by Susan Stoker
Abe suddenly realized he’d asked her a question, but she hadn’t answered. He tried to look her in the eyes, but she was looking at the ground. He could see the faint blush on her cheeks. God, blushing? When was the last time he’d seen a woman blush? The Alpha male inside him stood up and took notice. She was obviously shy and that made her even more endearing.
Abe repeated himself as they shuffled forward in the line. “I’m really sorry. Did I hurt you with my big feet?” He willed her to look up at him.
The fascinating woman just shook her head and refused to look up.
“Hey, if you don’t look at me I’ll think you’re lying to try to spare my feelings,” he teased, hoping he’d get to see the color of her eyes.
“I’m fine,” she said in a voice so low he almost didn’t hear her.
Her voice was raspy, as if she hadn’t used it in a long while and the low tone just made it sexier. The sound of it went through Abe and settled in his heart. Amazingly, he felt the hair on his arms stand up on end. Whoa.
Abe scrunched down and tried to look her in the eyes. She gave him a small chin lift as if to say, “look.” Abe turned and saw the line had moved forward and it was his turn to shuffle down the food table. He grabbed a plate and turned to the mysterious woman and held it out to her. Abe finally got to see her eyes when she looked up at him in confusion. Her eyes were a pale gray with streaks of blue. He figured in a different light they’d probably look more blue than gray. To answer her unasked question, Abe told her while waggling the plate, “For you.”
Abe watched as she took the plate gingerly, as if it was a bomb he’d offered her instead of a simple dish. Abe took one off the top of the stack for himself and tried to engage the woman as he walked through the food line.
“What’s good? What did you bring?” When she didn’t answer, but concentrated instead on serving herself, Abe tried to joke with her. “Let me guess, which one is yours…hmmm, the homemade rolls? No? What about the macaroni salad there? Oh, I know… the lame bowl of vegetables?”
Realization dawned about the same time she bit her lip and looked away from the table in consternation. Oh shit.
“Ah fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that.”
When she didn’t say anything but only shrugged and continued to look as if she wanted to be anywhere but standing next to him, Abe tried desperately to backpedal.
“Seriously, I’m sorry. That was beyond rude. Jesus. You must think I’m the biggest asshole. I love veggies.”
When she still didn’t say anything, Abe transferred his plate to one hand, grasped her elbow lightly with the other, and pulled her away. They’d both filled their plates and had reached the end of the table. “Look at me.”
At the commanding tone in Abe’s voice, she looked up, finally.
Abe tamped down his feeling of triumph at her reaction to his demand. God, now wasn’t the time for his Alpha side to come out, but deep down he reveled in her continued reactions to his words.
“I’m sorry. Okay?”
“Okay,” she again said in a soft voice, nodding at the same time to reinforce her answer.
Loving the sound of her voice, even if he’d only heard her say a few words, Abe firmly stated, “Look, that’s more than I brought. I’m being a mooch. At least you contributed.” The hesitant smile that crept across her face was worth any embarrassment Abe felt at putting his foot in his mouth.
“I can’t cook. Believe me, it’s better I brought vegetables than if I tried to actually make something,” she admitted sheepishly, again speaking to him in her soft husky way.
Somehow knowing her speaking to him was a victory of some sort, but not knowing exactly why, Abe gave her a huge grin.
Still holding his plate in one hand, Abe held out his other hand and said, “I’m Christopher. My friends call me Abe, but you can call me Christopher.”
“Alabama.” The woman replied politely, but didn’t reach for his hand to shake and didn’t ask any questions about his name, or nickname. Alabama was gripping her plate with both hands as if her life depended on it. It didn’t faze Abe though. Trying to keep the conversation going, Abe simply nodded at her and said, “It’s very nice to meet you, Alabama. I guess you work here too?” He watched as her face lost all animation and her eyes darted away from his, as if looking for something to distract her. Alabama’s teeth came out to nibble at her lower lip. Abe knew she was going to bolt right before she spoke.
“I gotta go.”
Alabama didn’t even apologize or try to change the subject. She literally just fled away from him.
Abe watched her go. He had no idea what it was about her, but he knew he wanted to get to know Alabama more than anything he’d wanted in his life recently. There was something about her that made all of his protective instincts come flying to the surface. There was a story there, and he wanted to know it. Abe wanted to know all about Alabama.
Chapter Three
Alabama flinched as she scurried away from the hottest guy she’d ever seen. If her hands were free and she could’ve smacked herself in the forehead, she would have. God. She was such a dork. Seriously. Alabama didn’t think she’d ever been so mortified in her life. Ok, she knew she’d never been so embarrassed before. Probably because she always avoided people and never tried to engage them in conversation.
Christopher. Christopher. Not Chris, but Christopher. His name was even hot. Alabama didn’t know what his last name was, but she was sure it was something equally cool. She didn’t like the sound of “Abe” at all. He didn’t look like an “Abe”—even if that was what his friends called him, Alabama knew she never would.
She hadn’t meant to really engage him in conversation; it went against every instinct she had. Alabama wasn’t a talker. She wasn’t ever going to be a talker. She’d gotten better as she’d gotten older, but when Christopher said he was sorry so sweetly and contritely, Alabama couldn’t stop herself from trying to make him feel better. She was trying to make him feel better. Crazy. And when Christopher demanded in that voice for her to look at him, she couldn’t help herself.
All her life, Alabama tried to please people—Mama, teachers, foster parents…but it never did any good. No one had ever been happy with Alabama. She spoke too much, she didn’t talk enough, she was weird, she wasn’t engaging enough…why couldn’t Alabama stop trying to make others happy now? You’d think she’d have learned her lesson by now.
Alabama scooted over to the corner of the room and sagged into a chair, put her plate on her lap, and tried to regain her composure. What time was it? Could she leave yet? Yes, she was invited to the party by the Wolfe’s, Alabama did work there after all, but she wasn’t a realtor. She was a janitor. She cleaned the offices after everyone else had gone home. It wasn’t glamorous, but she did it well. Alabama took pride in making sure everything was spotless. She actually liked the job because she didn’t have to talk to anyone. She could put in her iPod and jam out to her favorite music as she cleaned.
Alabama knew every nook and cranny of the office. She probably knew more about what went on there than even the Wolfe’s did. It was amazing what people would throw away, thinking that once it was in the trash it was “gone.” She’d seen used condoms, antacids, sticky notes with love poems on them, and she’d even had to empty a trash can full of vomit. Alabama shook her head. If only they all knew what she had to deal with in cleaning the office.
Alabama knew most of the relators didn’t even know she existed, and that was all right with her. She’d never made friends easily. Oh, she figured she was a nice enough person, she just wasn’t very social. Alabama didn’t enjoy idle chitchat and most women thought she was strange. Besides, making friends meant opening up and making herself vulnerable. Alabama tried one year after she’d moved to Riverton. There was another janitor who Alabama thought she’d befriended.
They’d been out to dinner a few times and spent some time together at work. Alabama had even started picking her up for t
heir shift and driving her home as well. One night, Alabama overheard her talking on the phone to someone about what she really thought about their friendship. She’d only been using Alabama for the rides so she could save money. She’d told whoever was on the phone she thought Alabama was weird and she was glad she’d be getting her car back the next week. That was the last time Alabama had offered to drive her to and from work and the last time she’d tried to make friends.
Coming back to the present, Alabama looked at Adelaide across the room. She wished Adelaide didn’t know she existed. The woman hadn’t liked Alabama on sight. Alabama had no idea why. She’d been in the office, cleaning as usual, when Adelaide had come in late one night. They were both surprised to see each other, but Adelaide had ordered her out of her office and shut the door. Adelaide was in there for about thirty minutes before exiting again and telling Alabama she didn’t need to clean her office that night.
Alabama just shrugged and continued on with her cleaning. That was it. Ever since that night, Adelaide shot daggers out her eyes every time she’d seen Alabama. Alabama had no idea what Adelaide hid in the office that night, but obviously it’d been something she didn’t want anyone to know about. Alabama thought about searching the office and seeing what she could find, but she didn’t bother. She honestly didn’t really care. Whatever it was would only cause more trouble for her, she was sure of it.
Alabama had heard Adelaide’s snide comments about her veggies before she’d gone to get in line. She knew that was where Christopher had heard about them, but she tried not to hold it against him. He’d been trying to joke with her, not be mean, and had no idea she’d brought them.
Alabama nibbled on the food she’d put on her plate unenthusiastically and watched the people all around her. There were, as usual, too many people in the small space, but the Wolfe’s didn’t want to hear about having their annual “get together” anywhere else. It was tradition to have it in their business space, so that was where it was going to be, period. Most of the people were laughing and talking easily. The volume was loud in the room because of the size of the crowd. But at least everyone seemed happy and relaxed.
Alabama watched as Christopher made his way back to Adelaide’s side. It really was too bad he was with her. Adelaide certainly didn’t deserve Christopher. Alabama remembered back to when he’d handed her a plate. He’d done it so nonchalantly, as if he did that sort of thing all the time, and he probably did. It seemed to be ingrained in him to take care of others, but, she couldn’t help but think, who took care of him? Adelaide certainly didn’t. She didn’t even notice that when she grabbed his arm when he came up beside her again, it jostled his hand and punch spilled over the edge of the cup to land on his shirt. Adelaide didn’t even look up from the conversation she was having to notice his scowl or to help him mop up the spilled drink.
Even with her actions, Alabama noticed that Christopher continued to watch out for Adelaide. Alabama watched as he pulled her out of the way of two men who were trying to get past the group of women and how he took the empty glass out of her hand when she was done with it. Adelaide ignored him and hadn’t even thanked him. Alabama could watch and appreciate Christopher’s actions, but she had no idea how it actually felt to be treated that way.
Did Adelaide even recognize how much Christopher did for her? Did she realize how he protected her in so many little ways? Alabama tried to put herself in Adelaide’s shoes; if Christopher was her boyfriend would she take advantage of the things he’d do for her? She mentally shrugged. She’d never had anyone in her entire life bother to look out for her so she couldn’t imagine what she’d do. Whatever. Alabama didn’t need anyone. She got along just fine by herself, at least that was what she tried to tell herself.
Alabama was so engrossed in covertly watching Christopher with Adelaide she missed the first sign of alarm. It wasn’t until she saw Christopher actually drop the plate he was holding, ignore the food splattering all over their legs, and grab Adelaide by the arm, that she realized something might be wrong.
Alabama looked over toward the buffet table and saw that the table, and the curtain behind it, was on fire, and the fire was spreading fast. The room, which was overfull to begin with, was quickly filling with smoke and she could hear people screaming in panic. Alabama quickly dropped her own, now almost empty, plate and looked around at her exit options.
Ever since she was young and needed to try to escape Mama when she was pissed, Alabama made sure to make note of where the exits were in whatever situation she was in. That knowledge had saved Alabama from a beating more than once in her life and now it might just save her life.
Most of the people were heading toward the front door, the same door they’d entered earlier in the night. It was human nature to head for the door you knew about rather than trying to find an alternative exit.
Alabama knew there was a side door, but it was in the opposite direction from where most of the people in the room were trying to get out and it was down a short hall off the main room. It couldn’t be seen from the main area where the party was taking place and thus it wasn’t even an option for the panicking crowd. The smoke was billowing up from the curtains and was black and heavy. Alabama could feel the air thinning and it was becoming harder and harder to breathe.
Alabama had actually taken two steps toward the hall, and freedom, when she stopped. She thought about all the people who most likely wouldn’t be able to get out the other exit because of the crowd of panicked partygoers. They’d surely block the door once they lost air. She’d seen enough news footage of crowded bars and nightclubs that had caught fire and the resulting carnage resulting in the press of people trying to get out a blocked door. If everyone continued to push and shove and try to get out the main door, it would soon be unpassable. Christopher wouldn’t be able to get out.
Before she’d even made the conscious thought to move, Alabama was headed toward where she’d last seen Christopher. She quickly realized she wouldn’t be able to stay upright if she wanted to breathe. Alabama dropped to her knees and started crawling as fast as she could. Thank God she was wearing pants. Alabama headed to the other side of the room, away from the freedom the side exit offered, but toward Christopher. He’d never been in this building and would have no idea about that other door. Somehow Alabama also knew he wouldn’t leave Adelaide and the other women he’d been standing near. Christopher would do what he could to get them out.
Alabama lost precious minutes trying to get her bearings in the room, which seemed so much bigger when she couldn’t see and when it was filled with smoke. She coughed once, then coughed again. She tried to hurry. Alabama knew time was running out. Finally, she reached the place where Christopher had been standing with Adelaide—they weren’t there, but she saw a group of people huddled against the wall nearby.
Alabama scurried over to them but grabbed the arm of the man she passed along her way. She pointed toward the other side of the room where the hallway was and said urgently, “There’s another door. Through the hall—over there… Go!”
The man didn’t hesitate; he simply grabbed the hand of the woman next to him and left to go to where Alabama had pointed. They disappeared into the smoke filled room in a matter of seconds. If Alabama hadn’t touched him she would’ve wondered if she’d dreamed him. She continued along the wall looking for Christopher and steered anyone she met along the way toward the other side of the room. They all looked thankful for her assistance, but none encouraged her to come with them. They just turned around and headed where she’d pointed.
After pointing the way out to several groups of people, she finally reached Christopher and Adelaide. They were on their knees huddled against the wall. Christopher had taken off his sports coat and put it around Adelaide. He’d also taken off his white dress shirt and tied it around Adelaide’s head to try to help her breathe more easily. He’d tucked Adelaide into his front and was hovered over her protectively. Alabama could see him trying to take in the room
, most likely to find an escape.
Alabama took half a second to admire Christopher’s physique before snapping herself back to the emergency at hand. She didn’t have time to gawk at how muscular he was and ignored how her stomach actually clenched at her first view of Christopher’s six pack abs.
“Christopher,” Alabama yelled as she grabbed his bicep, feeling it bulge under her fingertips. “There’s another door over there.” She pointed toward the other side of the room and the hallway that she’d been directing people to.
Expecting him to immediately snatch Adelaide up and head for safety, Alabama was surprised when he ignored her words and instead gripped her arm urgently. “Are you okay, Alabama?”
While she loved that he’d asked about her, now wasn’t the time. They had to get out of there. It was getting hard to talk and hear anything with the noise of the fire.
Alabama simply nodded. “The door is that way.” She pointed again and tried again to get him to go.
“Are you sure?” Christopher asked—his voice gritty with the smoke he’d inhaled.
Alabama nodded urgently. Crap, if he wouldn’t go on his own, she’d have to make him. “Follow me,” she ordered.
They turned to crawl across the floor but Adelaide refused to budge.
“Where are you going? No! The door is here, we have to stay here. It’ll clear in a second.” Adelaide started harshly coughing—her voice muffled from the shirt Christopher had wrapped around her.
Christopher turned back to Adelaide and spoke harshly to her. He was trying to convince her to go toward the other exit. Alabama could see the embers from the walls and other flammable material floating down and landing on Christopher’s bare back as he kneeled next to and over Adelaide. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and he was going to get burned if he crawled all the way across the room like that.