by S. M. Shade
“Sure thing. I’ll have someone bring the van around.”
“Ev-ly!” I’m tackled by forty pounds of overexcited four year old girl.
“Hey, munchkin! What are you doing today?”
“Mommy got a job so I’m playing with Ms. Bini. I’m posed to be good.”
“That’s great! Are you coloring a picture?”
“Yep, a flower, wanna see?” Her sticky hand grabs mine, pulling me to the children’s table where Sarah smiles at me, surrounded by three preschool age kids.
“Good morning,” she says with a laugh.
“Good morning. Lana found a job?”
“Yes, ma’am, a good one too. Glenn, Bloom, and Chester law firm hired her as an assistant. If it works out, they’ll pay for her to take classes to become a paralegal.”
“That’s fantastic.” It looks like Lana and her daughter, Jamie, will be a success story. Sometimes, they’re hard to come by. So many domestic violence survivors return to their abusers. Lana and Jamie came to us nearly a month ago, both covered in bruises, with nothing but the clothes on their backs.
S.B. housed them, provided lawyers to expedite her divorce, and helped with restraining orders. Thankfully, Jamie isn’t the husband’s child, so he has no visitation rights. Now Lana is on her way to a successful career. My heart feels lighter. I needed some good news today.
“Is Molly here?” Taking another volunteer along for the ride would at least alleviate the boredom of sitting in traffic.
“No, only the tutors and staff are here today.”
“Okay, well, I have to run. Mattresses to haul, you know.”
“You’re a dear,” Sarah says with a laugh.
As I make my way through the kitchen, Ms. Den calls to me. “Everly, hang on, I found someone to go with you.”
“Great, they can drive.”
Ms. Den laughs. “He’s waiting in the van.”
“Clear the door!” I call to Aggie, slipping my purse over my shoulder as I approach the back exit.
She checks the cameras to be sure no one is lurking to force their way inside and replies, “Door’s clear! Drive safe, honey.”
My phone chirps with a text from a member of my book group, reminding me of tonight’s meeting. I’m texting a reply as I hop into the passenger seat of the van.
“Buckle up, Ms. Hall.” His smooth voice fills my ears, and my stomach plummets to my toes. It’s the tatted Adonis. I’m halfway out the van door when strong fingers wrap around my wrist. “Hey, Evie, relax. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m driving us to Bloomington.”
“Let go of me! What are you, some kind of stalker?”
“Evie, if you give me a second to explain…”
“Then explain. How the fuck do you know my last name, or that I volunteer for Striking Back? How did you find me?”
“Everly, I’m the founder of Striking Back. It’s my organization.”
“Bullshit! S.B. was founded by Mason…” My eyes fly up to meet his, and he releases my arm. “Shit. You’re Mason Reed.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Hall, although I have to say, you curse an awful lot. To answer your second question, I run a background check on all volunteers that work with S.B. and that typically includes your last name.” A small grin settles on his face as he waits for me to connect the dots.
“You recognized me at the diner?”
He nods.
Oh no. “And at the bank.” My head falls into my hands.
“Yes,” he admits.
“The day that just won’t die. I wasn’t supposed to see you again after…all that.”
“To be fair, you saw much more of me.” His eyes twinkle and his wicked grin makes me laugh, though I try not to. “Close the door, Evie. We have furniture to pick up.”
“The founder and CEO runs errands?”
“When it buys me time with a beautiful young girl.”
“Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?” I snort, giving in and shutting the door.
“Nothing but the truth, love.”
“You’re the first non-English person I’ve ever heard use love as an endearment.”
“I spent a few years in London and some of the local dialect seeps in.” My eyes are drawn to the flex of his arms while he steers the van onto the highway. Would it kill him to wear a shirt that isn’t a size too small? His biceps are trying to bust through the cotton. “Put your seatbelt on.”
“Excuse me?”
“Put your belt on, Evie. We’re getting on the highway.” I usually do wear a seatbelt, but his demand sort of pisses me off. “What?” he asks, as I stare at him.
“I’m trying to find a less juvenile way to say ‘don’t tell me what to do.’”
He rolls his eyes. “Ms. Hall, will you please buckle up and set my mind at ease?”
Fastening the belt, I mumble, “It’s not like I’d stick you with the ticket.”
“I’m more concerned with keeping you on the right side of the windshield.”
I don’t have a response for that. After a few minutes, I blurt, “You don’t look like the CEO of an organization.”
I’m rewarded with his sexy laugh. “Oh? What does a CEO look like?”
“I don’t know. Old, fitted suits, less tats.”
“I own a few suits. Tell me about yourself, Evie. We have an hour drive ahead of us.”
“Well, for starters, my name is Everly. My friends call me Ev.”
With a little side glance, he asks, “Are you single, Evie?” I don’t know whether to choke him or jump in his lap.
I take a sudden interest in the scenery flowing past my window. “Yes, with every intention of staying that way.”
“That’s good.”
“It is?”
“Yes, that attitude will keep other men away while I wear you down.”
“I’m not very susceptible to badgering.”
“I can be very persuasive. I’ll make a pest of myself.”
Laughing, I turn the radio to a classic rock station. “Some willing woman will fall at your feet and I’ll be off the hook.”
He turns and flashes a crooked smile. “I don’t give up, love. In fact, I’ll bet you I can get at least a lunch date with you by Friday.”
“No, thank you. I’m not interested in dating right now.”
“If I win, you have to go to the S.B. Carnival with me.”
“I’m not going on a date with you.” He won’t win this bet. I’ve had my fill of bad boys and he’s got heartbreaker written all over him.
“We’re just going to lunch.”
“No, we’re not.”
“Then it should be a safe bet,” he teases.
“Fine, and when I win, you leave me alone.”
“Deal.” He grins at me when I crank up an Ozzy song on the radio. “You’re going to be mine, Evie.”
“Shut up and drive.” The man is delusional.
The rest of our trip is pleasant enough, our discussions centering around music and T.V. shows. We have the same taste in entertainment. Mason sends a quick text when we get stuck at a red light.
“It’s illegal to text and drive.”
He regards me with a raised brow. “You going to turn me in?”
“Nah, then I’d have to drive home.”
His phone beeps and he glances at the screen before tucking it in his pocket. “Looks like we have an hour to kill.”
“What? Why?” I demand.
“Samuel won’t be back at his store until one.”
“Didn’t he know we were coming?”
“He got called away. Relax, Evie. We’ll find something to do,” he says, smirking at me.
Fantastic. A few moments later, he pulls into a parking lot beside a small park. “I thought we could stretch our legs,” he suggests, pointing to the narrow path winding away from the playground.
“Have you been here before?”
“A few years ago. The path leads back to a small stream. I’m going to grab a Coke.” He
gestures to the sub shop next door. “Want one?”
“Sure, thanks.”
“I’ll catch up with you.” Christ, he looks good jogging away.
The air is filled with the laughter of children, the creak and clink of swings, backed by the dull roar of lunchtime traffic on the highway. A delicious mixture of scents from nearby restaurants makes my stomach growl. I shouldn’t have skipped breakfast, but I didn’t think I’d be running to BFE today.
The dirt path meanders along the perimeter of the park before leading me behind the tree line to a group of scarred picnic tables, shaded by a large oak tree. The sound of running water keeps me moving until I reach the stream. Clear water tumbles over a pile of smooth rocks and flows rapidly past the park, disappearing under a concrete slab of road in the distance. It’s hot and humid today, and I’m really tempted to kick off my shoes and wade in. Yeah, right, and end up with an impetigo rash on my feet. Who knows what kind of runoff it’s polluted with.
“Evie.” His silky voice calls me. Why does he keep calling me that? Why the hell do I like it? The sun beams through the trees, spotlighting him like the damn Adonis he is as he wiggles a paper cup at me. “Hope you like Pepsi. All they had.”
“Apparently not,” I reply, glancing at the clear bag that houses two sub sandwiches and two bags of chips.
“Ah, well.” For the first time, he seems a little unsure of himself. “I’m starving, and I didn’t want to eat in front of you, so I got an extra sandwich. You don’t have to eat it.”
He’s trying to be nice, and I can’t be a bitch to him. “No, it’s fine…I’m hungry. Thank you, but you have to let me pay you.”
“Forget it. I’ll just toss it in the creek.” With an amused expression, he lays his food on the table and starts toward the creek with mine.
“What? No! Give it here!” He laughs as I try to snatch it from his hand.
“Say please,” he teases, holding it above his head.
“Are you twelve?” Trying not to laugh, I return to the picnic table and unwrap his sandwich. His lips twitch up when I take a huge bite, chewing deliberately. Sitting across from me, he unwraps the second sandwich and opens a bag of potato chips, offering it to me.
“Thanks. I’ll trade sandwiches if you want this one. I don’t have cooties.”
“Cooties? I thought I was the twelve year old, here?”
“Well, I suppose chasing you down for a sandwich wasn’t exactly mature.” I catch myself watching his lips as they wrap around the tip of his straw. They’re so full and sexy. Am I seriously drooling over a man’s lips?
“Maturity is overrated, and they’re both roast beef, so no worries.”
“It’s good,” I reply, taking another bite. “Tell me about yourself, Mason. What do you do other than stalk your volunteers?”
“I teach Mixed Martial Arts and I have my hand in a few other organizations. What about you? What do you do for fun?”
“For fun? Hang out with friends. Read. I have a book club meeting tonight.”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “That’s fun?”
“See. I’m totally boring and ordinary. Not your type at all. Aren’t you relieved?”
Stuffing his sandwich wrapper in the bag, he replies, “You’re not ordinary, love. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have fun on our date.”
“You never give up, do you? Luckily, I think I’ve found you a date.” I point to the tabletop where someone has scratched the words ‘Tanya gives good head’ deep into the wood. “She apparently performs oral well. I could write down the number for you.”
Shaking his head, his amused eyes meet mine. “I won fair and square. You owe me. Are you reneging on our bet? You seemed more honorable. I’m truly disappointed, Evie.”
Oh shit. We’re eating lunch together. The bastard is smooth. “This isn’t a lunch date!”
“A picnic lunch beside a babbling brook? This is the ultimate lunch date, baby.”
Ugh. This man is so frustrating! I ball up my trash, avoiding his gaze. “You tricked me.”
“I don’t remember getting any guidelines or rules. I got a lunch date with you. I win. We’re going to the carnival together.” A wide smile spreads across his face. Smug bastard.
“We’re not.”
“And then I’m taking you out to dinner.”
“You don’t understand the word ‘No’ do you?”
“Nothing wrong with my comprehension, love. Those gorgeous lips keep saying no, but those soft brown eyes are begging me not to give up.”
“I’m not going to fuck you.” That should send him running.
“I imagine the restaurant I have in mind would frown on that.”
“I’m serious. I’m sure this approach normally works for you. That you can flash those baby blues, flex your muscles, and order girls into your bed. I’m telling you now, you have the wrong person. Stop wasting your time.”
His rough hands catch mine, and he looks into my eyes. “Time is all we have, and there’s never enough. Not a second spent with you would be a waste of time, Everly.”
God, what his voice does to my name. “You only want me because I’m saying no.”
“You’re only saying no because you want me.”
“You’re deluded.”
“You’re beautiful. Now grab your trash. I can’t date a litterbug.”
Sighing, I shove my wrappers in the bag. “Just the carnival. That’s all I agreed to. And save your charming little comments for someone more gullible.”
“Ah, Evie.” He slips an arm around my shoulder as we walk back to the van. “My baby blues, muscles, and charm. So many compliments from someone who isn’t interested.”
“You have a pretty broad definition of the word compliment.”
“With you, I’ll take what I can get.”
* * * *
We pull up to the small storefront just as a short dark skinned Latino man is unlocking the door. “Just in time, Reed. The shit’s just inside,” he calls. “Oh, hi, Miss. Sorry about the language. I didn’t know Mason was bringing his girl,” he explains with a sheepish smile.
“I’m a volunteer, not his girl, and don’t worry, I’ve been known to drop an f-bomb or two.”
“Hanging out with Mason will drive anyone to it.” He laughs.
The truck is loaded in short order and we spend most of the ride home in comfortable silence. Mason gives me a sideways glance, grinning. “Don’t pout.”
“What? I’m not.” Yeah, I sort of am. I can’t believe how easily I fell for his trick.
“Is dating me that distasteful to you?”
Shit. I’m not trying to offend him. “Of course not. I’m just not interested in getting involved right now.” After a few seconds of silence, I try to change the subject. “I saw a memo about a change to the S.B. carnival, but I didn’t get to read it. What was it about?”
“I rented out Adventure River for the day since it’s been so hot. The carnival will set up in the back lot.”
He rented out the whole park? Adventure River is a huge waterpark complete with wave pool, lazy river, and massive water slides. “That’s…fantastic. The kids will love it.”
A small smile lifts his lips as he guides the car onto the highway off ramp. “You work with Building Tomorrow’s Child, don’t you? How many kids are in the center now?”
“Fifteen, why? And how do you know where I volunteer?”
“Background check, remember?”
“You’re kind of a creepy stalker.”
I get a flash of his straight white teeth as he laughs. “I’ll get passes for the kids at the center. Bring them, but get the counselors to chaperone. I want you all to myself.”
“Mason…that’s…thank you. They’ll be so excited.”
“Not as excited as I am to see you in a swimsuit.”
Damn, I hadn’t thought of that. Oh, well, he’s seen me naked. It’s not like my chunky ass was hidden. When I look at him, I’m greeted with a wicked grin. “You’r
e blushing.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“I’ll grow on you, love.”
This time I can’t help my laughter, and his eyes glitter with satisfaction. “My car is parked around back, if you’d just drop me there,” I suggest as we pull up to Striking Back.
“In such a hurry to get rid of me,” he jokes with a fake pout.
“I want to get to the gym before my book club meeting.”
“Which gym do you go to?”
I unbuckle my belt as he parks beside my car. “No way, stalky. You have enough info on me at the moment.”
“Fine. You don’t need the gym, you know.”
“You need an eye doctor.”
“Hey.” He grabs my arm as I open the van door. “Just don’t overdo it on the elliptical. It’d be a shame to lose that ass.” Oh my god.
“You’re a Neanderthal.”
“See you soon, Evie,” he says with a smile. “Try not to think of me too much.”
“I’ll try to remember your name until the carnival.” Without a backward glance, I hop out of the van and into my red Mini. All that linguistic sparring with him has worn me out. Damn, but the man is hard to resist. Charming, philanthropic, and too damn sexy to be real. He’s also trouble. I know his type. Smooth words and a quick smile, and after he gets what he wants, on to the next leaving a mess of broken hearts behind him.
Ironically, he’s what I would usually go for since I’m not looking for anything serious either. If he wasn’t the owner of Striking Back, I’d probably give him a go, but there’s no way I’m going to fuck him and then worry about running into him every week. S.B. is important to me, and I don’t want to leave it behind for one night of sex, no matter how fantastic his ass is. So, it’s settled. No sex with the tatted Adonis. The carnival is a few weeks away, and I’ll come up with some excuse not to go with him.
After two hours at the gym, I stop by my apartment to shower before heading to my book club. We meet once a week in a small Italian restaurant downtown named Bellini’s. It took me awhile to feel like I really fit in, but now, hanging out with these ladies is the highlight of my week. I know people picture a book club as a dry, boring meeting of bookworms, but we’re far from it. There’s no pretentious discussions of what the water imagery in a story represents while sipping coffee in a stuffy room.