Cornered (Braving Love Trilogy #1)

by Ariana Gael

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Frank walked in the front door and hung his coat in the small closet. At the sound of the door, Annie jumped up from the sofa and ran to meet him, searching his face for any sign of what had happened with Michelle.

  “You’re back awfully early,” she hinted, taking his scarf and hanging it with his coat.

  “I couldn’t do it. I just went and sat in my car for a while,” Frank muttered.

  “Why would you do that?”

  “I don’t know…I just had to think about this some more. But the last thing Michelle needs is for me to come barging in there, angry about something that happened months ago. I’d only upset her some more.”

  Annie leaned her head against her husband’s chest and wrapped her arms around as much of his waist as she could reach. No matter what, he was a great husband and an even better father, which she reminded him of at that moment.

  “No. A good daddy would have kept this from happening in the first place,” Frank said morosely.

  “Sweetie, there’s nothing you could have done that would have made this any different,” Annie protested.

  “I could have done something! Taught her to stand up for herself, at least!” he shouted a little too loudly, getting angry all over again.

  “You taught her something better than that. You taught her not to lay down and die when something horrible happens! Look at you! You get hurt on the job, and nobody helps you out, but you still go to work and take care of your family. You showed her by example that you don’t give up when things go wrong.”

  Annie held her husband tightly for another minute before pulling away, kissing him on the cheek, and heading to bed. She turned back and cocked her head at him, letting Frank know it was time to come put his concerns aside, even if just for a little while.

  ***

  Michelle leaned her head to the side to try to get a better look at Lars’ expression. She didn’t want to be caught staring, but she also couldn’t tell if he was enjoying the exhibit or not. On one hand, this didn’t exactly seem like his kind of place, but he also hadn’t complained. He was either really interested in reclaimed art, or was just too polite to say anything.

  “I think I already own this piece,” he said in a polite whisper, as if he’d read her mind. He gestured towards the giant ball of soda can rings and pieces of sponge. “It’s the tangled mess under my kitchen sink.”

  “Shhh!” Michelle warned, smothering a giggle as she looked around nervously. “What if the artist is around here somewhere? He’ll hear you!”

  “That would be good. I could get him to come get all of the materials for his next piece out of my apartment. For a small fee, of course.” Lars looked at her and winked, his silent laughter showing through in his eyes. Michelle returned his smile.

  “If this isn’t your thing, we can go,” she offered.

  “No! I’m loving this! Some of this stuff looks just like the parts we have lying around the garage. I had no idea we were so cultured!”

  “Fine, you win!” she said with a genuine laugh. “We’ll go now. C’mon, you’ve suffered enough.” She tried to pull him by the arm, but he resisted, instead pointing to a sculpture made of milk jugs, each one painted a bright yellow and stacked in a certain way to resemble an ear of corn.

  “But look! It’s a corn tower! How can we just walk away from a corn tower? This shit’s profound, I’m telling you!” Lars finally gave up and followed her, warm inside now that Michelle seemed to actually be enjoying his presence.

  Outside the museum, the night air caught up with them. Michelle blew on her hands to warm them, only to have Lars take both of her hands in his oversized ones. She looked at the grease staining his fingertips for only a minute, but it was long enough for him to feel shame. He pulled away and put his hands in the pocket of his coat. After a moment, Michelle reached for his hands again, pulling them out of his pockets and holding them tightly.

  “You do an honest day’s work, and you do it well. Don’t ever hide your hands. They show the world exactly what you can do.” She looked directly at his eyes as she spoke sternly.

  “You make it sound like I’m curing cancer or something,” he laughed nervously. “Trust me, there’s nothing special about an oil change.”

  “Well, where would that cancer doctor be if his car wouldn’t start? Where would all of his patients be if you didn’t keep his car running?”

  Lars stared back at her for a moment, trying to tell if she was teasing or not. He decided she was being absolutely serious, and he was speechless for it.

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way, I guess. Yeah, I’m practically saving the world, right?” he asked with a silly grin. Michelle nodded. “But what do you do? I noticed you hadn’t been around Mr. Phan’s restaurant in a while, so I figured you were doing something else.”

  She described her work in the bookstore for Marjorie, telling him all about their exciting trip to the airport to deliver a few books. His eyes practically glazed over as she talked about it.

  “I’m sorry, but books? The books had a seat on an airplane? What, did they have the pretzels or the peanuts?” he asked with a good-natured laugh.

  “Don’t make fun!” Michelle shot back at him playfully. “As Marjorie—that’s my boss—said, those books are worth more than all of our vital organs combined, and I mean at black market prices! And no, they didn’t have a seat on the plane…they had a private jet!” She went on to describe the small airplane that had been waiting on the tarmac to take the books to the auction in London. “It was so crazy, because there was a flight crew and everything, wearing their uniforms even! I hope they at least took off their high-heeled shoes once the flight got underway, once the books were safely buckled in their seats of course!”

  They walked along comfortably, talking about their jobs and their interests. Lars tried to ask once more about college and her plans to finish, but she became uneasy and steered the conversation away quickly, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed. There was something about that topic that made her close up, even now, and Lars was determined to know the rest of the story.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  At work the next day, Michelle quietly hummed along with the classical CD that Marjorie played from the office, carefully cleaning books with her gloved hands before placing them in waterproof, humidity proof plastic bags and packing them into their appropriate boxes for shipment. Marjorie looked up at her from time to time and was pleased to see something that almost looked like a smile playing across the girl’s face as she worked. Her intuition got the best of her and she came out of the office, ordering Michelle over to the coffee nook.

  “Sit. Drink this,” Marjorie said in her best attempt at sounding like a drill sergeant, even while only managing to sound like a mildly annoyed grandmother. Her wrinkled face grew even more weathered as she smiled at Michelle over her own cup of coffee. “What’s his name?”

  Michelle coughed, almost spitting her last sip of coffee back into the cup she still held in front of her face. “What?”

  “I know you speak English and you are fairly bright, so you know what I said,” Marjorie teased. “I asked you for the young man’s name.”

  “What young man?” Michelle asked, stalling for time.

  “You know perfectly well who I mean. I’m talking about the young man who has you smiling and singing while you dust the Byrons.” Marjorie took a long sip of her coffee, letting Michelle know that she had all day to get information out of her.

  But she wasn’t about to share the details of her date with Lars with Marjorie. Michelle hadn’t exactly thrown herself at the guy, but had come near enough that someone from Marjorie’s generation might not appreciate the story.

  For her part, Michelle had really appreciated it.

  Everything had gone so well. First the museum, then they’d stopped at a small coffee shop for hot chocolate and dessert. They sat in their warm booth talking for so long that Angela and Brooke had each texted to check o
n her, Angela’s text being a little more suggestive than Brooke’s, of course. There was mention of hanging a necktie on a doorknob, and she’d even offered to go sleep in Michelle’s bed across from Brooke so that she and her date could take full advantage of the privacy of Angela’s bedroom. Michelle, on the other hand, had turned bright pink and deleted the text, but not before Lars had noticed and wanted to know what was wrong.

  “Oh, just my roommates being goofy,” she’d answered, trying to sound unconcerned. Unfortunately, the texts kept coming, beep after beep of messages with some pretty lewd ideas, just in case Michelle hadn’t come up with any creative ideas of her own for Lars.

  When they left, Lars insisted on walking Michelle home, and she didn’t protest too strongly at the thought of not heading toward her street on her own after dark. He held one arm around her shoulders lightly, something she didn’t mind considering that the temperature must have dropped at least another ten degrees just while they ate dessert. A few times she thought she saw movement as they passed an alley or alcove, and she stepped closer to Lars each time.

  “You’re awfully jumpy,” he observed. “Still getting used to city life?”

  “No, I actually moved here to go to school. Almost three years ago, in fact. I’m just unusually cautious, I guess. Oh, we’re here,” she said, surprised as she pointed up to her apartment.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you about this place.”

  “What about it?” Michelle asked, digging around in her purse for her keys.

  “I mean, THIS? A sweet girl like you lives over a bar?” Lars asked, only halfway pretending to be more than a little shocked.

  “They serve food too, you know,” Michelle replied defensively. “And it’s good, rib-sticking food, too, especially in this kind of weather!”

  “Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to prove it,” Lars said skeptically, crossing his arms. “You can’t go throwing around statements like that without backing it up.”

  “Oh really? And how do I prove it?” she asked playfully.

  “Obviously, you’re going to have to go to dinner with me. You can’t go making big talk like that without proof. We’re gonna have to see if you can put your money where your mouth is.”

  “My mouth?” Michelle asked softly, stepping towards Lars with a mischievous look in her eye. “What would you know about my mouth and where it should go?”

  “That is…um…” he stammered. He would have forgotten his own name if someone had quizzed him on it at that exact moment, unable to remember the most basic information with Michelle standing so close, looking up at him coyly. That was possibly the last thing he’d ever expected her to say.

  She was the one to move even closer, standing directly in front of Lars until they were almost touching. She found one of his hands and held it in her own, thrilling at the feeling of warmth. Lars watched her face carefully, then leaned down to kiss her softly on the lips, unsure of what it was either of them wanted but knowing that this was as close to perfect as his life had felt in a long time.

  Michelle had melted under the heat of the kiss, instantly awed by how different this feeling was from Daniel’s fumbling attempts at romance. Even better, Lars was the one who was hesitant, not driving her away by being too forceful, instead letting her lead the way but responding eagerly when she did.

  She still couldn’t remember how much time had passed while she luxuriated in the heat of kissing him. At one point, he’d wrapped his arms around her gently and held her, pulling her down on his lap as he sat on the stone steps to her apartment. Time didn’t matter, only the feeling of his hands caressing her cheek, her hair as his mouth sought hers.

  When she could finally make herself breathe again, Lars had softly kissed her neck, pressing one warm hand to her cheek as she leaned close to him, reveling in the feeling of complete security. That above all else was the most surprising and wonderful thing about him. For the first time in forever, Michelle felt safe in someone’s arms.

  “Do you want to come inside?” she had whispered, unsure of which one of them was more shocked by her question.

  Lars looked at her face for a moment, studying her eyes before she could look away. “Well, yeah. Of course I do! But what do you want?”

  “I want you to,” she answered shyly, looking away again. Lars placed a hand under her chin and gently turned her face to look at him. He smiled and kissed her again softly before helping her to stand and opening the door for her.

  She peeked around nervously for her roommates once they reached the apartment, a small part of her brain still reeling from the fact that she had brought Lars home with her. She turned to him and silently gestured that he could take off his coat.

  “Why are we whispering?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

  “I don’t want my roommates to know we’re here,” she answered, flicking off the lamp that one of them had left on over the stove for her.

  “It’s okay! We already know you’re here!” a voice called from down the hallway, followed by muffled giggles from another voice. “Don’t mind us! Just do your thing!”

  Michelle rolled her eyes, her cheeks burning from shame. Lars smiled then lifted Michelle’s chin so he could meet her gaze. “I think it’s absolutely unbelievable that you’re blushing.”

  “Why is that?” she asked, trying to sound cheerful in the face of her roommates practically throwing her at him.

  “I don’t know, I guess it’s because I’m starting to think you don’t go bringing guys home to your apartment all that much.”

  “Well of course I don’t!” she replied, a tiny part of her brain feeling the insult that Lars should seem surprised to learn that.

  “So, then…what made you invite me?” he asked quietly, not accusingly but almost as though he actually couldn’t think of the reason either.

  “I don’t know, I guess I just didn’t want to see you walk away tonight. It’s been a long time since I’ve met a guy that I actually wanted to stick around, instead of wishing he would just disappear.” Without realizing it, Michelle’s tone had turned almost remorseful. She looked back at the floor, avoiding Lars’ eyes.

  “And what makes you think I’m the kind of guy who should stay?” he said, only a hint of a teasing tone in his voice.

  “I don’t know. I guess just…hope.” Michelle turned away from him and reached for his coat to hand it to him from where he’d placed it on the back of the couch. Instead of taking it from her, Lars took her outstretched arm and pulled her closer to him, trapping her arms in front of him and wrapping her within both of his. He kissed her firmly, glad when he felt her body press into his.

  “Hope is the best answer I ever heard,” he muttered breathlessly between kisses. “Someone like you deserves all the hope there is.” He ran his hands up her back and brought them close together as he cradled her face in his large hands. Michelle broke the kiss and led him to the couch, muffling a scream with her hand when he suddenly scooped her up in his arms and held her as he sat.

  She timidly let her hands feel his firm chest for the first time as they kissed once again, slightly awed by the steel-under-skin sensation of his frame, a welcomed consequence of several years of manual labor. Lars’ breath caught as she slid one hand inside the front of his shirt and trailed her fingers along his heated skin. He took her exploring hands as a sign and let the hand that supported her weight find its way to the small of her back where he edged up the hem of her shirt to feel the warm softness of her skin. She pressed herself closer to him when he slid his hand under her shirt towards her bra.

  “Michelle?” a voice called, interrupting her thoughts. “Are you still with me?”

  “What?” she asked, blinking and clearing her head of the fog that had closed itself around her thoughts.

  “You kind of left me for a moment there,” Marjorie said warily, watching Michelle for a reaction. “Is everything all right?”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry! I was thinking of something and m
y mind ran away with me.” Her cheeks flushed for a moment and she covered her embarrassment by taking a sip of her coffee.

  “That’s all right, we all could benefit from a good daydream from time to time. And you looked like yours was particularly pleasant,” Marjorie said in a pointed way before draining the last of her own coffee and gathering the cups and other items back on their tray. Michelle got up to help her but stopped when her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and flipped it open to read the text, already smiling because it had to be Lars telling her for the hundredth time already that day that he was thinking of her.

  Instead, her face lost all color as she read the screen, falling back into her chair.

  “Michelle? MICHELLE! What’s wrong?” Marjorie demanded, abandoning the coffee service when she saw the girl’s expression. Michelle couldn’t answer, she just held up her phone where the message still glowed from the screen.

  I’m out, bitch, and we’ve got some catching up to do. I’m coming to talk to you.

  Marjorie’s face fell as she read and re-read the message. Her hand went to her mouth. “Who is this? Who would send you a text like this?”

  “My ex-boyfriend. He must have posted bail,” Michelle whispered before taking her phone back and turning to Marjorie. “I have to go tell the Phans.”

  “Who?”

  “The Phans. Daniel won’t know that I don’t work at their restaurant anymore, he’ll go down there looking for me and it’s sure to turn ugly. I promise I’ll be right back! We’ll call this my lunch break, okay?”

  “Can’t you just call them?” Marjorie asked, her voice rising in panic at the thought of Michelle running towards the person who had sent that text, instead of away from him.

  “They don’t speak the best English, so using the telephone is difficult for them. I’m afraid they might misunderstand. I need to let them know he could come by there, but I don’t want them to be frightened into thinking that he definitely is going to show up. I promise I’ll hurry and I’ll be back before my normal lunch time is over.” Michelle spoke over her shoulder as she headed to the small office to get her coat. She had already started pushing her arms into the sleeves as she talked.