Just Her Type

by Laudat, Reon

  “Pass,” Selena said. “I don’t need to see that disingenuous emoticon smile of his for a while, make that a long while.”

  “But what if he has another great project he thinks you might like?” Alyssa asked.

  “He can go kick rocks,” Selena said. “Then find another sap. Fool me once…”

  Until Selena had moved beyond the urge to knee Dominic in the groin, lunch probably wasn’t a good idea, Kendra conceded. “But after you get to know him, outside business, you might feel differently. He’s a lot of fun. As you’ve said, there was a time when I spat some fire at the mention of his name.”

  “And now you’re all dewy-eyed and purring like a kitten,” Alyssa said.

  “Not quite. It’s an interesting friendship. I think he’s a good guy,” Kendra said.

  “Are you in love?” Selena inquired with only a slight edge.

  “Again? I know that’s what you want to add. I’m actually more circumspect these days, far less amenable to getting swept off my feet.” Kendra went on to tell them more about her Cupid4You.com activity and her date-out-of-the-box plan.

  “That’s an intriguing strategy, if you can stick to it,” said Selena.

  Alyssa shook her head. “I can’t believe you want to check out other men when you have Dominic interested in you.”

  “I told you. I’m moving forward using my head for a change,” Kendra tapped her temple, “taking things slowly, methodically. No more feeling like Wile E. Coyote. No more realizing I’ve dashed off a cliff until splat!”

  “I guess you have to do what you have to do,” Alyssa said. “But now that you have a link to his client, that fine-ass Brody Goodwin, maybe you can persuade Dominic to hook us up.”

  Kendra wasn’t ready to reveal just how direct her link to Brody was.

  “Not only is he talented, but dreamy.” Alyssa swooned.

  “Yes, he is a hunk. Extremely good looking,” Kendra said.

  “We should dine at that new place, Chez Magnifique,” Alyssa said. “A double date with you and Dominic.”

  “Dominic and Chez Magnifique, yes. Brody and Chez Magnifique, no,” Kendra said. “He’d rather shoot and field dress his own meal. I imagine his place has animal pelts and rattlesnake skins tacked to the walls, feathers and shotgun shells scattered on the floor.”

  “Really?” Alyssa winced and then quickly shrugged off the information. “So he’s ruggedly divine—”

  “Is that what they’re calling it?” Selena added. “I think he looks greasy and in need of a good bath.”

  “Does not,” Alyssa said.

  “Does too. And I’ll bet he has crusty feet.”

  “The things you choose to focus on.” Alyssa shook her head. “That’s why you’re still single. You’re too picky.”

  “You’re not picky enough.” Selena flicked her braid to the opposite shoulder. “And still single, too, I might add. Call me persnickety all you want, but felony convictions and fart lighting are deal-breakers for me.”

  “So Giancarlo did a little time for insider trading,” Alyssa said airily. “Everyone deserves a second chance. And he’d had too much to drink when he performed that silly party trick with the grill lighter. He was only trying to make everyone laugh and liven up that dull barbecue.”

  “Ladies! Ladies!” Kendra cut in.

  “Giancarlo is history anyway, but as I was saying,” Alyssa continued, “Brody is the adventuresome type, just oozing testosterone like my Steele. I can definitely work with that.”

  “Sometimes I wonder if a mere man, especially one as, um, earthy as Brody, can live up to Steele in your mind,” Kendra said.

  “I know,” Alyssa gushed unabashedly. “Steele is such a stud, isn’t he? But Brody is so attractive I’d sure like to find out.”

  When Alyssa wasn’t affecting her Aurora Chastain persona, she was the least intrepid female Kendra knew. Her sudden interest in Brody Goodwin was surprising, but maybe she, too, recognized the benefits of going against type. Alyssa’s weakness was the smooth-operator-Italian-designer-suit-and-tie sort.

  “So shoot Brody an email, best-selling author to best-selling author. Invite him to go pheasant hunting or something,” Kendra said. “You don’t need a matchmaker.”

  “I can’t put it all out there like that,” Alyssa said with a little shudder. “I want him to want me first.”

  “Alyssa Rae Barnett or Aurora Chastain? Now that’s the question,” Selena said. “Does it ever feel strange going on dates with men who might have read your books? Like, maybe they have certain expectations because of all those scorching love scenes?”

  Love scenes. Again! Kendra kept her mouth closed.

  “Weren’t you the one just telling me about readers not expecting the guy who writes those serial killer thrillers to off people with garden tools?” Alyssa pointed out.

  “True, but I think male readers are different from female readers when it comes to sex,” Selena said.

  “Nope, I don’t worry about it. I role play a bit with my female readers for branding purposes, but most men wouldn’t be caught dead reading my books. Besides, Brody, of all people, knows how this gig works.”

  To steer the conversation away from Brody, Kendra served up a teaser about Corinne and Four Simple Wishes. “Se-len-a,” she sang. “I might have something that will make you forget all about Desperate Passages. I guarantee it.”

  “Oh? I’m intrigued.” Selena moved to the edge of her seat.

  “Yes, but I’m not at liberty to say much more at the moment. But soon, very soon. I’m giving you a heads-up, but you know, as always, I must go with the best deal for my client. No promises. And if Winn-Aster doesn’t step up—”

  “Of course!” Selena smiled.

  Kendra came to her feet and went to the table with the cookies and pitchers of lemonade and tea for the sit-and-knit groups. She gobbled up three macaroons, returned to her seat, and reached for the scarf she’d created in one day.

  Selena and Alyssa usually fussed over a series of incomplete scarves.

  Though the three of them had learned to knit about ten months ago, they hadn’t progressed beyond flat pieces such as scarves, potholders, and pillow covers made with straight needles. However, their varied skill levels had become painfully apparent. If Selena’s and Alyssa’s stitches were beautiful rows of well-ordered tulips, Kendra’s were scattered clumps of crabgrass.

  Alyssa deftly handled changing two yarn colors to create interesting stripes. She had incorporated whimsical images on another half-done scarf. Envy got the better of Kendra when she noticed Selena had already tackled the cable scarf in their beginner pattern book. The embossed wave detail gave her garment a sophistication still out of Kendra’s reach. Brittany had surpassed them all by tackling an “illusion” knitted scarf with a black butterfly image that disappeared and reappeared in a cool, peekaboo effect.

  Kendra wound up with a tangled mess of yarn and stitch markers when she tried to work with more than one color at a time or those W-shaped, double-pointed needles Selena used for her cables. Her pride at meeting the goal of completing yet another scarf in record time fled when she focused on its uneven edges, bumpy surface, and holes from dropped stitches.

  “Love that color you used.” Selena inspected Kendra’s work.

  “I wish I could knit that fast!” Alyssa said.

  Kendra appreciated their kind, carefully chosen comments about the disaster on her lap. Aunt Jackie gave it to her straight when she joined them fifteen minutes later.

  “How many times do I have to tell you? It’s not a race,” Aunt Jackie nagged Kendra with a playful thump on the head. “You’ve got to be more patient, honey. And it’s not about the quantity of stitches, but the quality of the stitches. I know it’s tedious, but you’ve got to be willing to frog it and start again.”

  Frog. One of the worst words in knitting lingo. As in rip it, rip it, rip it, rip it. Apart. Row after row after row after row after all that effort. Not unlike what writers had
to do during revisions.

  Kendra didn’t have the stomach for the unraveling process, and it showed in her less-than-perfect results.

  When Aunt Jackie gave critiques of Selena’s and Alyssa’s scarves, she heaped on the praise and said, “Oh, I almost forgot! I have gifts for my favorite students.” She went to the front counter and quickly returned with three needle holders with animal print covers—cheetah, tiger, and zebra. “Brittany will gets hers when she returns.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Jackie!” the two star pupils said in unison.

  Pouting, Kendra felt like a six-year-old who’d received a gold star for participation. But there were no abandoned, unfinished projects at her apartment. Unlike Alyssa, Selena, and Brittany, she had completed everything she’d started so maybe she did deserve a prize for that.

  “You can keep yours as is.” Jackie lifted Kendra’s scarf for closer inspection again. “Or start over. If I were you, I’d start over.”

  Kendra’s stubborn pride, so easily wounded, kicked in. “No, I like it just the way it is,” she lied, as she wrapped the scarf around her neck with a flourish.

  Though it was Brittany, Selena, and Alyssa who had mastered the basics, Kendra decided she was the one who needed a more ambitious challenge.

  “The problem is, I’m bored,” Kendra whined. “I get bored so easily. I need to try something else.”

  “How about a cup cozy,” Aunt Jackie said.

  “A cup cozy?” Kendra balked. “That’s just a small scarf with the ends bound together.”

  “What about a tote bag?” Aunt Jackie added.

  “That’s just a square scarf with the ends bound together and a handle.”

  “Not if you mix garter and purl stitches in interesting ways,” Aunt Jackie suggested.

  “Got any sweater patterns that might be good for me?” Kendra asked.

  Aunt Jackie delicately cited Kendra’s failure to master proper increasing and decreasing techniques required for sweater shaping.

  “Really? You’re going for a sweater?” Selena said.

  “Circular needles? You’re working in the round?” Alyssa asked. “Wow. I don’t think I’ll be ready for a few more weeks.”

  Whoops! The trickier circular needles were not what Kendra had in mind. Undaunted, she replied, “Yes, circular needles and working in the round, what else?”

  “If you insist,” Aunt Jackie said, again not hiding her disapproval. “I have a few simple patterns that might work for you.”

  “Uh-uh-uh. Don’t give me anything too novice looking.” Kendra recalled most beginner sweater patterns had a greenhorn quality about them, often way too boxy and lacking ribbing on the bottom edges, neck, and sleeves, much like a crude costume from a low-budget dystopian movie. “I’d like to get started right now. What about that new yarn that arrived yesterday.”

  “Don’t you think you should actually read the pattern before selecting the yarn? You know, to find out which yarn weight and needle size is suggested.”

  “Details, details, pshaw!” Kendra replied.

  “And why not practice on something less expensive?” Aunt Jackie said. “Maybe an acrylic blend? We have some nice ones.”

  Kendra basked in Selena’s and Alyssa’s wide-eyed awe. “Nope! Bring on that cashmere/silk blend!”

  ***

  Later that same night, Dominic phoned Kendra from his hotel room in Cincinnati, Ohio. Earlier that day, he had been a keynote speaker at a regional writers’ conference.

  “You’re not going to believe what’s on now,” he told her as he sat on a king-sized bed with his back against the cushioned headboard. “A marathon of The Alternate Dimension Theater on the SyFy Channel. I checked the episode guide. One guess which episode is next?”

  “’Deja You,’” they said at the same time.

  “How about we watch right now with our own commentary,” he said. “Or did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “No, you didn’t,” Kendra said. “That sounds like fun! I’m grabbing a beer and the remote and moving to the sofa in front of the TV. Sorry, I didn’t get back to you after you called. I spent most of the day at The Sassy Sheep, hanging out with my friends.”

  “Your sit-and-knit group?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you have a good time?” Dominic asked, knowing Selena Clark was in that group.

  “I did,” Kendra said with an easy lilt in her voice. “And I’m working on a top secret project.”

  “Sounds intriguing,” Dominic replied, relaxing. Either his name had not come up or Kendra had decided not to hold anything against him. What were the chances that Selena was over the Desperate Passages thing?

  “When do you head back this way?” Kendra asked.

  “Miss me?”

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation, making him smile wider.

  “I have one more day in the Queen City.”

  Norman Butterfield appeared on the TV screen before Dominic could make plans for their next date. They spent the next half hour reciting dialogue and swapping episode trivia that only the nerdiest of diehard The Alternate Dimension Theater fans would know.

  “I can’t watch that episode too many times,” Kendra said after the credits rolled.

  “So,” Dominic said, his voice dropping with seduction in mind. His hand slipped inside his sweatpants. “What are you wearing?”

  Back in her Brooklyn apartment, Kendra considered his question and looked down at her favorite holiday jammies, a hooded-and-footed onesie with stripes that made her look like a giant candy cane. Underneath: cotton Fruit of the Loom Ladies. Full coverage fit.

  “What am I wearing?” she replied with a sexy coo. “I don’t think you can handle it.”

  “Try me.”

  She put the remote aside. “Imagine, Chantilly lace, in cherry red,” she purred. “Push-up demi cups.”

  “Front or back closure?”

  “Front, for easy access of course. A flirty satin ribbon that practically unties itself.”

  Dominic released a husky groan. “Mercy. What else you got for me, baby?”

  His gruff voice made her sizzle. She removed the hood from her head and slowly unzipped the onesie. Reclining on the sofa, she parted her knees and continued, “Picture V-string panty, garter, and your hands…”

  Chapter 26

  Three days later, Kendra went to Aunt Jackie’s home after work so they could have dinner together. She brought take-out shrimp fried rice, soda for her aunt, and beer for herself, along with DVDs of two critically acclaimed comedies.

  During most of their evenings together, Aunt Jackie repeated the story of Uncle Alex’s death and how she’d come home from work that day and found him. She’d stare across the room and begin with what she was wearing and move on to when she’d felt the slightest inkling something was “off.” She’d stepped inside the quiet condo and found the uneaten breakfast, “two slices of rye toast, two thick bacon strips, and two soft-boiled eggs, heavily sprinkled with pepper, no salt, the way he preferred them, under a grease-stained paper towel.” Her heart had stopped when she found her husband collapsed on the bathroom floor he’d prepared to re-tile. She’d relive her brief rush of relief when she’d detected a pulse in his neck, only to soon realize it was the pulse in her own fingertips. The love of her life was gone. Forever.

  Kendra didn’t understand why, of all the stories to share about Uncle Alex, her aunt needed to retell such a grim tale in painstaking detail over and over again. But Kendra had resolved to be there for her. She’d listen intently, always as if hearing it for the first time. She’d embrace her aunt and hold her hand. If rehashing one of the most devastating days of her life brought some modicum of comfort or relief, Kendra was willing to listen to that story hundreds of times. Perhaps it was Aunt Jackie’s way of accepting the sad reality of her new circumstances, her way of absorbing the shock of it all so she could eventually move forward.

  Kendra vowed to leave this woman who meant the world to her smiling that
evening.

  She stepped inside the home to find a fire and a lamp-lit living room, fresh poinsettias, and appetizing aromas from the kitchen.

  Overstuffed furniture, knitting books, and patterns neatly lined the shelves. Stacked bins, bins, and more bins filled with yarn neatly lined the walls. Knitting knickknacks and doodads sat on every surface.

  “Hey!” Kendra placed her bag of food on the coffee table so the two of them could hug. “Something smells wonderful?” she said, sniffing the air.

  “Surprise!” Aunt Jackie’s soft curls caressed Kendra’s cheek. The severe chignon was gone again. “And your timing is perfect. It’s almost done.”

  “I think I know that aroma. Wait. Don’t tell me.” Kendra made a dramatic show of sniffing again and pretending the scent stumped her. “It’s been so long, but I think I recognize it. What could it be? Could it be posole?”

  “Yes!”

  The delicious spicy pork shoulder and hominy soup was one of Aunt Jackie’s specialties and among Kendra’s favorites. Her aunt hadn’t cooked anything from scratch since Uncle Alex died.

  “This means you’re not peeved at me about what happened at the yarn shop the other day.” As Kendra tugged off her gloves and stuffed them inside her coat pocket, she noted several afghan squares pinned to a large blocking board on the floor.

  “You mean, about the sweater?”

  Kendra nodded. “About my not taking your advice.”

  “You’ve always been very sweet, but hardheaded.” She gave Kendra’s noggin a thump, as she’d often done when Kendra was a child. “Girl, I’m used to you.”

  “And you still love me, warts and all!” Kendra cheeped. “Hey, the fireplace is on!”

  After years of hauling, stacking wood, and cleaning up ash, Uncle Alex had revamped the old wood-burning fireplace just a few days before he died. But as far as Kendra knew her aunt had not used the renovated fireplace until that evening.

  “I thought it fitting to christen it with you,” Aunt Jackie said.

  Kendra admired the flickering simulated flames. “Very realistic looking and the room is nice and toasty.” The small mirror with red pin-points of light blinking around images of Joseph, Mary, and the Baby Jesus, one of Uncle Alex’s favorite Christmas decorations, sat on the mantel. He’d had a fondness for the cheesiest religious bric-a-brac, Kendra recalled with a melancholy smile.