His face morphed from friendly interest to discomfort as he interrupted. “I’m afraid I’ve already hired someone for that position.”
Blinking in surprise, she asked, “You hired someone? But I thought you would be interviewing once you knew exactly when Ms. Robberson was leaving.”
He shifted in his seat slightly then said, “I didn’t advertise for the position. My niece is just out of college and expressed an interest in the position. I decided to hire her.” As though to make her feel better, he quickly added, “I’m sure you’ll enjoy working with her.”
Her stomach clenched in frustration, and she fought to keep her voice steady. “But Mr. Weatherby, I’ve worked here for five years. I thought surely since I had let you know I was interested in that position you would consider me.”
“Ms. Belcher, I appreciate your loyalty to this firm,” he said, his mouth twisting. Lifting his hands, palms up, he attempted a smile when he continued, “Surely, you can see my position. You’re an excellent bookkeeper, and that job seems to suit your…uh…needs. My niece would not be satisfied with those duties.”
Forcing her voice to remain steady, she replied, “And I’m supposed to be satisfied not being allowed to be promoted? To have a higher income? To advance in this firm?”
A look of chagrin crossed his face before his lips tightened into a line. “I’m afraid I’ve made up my mind. I feel that you’re more suited for the behind the scenes bookkeeping position, and my attractive niece will fill the role of office manager perfectly.”
His gaze dropped to the cane that was propped next to her against the chair before he lifted his eyes, and she could see the guilt written there.
She had had years of facing disappointments, wondering when she would get a break, wondering when she would not have to fight so hard just to move ahead. Holding his gaze, refusing to give in, she asked, “So, you’re telling me that because I’m not as attractive as your niece, that’s why I’m not being promoted?”
His mouth opened and closed several times, but she could see thoughts passing behind his intelligent eyes. Finally, he said, “That’s not what I meant to imply, Ms. Belcher. I simply feel she is the best person for the job. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.”
She pushed herself up from the chair, grabbed her cane, and turned to walk out of the room. The desire to quit screamed in her ears, but she gave it no voice. She needed a job. She needed the money. She needed the health insurance. Walking back to her closet-office, she heaved a shuddering sigh, refusing to allow the gathering tears to fall. Maybe one day.
Opening her computer, she looked at the time in the corner of the screen and noted that her workday was over. Shutting the top to her laptop firmly, she grabbed her bag and walked out. If ever there was a day she wanted to see Asher, today was that day.
* * *
Penelope hurried as much as she was able around the pond to her bench. It was important for her to get there before Asher came from his run, not wanting him to see her limp. She refused to think about a time when he might see her walking, pushing that to the back of her mind. Not seeing him yet made her breathe a little bit easier, and she panted while plopping down onto the bench. There were not as many people out today, and she cast a wary glance to the sky. The predicted possible rain had not come yet, and she prayed it held off. But even if there’s just a chance of rain, he might not be running today. And today is a day I could so use his friendly face.
She tried to read, but the words on the page just ran together. She continually looked to the other side of the pond where he would normally come running out of the woods. She wondered what he would be wearing today, although his running outfit rarely changed. A T-shirt that fit across his chest and abs. Running shorts that hung halfway down his thighs, and the old shoes that appeared well-worn. She wondered if his hair ever lay flat, considering it usually stood up straight. Her fingers twitched at the thought of sliding through his hair.
Giving up completely on her book, she trained her eyes to the edge of the woods where he would appear, not caring if it made her pathetic to place all her hopes on seeing him. Suddenly, a flash of white appeared in the distance, and her breath left her lungs in a whoosh. Too far for her to distinguish his features, she knew it was him.
She watched as he made his way around the pond, disappearing for a moment behind some trees before reappearing, a wide smile on his face as he looked toward her. As he approached, he slowed, his chest heaving from the exertion of the run. She tucked her hair behind her ears and met his smile with one of her own.
Before she had a chance to greet him, he said, “Sorry I’m late. I got held up.” He sat down on the bench, and she noticed with pleasure that he did not sit at the far end, but more toward the middle, several feet closer. He immediately twisted his body so that one knee was propped on the bench, his arm along the back coming perilously close to her shoulder, and his eyes held hers.
Her cheeks hurt from smiling so widely but she did not even consider scaling back the beam. “You’re not late at all. I haven’t been here long.”
He glanced up toward the sky and added, “I was afraid you might not come today since it’s supposed to rain.”
Without thinking, she said, “I would easily risk the rain just to be able to see you.” As soon as the words left her mouth, her eyes widened and she sucked in a quick breath, the heat of blush painting her face. She blinked and looked away quickly, not wanting to see the expression of surprise, or worse, disgust at how pathetic she must have sounded.
“Hey,” he said gently, his fingertips brushing her shoulder.
She forced her eyes to slant his way, seeing a smile on his face.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he assured. “I was thinking the exact same thing. Getting wet is a small price to pay for being able to spend time with you.”
The air left her lungs quickly again, and she wondered about the effect he had on her. One kind sentiment from him, and she felt as though her insides were goo. Not knowing how to respond, she looked back down at the book in her hands, realizing she had not even started it. Before he had a chance to ask her what she was reading, she said, “I know I’m sitting here with the book in my hand, but I honestly haven’t been reading. As soon as I sat down, I was just looking across the pond to watch for you.” Tucking her hair behind her ear again, she said, “I guess that sounds kind of pathetic.”
His fingers danced across her shoulder again, and she felt the tingles running throughout her body. He applied a slight pressure with his fingertips, and she turned to look his way again. His gaze was steady, his eyes were warm, and his lips curved into a sweet smile. Shaking his head slowly, he said, “I don’t think it’s pathetic at all. I almost skipped my run today, just so that I could come straight here. I couldn’t wait to see you either.”
She had no idea how he managed to move without her noticing, but suddenly she was staring straight into his eyes as he slid closer to her. The arm along the back of the bench was now completely around her, his fingers barely brushing her other shoulder. She continued to hold his gaze in anticipation, but as he neared, her eyes dropped to his mouth.
He leaned in closer, and she could feel his warm breath brushing across her face. She was not sure if he was going to kiss her but felt as though she would burst into flames if he did not. Just as his lips touched hers, the first fat, cold, raindrop splattered on them before being followed by many others.
His head jerked away, and she startled, blinking as the rain hit her face. Standing, he grabbed her hand, jerking her up from the bench.
“Come on!” he yelled, pulling on her hand.
The moment of the kiss had started out being a dream come true, and now, became her nightmare.
11
Asher had been nervously working up to their first kiss. He had kissed a lot of women over the years but often felt that it was more of a precursor to sex. The intimacy of it for someone that was not going to last longe
r than a night seemed wrong, so he often avoided it. But with Penelope, the talks, the smiles, the laughter, the sharing had all led to the moment when he could barely wait to taste her pink-glossed lips.
Hovering a whisper away, he heard her breath hitch in her lungs and knew she was anticipating it, too.
Then a huge raindrop splattered right on his face, jerking him backward in surprise. It took a second to realize what was happening before the clouds opened and the rain began to fall. A gazebo was off to their right, and without thinking, he leaped to his feet and grabbed her hand while cursing about the interrupted kiss.
Determined to make it to the gazebo to keep her from getting drenched, he started to run, her hand still in his. They had only taken a few steps when she cried out and stumbled to her knees. Staring up at him, anguish etched on her face, she cried, “I can’t! I can’t run!”
Instinct took over, and he bent next to her, sliding one arm under her knees and the other around her back, lifting her easily. Tucking her against his chest, he ran to the gazebo. Pounding up the three steps, they made it underneath the covering just as the rain increased its furious downpour.
He loved the feel of her in his arms, but looking down at her drenched body, wet hair slicked back from her face, and wide eyes blinking up at him, he wanted to make sure that he had not injured her when he tried to run from the bench.
Letting her feet slide to the wooden floor of the gazebo, he kept his hands on her shoulders, looked down and asked, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
Before she had a chance to answer, he shifted his gaze down her body, trying to ignore the way her wet T-shirt clung to her delicate curves before continuing down her legs. Her left foot was held slightly off the ground as though it might hurt her to put any weight on it.
He grimaced at her pain. “Shit, fuck! Did you twist your ankle?" Letting go of her shoulders, he dropped to his knees, his hands reaching for her ankle when she stumbled backward.
“No! Don’t! Don’t touch me!”
Still on his knees, his head jerked upward at her words. Oh, God! She thinks that I’ll hurt her?
She hobbled backward, gently placing weight on her left leg while still balancing mostly on her right. Now near the edge of the gazebo, she dropped her purse to the floor and grabbed the railing for support.
Standing, he cursed his inability to help. “I’m so sorry, Penelope. I never meant to hurt you! Please, let me take a look and see if you’re okay.”
Her eyes squeezed tightly shut, and she shook her head slowly. Finally, dragging in a ragged breath, she said, “It’s not you. It wasn’t you. You didn’t hurt me.”
Seeing agony on her face, he was uncertain how to respond. He stood a few feet away, his fingers tightening into fists to keep from reaching out to touch her. “Please, please, let me help you.”
The rain continued to fall, creating a steady pounding on the roof of the gazebo. He continued to watch her carefully, the pain on her face slowly relaxing, being replaced by a tension he could not understand. She appeared to want to tell him something but needed to find the words, and he gladly gave her that time.
One side of the gazebo was lined with a wooden bench seat, and she limped over to it before sliding down to sit. She is hurt…I did hurt her. Initially, he wanted to rail at the storm for interrupting their kiss but now wanted to shake his fist at the skies for causing her to be in pain.
Dropping his chin to his chest, he stared at his old, soaked running shoes, wanting to do something to help but afraid to move.
“Asher?” came Penelope’s soft voice from the other side of the gazebo.
His head lifted quickly, and he sought her gaze. Silently asking for permission to move to her, he breathed a sigh of relief when she patted the bench next to her. Rushing over, he sat, careful to leave a few inches of space so as not to crowd her, but not willing to sit further away.
She kept her face turned toward her lap, her hands clasped in front of her. “I can’t let you think that you hurt me because I know you didn’t, and I know you wouldn’t."
“You’re right, Penelope. I would never do anything to hurt you. I hope you believe that.”
She nodded, casting a quick gaze his way before returning her perusal to her clenched hands. Licking her lips, her tongue hesitating ever so slightly on the scar, she said, “You didn’t give me this injury. I walk with a limp.” Swallowing deeply, she continued, “I usually walk with a cane.”
She stopped speaking, and he wondered if she was going to continue before it dawned on him that she was probably waiting to see his reaction. “I’m so sorry. Please, talk to me.”
“I was injured as a child…a very young child. It was a car accident and it…well…my leg was shattered. There were several surgeries after that and lots of rehab over the years.” Still staring at her hands, she shrugged her shoulders and added, “I’m sorry. I should’ve said something earlier.”
He reached over and placed his large hand on top of hers, feeling the cold flesh underneath. Hoping to infuse some warmth into her, he tightened his fingers slightly. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. We’ve been getting to know each other, but I would never expect you to have shared something so personal right away.”
Nodding her head in jerks, she said, “I know we were just book buddies…or bench buddies, so we weren’t exactly sharing backgrounds—”
“Not yet.”
She twisted her head around and looked at him, her brows lowered in confusion.
He quickly explained, “When you think about it, all of our talks about the books was a way of sharing personal information. I wanted to know more about you right away but didn’t want you to think I was some weird guy in a park who just preyed on innocent women.”
A tiny snort slipped from her, and he continued, “That’s why it took me so long to ask about your name. I didn’t want you to think I was a stalker or a pervert…or an ax murderer.”
His last comment brought out another snort, this time a little bit louder, and he grinned in return. Pushing his luck, he said, “I’d like to think that we would have begun to share a lot of personal information, but the rain just interrupted and forced us to share a little earlier than you would’ve preferred. And for that, I’m sorry.”
Holding his gaze, a small smile with a hint of sadness curved her lips. “You would think I would be used to it. Most people see me limp right away, and so I either get the questions of, ‘What’s wrong with you?’ or they stare so much that I just go ahead and tell them that I had a childhood injury so they will stop staring in curiosity.”
Scowling, he said, “I can’t believe you have to put up with that!”
“I’ve found that most people can be nice, but there are certainly those that are either rude or seem to take joy in someone else’s misfortune.”
They sat in silence for a moment. He kept his hand on hers but could feel her emotionally shutting down and pulling away. Not knowing how to keep that from happening, he desperately sought to stay connected.
The rain had stopped, and she pulled her hands away from his and leaned over to grab her bag from the floor of the gazebo. The movement caused her breast to brush against his arm, and he squeezed his eyes tight in an effort to not focus on how much he wanted her. She reached inside her bag, pulling out a collapsible cane. With a practiced flip, the sections snapped together, and she stood.
He jumped to his feet, not wanting her to leave, but before he could say anything, she turned and limped toward the opening to the gazebo.
“It’s been lovely, Asher,” she said, her voice once again soft and low, but this time with finality to her words. “The rain has stopped, and it’s time for me to go.”
“No,” he said with much more force than he intended. Seeing her gaze shoot to his, he added, “I want to accompany you.” Trying to find an excuse, he said, “The grass is wet, and you might slip.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he cringed, knowing he had just called attention to her diffi
culty with walking. Dropping his head, he said, “That did not come out the way I meant it to. I’m sorry.”
A tiny chuckle came from her, and his head shot up, hope in his heart that she was not about to take the cane and hit him over the head with it.
Instead, she said, “I assure you, I’ve had practice over the years walking on all sorts of surfaces. Granted,” she shrugged, “I’ve had my share of falls, but I think I can make it home.”
Stepping closer, he said, “Please allow me to escort you.”
“I live several blocks from here, Asher—”
“All the more reason to let me take you,” he insisted. “It could start raining again, and I don’t want you to get caught in the rain.” Seeing her hesitate, he pressed forward, “Please, Penelope. Let me take you home. I’m not ready for this day to be over.”
The last sentence he uttered must have been what changed her mind because her gaze peered into his, searching his eyes. Slowly, she nodded and acquiesced.
He wanted to reach out and hold her as she moved down the steps of the gazebo onto the wet grass. Forget holding her…what he really wanted to do was scoop her up in his arms and carry her again. But assuming that independence was important, he simply walked close by, slightly hovering, nervous until they made it onto the concrete path that wound around the pond. The park was empty of visitors, other than the ducks and the geese that had not minded the rain.
It took several minutes for them to walk to the end of the park where his truck was waiting. Unlocking the doors, he carefully assisted her into the passenger side, making sure she was settled and buckled before he closed the door. Jogging around the front, he pulled himself into the driver’s seat. Strangely thrilled at having her with him, he started the truck and then turned toward her. “Which way do I go?”
She directed him the few blocks to her apartment, where he parked on the street outside. Looking around at her neighborhood with a practiced eye, he noted the older buildings. While the neighborhood did not look run down, there was also little revitalization in effect. He saw her hand reach for the door handle, and he quickly said, “Please, wait for me.” Seeing her about to protest, he added, “My mom taught my brothers and me that we should always open a car door for a lady.”
Asher: Heroes at Heart Page 8