by ML Nystrom
“Just some old rumors. No one pays any mind to them anymore. Long time ago. Just be careful is all.”
As if a light switch flipped, Jerry changed from somber concern to car salesman. A big smile burst across his face, and his voice lightened up. “Not to worry, Owen. Not at all. I’ll tell Jodie to get Bertie’s schedule, and we’ll get you two together. She’ll be so happy. Yessiree, I think you’ll like her. I do indeed.”
Jerry left the room whistling an old country tune, leaving Owen to pull out his tools to finish the drawer rails. He measured the spot he thought would work for the second brace and discovered he was a half-inch off. This would have bound up the drawer at the half-way mark and screwed up the rest of them. Irritation flooded Owen’s chest, and he wanted to throw down the tools and… and…
And do what?
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Confusion, hurt, frustration, and anger clouded his mind. Yes, anger. He acknowledged that he was angry at Melanie but angrier at himself for allowing it. He just gave the go ahead for Jerry to set him up on a blind date with another woman. That was on him and had nothing to do with Melanie’s feelings toward him or lack thereof.
This was love? Falling in and out for convenience or on a whim? Was it that easy?
Air whistled in his nose as he took a huge breath and held it. He raised his face to the ceiling and blew out slowly, letting his irritation go with it. Working with tools when angry spelled disaster. Most of his jobsite injuries had happened when his focus drifted to anything other than the work in front of him. He stared at the white ceiling and sifted through his thoughts. Melanie was a player, no doubt, and had been for a long time. She probably didn’t even realize her games with his feelings. Why? He’d never told her. Never admitted to her how much he cared about her. Never let her know the power she held over him. She might have an inkling of his love but had never acknowledged its existence. Based on what he knew about her, what he saw at her parents’ party, what Jerry said to him, she would run far, far away if she knew the depth of his feelings.
Best if I keep it to myself and deal with it. I’d rather be her friend than nothing at all, even if it hurts like hell.
He noticed two cracks had formed in the smooth sheetrock above his head. He took one more big breath and turned to see if he had any spackling compound in his toolbox.
Chapter Seventeen
Cassie laughed and pointed to the shapely mannequin in the window. “I bet you would look so good in this dress. You should try it on and get it. Vincent Ziglar will stare at you all night at the game and not score one touchdown.”
Matilda pulled me into the store. “Oh my God, yes! You should totally try it on.”
I laughed with my two best friends in all the world. Both of them knew I had a crush on the team quarterback. So what if he was a nineteen-year-old high school kid and dumb as a box of rocks? He was a senior to my sophomore, hot and popular, and that was all that mattered. Right?
The mall lights shone brightly as I pulled a size six from the rack. Damn, it was shorter than I’d thought. No big deal. I’ll just have to be careful about bending over. Make that when to bend over. If I flashed a little more skin at Vincent, maybe he’d finally notice me. My friends giggled and pushed me to the dressing rooms in the back. I caught the store clerk watching us with a frown. Old biddy probably thinks I’m going to shoplift or something. Just wait till I pull out the credit card Daddy gave me. That’ll wipe the smug look off her face.
The dress fit perfectly, showing off my breasts and legs. At sixteen, I had a woman’s body. Lush, large perky and full double-ds, a high tight ass, and long legs that made me taller than most of my class. The silky slick fabric clung to my hips and flared into pleats that floated around me as I turned circles in front of the dressing room mirror.
“How much is it?” Cassie slipped a similar blue dress over her head, but it got caught on her wide shoulders and she ended up tearing it. “Fuck. I don’t have enough money to pay for this. My mom’s gonna kill me. Think the cashier lady will notice if I hang it back up myself instead of putting it on the reject rod?”
I shrugged. “I’ll pay for it. Daddy doesn’t care how much I spend.”
“Won’t he notice you don’t have a navy blue dress with your red one?”
“Nope. He just pays the bill. I bought some stuff from Spencer’s Gifts and he didn’t blink an eye.” My flippant answer fooled her. My parents seldom kept track of me, and my brother outright abhorred me. I spent a lot of time by myself with little to no supervision. Most of my dinners were served in the kitchen with Bedelia. Been that way for years.
Matilda’s mouth formed a perfect O. Spencer’s was the ultimate in the tantalizing adult world. The mall store had regular stuff like clothes, band posters, and stuff, but it also had lots of novelties too. Drinking games, gross gag gifts, and adult-themed party supplies were on the back shelves. Even better was the room cordoned off by a black curtain for people eighteen and over. One Saturday afternoon earlier that summer when I was alone at the mall and wasting time, I went behind that curtain. No one stopped me, and I found a treasure trove of the forbidden. Sex games, lubes, vibrators, anal plugs, dildos of every size, and other piles of sex paraphernalia. I spent a lot of time reading labels and looking at pictures until my middle quivered and burned.
“Oh my God! What did you get?”
I gave her my most I’m-so-worldly smile. “Anything I wanted.”
The truth? I had no idea what half of that stuff was used for, and some of it was pretty scary. I still had to buy something, mostly to see if I could get away with it. I eenie-meenie-minee-moed on a big purple rabbit vibrator. It was currently sitting in the back of my closet in the hidden space behind my shoe rack. Still in the box. If the description showed up on the credit card statement, my dad never said a word.
“Damn, Melanie. You are so lucky to have parents like that. I can’t go anywhere or do anything without my mom saying if it’s okay. She always has to know what’s happening in my life and what I’m doing every minute of the day. She’s such a control freak!” Cassie slipped the torn dress back on the hanger. “My dad’s favorite saying is ‘my house, my rules.’ He still sets a curfew for me, even though I turned eighteen last month. I can’t wait for college next year. I’m gonna move out and not come back.”
“Me too!” Matilda joined in as she fingered the silk blouse. “Being a sophomore sucks. Me and Mel have to wait two more years. That’s so long!”
I made some sympathetic noises because I was supposed to. If only my friends knew how much I envied them. Controlling? Rules? Their parents gave a damn. Cassie’s older brother had already graduated college and treated his sister like gold. Magnus would prefer I didn’t exist.
I walked out of the dressing room area to get a better look at myself in the big three-way mirror. My two friends followed me. I twisted and turned, admiring the way my ass looked. “We’ll keep shopping, but I’m getting this dress no matter what. Let’s go get coffees and then go to that jewelry kiosk. I want some of those shiny rhinestone chandelier earrings to go with this.”
My friends always agreed with what I wanted and planned. After all, I ruled the mall as its queen. My own little kingdom. Queendom?
“Oh my God, there’s Vincent!” Matilda gasped and pointed outside the store. “Cory and David are with him. They are so hot!”
I bit my lip. Sometimes Matilda’s over-the-top dramatics annoyed me, but she’d assessed the three boys accurately. They were the cutest and most popular in our school. Impulse hit me. “Watch this.” I told my friends. I snapped off the price tag from the dress I wore and pulled a pair of high spiky heels from the display. They were too small, but I jammed them on my feet, anyway. As I tottered past the register desk, I slapped down the tags for the dresses and shoes and my credit card. “Here. Put everything on the card, and I’ll be right back.”
Matilda and Cassie watched as I squared my shoulders and sauntered up to the trio. “Hey, Vincent.” I p
reened as his eyes locked onto my cleavage display. “Hey, Cory and David. Y’all did a great job at the game last night.”
“Uh… thanks. You’re Melanie Miser, right?”
I smiled at David, thrilled that he knew my name. “That’s right. We have Algebra Two together for second period.”
“Yeah, you sit in the front row and ace every test.”
I let out a giggle. “Yeah, math is kinda my thing.”
“Whatcha doin’ today?” Vincent’s growly voice sent a twist through my stomach. His gaze still sat on my chest, and that knowledge did a number on me. I might be a virgin, but I wasn’t stupid.
“Shopping for the homecoming dance. You guys going?”
“Probably, but it’s only a lame high school thing. The after-party at Colin’s house is the real place to be.”
I kept my disappointment contained. I hadn’t even known about the after-party, let alone been invited.
“You got a date?” Vincent finally moved his attention from my breasts to my face. My stomach cartwheeled into my groin.
“You mean for the dance or the party?”
“Both.”
“Not yet.”
“You do now. I’ll meet you at the gym after the game next Friday.”
My stomach performed a triple back handspring. “Sure thing.”
I turned before my knees gave way or I said something dumb. Did I just land the date of the year? Holy shit, I did! Homecoming with Vincent Ziglar!
“Hey, Melanie?”
I turned my head and looked over my shoulder. The man of my dreams was staring at my ass.
“I like the dress.”
Shit, how did I respond? Should I say thank you? God, that’s so lame. Should I wiggle my hips at him? No, too much. I decided to not say a word for fear of messing it up. I winked at him and went back in the store to collect my card, my openmouthed friends, and buy a different pair of shoes in the right size.
My eyes popped open as the last vestiges of the dream left me. Fuck, I’d been having weird dreams in full Technicolor all my life, but this one was more memory than dream. Homecoming for the high school was only a few days away, and of course my crazy hormone-laden brain had to go back to one of my own homecomings. That had to be it.
Fuck, I had too much going today. I didn’t need to take the time to analyze a dream from an old memory. I was to meet Owen and my real estate agent after work to look at a house that fit my criteria and my budget. I liked the location and the pictures I’d seen online. Yep, I was getting excited at the potential move. New place. New life. New possibilities. What could go wrong?
I left the school after a long, ass-dragging day and drove to a development not too far from Bevvie’s place. The neighborhood was newer than hers, but still in the middle-income bracket. Some houses sat on postage-stamp-sized lots, but the one I had picked was in a cul-de-sac and sat back from the road a good bit. The lot resembled a giant pie wedge with the house in the middle of it, leaving a long front yard and a wide backyard. A bunch of trees stood in front, which added a layer of privacy and shade to the house. The structure itself wasn’t particularly attractive or ugly, and the layout of the house was pretty standard. The backyard sold it to me.
Whoever owned this house before loved the backyard and spent a lot of time there. The covered back deck overlooked a wooded area that hid any other houses from sight. A burbling creek ran behind a chain-link fence, and I spotted a gate that opened to the water. Visions of me taking a child’s hand and going through that gate to look for tadpoles and frogs in the mud crowded my thoughts. A concrete slab sat below with a built-in outdoor fire pit. I could see us roasting marshmallows and getting sticky fingers. Not just me and my kid. Bevvie and her family too. Since the yard was fenced in, Muttface could come, or perhaps I would get a dog. A young rescue that could grow up with my kid.
I turned back into the plain house with blank walls the color of cream. No colors had ever been painted here, nor had any pictures adorned the walls, as evidenced by the lack of nail holes. The whole place appeared as a clean slate, waiting only for the touch of a family to make it a home. My home. Mine and my child’s.
Owen had on a pair of reading glasses and was perusing a sheaf of papers about the house’s statistics. I found it endearing that a big man such as he needed them. The young agent hovered close by, ready to answer any questions. She seemed slightly enamored of Owen by the way she watched him as he read. An unfamiliar heat flared in my chest, and I had a sudden need to make a point that he was here with me. Jealousy, perhaps? I walked over to stand next to him and threaded my arm through his. I expected him to wrap that arm around me. He didn’t, and my heart crumbled a little. At least he didn’t push me away. I couldn’t have handled that.
“Water heater’s old.” His statement sounded a little terse. I heard warning bells and ignored them.
“New roof. Four years ago.”
The short woman perked up. “Yes, the roof is new and is metal. I’m not sure exactly which type, but according to the company, it’s seeded to last for about sixty to eighty years. It’s the last roof this house will ever need.” Her voice rang with the rehearsed sales pitch.
“Unless leaks.”
Damn, Owen. Just dump a bucket of cold water on everyone, will ya? “I’m sure there’s a warranty, right?”
“Yes, there is a warranty. I’m not sure of the details, but I can find out for you.”
“Kitchen.”
What the fuck? I expected Owen to speak in his truncated speech pattern since he didn’t know the agent, but his clipped tone sounded rude. It grated on my nerves and made the agent visibly nervous. She gestured to the main part of the house. “Through here.”
The open floor plan featured a living room, kitchen, and dining areas. The vaulted ceiling rose above an overlooking loft/den. Large windows and a skylight let in the evening natural sun and bathed the cavernous room in gold light. I loved it!
“Big windows. Lose heat in winter.”
Another killjoy moment from Owen. I ignored him. “Does the gas fireplace work?”
The agent grasped that straw with a huge grin. “Yes, it does, and it has a blower too.”
Owen grunted and pulled away from me to examine the kitchen. The plain black Formica against a white background looked unappealing, but with some nice tiles and backsplashes, this would be an ideal place to cook. That is, if I ever learned how.
“Bad outlets. Not code.”
Huh? “What are you talking about?”
“Need breakers.”
The agent became flustered. “Yes… well… the inspector mentioned that, and the owner is planning to update.”
Another grunt from Owen. He ticked me off more and more as we moved through the house. He managed to find something wrong in every room. A ceiling fan wobbled, closet space was laid out strange, the way the vertical blinds had been installed, cracks in the bathtub caulking, wallpaper in the bathroom put on crooked… the faults kept coming and coming. Everywhere I looked, I saw the potential of what this place had for me and my kid. Owen’s nitpicking got under my skin so much, I finally had it.
“What the fuck, Owen?” My voice rose in exasperation. “Everything you’ve cited so far is something that can be fixed or updated. What the hell is your problem?”
“Who?”
“Who? What do you mean, who? You, that’s who. You seem to have a problem with everything in this house.”
He shook his head. “Who’s gonna fix it? Me?”
I was taken aback. The thought never occurred to me that he wouldn’t be helping me with this part of house maintenance. “Well, yes. I assumed you would.”
He got quiet. Even for a man of few words, this quiet unsettled me. A sense of dread hit my belly that I’d made a big mistake somewhere along the way with Owen. I tried to tough it out and cover it up. I faked a big smile and tried to take his arm again. “Ahh, come on, O-man. I’m sorry I expected you and Connor to help me get this place whippe
d into shape. I just figured that was already understood that I’d be hiring you guys to do any work. I won’t even ask for the friends and family discount.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Owen stared at me, unblinking and unreadable. Then he handed the papers back to the fidgeting agent and walked out. I stood there in the awkward silence, the only sound Owen’s heavy work boots clomping to the front door.
I smiled brightly at the agent. “I guess someone is in a mood, eh? I’ll be right back.”
Owen opened the door to his truck when I caught up with him. I was sure my anger showed as I grabbed his thick forearm to get his attention. “Again, O-man. What. The. Fuck?”
He whirled around and slammed the door closed. I took a step back. At first, I thought he was angry at me. His rudeness to the agent and general attitude of the last hour pointed in that direction, but his face showed something else.
“Wh-wh-at am I t-t-t-o you?”
His stutter amplified his question. He had to be seriously disturbed for his speech problem to come out this much.
“What do you mean?”
“Wh-what am-m-m I to you?”
“I don’t understand.”
He kept silent as we stared eye to eye. No anger reflected from those green orbs of his. Instead, he looked… he looked… well… he looked hurt. I sighed and let go of my own ire. “Owen, I don’t know what you want me to say. You’re my best friend’s brother-in-law and the best uncle ever. The kids love you like crazy and I can see why.”
He broke the stare and raised his eyes to fix his gaze at something over my head. Several long slow breaths went in and out of him. I saw his nostrils flare with each inhalation.
I kept speaking. “You’re one of my closest friends, and I’ve come to depend on you a lot. I’m sorry if I haven’t thanked you enough for all you do for me. You need to know how much I appreciate you for everything. I really do.”
