groceries and stamp down the desire to help her again. That’s new for me.
In my old life, I wasn’t good to women. I treated them poorly. I wasn’t abusive or violent, but I wasn’t kind or attentive either. They wanted to be on my arm for the clout and the lifestyle I could provide. I wanted a pussy to fuck without trying. The arrangement worked for a long time. Until it didn’t.
I was too distracted by one woman. One fucking cunt of a woman and she ruined my life. I know better now. I knew better then, but I wasn’t smart. I was cocky. A six by nine cell with a cellmate doing life for rape and murder removes cockiness and forces smarts. I’m a motherfucking genius now.
Prison doesn’t rehabilitate criminals. It creates them. I was a criminal before I went away. I’m just better now. I’m more aware. I’m faster. I’m more devious. I’m more calculating. I’m also completely numb. I was fairly unfeeling before. I had my moments, but they were rare. Emotions made for sloppy work so I learned to stamp them down. Now I’ve replaced them. I get mad, but I don’t see that as an emotion. It’s a state of being. Maybe that’s what I’ve replaced the other emotions with. I’m always some level of pissed. Unless Emily’s filling me with warmth so intoxicating that I forget what I’m mad at.
So I’m not numb. I’m mad…at everything.
Emily finishes her last trip into her house with groceries and closes her garage. The lights are creating a soft glow from her windows as she moves through her house. She’s safe in there. I don’t think Adam will break in, but you never know.
I start my car and pull away.
When I pass her house, Emily’s standing in front of her window on the phone, head tipped back, laughing. I feel warm as I drive home. If that’s the only thing I steal for the rest of my life, I’ll be satisfied that I’ve collected the rarest treasure the Earth has ever known.
Emily Garner.
I roll into my shop early again, craving the small moment I get alone with Emily. As soon as I’m in the shop, I look out my windows to see Emily racing up the river rock stairs that lead to her side of downtown. The way the shops on that side of the street are pitched is like they were made for me to watch Emily. I can see straight through to the back wall without having to focus too intently.
While I enjoy watching her as she enjoys a serene mug of coffee in the morning, watching her ass bound up the stairs is a close second. Until I realize why she’s racing back to her shop. I thud into my store and see it immediately. An envelope is shoved through the mail slot. Shit.
I yank it through the squeaky slat and rip the paper open. Six hundred dollars. Fuck me. I rub my hand over my face and breathe deeply as I pull out her handwritten note.
Garrett,
I’m sorry…again. I hope this covers the table and the groceries. Please let me know if it doesn’t and I’ll pay you the difference.
Sincerely,
Emily
Seriously? She has to be joking with this shit.
“What’re you scowlin’ at, boy?” Clyde’s voice calls out from behind me.
I turn around and toss the envelope in his direction. He snatches it out of the air with ease and peers inside.
“Shit,” he huffs, tugging his trusty John Deere hat off so he can rub his shiny head. “Let it alone, Garrett. She’s tryin’ to do the right thing. Emily’s a good girl.”
“Yeah,” I grunt.
“You want me to go buy a coffee and leave her a six-hundred-dollar tip?”
I snort, thinking that’s not a bad idea. But if I know Emily, she’ll give the tip to Jordan just to spite me. This isn’t a game I’m willing to play. I told her not to piss me off. I’m furious right now.
“Calm down,” Clyde orders, dropping the money on the counter. “Shit.”
I look over my shoulder to see what he’s shitting at.
Sarah.
Shit.
Jordan pulls up in front of the shop and parks his red 1970 Corvette LT-1 on the street, probably to unload something. That’s the only reason he stops there. He jumps out of his ride and shouts at Sarah. Clyde and I move to the door and crack it open to hear what’s being said, hiding like little kids.
“Do it again and I’ll let this whole fuckin’ town know about you and your shit. Leave her alone,” Jordan growls.
“Give it a rest, Jordan. I’m not afraid of you. What is it you think you’ve got on me anyway?”
The look Jordan pins her with says everything I need to know. Her too, based on her reaction.
“You don’t know shit,” she spits, wrapping her arms around her chest protectively.
“I know every-fuckin’-thing. Leave Emily alone, you can keep that shit to yourself. You so much as speak to her again and I’m lettin’ it all out. I’m sick of your bullshit. You think your shit doesn’t stink. Let me tell you somethin’, you smell like a goddamn sewer. Be happy Sharp hasn’t been in town long enough to know better than to get with you. Keep up what you’re doin’ and I’ll put him at the top of my list to air your dirty laundry to.”
Jordan pushes off his car and closes the gap between them. I can’t hear what he says, but whatever it is has Sarah sprinting back toward her shop. Jordan watches her until she’s gone, slides back in his car and takes off toward the parking lot. He stopped just to chew her out. Good man.
“Always liked that boy,” Clyde says as we move back into the store.
“You know about his old man?” I ask, wondering how out of the loop I’ve been.
“You didn’t?”
I shake my head.
“Bein’ locked up takes its toll. Devlin fill you in?”
I nod. I had to tell Clyde about Devlin and Jenna when Sarah came back here yesterday. He understood why I took the marker and about punched me when I asked Sarah out. I wanted to punch me too.
“He’ll keep Emily safe. Trust that,” he says, nodding toward her shop.
Jordan just made his way in and has Emily in his arms. Her face is beaming and he’s laughing. They love each other. It’s evident in the way they are together. The looks they offer each other. The way they have the other’s back. I steal a bit of that warmth too as I watch them.
When Emily makes a move to pull away from him, Jordan scoops her up and tosses her over his shoulder. I can imagine her squealing as he carries her into the kitchen. A little more warmth for me.
My gaze settles on the envelope and the warmth dissipates. I can’t
believe she did this. I can’t go over there and get in her face with Jordan there. He’ll defend her and I don’t want problems with him. I don’t want problems with her either.
I snatch the offensive wad of cash out of the envelope, shoving it in my back pocket. I’ll find a way to get it back to her without confronting her. I have to remember she’s not mine. I’ll have to deal with her on the sly. I’m good at that.
I didn’t get my alone time to watch Emily this morning so my day drags a bit. I finish two projects and eat a quick lunch with Clyde before starting on a table and chairs. Jenna got to Emily’s just after nine, left at eleven and came back just before one. Emily and her seem unlikely friends from what I can see.
That’s not true. Emily’s the kind of woman who’s friends with everyone from the moment she meets them. You can see it on customer’s faces when she greets them. When she asks the typically inane questions like “How are you?” or “How’s your day been?” it’s not just Midwestern politeness. Emily actually wants to know the answers to those questions.
Sometimes the line will be long at her counter because she’s talking to the customers. No one complains. No one gets tense and tries to move things along. If you go to Emily’s Coffee & Cakes, it’s as much about experiencing her, as it is her shop.
My cell rings, bringing my focus away from the soft glow of Emily’s face as she watches a young couple interlacing their fingers for the first time at the date table. It’s as though she feels that same tingle along with them. She takes a deep breath and beams a smile at Jenna before moving into her kitchen.
“Devlin,” I accuse curtly.
He knows I don’t talk on the phone. He should be texting me.
“How’d you know it was me?” he asks with a little humor in his gravelly voice.
I don’t respond, waiting for him to get to the point.
“Right, my woman says she about beat some bitch’s ass yesterday. You see that shit?”