by Erin Snihur
“What do you mean you can’t have them sent back?” Teresa asked, exasperated as the snooty man at the front desk once again explained that the flowers were a gift and made anonymously.
Rolling her eyes as the clerk made his speech once again, Teresa took the vase and stomped off, ignoring the clerk’s words as he called after her. If the flowers beauty weren’t too much to bear, she would have thrown them away, but she couldn’t. They were too beautiful to be tossed aside like garbage.
Before she knew it, Teresa was outside of the front lobby and found herself nearing the staff quarters. Turning a corner, a young man pushing a janitorial cart stopped before her, startled. His gaze went from the flowers to Teresa a few times before he apologized profusely and tried to move the cart off the path and out of Teresa’s way.
“No, no. Please don’t,” Teresa protested in Arabic and smiled slightly at the tall, gangly boy who couldn’t be old enough to grow a beard, much less push such a heavy cart.
“Your flowers are very pretty, miss,” the boy commented in broken English as his eyes stared longingly at the flowers.
“Oh, thank you, though they aren’t mine,” Teresa murmured, staring at the flowers before turning her gaze on the boy, “In fact, they’re for you.”
Before he could stop her, Teresa set the flowers sans the card which she’d left in the room on top of his cart.
“But, miss, no, they are too beautiful,” the boy protested, but Teresa just waved him off.
“Nonsense. You are old enough to have a girlfriend, right?” Teresa asked smiling at the boy whose tanned skin blushed bright red at her question.
“Well, yes,” the boy answered shyly.
“Then give them to her. She will appreciate them much more than I will,” Teresa said finally and began to scan the area, “The front desk mentioned they had horse stables on this resort. Where are they exactly?”
Not wanting to stick around long enough for the boy to ask anymore questions, Teresa followed his pointed instructions and marched off. When she turned to look over her shoulder, Teresa laughed softly as the boy continued on his way, whistling a merry tune with the flowers tucked neatly on top of his cart.
At least someone who actually wants them will love them, Teresa thought, but a voice in her deepest part of her mind hissed back, You wanted them, don’t even deny it.
4
The annoying older clerk at the front desk of the resort was going to give Amoz a headache with all his blathering. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Amoz let out a sigh before raising his other hand to signal the man to stop talking.
“So, what you’re saying is she had the flowers and when she tried to give them back to you, you told her no and she just stormed off with them?” Amoz asked, incredulous. Women loved flowers. Why didn’t this one like the flowers?
Maybe because they were from you and you made a complete idiot of yourself the night before?
Ignoring his inner demons, Amoz shook his head and dropped his hands onto the granite countertop. “Which way did she go?”
The clerk’s mouth opened and closed a few times as he confusedly looked around the busy lobby before wincing. Staring up at Amoz with frustration written across his face, the older man sputtered out a response, “I don’t know, your Majesty. I was watching her like you asked when a few rambunctious guests made a mess at the front of the lobby. Our janitor only just arrived to clean it up and I was quite busy sorting out the mess.”
Rolling his eyes, Amoz scanned the lobby, only briefly seeing the janitor. It was something out of the corner of his eye that had his gaze traveling back to the janitor, or rather the young boy’s cart. Atop the cart was a very familiar, beautiful looking glass vase filled to the brim with white flowers with black centers. The exact flower he had delivered to Teresa this morning.
Clever minx.
Ignoring the incompetent clerk, Amoz strode over to the boy as he mopped up the messy area. Crossing his arms over his chest as he stopped, Amoz cleared his throat interrupting the boy’s merry whistling.
When the boy met his gaze in confusion, the mop fell from his hand and his whole gangly body began to shake as the boy whispered, “Your Majesty…”
Holding up his hand to stop the boy’s groveling, Amoz pointed toward the flowers, “Where did you get those?”
The front desk clerk, Henry, Amoz thought his name was, piped up, his hiss filling the room, causing a few guests to look their way. “He obviously stole them, your Grace. Mason here is quite young and will be dealt with accordingly.”
The boy’s lips trembled as his gaze went from Amoz to the flowers and back again as he mumbled, his voice rising with every word, “An American lady gave them to me to give to my girlfriend. I swear, your Grace, I didn’t steal them!”
Henry scoffed and rolled his eyes, moving to block Mason from speaking any further. “Pure nonsense. Why would a woman give away such beautiful flowers?”
“She did, sir, I swear it! She was walking toward the staff quarters and gave them to me. Then she asked for directions,” Mason protested, his eyes wildly moving from Henry to Amoz.
“Where did you send her?” Amoz asked, interrupting Henry’s further sounds of protest.
“The stables, your Grace,” Mason mumbled and gave a short bow before kneeling down to pick up his mop.
Nodding at Mason, Amoz turned to Henry and levelled the older, snooty man with a harsh glare. “Ensure Mason is given adequate transportation home at the end of his shift. We wouldn’t want the flowers ruined, now would we, Henry?”
Henry, mouth agape like a fish, sputtered to answer; but before he could, Amoz nodded to him and strode off, his intent for the stables and one silly, stubborn American girl.
The stables of the Royal Resort were immaculate. As a child, Teresa had always been fascinated by horses. Her father had worked as a head foreman on a prestigious horse ranch before his untimely death. As a child, Teresa enjoyed the days she would spend amongst the horses, helping her father with his duties. Even the most grotesque duties such as mucking out the stalls she enjoyed, as long as she was close to the horses and her father.
As Teresa walked the stalls, scanning each and every horse and their name plaque, the smell of hay and animal relaxed her in ways that lying on the beach or by the pool hadn’t. Stopping at one horse whose name was Zeus, Teresa smiled at the aptly named horse. He appeared as your typical Arabian horse with a dark coat and lighter covered horse ankles.
Poking his large head over the stall door, Zeus nickered at her and Teresa held up her palm flat so that he might sniff her. While she’d seen a few foremen rushing about the outside of the stables, the inside was quiet save for the munching of hay and occasional whinny from an occupied stall.
When Zeus’ nose bumped against her hand, Teresa laughed softly and laid her palm flat over his nose, rubbing up and down to his forehead for a few minutes. As her hand rose up, she scratched the delightful horse behind the ears. Teresa laughed when Zeus shook out his braided mane and stared down at her with the most exquisite dark eyes.
“Perhaps I should have given you a horse instead of the flowers,” a deep rumbling voice filled with humor spoke up behind Teresa.
Whirling around in fright, Teresa laid her hand on her chest to calm her beating heart. Standing behind her, leaning casually against the opposite stall to Zeus was that infernal man with the pale brown eyes. Clenching her fists at the sight of him, Teresa glared with all her might. He would not intimidate her this time.
“Are you stalking me?” Teresa asked, outraged.
The man shrugged and grinned amusedly as he nodded toward Zeus. “I could say you have been the one stalking me, ya helo. Zeus, after all, is my horse.”
Staring from the infuriating man and back at Zeus, who stretched his big long neck toward Teresa as if to seek more attention, Teresa seethed at the thought of this magnificent creature belonging to the sexist pig.
Turning back to the man, Teresa stuck her head up high. �
��I had no idea.”
The man nodded and for a moment they both stared at each other as if gaging one another’s patience. Finally, the man’s grin softened and he stepped forward with his hand outstretched.
“We got off on the wrong foot last night. My name is Amoz,” the man murmured and when he smiled a small scar that appeared hidden in the dimple of his cheek stretched into the light.
Staring at his outstretched hand, Teresa pursed her lips. “I have no interest in getting on the right foot with you, Amoz.”
Turning her back on that note, Teresa walked back down the stable lane, her hand lightly tracing the stale doors and peeking in on the horses who were quietly munching on their hay.
The infuriating man, Amoz, approached as she walked outside of the stables to the open paddock where a mare and her young colt were turned out. Ignoring him, Teresa approached the fence quietly and watched as the young colt pranced instinctively around the paddock’s perimeter. Sometimes his mother joined him and other times he pranced alone. At one point, Teresa was so close to being able to coo and entice the young colt closer, but he grew startled when Amoz approached.
Sighing in frustration, Teresa ignored the man as he set his bare arms on the fence post. Out of the corner of her eye, she observed the man who wished to know her.
Instead of a simple business shirt and dark slacks, he was dressed in a typical tank top with a beach styled print on the front and his strong, bare harms tensed in anticipation. Though, of what she wasn’t sure. His dark hair taunted her. She so wished to touch the soft locks and run her fingers through them. His eyes were not focused on her and instead were focused on the mare and her startled colt who hid behind her flank, while she munched away on green grass.
With calm ease, Amoz lifted his hands toward his mouth. With two fingers in his mouth, he inhaled and exhaled a harsh sounding whistle. The mare’s head straightened and her ears cocked in their direction. When another sharp whistle left Amoz’ mouth, the mare nickered back and began trotting in their direction, her colt in reluctant tow.
Teresa watched in amazement as the mare’s head leaned over the fence and pushed her nose against Amoz’ bare shoulder. The colt, curious as ever, marched over to inspect Amoz as the mysterious man gave his mother some obviously enjoyable attention.
Completely enraptured by the sight of Amoz as he caressed the mare’s face and crooned to her in mumbled Arabic, Teresa didn’t even realize until it was too late when the colt began nibbling at her fingers. Letting out a squeak of surprise, Teresa pulled her hand back, startling the colt, but only slightly when the colt’s ears pulled back and he let out his own nicker of protest.
Amoz laughed and grinned at her from the side of the fence, still caressing the mare with obvious affection. “He is a feisty one, ya helo. Like his father.”
Teresa stared at the dark-skinned colt and, in her mind, Amoz’ words clicked into place in her brain.
“Zeus is his father, isn’t he?” Teresa asked, though she knew the answer.
Nodding, Amoz patted the mare once more. “This is his mate, Shiny.”
Teresa’s giggle burst forth at the funny name. “Shiny?”
Laughing softly, Amoz murmured sheepishly, “My friend’s cousin, Leelah, named her when Leelah was a toddler. After Shiny’s coat.”
Teresa stared at the mare, Shiny, in a new light. The mare’s bright coat was the exact opposite of Zeus and the colt’s dark coats. Even her dark eyes appeared brighter.
“It suits her,” Teresa murmured when Shiny shook out her mane and pushed her nose into Teresa’s palm.
Scratching the mares soft, downy nose, Teresa smiled when the horse let out a harsh breath. At his mother’s chuff, the colt nickered and pushed through the lower rail of the fence to get Teresa’s attention. Kneeling down, Teresa wove her hand through the fence and scratched behind the feisty colt’s ears.
Giggling when the colt attempted to gum her arm, Teresa scolded the colt, “Naughty boy.”
“Like I said, he takes after his father,” Amoz murmured and Teresa nearly jumped at the realization that he was still here, watching her every move.
“His owner too, I think,” Teresa muttered under her breath and inwardly cursed when Amoz laughed, obviously hearing her blatant statement.
“Very true,” was all Amoz said before going back to patting Shiny and crooning to her in Arabic.
Watching him interact with the horse for a few minutes, Teresa felt herself smiling softly before turning back to the colt who stared at her with his curious black eyes.
“So, what is his name?” Teresa finally asked after a few moments of silence.
Amoz sighed, as if the question was a loaded one. “He doesn’t have a name yet. He was only born a week ago and I’ve yet to decide what to name him.”
“So, you decide? Not Leelah?” Teresa asked, intrigued.
Pushing away from the fence, Amoz stepped close to her and held out his hand wanting to help her stand from the ground. Letting him take her hand, Teresa stood to full height and watched as the mare and colt grew bored without attention and trotted off to a grassy patch of the paddock area.
“Leelah hasn’t visited in a while and I’d hoped to give him a strong name, like his father,” Amoz said as he watched the mare and colt prance around the paddock.
“Hercules,” Teresa murmured back as she watched the colt buck and prance ahead of his mother.
Both of them remained silent and it wasn’t until a golf cart approached with a few stable hands that Teresa realized she was still holding Amoz’ hand. Pulling it quickly from his, Teresa blushed brightly and turned away from the paddock, nodding to the stable hands who called out greetings to them.
Both stable hands seemed to stare with wide eyes as Amoz turned away from the paddock and joined Teresa at her side. Peeking up at him herself, Teresa confusedly looked Amoz over. He didn’t appear as scary to her as he must appear to these men. Why they were so stunned to see him, she would never know.
Ignoring the stable hands as they scurried into the stables with their tools and supplies, Teresa clasped her hands in front of her, seeming to realize the sun was getting high in the sky.
“Well, I’ve got to go. Good day,” Teresa murmured and tried to leave Amoz’ presence, but the man’s hand shot out and grasped her gently by the elbow.
“What if I don’t want you to leave, ya helo?” Amoz asked as Teresa stared, eyes wide, into the man's pale, brown orbs.
Clenching her fists, Teresa tensed, ready for a fight. She had already dealt with Gerry’s abuse. She wouldn’t be another man’s punching bag.
“Try keeping me here. I know how to defend myself and I’ve taken classes. I wouldn’t want to ruin your handsome face,” Teresa threatened back.
Amoz paused for a moment, his face serene before morphing into a cat-caught-the-canary grin.
Teresa felt her insides quivering as he spoke, “You think I’m handsome?”
5
“You think I’m handsome?” Amoz asked, his words causing Teresa to blush so prettily against her pale face. When Teresa’s top teeth bit down on her bottom lip, Amoz had to bite back his own groan of arousal at the sight.
“That’s not…I mean, that isn’t what I…meant…,” Teresa stammered out a response.
Stepping closer, his hand still gently grasping her elbow, Amoz muttered, “Then what did you mean, ya helo?”
“I just want to go back to my room,” Teresa finally murmured, her eyes wildly moving from him to the area around them, as if she wished to try and escape.
She was frightened, obviously, when Amoz shifted and her face morphed into a harsh wince as if she was bracing for his hit. Inside, his arousal diminished and was replaced with anger. She reacted as though she expected him to hit her. He was not the type of man to abuse anyone, especially a woman. That meant she’d experienced something much more serious in her past.
Releasing her elbow, Amoz took a step back and motioned to the path that woul
d lead back to the resort rooms, “Let me escort you back, Teresa.”
She hesitated, staring up at him as if he was somehow going to jump her and he was merely tricking her into ease.
Finally, she nodded and merely said, “Just to the lobby.”
Agreeing with a nod, Amoz motioned to the path and Teresa walked ahead first down the cobbled path, arms crossed and head held high. Matching her steps at her side, Amoz scanned the area as they walked. If his woman was this scared just from a simple touch, he couldn’t imagine what she’d actually experienced.
Turning his gaze away from the tropical resort with blooming flowers and green foliage, Amoz cleared his throat, gaining Teresa’s attention, “How long were you with the man who abused you?”
Silence.
They had just left the horse stable when Amoz blurted out the question she’d been dreading since the incident outside the stables. She knew she hadn’t handled her fear well. It had been a knee-jerk reaction. Even though she’d been through intense therapy over the last year, Teresa had never been good at explaining her past situation on the few blind dates and to the few friends she had made over the last year.
Why did he have to ask that question? How did he know the reason for her immediate flinching reaction?
“It’s okay, Teresa. I get it, you’re scared because of the vulnerable position some bastard put you in. You have to understand and believe me when I say that if we were to come across that man today, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from hurting him for hurting you. I never want to see that look on your face again,” Amoz said, his voice clearly strained, as though he was trying to reign himself in.
Staring up at him in shock, Teresa only barely managed to mumble, “Violence never solves anything.”
He stared down at Teresa for a moment before his serious stony face morphed into a laughing grin. “No, you’re right, it doesn’t. Though, if it would make you feel safer to know the bastard couldn’t hurt you again, I would suffer willingly through any consequences.”
