by Gina Calanni
Before my knuckles hit the door, Brandon swings it open. His hands pull me in like he is pulling me onto a moving freight train. The door shuts tight behind me and all my thoughts are racketing over the tracks of what I was meeting with him for in the first place. His lips are on mine and I’m gone. It’s like my mind is one of those etch-a-sketch boards and with each movement of Brandon’s hands over my body I become a blank space of intentions. I’m struggling not to fall down. I know I won’t; he’s got me. His arms are wrapped around my waist.
“Brandon.”
“Yes, Sahara… damn, I wanted you in my office but today… you sure know how to surprise a man.” His tongue runs across my neck and every inch of my skin tingles like I’m being tickled by a feather of hot desire. I shake my head and place my hands on his chest. Even his chest is making me fall under. No. I straighten up my body.
“Brandon, we need to talk.”
“Again?” He cocks his head to the right. He pulls me back into him and kisses my lips. “Like now?”
“No. I’m serious. I need to know something.”
Brandon runs his fingers along my cheeks and down my jaw. “What’s that?”
“Are you the reason I’m being promoted?”
He takes a step back and runs his hand through his hair. “I was a part of the discussion but your flavor was behind your promotion. Unless you think the flavor tasted so good because it reminded you of me and if so, then yes, I was behind it.” The sides of his mouth pull up into a wicked grin.
I take in a deep breath. “Oh, Brandon, you are so funny. Seriously, though, did you make it happen? Because I don’t want a handout. I want to succeed on my own.”
“Sahara, you have to stop doubting yourself and us. Okay? The promotion is all you. Go accept it and we’ll celebrate it tonight.” He leans down and kisses me as if he is sealing the idea that I am deserving of the promotion and him. I sure hope he’s right.
I leave his office and return to the human resources department and sign my name on what I still can’t quite wrap my head around, but that’s fine. Maybe this is just one of those moments in my life where something turned out better than I could have ever hoped for, like Ms. Myra. I’m so worried about her. I need to figure this out. Maybe I can bring it up at breakfast tomorrow. She seems a little softer then, like she can take on ideas, not like at the end of the day when she seems so zonked and ready to sleep.
Back in the creation station I make a few more test products. One I name in my head Can You Believe This? It is a mix of chocolate, buttery pecan and blackberry ice cream and then cracker jacks, half-and-half and drizzled Nutella. I had to melt the Nutella to get the thinnest stripe to pull through the mixture. Afterwards, I was all alone and I’m a bit ashamed to admit it, but I licked the spoon. It was so good. Nutella is my weakness, that is for sure. Other than Brandon.
Brandon has me jumping through all sorts of hoops, and going places I’ve never been before, and tackling ideas, like that I’m worth something and that I’m worthy of being loved. He said he loved me. I’m still in shock over that one. He sent me an email from his executive account. It was businessy, and even though I wanted to respond with a bunch of Xs and Os, I didn’t. Nope. I kept it purely professional.
I can’t say I’m not excited about seeing Brandon later tonight. He said he wanted to take me out tonight for our celebratory dinner for passing the training test, even though he still hasn’t told me his score. And now my new promotion, which he has assured me was all me. I wish I knew if he did better or worse than me. I shrug my shoulders. I bet I can get it out of him. He might be ticklish. I’ll just have to find out. He’s going to pick me up from Ms. Myra’s house. I put all my ingredients away and lock them up. Everything has to be locked up to make sure we don’t have any cross-contamination issues. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Flints comes by and checks to see if I’ve followed all of the protocols.
Yes, I have. Going forward, I’m going to check every single detail to make sure I don’t miss anything. I can’t have another fifty-thousand-dollar error on my part to contend with. I make my way out of the building and get home with just enough time to call Eagle Online to find out what is going on with my balance and what types of payment arrangements I can make. There must be some sort of mistake. Or maybe Mary Anne had a few too many margaritas at lunch and her vision was blurred or something.
I need to handle this right away as I don’t want any more late fees to be added on and I need to get this settled soon. I think they’ve added at least a thousand dollars to the balance since this morning in interest. I shake my head as I exit through the double doors of Blue Ribbon Creamery. Wow, I did it. My first week as a product developer and a promotion to boot! If I didn’t have this huge debt situation to deal with, I might have skipped out to Rontu. Then again, I probably shouldn’t. That probably wouldn’t seem professional and, after all, I am a professional. I don’t want them to reconsider my tier-one raise. Shoot, no.
Rontu and I cruise the whole way home and I sing loudly to The Dixie Chicks; it’s one of my CDs. I really like the “Cowboy Take Me Away” song. Kind of reminds me of Brandon even though he doesn’t work on a farm. He sure does have the build.
I sigh as I drop my purse on the counter and hit call. It’s time for me to get down to business and make a plan for my big mistake. I can see MTV making a reality TV show about me. Sahara’s Big Mistake. Join us to see how Sahara works off fifty-five thousand dollars scrubbing toilets on the weekends. Yuck.
“Eagle Online where accreditation is just a word. How may I help you?”
I jump. “Yes, hi, this is Sahara Smith, and I’m calling… I’m calling about my balance. I –”
“Just a minute, let me pull up your account. What’s the last four of your social?”
“Seven Seven Seven Nine.” I shake my head from side to side as I wait.
“Ah, yes, Sahara Smith, your balance is zero.”
I almost drop my phone. “I’m sorry, ma’am, what did you say?”
“I said your balance is zero.”
I shake my head and pinch my underarm. It hurts and I jump. “I’m truly sorry. Please bear with me for a minute. Did you say my balance is zero?”
“Yes, Ms. Smith, your balance is zero.”
I swivel my head around. “Okay, and again I sincerely apologize. But how much do I owe Eagle Online?” This makes no sense.
“Ms. Smith, your balance is zero. You do not owe any money to Eagle Online.”
I cannot believe what I’m hearing. I’ve already gone and pinched myself so I know I’m not dreaming. But how could this be? This doesn’t make any sense. I rub my arms.
“Is there any way you could email that to me?”
“Of course. I’ve got your Gmail address – is that still correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I nod as if she can see me.
“Your balance and payment in full statement has been sent. A hard copy will be sent to your residence on file.”
I hurry to my room and log in to my Gmail. There it is, clearer than day. Zero. How is this possible? How could I owe nothing?
“I’ve got the email. How did this happen?”
“A payment was received earlier today, for your entire balance.”
“From who?” I grip my chest.
“I don’t know. It just says paid in full.”
“When will you know who paid?”
“We won’t; once the payment is made the account is closed.” She tsks as if I’m irritating her with all of my questions.
“But I need to know who paid my bill.”
“That’s something for you to research on your own. As far as Eagle Online is concerned you have paid your debts. Unless you would like to enroll for another degree? I can transfer you to that department.”
The phone almost drops again. I wouldn’t sign up with Eagle Online if it were my only way of escaping a burning building. I’d rather go up in flames. I shake my head.
“No, thank
you.”
The phone call ends and I’m sitting on my bed with a bucket of questions and an overwhelming sense of worry drifting from me. Did Brandon do this? I can’t have him paying my student debts. I don’t care how rich he is. That’s just not right. Not proper. My mama would straight up disown me if that were the case. And I don’t think it would be that wrong of her either. Brandon can’t come in sweeping up my bad decisions and making my world better just because he li… shoot, he said he loved me. Love. My chest heaves up and down and I’m a big mess of emotions on my bed all over again. What am I going to do? I don’t want to insult his nice gesture – or big, swinging, huge gesture – but I can’t accept it. He is going to have to get his money back. He has to.
Chapter Nineteen
Shoot, I’ve got like five minutes before Brandon gets here. If only I could zap back time. But if that were possible, I can think of too many times I’d want to zap back the time and change things. Ha, would that even be possible? If I could, would it really make a difference? I’ll never know the answers and I need to focus better right now. I’ve got to tackle a big conversation tonight and I keep getting lost in all these ideas. Even my shower time was a bit longer than normal. I’ve never been in this kind of situation before. I’ve never owed more money than my mama’s house cost, nor have I ever had anyone swipe away my debt and pay it for me. And it’s not just my debt; it’s my huge mistake. It’s something I’ve got to figure out on my own. I swallow. I can’t allow it. I’ve got to figure out how to solve this.
I suspect that Brandon is not the kind of guy to be okay about someone turning down his grand gesture. But fifty-five thousand dollars is not a bouquet and a slow dance on the beach. We are talking about house-buying money. Maybe even mansion money, if you consider it as a down payment of some sort. My mama could buy two houses with that kind of cash. I slump my shoulders. Well… I know she doesn’t technically have a house as it’s a single wide, but still, that’s a lot of money.
My heart is squeezing tight. I can’t breathe. I don’t want to hurt his feelings. But what am I supposed to do? I can’t just accept that. I can’t. I won’t. I run my brush through my hair; with each stroke it’s like I’m trying to pad on some confidence in my head.
The doorbell rings and I rush down the hallway to answer it. Ms. Myra hasn’t come out of her room since I got home. I tried knocking earlier but she didn’t respond and I didn’t want to wake her if she was able to get some good rest.
On the other side of the door Brandon is standing in front of me with a bouquet of yellow roses and one red one. I blink. That’s an odd combo.
“Hey.” I smile. I’ll never tire of seeing this handsome man. He is downright beautiful.
“Hey, gorgeous, you ready to celebrate?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.
I swallow. Does he know that I know he paid off my debt and he wants to celebrate that?
I raise my eyebrow at him as he hands me the flowers.
“I added one red, so you wouldn’t get the wrong idea.”
“About what?”
“The yellow roses…” He runs his fingers through his hair. “Yellow roses are more for friendship, but not to me.” He pulls me close to him. “Not with you. Sahara, you are my yellow rose of Texas.” His lips brush across mine softly. I kiss him back but quickly. I don’t want Ms. Myra to come out and catch me smooching with Brandon… that would be more embarrassing than having my undies on the line out front.
“Thank you. These are so pretty.” I take in a deep whiff. Wow, I’m about to fall over with their amazing scent. A tiny ping of sadness hits my heart. The idea of not receiving pretty flowers from Brandon. How can this guy, this sweeter-than-sugar guy, be with me? And how am I supposed to tell him I can’t accept his gift? I swallow hard as I find the vase under the sink to put the roses in.
“How’s Ms. Myra doing?” Brandon leans against the counter and his eyes trail over me like he hasn’t seen me in weeks.
I sigh. “Not good. Earlier today she almost fell when she was walking toward me. She’s been asleep ever since I got home from work.” I stick the roses in the vase and fill it with water. They are so pretty. I want to dance around them, but I’m sure Brandon would think I’ve gone and lost it.
“Have you talked to her about it?” Brandon squeezes my shoulders and I want to turn and crash into him and his arms. I don’t want to think about Ms. Myra being sick, or even worse, dying. But I’m not an idiot. I know the signs. I’ve seen them before. The bathroom scenes and the fainting, the extra rest. They mean one thing, I’m sure of it. Cancer.
“I don’t think she wants to talk about it.” I turn and face him. “Every time she has been sick, I’ve asked if I could bring her water and she always asks that I give her space.”
Brandon wraps his arms around me and kisses my head. “Some people don’t want to talk about it. They just want to deal with it.” He runs his fingers through my hair. “Before my mom died, she always shooed me out of the room when she wasn’t able to sit up. Said she didn’t want me to see her at her worst.”
“Oh, I’m sorry Brandon. That must have been so hard.” I stare up at him.
“Yeah, it was, but that’s the way my mom was always looking out for me. Not herself. That’s why I changed my name.”
“So your real name is actually Rollins?” I jerk my head back. This is news. I guess I could have asked for a form of ID or something, but how normal is that?
“Yes, I got really mad at my dad after my mom died. It was only a few months and he was already seeing Barbara. It pissed me off so much I told my dad I didn’t want anything to do with him and I marched down to the courthouse and changed my name from Blue to Rollins, my mom’s maiden name.”
I blink several times. “Wow, that must have hurt your dad.”
“Yeah, I think it did. But he hurt me. To go and remarry someone so soon. Grass hadn’t even grown on my mom’s grave.” Brandon runs his fingers through his hair. His knuckles are white.
“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. I know I didn’t cause his pain. But shoot, that must have hurt so bad. I can’t imagine my mama with anyone else and my daddy left her and not via death. And I don’t even know if he’s still alive.
“You know what?” Brandon pulls up my chin.
“What?” I stare up into his dreamy blues.
“My mama would have loved you.” He plants a big kiss on my lips and leads me out of the kitchen.
“That’s sweet to say, thank you.”
“You can thank me later.” Brandon winks at me. “I’m hungry.”
I roll my eyes at him and grab my purse from the chair. We hustle down the steps and I’m wondering if Brandon has food on the brain or something else. I hop into the truck and glance down at my dress. It’s my only fancy dress. But Brandon did say he wanted to go somewhere nice and I reckon it’s not the place he ordered the appetizer extravaganza at the Cherrywood Manor.
“How was your first week?” Brandon asks as he helps me into the truck.
“Good. How about you, up on the executive floor? What’s that like?” I blink my eyes. I know he probably doesn’t want me to joke about it. But I can’t help myself.
“Maybe you can come back and visit, and stay longer next time. I can show you firsthand what it’s like.” Brandon winks at me as he shuts my door.
“I’m sure I’ll make it up there on my own merit.” I tsk. Even though I’m trying to sound like I actually believe the possibility of that, I do not. I can’t ever imagine being an executive. Especially considering my degree is probably a fake and cost me fifty-five thousand dollars. A debt that Brandon has paid off. I swallow.
“I wouldn’t be surprised in the least.” Brandon squeezes my knee. I jump. I’ve always been extra ticklish though most people don’t know this as my mama was not much of a tickler and my daddy left before any big history could be created about me squealing and rushing off to avoid any kind of tickling.
The truck comes to a s
top in front of the Treehouse Grill. It’s lit up with tiny white Christmas lights along the roof and in the trees. It looks magical, like a fairy palace or something. I glance at Brandon. I hope what I thought was fancy attire is good enough for this sparkling restaurant. I found this dress at a secondhand store a few years ago. It’s a light-blue silk with a sweetheart neckline. I know this because that’s what the clerk said as she was ringing me up.
Brandon is opening my door before I can get a second breath in about this place and whether I make sense being here.
He helps me out of the truck and our fingers lace together as we make our way to the entrance.
“Two under Rollins.” Brandon nods at the host who is dressed in a suit. I glance down at my outfit. I don’t think this dress is the same level as the staff. I’m about to pass out in fear and embarrassment.
I tug on Brandon’s hand. “Are you sure… I’m dressed okay?” I let fall from my mouth as my face is surely covered in a red haze of embarrassment.
Brandon jerks his head back. “Sahara, you look amazing. If I wasn’t so hungry, we would be skipping dinner and heading back to my place instead.”
I giggle. “Oh, really?”
“Yes, really. Sahara, you’re tearing my seams.” He growls into my ear and splinters of heat glide over my neck and down my back and arms.
The host glances back at us and it’s like we got caught leaning over the fence of Mr. Grady’s yard to snag a few peaches in the dead heat of summer. Brandon is about as ripe as one of those juicy peaches and I could enjoy him for more than a summer vacation. I want a never-ending supply. His lips are so delicious, and he makes me hotter than a heater that just short-fused.
We follow behind the host and Brandon grasps tightly onto my hand like he doesn’t want to lose me en route to the table. And he might with the size of this restaurant. White linens cover each table and little flickers of flames glow from their glass globes. Wow. Everything is so pretty and fancy it’s like I’m in a fairy tale and I don’t want to wake up. Not if it means without Brandon.