“Why Let’s Make a Deal?” Deflection was always a good choice when he didn’t want to talk about things, and Mercy, or any other woman, didn’t interest him.
“No changing the subject. Why not Mercy?”
His gut response was because she’s not you, but he didn’t say it. “I don’t know. I’m not looking for anyone. I’ve got a lot on my plate, and fixing up my house is my number one priority. It’s not that I don’t like staying above the bakery, but owning a home is a big deal. What about you? Do you own a house?”
He imagined someone with her level of fame had a home—maybe two, but then again, she had made the comment that while she didn’t have cash, her credit was good which meant she was probably low on funds.
“Not anymore. I used to have a loft in Denver, but I sold it when things got tight. Now I rent an apartment but might need to downsize to letting a room. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”
He finished his first slice and grabbed a second while she continued to nibble around the edge of her first.
“I would have thought you would have a sizable savings account to pull from.” He hated to admit it, but he googled her, and her paintings went for thousands of dollars. The ones she did as a child could bring in hundreds of thousands.
“Poor management.”
“You, or someone you hired?”
She popped the last bite of her pizza into her mouth. “It’s all on me. Not that I was frivolous, but I’m a sucker for my family or anyone with a sob story. Let’s just say that my mom lives in Tuscany in a villa I bought. Several families in Denver have medical insurance for the year, a few have new cars. I don’t regret buying any of it, especially for my mom because she had nothing.”
“What does your mom do?”
Sosie lit up. “She paints. Mostly portraits, but they’re good. She always said I sucked her talent from her in the womb.” She sat back and closed her eyes. “In hindsight, I believe she lived vicariously through me. I had the fame she always wanted.”
That was a bitter pill to swallow because he knew how she felt. He never had a parent who truly looked out after his best interests, either. They were too consumed with themselves and their problems to pay much attention, and he imagined Sosie’s mom was the same.
“Now, why Let’s Make a Deal?”
She sat up and smiled. The same smile she did earlier that lit up the room. “Simple. It puts me on even ground. No one knows what’s behind curtain number one, but I’ll tell you …, statistically, it’s most likely a donkey wearing a straw hat.”
“Do you want a beer?”
“Sure. I’d love a beer.”
“I should have served it with the pizza.”
She tapped him on the shoulder. “Bad host.”
Once he put the pizza away, he came back with two beers and took a seat at the other end of the couch. He flipped on the TV and scrolled through the shows. He came across a game show cable channel midway through an episode of Let’s Make a Deal.
“This is your lucky day.” He turned the volume up and sat back to watch. His eyes fell on her, and not the TV. Everything about her was beautiful, even her blindness. Because she couldn’t focus on the superficial, he got to see her essence. It didn’t matter that she had blue paint on the tips of her hair, or her smattering of freckles wasn’t covered up to make her look like a porcelain doll. With Sosie, what he saw was what he got, and that was a breath of fresh air.
Reaching forward, he almost touched her hair when she said, “What do you think?”
He pulled his hand back and watched her child-like excitement.
“This is the big one, huh?” He refocused his attention on the television.
“Yes, how about a wager?” she asked. She pulled her feet beneath her and leaned forward.
“You want to bet something?”
She giggled. “Yes, if my curtain is worth more than yours, you buy the pancakes at Maisey’s tomorrow. If I lose, they’re on me.”
A good bet was hard to pass up. “You’re on.”
“I get number three,” she blurted.
He frowned. “That’s hardly fair, you already told me, statistically, curtain number one has a donkey. That means I have to take number two. You’ve left me no options.”
She shrugged. “You don’t have to. Are you a betting man? If you’re a risk-taker, then choose curtain one.” She scrunched her nose and said, “Hee-haw, hee-haw.”
“You’re so funny. I think I will choose one just to prove you wrong.”
She smiled. “You’ll look amazing in that hat.”
They leaned forward while the host made deals for curtains. No one chose number two, and when it opened, it had a car.
“Oh no, this is not boding well for either of us.” She scooted closer and moved her hand up his thigh. “Where’s your hand? I’m nervous.”
Having her hand high on his thigh made him nervous, too. He didn’t know how much more he could take before his baser instincts took over.
He clasped her hand, and they both waited for the big reveal. The host built up the suspense by teasing the contestants and offering them cash and smaller boxes. Like the contestants, they kept their curtains, hoping for the big win.
When curtain three opened to reveal a donkey wearing a straw hat, she sunk back into the cushions. “It’s not possible.” She laid the back of her hand on her forehead like she’d faint from disappointment. “The ass is never behind three.”
Laughter bubbled up from deep inside. “Seems to me asses are found everywhere. Looks like you're buying pancakes.”
She frowned like a petulant child. “Yep, looks like I am. I always deliver what I promise.”
Behind his curtain were kitchen appliances, which he could have used if he got the prize.
Next, they watched the first half of The Wizard of Oz before they called it a night. They walked down the hallway toward their rooms, and she said, “Wouldn’t it be nice if I could click my heels and make a wish?”
He stopped. “What would you wish for?” Her eyesight was his guess. It seemed like the best bet. If put in her situation, he’d wish for it.
With lips drawn into a thin line, she rocked her head back and forth. “I’d wish for my brother to gain permanent sobriety.”
Her answer floored him. “You, Ms. Sosie Grant, are a surprise.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Good night.”
She walked into her room and shut the door.
He spent the next hour listening to her move around, brush her teeth, and listen to her emails via voice messaging.
Finally, the apartment took on an eerie silence, but that only lasted a few minutes. At first, he heard a whimper, and then he heard her cry. She muffled it somehow, but the sound was torturous. It made his heart physically ache like a fist squeezed his organ.
Not being able to stand it any longer, he climbed out of bed and pulled on the sweatpants he kept folded on the dresser. He moved toward her room asking himself, What the hell am I doing?
At her door, he rapped gently and then opened it to peek inside. “Sosie, are you okay?”
She sniffled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. It’s just that the dark sometimes gets to me.”
“Can I come in?”
Backlit by the hallway light, he saw her outline. She appeared tiny and frail in the shadows of the night, curled up like a pill bug trying to protect itself.
“Yes, can you lie down with me for a few minutes?”
Kill me now. “Yes.” He moved to her bed and climbed on top of the comforter. “Here, let me hold you.” He reached out and tugged her close. His chin sat on the top of her head as she melted into him with her back to his front. He tightened his arms around her body and held her firmly. Her sigh touched the deepest part of his heart.
“Baxter. Don’t let anyone ever tell you you’re not good at taking care of people. You’re amazing to me.” She seemed to settle in his arms, and after several minutes, her breathing deepened, and she fel
l asleep.
He could have slipped out from beside her and went back to his bed. He could have, but he didn’t because he needed her touch as much as she needed his. Sosie brought something to his life. Was it purpose? Passion? He wasn’t sure, but it was something that made him want to be everything she needed.
Chapter Eleven
A distant ringing woke her from a sound sleep, and as she stretched, there was an arm wrapped around her possessively. It was as if it was protecting her from everything she feared about the dark.
She rolled over and burrowed into his warmth. For a man who claimed to fail at taking care of people, Baxter had come to her rescue and become her savior.
With her face pressed against his bare chest, the hairs tickling her nose; she breathed him in. Spicy orange—the same scent that came from decorating the fruit at Christmas with cloves and ribbon.
As he stirred, he pulled her tightly to his chest and pressed his lips to the top of her head. “You awake?”
“Hard to sleep through your alarm,” she said.
“I had no trouble. I don’t think I’ve slept that soundly in years.” He rolled onto his back. “Hope you don’t mind that I stayed.” He shifted and tugged her close, so her head lay over his heart, and her body molded to his side. “It was selfish, but you felt good in my arms.”
She moved her hand across his stomach, letting her fingertips take in the hills and valleys of muscle created by long hours of hard work. This was one of those times where she wished she could see him if only to confirm her suspicions; Baxter Black was a hottie.
“I slept. I mean, I really slept for the first time this year. I wasn’t afraid to be in the abyss because I wasn’t alone.”
“I’m glad I could help. Sadly, I have to get up and go to work. What are you doing today?”
She rolled onto her back with a huff. It was time to rise and face her reality. “I’m not sure. I thought about what you said—about taking some time to adjust. My life has been a whirlwind since this whole thing began.” It sounded like a great idea, but was she thinking with her head or her heart? All she wanted to do was lie in her bed with Baxter, but that wasn’t an option either. He had a life and a job, and she wasn’t part of his real world.
“I think a break is a good idea. Most people will have a long weekend since the Fourth falls on Monday. There’s no reason why you can’t put your problems on hold until then.”
“What about you? Can’t you take some time off? Something tells me you work too much too.”
The bed shifted, and when she rolled onto her side to touch him, the heat from his body was still in the sheets, but he was gone. Moving forward, her hand caught the fabric of his sweatpants before he rose from the bed.
“No rest for the weary. I’ve got another consult this morning, this time with Red.”
“Can I come?” It came out without thought. She scurried out of bed and made her way to where the bag of clothes sat on her dresser. “I can be ready in a few minutes. I’ve become pretty low maintenance.” She prayed he would say yes. Spending the day alone with nothing to do was torture. There was only so much television a girl could listen to.
“You want to come to Red’s?”
“Sure, why not? It’s not like I have a lot to keep me busy.” She tucked her hands behind her back and crossed her fingers.
Silence filled the air, and dread filled her heart. Maybe she was too needy. Was asking him to comfort her last night too much?
“I understand if you think I’ll get in the way.” She picked up her phone and opened the bag. On command, she pulled up the app that told her the color of the clothes. She pointed it at one pair of pants, and it said navy blue. Next came a shirt which was pink.
“Perfect.”
He moved to her, “Can I see that? It’s awesome.”
She handed her phone to him and listened as he pointed it everywhere he could.
“It helps. You should have seen the first time I dressed myself. I looked a hot mess with two different colored shoes on. I have a thing for Vans and put one checkered shoe on and one solid red.”
He placed her phone back into her palm. “Get dressed. You owe me pancakes.”
She’d forgotten about curtain number three. “Stupid donkey.”
“A bet is a bet.” He moved toward the door. “By the way, you look damn cute in my boxers and T-shirt.”
An excited giggle lifted from her chest. “Maybe you’re the one who’s blind.”
“Fifteen minutes, Sosie, and we’re out of here.” He pulled the door closed behind him.
Her heart soared with happiness. Minutes later, she heard the shower start. Since she’d had hers last night, she got dressed and walked to the kitchen to make coffee. As soon as he joined her, she rushed off to brush her hair and teeth.
“I could get used to you making me coffee,” he called from behind her.
“I made it for me, you’re lucky I made enough.” She closed the bathroom door and moved to the sink, gripping the porcelain edge, she looked toward the mirror. It was silly, but it seemed the right position to be in to have a chat with herself.
“How lucky are you to be here?” Luck seemed too tame a word when she thought of how things could have turned out. In any other town, they might have tossed her to the curb, but not in Aspen Cove. It was one reason she put her studio here.
The day she googled studio for rent, the first hit was The Guild Creative Center. The rent was reasonable, and the landscape surrounding the town was spectacular.
Being an artist who focused on impressionism, it was ideal. She’d painted that meadow a dozen times since she took over the space. In fact, most of the half-finished canvases were probably that scene in different phases of the seasons.
No, luck wasn’t the right word, blessed was. Blessed that the town had a man like Doc, who seemed to know what people needed, and a woman like Maisey, who was more like a mother than her own. And Katie, who had the heart of a lion and the generosity of a Samaritan. Then there was Baxter, who pretended he didn’t care, or at least he couldn’t. No, she had a feeling he was afraid to care, and yet, he did it anyway.
“Are you ready?”
“Coming.” She quickly brushed her teeth and her hair and bolted out of the bathroom. It didn’t take her much time to get used to the layout of the place, and she skipped down the hallway toward the door.
“I’ve got your bag.” He slung it over her arm and opened the door. The smell of chocolate from the bakery filled the air.
“I could get used to you too.” She removed her cane and snapped it open.
“Ladies first.”
She made her way down the stairs, taking Baxter’s arm when he joined her. “Do you have time for pancakes?”
“You’re not getting away from buying me breakfast. I hear you have excellent credit.”
She laughed. “It’s all I’ve got.”
They walked around the building toward the diner. “Not true. You’ve got me.” He covered her hand on his arm with his. “And you’ve got a cool app that tells you if your clothes match.”
“And a studio full of half-finished worthless art, a mound of debt, and a shitty agent who still wants her canvases.”
They entered Maisey’s and found an empty booth.
“I’ve been thinking about that. She said she needed ten Sosie Grant originals, right?”
She touched her silverware and laid it out the way she liked it. Knife to her left and spoon and fork to her right. “Yes, I’ve had this show on the calendar for close to two years. You’d think I would have tons of paintings ready, but I don’t. I have a bunch of stuff that’s at various levels of completion. Just proves that you should always expect the unexpected.” Maybe that wasn’t quite right because she never expected Baxter, but here he was.
“But they’re all originals, right?”
“Yes.” She tried to figure out where he was going with this. “I do all my own work.”
The squeak of Maisey’s s
hoes told of her approach. The scent of honeysuckle announced her arrival.
“Hello, kids, coffee?”
“None for me,” Baxter said, “Sosie made a pot before we left the house.”
“I’ll have coffee.” Sosie felt for her cup and moved it toward Maisey. “I didn’t get much of the pot I made because he hogged the bathroom, and I had to rush and brush my teeth.”
“Sounds like you two are living the marital dream.”
She wished she could have seen the look on Baxter’s face; she imagined it to be comical, like mouth wide open and bugged-out eyes.
“If marital bliss is a pot of coffee waiting each morning, it can’t be that bad,” he said.
Her jaw dropped as Maisey poured the coffee. “Juice or milk, then?” Maisey asked.
“Milk and a plate of pancakes.”
Sosie held up two fingers. “Make that two plates of pancakes.”
Maisey’s rubber sole sounds faded into the distance.
“Back to the art.”
She frowned. “You said it would be good to get away from what’s stressing me. I don’t want to talk about art.”
“Fair enough.”
They sat for a few silent seconds before she spoke. “Tell me about Red’s house. Is it a rancher as well?”
“No, a Victorian replica. I have to give the Coopers credit. They can emulate any style and build a kit in no time. The house was put up in two weeks and looks like it’s been there forever. It’s two stories with gables and gingerbread trim.”
“Sounds charming.” The description reminded her of the houses in the historical district west of Cherry Creek. “What color is the outside?”
Maisey swung by and dropped off Baxter’s milk.
“It’s yellow, with white trim and a red door.”
“The door seems fitting, given the owner’s name. Is the band calling Aspen Cove home?” The population of Aspen Cove was diverse, ranging from bootleggers to millionaires. The people made it interesting.
“They’re on the road a lot. Most of them live in Los Angeles but hate the crowds and taxes, so this is where they’ll live when they are recording new albums like they are doing now at The Guild Creative Center.”
One Hundred Glances (An Aspen Cove Small Town Romance Book 14) Page 8