by Freya Barker
Stacie is not the kind of opportunity you let pass by.
The waitress conveyed my musical request to the DJ, and the moment I heard the first keystrokes of the piano, I was out of my chair.
She smells amazing.
Even just leaning over her, the light hint of lime, and maybe vanilla, is enough to make my mouth water.
I don’t give her a chance to refuse and don’t even try to fight the smile on my lips when I wrap her in my arms. I have her hand pressed against my chest and I wonder if she can feel the thundering of my heart.
It’s pathetic, really. I’m a forty-year-old man, behaving like a teenager scoring a dance with his crush on prom night.
“Why?”
I barely hear her mumbled question; she’s speaking so softly.
“Why what?”
“I don’t understand,” she says, slowly lifting her face. “You could barely stand to look at me a few months ago. And now you’re staring at me all through dinner and ask me to dance? Why? Is this a bet or something?”
I can feel my blood heating as, “Are you for fucking real?” flies from my mouth unchecked. Stacie takes a step back, looking alarmed, but I have my arm still firmly around her waist. Taking a deep breath in I try to calm myself down. “Look, I...” For a moment I contemplate explaining my behavior to her, but I’m afraid right now it will only make her more, and not less, wary of me. “All I want is a dance, and a chance to get to know you a little. If I’ve done something to offend you, I can assure you it was unintended.” I watch, as her eyes soften a little, but not quite all the way. “As for my behavior tonight, it’s not often I get slapped down like that, and you also happen to look beautiful. So yeah, you piqued my interest. It’s possible I may have been staring a little,” I add with a self-deprecating smile.
“A little?” she snorts, taking a step closer and moving to the music again. “I was afraid I’d grown an extra eyeball on my forehead or something.”
“On the contrary,” I correct her. “You’re quite beautiful. It was hard to look away.” I can feel right away it was the wrong thing to say. I wish she wouldn’t make me forget every smooth line and move I’ve mastered over the years, and have me behave like the shy farm boy I once was.
“Don’t insult my intelligence with your flattery, Mr. Flynn. I am well aware of my appearance.” Her tone slices, making it clear that I will have my hands full convincing her that I mean every word.
“But you don’t know what I see.”
POPS IS ALREADY IN bed when I get home a little after midnight. I’m glad, because I’m not quite ready to explain the large print I’m carrying in.
I walk straight through to my bedroom, peel the brown paper away, and lift it to sit on top of my dresser.
It’s a little unnerving to watch eyes, which I’ve imagined on me, follow me around the room as I strip and hang up my clothes. In the bathroom, I quickly go through my nighttime routine, before flicking off the lights and climbing into bed. I stuff the extra pillows behind my back and fold my arms in my neck. Those beautiful ice-blue eyes, the only color in the stark black and white photograph I bid a ridiculously large amount of money on, stare right back at me from across the room.
“Who...who are you?” She could barely keep her eyes open as I backed out of her apartment.
“Just go back to sleep. I’ll pull the door shut behind me.”
It hadn’t been easy to get her into a taxi, and more than once, the driver threw a concerned look in his rearview mirror. I ignored him; I had a hard enough time trying to keep her from falling over.
Thank God I had enough cash in my wallet to pay for the cab, otherwise I would’ve had to go through her purse in front of him, and that could’ve been awkward. As it was, I had to dig through that purse for the keys, but at least I could do it without the suspicious eyes of the cabdriver on my back.
I contemplated taking her clothes off so she’d be more comfortable, but in the end, I just took off her shoes and unbuttoned her jeans. I spread the quilt I found folded on the back of the couch over her, and that’s when those gorgeous blue eyes popped open, and zoomed right in on me.
I recognized something the moment the question left her mouth. I’d never even registered on her radar. Not after years of walking the same hallways, even teaching an occasional class, did she know who I was.
It was then I decided to walk away.
Ironically, all it took was those ice-blue eyes to turn on me ten years later, to bring the fire I thought I’d doused long ago, back to life.
CHAPTER 3
Stacie
“Mom, can we go already?”
I’m trying to blow-dry my hair with one of those wall-mounted hotel dryers. I barely feel the air move with this damn thing. Mak has been bouncing off the walls since she opened her eyes this morning. I don’t know what Al fed her last night, but I need to ask. I’d give anything to have her this ready to go on school days.
Today, not so much.
“Give me a minute!” I yell at my daughter, who is fast losing patience outside the bathroom door.
I toss the useless blow dryer on the counter and flip my hair upside down, ruffle my fingers through it, and straighten up in front of the mirror.
Ugh. At home I can do all this blind. I know exactly how to style my hair to cover as much of the left side of my face as I can. That’s not going to work with wet hair though, and I promised my daughter breakfast in the swanky restaurant downstairs.
Not about to break my word to my girl, I do the best I can with my hair. Nothing on my face but my day cream, which has a tinge of green to cut down on the red in my face, and a light brush of mascara. It is what it is.
“Let’s go, chicklet,” I tell Mak, walking into the bedroom to grab my purse and the room key, before ushering her out the door.
“Uncle Ben and them are probably done with their breakfast by now,” Mak grumbles as we get on the elevator.
“Honey, they knocked on our door just five minutes ago, they haven’t even had time to order.”
I get an eye roll and silence in response. That’s fine, I need a little caffeine before I can handle much more anyway.
Mak makes a beeline for the large table the moment she spots my brother and his family. I follow a little slower, my eyes down to the carpet in front of me so I don’t have to see the looks I get. Usually by the time I go out in public, I have been properly caffeinated and have my game face on, but that’s not the case this morning.
I’m probably not the only one who feels less than perky this morning. Last night was unexpectedly fun. After the introductory speeches, dinner had been fabulous, and the surprise book reveal Jen orchestrated resulted in amazing sales. People had been bidding like crazy on the artwork displayed, including the prints of pictures Isla took of me. I tried not to look too much in the direction of the display, because my face and body were pretty prominently displayed.
The largest print was a close-up of my face and the one I loved best. The others were a selection of full or partial body shots, where my face and much of my body was kept in the shadows. A lot of light play in those, showing me mostly from the back. When you look quickly at those, all you see is a mostly nude woman. Only on closer inspection do you see the thick ridges of scarring running along my left side. I had to swallow a few times when I first saw them all set up on their stands.
A few stiff drinks helped.
I blame those same drinks for not putting up more of a fight when Nicholas Flynn pulled me onto the dance floor. I hate to admit how much I enjoyed that. It’s never been particularly difficult for me to draw male attention. Something I’ll freely admit I’ve used to my advantage both in and outside of the courtroom. Those days are over, which is why he caught me off guard.
I totally had him pegged as an arrogant ass, but he surprised me. Some of what he said sounded quite genuine, although that might have been the alcohol talking.
I enjoyed the dancing, but we were interrupted when Jen st
epped up to the mic, at some point, and called everyone’s attention for the results of the silent auction. I took that opportunity to slip out of the party and disappear upstairs to my room. Once there, I shot a quick text off to Isla to let her know I was calling it a night, before crawling into bed where my baby was already sleeping.
“Morning, lightweight,” Ben says in a teasing voice.
“Bite me,” I tell my brother, as I bend over the stroller where Noah is happily chewing on a toy. “Morning, my handsome little fella,” I coo at him before kissing his fuzzy little head.
“You bailed early,” Isla pipes up, giving me an eyebrow lift.
“I was just suddenly wiped,” I explain, not really lying, because I’d fallen asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.
“They’ve got a buffet,” Al says to Mak, who’s been quietly eyeing his plate of food. “I’ll take you, I need some more toast.”
I shoot him a grateful smile as he walks off with a chattering Mak. I’ll need some coffee first, before I tackle breakfast.
“Yes, please.” I smile at the waiter, who comes by with a large thermos, and hold out my cup. “Ahhh, this is just what I needed,” I groan, closing my eyes as I take my first sip of coffee.
“Not as good as Jen’s.”
My eyes pop open, at the sound of the deep voice, to find Nick pulling out the chair beside mine and putting down a plate overflowing with food. He must have been sitting there before; because he picks up the cup I’d seen on the table and takes a sip. Dark brown eyes appraise me over the rim of the cup, and I shift in my seat.
“True, but it’ll do the trick in a pinch.”
“You should grab some breakfast. They’ve got quite the spread,” he says, before shoving a forkful of scrambled eggs in his mouth.
“Maybe I will.” I take another swig of my coffee before shoving back my chair. I notice Isla looking at me, an eyebrow raised and a faint smile on her lips. “What?” I ask, less than graciously, but she’s not impressed. In true Isla fashion, she breaks out in a big grin and shrugs.
“The French toast is good,” she offers with a smirk.
By the time I get back to the table, Ben is in deep conversation with Al and Nick. Something about a doubleheader, which tells me sports, which also means I can dive into the stack of blueberry pancakes I scored at the buffet in peace. However, it seems Nick has other ideas.
“So what are the chances I can get you to come work with me?” he suddenly asks, catching me with my mouth full of sweet, fluffy deliciousness.
Have you ever tried talking with a mouth full of pancake crumbs? Not recommending it.
“With you?” I blurt out, spraying all over his clean white dress shirt. “Jesus, I’m sorry!” My apology only adds to the problem.
“Swallow first, Stace,” my brother says helpfully, chuckling at his own joke.
I throw him a glare before dunking my napkin in the nearest water glass. Turning back to Nick, I try not to look up in his face, but focus on his pristine shirt, rubbing furiously at the little blue specks I’ve left all over it. I pretend I don’t notice the heat from the solid body underneath my hands, or the chuckles and giggles I hear around the table.
Luckily, Mak’s cheerful banter—a full stomach does wonders for the kid—quickly distracts everyone from my more than embarrassing moment. The conversation around the table seems to fade into the background, and all I hear is the pounding of my own heart.
“It’s fine.”
Nick’s voice is soft, but clear as a bell against the background noise.
“It’s fine, don’t worry,” he repeats, and still I don’t look up.
When my hand is stilled by a steel grip around my wrist, I do look up, straight into Nick’s dark, but highly amused eyes.
“Okay.”
I feel dumb. I fucking sound dumb. There’s too much going on here I can’t wrap my head around, or even want to attempt trying.
“I’m sorry if I threw you with my question,” he says. “I’ve wanted to ask you since Ben told me you were settling here. Well, in Dolores,” he quickly corrects himself. “I left a few messages for you earlier in the year, but I never followed up. Then summer hit, and it got busy, but I’m still interested.”
“Even after I ruined your shirt?”
I watch with interest when his eyes crinkle and lines pop up all over his face as he smiles. Age looks good on him. I’m not sure where that thought comes from, but it’s true. Nicholas is one of those guys who will probably continue to improve with age. Utterly unfair, if you ask me. Still, he strikes an imposing character: with his dark eyes, clean jaw, white smile, and bald head.
“Plenty more shirts, but only one you,” he replies smoothly, his face now straight, but his eyes still smiling. “Unless you have no interest, we should set up a time for you to come into the office,” he adds, leaning back in his chair to let the waiter top off his coffee. “We can chat, I can tell you what I’m thinking, and you can have a look around.”
I’m not sure what prompts me, and from the surprised looks on Ben and Isla’s faces, they’re as shocked as I am at what comes out of my mouth.
“I’d love to.”
NICK
I don’t know what wakes me at the crack of dawn this morning, but the moment I open my eyes to the picture on my dresser, I realize I screwed up by not staying at the hotel last night.
It doesn’t take me long to get dressed, and I catch Pops sitting at the kitchen table, already having his morning coffee. Years of getting up early to tend to the farm is a habit that’s hard to shake. Even after several years of retirement.
“Off so early?” he asks, when I grab my keys from the bowl on the counter. “You know it’s the weekend, right?”
“I know. I’m meeting someone for breakfast in Durango,” I tell him, and watch as the corner of his mouth twitches into a smile.
“Might’ve been easier just to stay the night there,” he offers, with a shrug.
“Probably,” I admit. “I’ll pick up some steaks for us for dinner tonight.”
“You going to that organic place? Pick me up some dried prunes, will ya? Been plugging up a little.”
With a roll of my eyes and a wave, I head out the door.
Last night’s events play through my mind as I drive the two hours into the mountains.
I’d had every intention of staying the night; I’d booked a room. Then when they started with the winning bids, Stacie disappeared from the table and never came back. I kept my eye out for her as the lucky winners went up to the stage to collect their items. When Jen announced the winning amount for the last item, entered by an anonymous bidder, my attention was drawn by the collective gasp that went up.
I’m still not sure why I didn’t want anyone to know I was bidding on that shot of Stacie. Probably, in part, because when people noticed me bidding furiously on that print, it might have raised some eyebrows. Not just Stacie’s, but likely Ben and Isla’s as well, and I’m not quite sure what to give as explanation.
“I don’t give a rat’s ass why,” she’d said when I approached her at the coffee shop earlier. “An extra grand, on top of the highest bid, is good enough for me. I’m just interested in raising as much money as we can, so if you want to throw that kind of money around, be my guest.” She turned around, set my coffee down, and placed her hands on the counter, leaning into my space. “I will have you know that if ever that girl is hurt as a result of whatever it is you’re up to, I will shove my fist so far down your throat, I can tickle your balls.”
“Last thing I want to do is cause any harm,” I told her, grabbing my coffee and backing out of her shop.
Then last night when I slipped out of the ballroom and met her behind the stage to collect the print, I just wanted to take it home, so I packed my stuff in my car and took off.
The check I handed over had been substantial, but very much worth it to go to sleep feeling her eyes on me.
“I’D LOVE TO.”
I as
ked the question, I must’ve at least considered the possibility she might say yes, but still her answer surprises me, as much as it apparently does everyone else at the table.
This is a conversation I was hoping to have last night, but I never had a chance. Maybe I was too distracted having her so close.
When Ben initially mentioned his sister, before I even knew who she was, I’d been very interested.
My firm is small; I have one associate, who specializes in family law, and I focus on mostly corporate stuff. Diversifying is always a good idea when you service a relatively small community. It’s why the mention of a former ADA got my attention. It got me thinking about adding criminal law to our services.
Then I was introduced at his wedding and realized who she was, even though she clearly had no recollection of me. It had been reason enough to put my thoughts of adding new expertise to the firm on the sidelines. It would be awkward.
I’ve come to realize since then, that avoidance is impossible, no matter how hard you try. Living in the same small town, it’s a small miracle we didn’t encounter each other before we nearly collided in the parking lot of my favorite coffee place.
She still doesn’t have a clue who I am, not yet anyway.
“Are you eating that, Mom?”
I hadn’t paid the little girl much notice, but her voice draws my attention. Mom? I turn to see her look at Stacie.
“You already had French toast, Mak. You’re gonna make yourself sick.”
I lean back in my chair and grab my coffee to give my hands something to do. She has a daughter. Does that mean there’s a father? My eyes flick down to her hands, but there’s no ring and not a hint of a suggestion there recently was one.
“I could eat more,” the little girl says, shrugging her shoulders.
She is not at all how I would have pictured a daughter of Stacie’s. Not that I pictured one at all, but the short dark hair and the shirt with the Grateful Dead logo, completely throw me off. She can’t be much older than...ten maybe?