The Mile High Madness

by Anders, Annabelle

  The doors opened and I hurried to my apartment, the talk show host forgotten.

  Once in my apartment I opened a bottle of water and dropped onto my couch. I opened the book.

  A journal. The initial entry was dated July 16th of this year. Same handwriting as the note she’d left.

  And then I began reading.

  This morning marks four months. Four months since I failed my best friend. I want to beg you why. Scream at you for not waiting for me to get home. But you tried to tell me. I just didn’t listen. I miss you so much Bernie. How could you? I’m so sorry.

  I flipped further along.

  September sixth. I deserve this. I deserve every insult and snide comment Star throws at me. It’s an odd sort of penance. I let her harsh words rain down around me hoping to feel better. I wish I could move forward. I wish I could start living again. Someone else is writing my life and I can’t seem to get the pen back.

  October twenty second. A guy kissed me tonight. Hunter. And I didn’t feel guilty. I laughed a lot. I did stupid, stupid stuff. I’m probably gonna get fired and I don’t even care. I think my time with Star is over. Like this kiss, this guy, made me feel like I didn’t deserve to be treated that way. I mean, he’s hot. He’s the hottest guy I’ve ever met. And he likes me! He wants to take me out. Even if he doesn’t call, I am so glad we met. He’ll never know what he did for me.

  She poured her heart out into this damn book. I flipped on the lamp beside me and continued reading.

  She talked about our date. Too much about our night together. A few paragraphs made me hot. But mostly, she talked about how she felt about it all. How she felt about me.

  I turned the next page with shaking hands.

  She hadn’t lied. She’d fucking thought she lost her phone and instead it had most likely been stolen. The ice I’d tried to build around my heart was melting. Melting fast.

  What had I done. I’d already convicted her for something she hadn’t done once. She’d told me she wasn’t in a place where she could play games. She’d told me to come to her. She’d promised she’d never lie.

  I roughed my hand through my hair. God, would she even talk to me? I glanced at her phone and realized the irony. I couldn’t even call her. I needed a plan. But what?

  I opened my phone out of habit and an email caught my eye.

  This could work. This just might work.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Holly

  Although I wanted to lock myself away again, I couldn’t. I had two days to mourn the loss of Hunter DeLuca and then I had to get up, get dressed, and start a new job.

  I dragged myself out of bed that day and made myself presentable. I didn’t want to disappoint my new manager. Especially when she’d hired me for my “moxie.”

  I’d also received a call from the apartment I’d put a deposit on. It would be available sooner, this weekend in fact. Did I want it early?

  Hell yes.

  So that meant I needed income. And I needed it fast.

  A few people recognized me from Star’s stupid story. I somehow managed to laugh it off and come off as mysterious. What a joke.

  The first night I followed another server all evening and watched her make three hundred dollars. She tipped me out ten.

  The second night went the same way, but I’d memorized the menu that day. The third night she followed me. I had no problems catching onto the computer and drew in two hundred and eight bucks. She got to keep all the tips but tipped me out twenty.

  On the fourth night I finally got my own section. I’d waited tables before so this was par for the course. My feet were tired, I never fell asleep before three in the morning, but at least I couldn’t think about Hunter so much.

  I was moving on.

  I refused to let somebody else write my life.

  My family, skeptical of all the changes in my life, especially in lieu of my temporary notoriety, reluctantly helped me clean out my storage unit and move into my own place.

  And now, hanging up a photo of my parents, I was determined to make this tiny studio apartment feel like home.

  I straightened the frame and stepped back.

  Despite the hole in my heart, I felt more empowered than I had since Bernadette died. My own apartment, an honest job. I was even working on my thesis again.

  I wasn’t gonna fall apart.

  I hung a few more photos and put the hammer away. I’d set today aside to read over the work I’d already done on my thesis It was my first day off in five nights.

  I opened my laptop and automatically went to my email.

  Uh oh.

  An email from Men for Mutts. I hesitated to open it. Had he gone on the date? Did I owe them ten thousand dollars? Unwilling to worry over something that hadn’t happened yet, I opened the email and couldn’t help smiling.

  Aww…

  A photo of Tobey, the little dog who’d escorted Hunter down the runway for the auction, appeared on my screen. They wanted me to know that as the bidder, I was to be notified of Tobey’s circumstances. Tobey still hadn’t found a home. Since the facility was filled to capacity, Tobey needed a walker. Was I interested in volunteering? If so, I could call and schedule an appointment.

  Nobody had adopted him yet? I glanced around my apartment. Old Hardwood floor. I knew I could have a pet if I was willing to put up an additional two hundred and fifty dollar deposit.

  I touched the number and put the call through.

  Oddly enough, they seemed to know who I was as soon as I told them my name. That damn story. I asked if I could still adopt Tobey and they put me on hold. I remember how sweet he’d been with Hunter. Both of us had started that evening with so much promise and now both of us were alone.

  It was kismet.

  “Hello, Miss Mercer?”

  “Yes. I wondered if Tobey was still available for adoption?”

  “Um. Well, actually, yes. Would it be possible for you to come to the facility today?”

  “Yes.” I glanced around my apartment. “Absolutely. I can be there in about half an hour.” I still had my mom’s car from the move. If I was gonna do this, I needed to do it today.

  “Oh, wonderful.” When you get here, ask for Laura. That’s me.”

  “What do I need to bring?”

  “Um… Well…” She seemed kind of clueless for someone who would have done this hundreds of times. “Uh, yes. A $35 adoption fee and that uh… that’s all.”

  Um. “Okay.” I shook my head and ended the call.

  I was getting a dog.

  I found my shoes, donned a sweater, and drove straight to the address from the email. I should have thought this out first. Given myself time to stop at a pet store first and pick up supplies.

  Oh, well. Tobey would simply have to come with me later. I found myself grinning as I pulled into the South Denver Humane Society. Excitement. Anticipation. Something I hadn’t felt since the morning before the story erupted.

  Laura met me at the front desk and made up a nametag for me. She said I might want to walk Tobey around a little bit before making my final decision. “He’s in Kennel Number twelve. She pointed down a long hallway and left me to find it myself.

  I took my time checking out other dogs along the way. A basset hound. A few labs. A chihuahua… And then I looked into number twelve.

  I blinked hard.

  I wasn’t imagining him.

  Sitting on the floor beside Tobey, was Hunter DeLuca. And he was watching me cautiously. Those Key West Eyes of his were warm though. I swallowed and tried to find some air.

  As thrilled as I was to see him, my first instinct was to flee. I couldn’t do this again with him. I couldn’t…

  I just couldn’t.

  “Wait.” He jumped to his feet as though reading my mind. His hands fumbled with the latch and he pushed the kennel door open. Not sure what to say, I dropped my eyes to the sweet little dog on the floor.

  “I came to adopt Tobey.” Tobey let out one bark. As though he
knew I was talking about him.

  With a mind of their own, though. My gaze travelled right back to Hunter. “What are you doing here?”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out my phone and my…

  “My journal!” I took it from his hand, not even thinking of what this meant.

  “I ran into Star.” He’d taken a step closer to me. I edged around him and knelt down to pet the little dachshund I’d come for.

  Hunter closed the kennel and sat down beside me. The last time I saw him he’d told me to go home.

  I couldn’t quite bring myself to say the words to him. Despite everything, I couldn’t blame him. He’d thought I betrayed him. The evidence made me look pretty damn guilty.

  I flipped through my journal. What an idiot I’d been to let this thing out of my sight. Getting comfortable on the floor, I opened to my last entries and heat moved up my throat. “Did you read it?” I sounded bitter.

  I was bitter.

  We were sitting beside one another now. I felt him only inches away. How could I still feel that magnetic pull? I wanted to touch him. I wanted to see him smile.

  He cleared his throat and then nodded.

  “I know we’ve already been through this. Me jumping to conclusions.”

  I cut him off. “That’s not what hurt, Hunter. What hurt was that you wouldn’t let me explain. You wouldn’t even…” Shit. I didn’t want to cry.

  I watched him. He closed his eyes for a second, looking almost as though he was in pain. “I know. I know.” And then he pinned me with his gaze. “I’m hoping you’re better at this than me.” He flinched a little at his own words.

  And then he dropped his hand on mine. Beneath my palm I felt the cold concrete. On top of my wrist, the warmth of his touch.

  “I made a mistake and I know it ended horribly, but I didn’t do any of it on purpose.” I couldn’t stop the short burst of laughter at the irony of my words. “That’s the way I roll, you know. When I mess up I go big.”

  He squeezed my fingers. “I should have known, right?”

  I wasn’t sure where he was going with this. “So, you don’t hate me now? Now that you’ve read all that?”

  “I tried to hate you,” he confessed. “I wanted to. It killed me to send you away that night.”

  “Yeah. It sucked for me too.” I’d cried all the way home, drawing unwanted stares on the light rail and invasive questions from my mom when I got home. “What do you want Hunter?”

  The minute I spoke those words I saw that vulnerability I’d thought I’d seen that first day. Not just a hint though. He was putting himself out there. I wasn’t imagining it this time. “A second chance? A third one?”

  He lifted my hand and pressed it to his lips. Could I do this?

  “I’m seeing a psychologist at work.” This surprised me. I raised my brows and he continued. “Says I need to work on trust. Seeing the good in people. At first, I didn’t think the doc knew what she was talking about and then I’m reading your journal and realized the one thing I didn’t listen to when all this went down was my gut instinct about you. I wanted to trust you but didn’t know how.”

  He had all my attention now. He was speaking my language.

  I couldn’t believe he was sitting here, telling me this. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

  He turned and pulled me into his lap. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.” His voice broke. I buried my face in his neck. “So fucking sorry.” And then his mouth was on mine, searching, claiming, and his arms were around me. I couldn’t push him away if my life depended on it.

  We’d been through so much, and these feelings had only grown stronger.

  When we both came up for air, he pressed his forehead against mine. “I promise.” His voice carried conviction, intensity. “No jumping to conclusions. We talk things out.”

  I nodded. “We’ll work on it.” I sniffed. “And I’ll keep away from reporters.”

  But his hands were cradling my face. “You never lied to me once. This is on me. I’m gonna make this up to you, I promise.”

  Tobey began to get a little impatient. He jumped up and took turns licking us both. And then I realized something. “Did you have something to do with the email I got today?”

  He shrugged sheepishly. “I needed a wingman. If you didn’t show, I was gonna bring him by your place. Thought we might share custody, you know. Until we can work out an arrangement?”

  Tobey had curled up in my lap and made himself comfortable. I couldn’t believe how great this day was turning out. Hunter reached into his back pocket and pulled something out. A small piece of paper.

  “What is this?” Ah, it was a phone number.

  “Memorize it.”

  I read it through a few times, burning the numbers in my brain forever and then tucked it into my bra. “On my heart, Hunter.” Those eyes of his warmed with something. Love? Maybe.

  His hand covered mine again, this time on my chest, over my heart. “On mine.” He corrected me. “On mine.”

  —The End—

  MAKE IT A DOUBLE

  NOEL BLAKE wants to finish her bartending shift and head home for a good night’s sleep. She’s not the kind of girl who dates hotel guests.

  ELLIOT STAFFORD wants to finish his business in town and fly back to NYC as soon as possible. He’s not interested in anything this small town has to offer.

  Neither of them planned on him becoming her knight in shining armor. Flying glass, blizzards, and an irrational attraction culminate into one amazing night. Only fools believe in love. Gotta be adult about this sort of thing.

  Even though it felt like magic…

  After unwittingly opening their hearts to each other once, might they be crazy enough to “make it a double?”

  MAKE IT A DOUBLE

  By Annabelle Anders

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Would you like a menu or just something to drink?” Noel spoke to the man’s back. Even so, the greeting flowed easily. She did it hundreds of times a week. She was optimistic that way. Give everybody a smile until they prove they don’t deserve one.

  She wasn’t so sure about this guy.

  All she could see was his sleek black hair. He had been on his phone for the past ten minutes.

  She hated when customers sat down at her bar and ignored her for a phone call. With only twelve barstools, the people sitting in them needed to be spending money – Especially in the off season. Noel drove the forty miles of winding roads every night so that she could try to eke out a living, not because tending bar was such a hoot, much to the chagrin of some of her guests.

  It both annoyed and amused her when guys tried to get her to go out drinking with them after her shift.

  As if.

  As if she wasn’t already exhausted from working behind the bar from four o’clock to midnight, five nights a week. As if she didn’t have a life outside of trying to make a bunch of rich people happy.

  Mr. Too-Important-To-Be-Polite sat his phone on the bar, swiveled around, and finally met her eyes.

  Holy shit.

  The intensity swirling in his gaze caused her brain to cease functioning for all of five seconds. And when her brain froze, she clumsily fumbled the glass she was polishing. It slipped out of her hand, bounced off the register, hit the sink and shattered.

  She flinched.

  Right next to the ice bin.

  “Fuckity fuck fuck fuck!” she breathed the curses through clenched teeth. Of course, she’d not utter them out loud in front of her customer. But now she’d have to burn the ice.

  The ticket printer hummed evenly as new orders poured in from her servers.

  “I’m sorry.” She didn’t want to meet his eyes again. She needed a moment to gather her bearings.

  So instead, she turned to the serving station where Rory stood waiting for his drinks. “I need ice.” She addressed the only male server in the house. He nodded and took off for the back, unquestioning. Every server knew that if glass broke anywhere near th
e ice it had to be burned.

  But now she had to talk to that customer again. Taking a deep breath, she turned back and handed him a menu. “Sorry about that.”

  Good looking guys made her uncomfortable.

  And rude or not, this specimen of manliness was no exception. He was impeccably dressed. Broad shoulders, slim – fit looking. Nearly perfect but for the one lock of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. He pushed it back in an unconscious motion. Strong sharp features made him look almost aristocratic. But those eyes…

  She tossed a napkin in front of him and pretended he’d had no effect on her. “Can I get you a beer?”

  He ignored the menu she’d given him earlier and stared at her again. This time she was prepared for it. His black, penetrating stare seemed to see right through her. And then he lifted one corner of his mouth. She wasn’t sure if he was mocking her or attempting a smile.

  “Got an IPA?” Not fair. Even his voice came out sounding sexy. Not quite gravelly, but deep. That perfect pitch that could make a girl’s heart jump.

  “Sure.” She grabbed a cold pint glass from the cooler and then pulled the handle before sliding it under the stream. “Did you just get into town today?” she asked the question with her back to him. This was the standard question she asked anyone who didn’t look familiar. If they didn’t want to talk, they’d give her a short answer and then ignore her. If they wanted to talk, this was their opening.

  No answer.

  She topped off his beer and turned around to set it in front of him. He could have at least acknowledged her question. Oh, well. This wasn’t the rudest behavior she’d experienced from a customer.

  His eyes flicked to her chest and then back up again. “You’re bleeding.”

  She glanced down and sure enough, a shard of glass had cut her just where her necklace ended. Blood dripped into her cleavage and was pooling in her bra. She grabbed a napkin and held it up against the cut, but recoiled in pain.