by Jane Henry
Princess raised her head. Dom gave her a stern look and pointed back to Heidi's lap. The dog obediently put her head back down. Heidi swallowed, but met Dom's eyes. "But I…" Her voice lowered as she spoke. "I got a taxi and had them bring me to the gym. I-I…" she stammered again and it pleased him to know his sternness flustered her. He kept his gaze fixed on her. "I didn't want to bother you any more."
He frowned. "I asked you to text me," he said. "Why didn't you at least text me?"
"As I said," she continued, with measured words, "I tried to. But the messages came back."
Frowning at her phone, he beckoned silently for her to hand it to him. Her eyes narrowed, but she obeyed.
He glanced at the message she supposedly tried to send him. Message undelivered.
"You sent it to the wrong number."
"Maybe you gave me the wrong number," she retorted.
He felt his anger rising. This girl!
With a growl, he entered his number in her phone and in the 'text' portion, wrote 'DOM'. He hit send, for once in his life thankful his mother had given him the name she did, grateful the message on Heidi's phone would be clear as hell.
"There. Now you have my number. And I wouldn't have made the offer if it inconvenienced me."
"But you've done enough," she argued. He felt his hackles go up. He was not in the mood to argue. Her eyes grew heated, and he wasn't sure why, but she pushed on. "And although I appreciate your help, I'm fully capable of taking care of myself."
"I never said you weren't."
Her eyes flashed. "I hardly know you!" she protested.
"Easily remedied," he countered, allowing his eyes to travel to her sitting propped up on his couch. He paused, making sure she felt the full weight of his words. "But there's something you need to know, Heidi." He paused to make sure he had her attention as he leaned forward.
"I always mean what I say."
She swallowed, and the fight went out of her. "Well, yeah," she whispered. "Sorry."
He gave a curt nod. Forgiven. If she were his, it would be a different story.
"You feeling better?" he asked.
"Better than I did this morning."
"You need to avoid the gym for a few days. And can you take work off?"
She shook her head. "Not really, but I should be able to work from home a day or two. I don't have a meeting with a client until the end of the week."
He nodded approvingly. "Good," he said, barely restraining himself from attaching girl to the end. Good girl, his mind said.
She looked so tired. The day's events had likely drained her, and she needed some rest.
"You need some sleep," he murmured. Her eyes flicked to his couch and the blanket slung casually over the arm rest.
Not yet, honey.
"I'll help you back," he said.
"All right," she said, and her shoulders drooped. Poor girl. He wanted to lay her down on the couch and tuck that blanket around her. Watch her while she slept. Make sure she didn't hurt herself when she went to shower, or get herself something to eat.
He stood in front of her. She placed her glass on the small end table next to the couch, and she reach for his proffered hand. When she did, he felt it again, her small, fragile hand in his large one. It was a feeling he could get used to, the most chaste but welcome touch. She stood with difficulty, and he put his arm around her waist. She felt so soft and feminine, and being in such close proximity, he could smell the faint, intoxicating scent of her, something citrusy and vibrant, spicy, and altogether enchanting.
With Princess under one arm, and Heidi all but under the other, he walked her carefully to her apartment.
"Hand me your keys," he ordered outside her door, and she complied. He pushed the door open, went to flick the entryway light, and noticed it didn't light up.
"It's broken," she explained. "I called the building manager last week, but—"
"I'll take care of it in the morning," he said, as he pushed the door open and led her over the stoop. Damn the lazy-ass building manager.
She sighed. "You don't have to—"
Why did she have to argue over everything?
"Heidi," he warned, all patience now gone.
She didn't respond.
He deposited Princess in the living room and pointed to her dog bed in the hallway. "Go," he ordered. Princess trotted off.
He stood and shifted his arm around Heidi again, helping her onto her couch.
"You get some rest," he said, feeling the desire rise again to take care of her, tuck her in, help her into her nightclothes and soothe her to sleep. "And tomorrow morning, I'll check in on you. You've got my number now," he said. "You need anything, you text me. Got it?"
She lifted smiling blue eyes to him. God, those eyes.
"I will," she said. "And Dom, thank you."
"No problem," he said, turning to let himself out, barely tempering his instinctive desire to protect her. "You be a good girl and get some rest now."
As he opened the door, he could almost see it, Heidi, kneeling before him, her little hands placed trustingly in his lap, looking up at him with those wide blue eyes, eager to please, his to command. He could almost hear her, the purr-like compliance of her voice whispering Yes, sir, to an instruction he'd given her.
But that was the stuff of fantasies. For all he knew, she'd revolt at the mere thought of submitting to him, and any interest he'd taken as a green light was nothing more than curiosity, or even revulsion.
Why don't you go back to vanilla for a while?
He had to be real. Had to get himself out of fantasy and back to reality.
Enough with this shit.
Chapter 7
The drumming was invading her brain. Boom boom ba dum, boom boom ba dum…
Heidi had always figured that her ability to focus on a task despite all distractions was kind of her superpower. Yeah, it wasn't as useful as mind-reading, or as sexy as, say, having super-bendy legs, but, it had gotten her through high school and the drama of her parents' not-at-all-amicable breakup without losing her valedictorian status. It had helped her earn a BS with high honors in just three years, despite her roommate's nocturnal schedule and love of parties. It had always been a solid, dependable sort of superpower, the kind she could use for good and not for evil.
Until today. She'd finally met her nemesis, and its name was meditation drumming.
"It's so perfect for improving your concentration and helping you really channel your creativity," her mother had enthused as she'd turned up the stereo, looking entirely too bright-eyed for a woman who had sworn off coffee a decade ago. "You remember Peggy, that friend of mine from North Adams who makes the wool art? She swears by it."
And then her mother had turned and disappeared into the garage-turned-workshop, her long brown braid flying out behind her, leaving Heidi to endure the auditory assault alone.
After what felt like hours, Heidi could confirm that her creativity had definitely been channeled. She'd already contemplated several methods of destroying her mother's ancient sound system.
"Mom, can you turn that down?" she finally called towards the door to the garage.
No answer. Typical. Her mother probably couldn't even hear the music from out there.
Suppressing a groan, Heidi dropped the sheaf of financial records she'd been attempting to review back on the tabletop and massaged her aching head. If the music didn't drive her batty, dealing with this client was going to.
Fifty-seven thousand dollars a year, Heidi thought, shaking her head. That was the going rate for tuition at the prestigious Easterbrook Academy. Considering their unbelievable test scores and the fact that only a handful of their 104 graduates last year didn't make it into an Ivy League school, she figured they could get away with charging that much. But only if the scandal involving the departure of two formerly-well-respected board members stayed hushed up.
Easterbrook prided itself on being a school that accepted the best and brightest—only the
most ambitious and academically gifted applicants were selected, which was why an Easterbrook diploma was worth the price of several mid-sized SUVs. And, proud alumni could be counted on to provide annual donations that ensured even those applicants whose parents couldn't afford the staggering tuition were able to attend. At least, that's how it was supposed to work… until a pair of board members had been caught accepting bribes disguised as alumni support—'gifts' from affluent alumni to guarantee their children admission, regardless of academic proficiency.
To the credit of the remaining board members, once the problem had been discovered, they'd made sure the bribe money had quickly been returned, and the two guilty members had been quickly voted out. But that hadn't solved the problem. Easterbrook was left with an enormous deficit in their alumni grant budget, several deserving students without funds to pay their tuition for the coming year, and no way to make up the shortfall without going public and damaging the school's reputation. After months of bickering, the board had been unable to solve the problem, and decided they needed an impartial consultant. Now it was up to Heidi and Paul to bridge the gap or cut the budget.
It would be a hell of a lot easier if the inefficient, downright unhelpful administrators of Easterbrook would realize that they were all on the same team!
Heidi sighed and stood up, stretching her still-aching back. She walked over to turn the stereo off before turning to look around the cluttered kitchen. The table, with its pattern of blue and white Mexican tiles, was familiar. She'd sat in that very chair a dozen years ago while her Dad reviewed her math homework and her mother cooked dinner… back then, it would've been something normal, with meat and gluten.
The rest of the kitchen was absolutely nothing like the home she remembered. Gone were the empty counters and organized cabinets her mother had once prized. Now, every surface was covered with an ever-changing jumble of ingredients for her mother's candle- and soap-making business: half-filled mason jars and scraps of fabric, apothecary jars of dried herbs and flowers, vials of essential oils and extracts. The table now sat perpendicular to the back door, to allow for better energy flow, and tacked to practically every square inch of the sunny yellow walls were calls to 'Say No to GMO!' 'Feed the Poor, Don't Fund the War!' and 'Reject Gender Discrimination!'
Heidi recalled this last poster well. Her mother had carried it while protesting, topless, outside a local college football stadium that didn't provide adequate facilities for women, and she'd brought her (fully-clothed) teen-aged daughters along to witness grassroots activism firsthand. Heidi didn't remember very much about the actual protest… but, she could recount word-for-word the epic showdown between her parents afterward.
"You show your tits to whomever you like, Frances, I can't stop you. But no daughter of mine is going to hang around with a bunch of half-naked stoners who are just begging to be arrested on public indecency charges!" Her mild-mannered, indifferent father had been apoplectic for once.
"You don't own me, Charles! You don't own these girls! You don't own our breasts or control our sexuality! You should be outraged at the rampant gender inequality your daughters have to face!"
Heidi shook her head at the memory. Happy times.
From beneath the pile of papers, her phone dinged with a new text message, and just like that, the sour reminder of her parents' imploding marriage evaporated and her stomach flipped in anticipation.
How quickly I've been conditioned, she thought wryly as she dug out the phone and sat down, pushing all of her paperwork aside. She smiled when she saw the incoming message from Dom.
Morning, sunshine.
She quickly typed, Good morning!
Staying out of trouble?
Though she hadn't seen Dom for three and a half days, not that she was counting, she'd become accustomed to his frequent 'check-in' texts. She'd almost convinced herself that it was nothing more than a neighborly gesture, making sure that her back was healthy after that stupid incident at the gym. But then… her back had gotten better, and the texts had continued. What did that mean? Were they… friends?
'How are you feeling?' and 'Let me know if you need anything' had somehow become 'Text me when you get to your mother's house' and 'Tell me you weren't speeding, Heidi'. It was ridiculous, of course—a grown woman driving familiar roads in broad daylight shouldn't have to check in with anyone. Her mother would say his demands were borderline-stalker.
Heidi could only think that they felt… nice.
It was nice to know someone was concerned that she arrived at her destination and that she had gotten herself there safely. It was nice that someone had noticed her broken light and had coerced the building manager into fixing it the very next day. It was nice to know that someone was waiting for her to come back. It was nice that…
Heidi? Everything okay?
It was nice that someone cared.
Yeah, hi! I'm still here!
Good. How's everything going?
Heidi bit her lip for a moment, contemplating her answer. Things were going… the way they usually went with her mother.
When Heidi had arrived yesterday morning, her mother had been delighted to see her and had plied her with questions about her new apartment and business. She'd been genuinely thrilled to hear how successful Heidi's business was becoming… though she couldn't pretend to summon any real enthusiasm for the actual work Heidi did, since the concept of financial auditing held the taint of 'Big Corporate', which her mother was firmly against. She'd made Heidi tea and enlisted her support with wrapping candles for display at the Down East Flea Market yesterday afternoon.
And then just a few hours after Heidi's arrival, someone named Molly had called about a rally against refugees… or was it for refugees? Whichever. In any case, it was a crisis, Molly had said, and did Frances have time to lend a hand? Which was a silly question, because, of course, Frances had time to save the world one refugee at a time, and she'd gone off to do just that, leaving Heidi with a rapidly brewing headache and a bunch of pungently scented candles to wrap.
But that wasn't the sort of thing you shared with a casual friend in a text. Or at all.
Fine!
Just… fine?
Wrapped some candles, reviewed some paperwork for a client, endured an hour of aboriginal drumming… The usual family stuff.
That's the usual family stuff, huh?
Heidi grinned.
Yup. Isn't that what you do with your family?
This may shock you, but my brothers don't appreciate the art of candle wrapping.
Heidi tucked her tongue into her cheek.
That's so sad! You're really missing out.
Yet somehow we get by.
She could almost hear his dry, mocking tone.
So, what do you do instead?
One of my brothers always has some DIY project going on, so we generally load up on power tools and take care of business.
Wow. That sounds… manly.
We're men, so… yeah.
Hmmm… Do you get all sweaty doing that kind of thing?
Sure, sometimes.
So… you all probably have to take your shirts off?
There was a pause, which turned Heidi's smile into a full grin.
Sometimes.
Your brother? He's the guy from the gym, right?
A longer pause this time, which made Heidi smile even wider.
Yeah. That's one of them.
And… does your other brother look like you two?
This pause lasted a full half-minute, by which time Heidi was giggling.
Tony? More or less. Why?
I'm just trying to get a visual of you three… with power tools.
You know what? I'd rather you didn't imagine my brothers half naked.
Heidi bit her lip and stared at her phone. Did that mean he wouldn't mind her visualizing him half-naked?
And then suddenly she was visualizing him half-naked and ohmygod was it warm in here? She remembered his brother had those tatto
os all over his arms, and wondered whether Dom had any ink, maybe hiding underneath his…
A hand waving in front of her face made her jump, and her phone flew out of her hand, clattering onto the tabletop.
"Yeesh, Heidi! Where did your mind wander off to?" Her sister Hillary shook her head in amusement, sending her short auburn hair sliding around her face.
Heidi pressed a hand to her chest as her heart resumed beating, and fixed her sister with a narrow-eyed glare.
"God, Hillie! Have nearly four years of college made you completely forget your manners? It's customary to say 'hello' rather than sneaking up on a person and scaring years off her life."
Hillary laughed and set a Starbucks coffee cup down on the table.
"I already said hi and told you I'd come home to do laundry! I've been talking to you for two full minutes and I only just realized that you haven't been paying attention! You've been too busy giggling and talking to…"
Hillary grabbed for the phone before Heidi could reach for it.
"Ahhh… to Dom… who apparently doesn't like you imagining his brothers half-naked?" Hillary asked, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. "Are they hot?"
Heidi felt herself flush and held out her hand imperiously.
"Give me back my phone, demon spawn! And don't make this out to be something it's not. It's… he's just a friend."
"Hmmm..." Hillary said, turning away from Heidi's outstretched hand and quickly scrolling up the page to read the previous messages. "Sounds like a very concerned friend! 'Don't forget to call me when you get there'."
She turned back to fix Heidi with a speculative look.
"Who is this guy, Heidi?"
"Are you seriously reading my private messages?" Heidi said, standing up from the table in outrage. "Don't be obnoxious! And I told you—"
Hillary waved airily.
"Yes, yes, you told me," Hillary said with a gloating smile and a glint in her light blue eyes. She pushed Heidi gently back into her chair and pulled out a chair for herself. "Now, tell me more."
Heidi counted to ten and prayed for patience. Hillary was, by far, the best gift her parents had ever given her. Thoughtful, tender-hearted, fun. But seemingly from the cradle, Hillie had had this compulsive need to believe in love—the Disney, hearts-and-flowers, someday-my-prince-will-come, and-they-lived-happily-ever-after kind of love. The fairy tale. That she had weathered their parents' divorce with that belief still so firmly intact was absurd… and wonderful.