by Girard, Dara
“Well, just so you know you don’t have to be.”
He folded his arms and stared at her intrigued. “Wow. I didn’t realize that.”
“What?”
“You’re an idiot.”
She opened her mouth; no words came out.
He pulled her lips together. “You’ll invite flies.”
She pushed his hand away. “What do you mean, I’m an idiot?” “It surprises me just as much as you. I think you’re smart then you say something stupid.”
“I do not.”
“Do you think I’m worried about your leg?”
“You could be.”
“Answer the question. Do you think I’m worried about your leg?”
“No.”
He nodded pleased. “Good. Now you won’t have to explain how your cane won’t make too much noise in the banquet hall or how you may be awkward dancing or that you won’t limp too much coming down the stairs.”
Her lips thinned. “You are the most—”
He held out his hand. “Do you need help up?”
“Go to—”
Hunter pulled her to her feet. “That’s better.”
Brenna pushed him away, but it was like pushing against a tree. He didn’t move. She lost her balance and fell backwards.
The corner of his lips twitched. “Shall we try this again?”
She dusted her hands off. “No.”
He held out his hand. “Come on.”
“No.”
He gave a low whistle. “You are one stubborn woman.”
“I can get up myself, just give me my cane.”
“You have to be nice to me if you want something. Ask nicely.”
She grabbed his ankle and jerked. She coughed delicately at the cloud of dust. “Will you please get my cane?”
Hunter didn’t move, he just lay there staring up at the sky. “Now I know how Annie Sullivan felt.” He rolled away before she could catch him. “You’ve been spoiled.” He jumped to his feet and handed her the cane. “I suggest you use that cane to stand up if you don’t want to end today sore and limp.”
“You’d hurt me?”
His eyes twinkled. “There are other ways to make a woman limp.”
***
Stephen glanced around the fairgrounds hoping to catch sight of Brenna and Hunter again. He’d seen them under one of the tents and couldn’t help smiling. Hunter seemed the perfect match for Brenna. He hoped they would both eventually see they weren’t acting as much as they thought.
“You look lost,” a smooth feminine voice said behind him.
He felt the hairs rise on his arms. He glanced at a concession stand. “I’m not.”
Tima stood beside him and pulled a piece of her blue cotton candy. “I may be able to help you find whoever you’re looking for.” She popped the candy in her mouth. “Is it Brenna?”
He turned and stared at the orange peasant blouse and denim skirt falling to a pair of red sneakers. Did she dress in the dark? “You saw her?”
“Yes, she ducked behind the juggling stage. Hunter followed.” Tima winked. “I hope they’re having fun.”
He nodded and looked away.
“Have you seen the fun house exhibit? The lighting illusions are incredible.”
“No.”
“I could show you and Fiona—”
“No, thanks.”
She held out her cotton candy. “Want some?”
He rested his hands on his hips wishing Fiona would return from the bathroom. Why wouldn’t this woman just go away and leave him alone?
“I see her. She looks like your type.”
He spun around. “What is that suppose to mean?”
Tima made a tut tut noise then put another piece of candy in her mouth. “A little touchy, aren’t you?”
“Do you have something to say about her? That she’s too sweet, too fragile, too cute? I know women like you—” He stopped.
She began to grin. “Women like me what?”
“Don’t like women like Fiona.”
“Come on.” Tima playfully nudged him with her elbow. “Don’t back down now. Say what you mean. You obviously have a theory about women like me. Exactly what kind of woman am I?”
“I’m not interested in this conversation.”
She ignored him. “Women like me are bossy, controlling and demanding among other things. We’re the unfortunate result of the women’s movement. We set men on edge. And since I am likely all these things to you and I’m not really interested in changing your mind let me say one thing. What anyone else thinks about you doesn’t matter as long as you’re happy.”
“I am happy.”
Tima patted him on the back as though he were a good little boy. “I’m glad.” She walked away leaving him feeling restless. A restlessness he’d promised himself never to feel again. His mind filled with questions he didn’t want answers to.
“I hate that woman,” he muttered.
Fiona took his hand and looked up at him. “That’s not a nice thing to say.”
No, it wasn’t nice, but it was exactly how he felt.
***
At home, Brenna stood by her window, but didn’t see anything. Her mind still lingering at the fair, riding the carousel, enjoying the sweet taste of funnel cake and having Hunter hold her in his arms. His arms. She could still feel their strength, their tenderness. A melancholy descended as the night made its claim. She knew as the days passed they were getting closer to their final goodbye. It was a necessary conclusion, but it still saddened her a bit. Brenna turned from the window. That evening she soaked her aching side in a hot shower then made an appointment with her doctor for another set of injections, which she hated. After showering, she changed into a shirt and skirt.
The doorbell rang just as she began washing up her dinner dishes. She dried her hands on a dish towel, suppressing a sigh. No doubt her mother had stopped by for a full report on her new man.
She opened the door and stared.
“Have you eaten dinner?” Hunter asked, entering without an invitation.
“Yes,” she stammered. She’d just relegated him to memory. It was a shock to see him live, real and very male with that magnetic, overwhelming energy in her apartment.
“Good, because I want to show you something.” He held up a metal rod that bent like an old branch. It had an orange handle and flattened bottom like a duck’s foot. “I’ve been thinking about your cane for hours.”
Brenna closed the door, her mouth kicking up in a quick grin. “How romantic. Make sure to bring her back by eleven.”
He blinked. “That’s not funny.”
She sighed with mock dismay. “This is why I never fulfilled my dream of being a comedienne.” She turned. “Come into the living room.” Brenna could feel his presence, as though he were a north wind. It was only in small spaces that she noticed he didn’t just walk, he moved. He didn’t just sit down he commanded the chair to seat him.
She sat on the loveseat, hoping he would take the couch in front of her. Instead, he sat beside her, crowding her into the corner.
Hunter placed the cane in front of them. “What I noticed with your cane was that it didn’t give you effective support. The way your leg is angled—” He drew up her skirt.
She slapped his hand away appalled. “What are you doing?!”
“I need to demonstrate a point.” He lifted her skirt again.
She snatched it away. “Then draw a picture.”
He paused then slowly said, “It’s easier to explain if I’m able to show you. The way your leg is—”
“I’ve seen my leg before. I know what it looks like.”
“Yes, and I saw it at the fair.”
She drummed her fingers on the arm of the seat unmoved.
“Brenna, it’s just a leg.”
“Is that the excuse you use to look up women’s skirts?”
He raised a brow. “I just want to see your leg. Looking up your skirt would be a completely diffe
rent—” He faltered. “Goal?”
“Agenda. But goal works just as well.” He shrugged. “Fine. Let me explain it this way. The way your leg is shaped creates a different walking pattern.”
He dragged his finger along her knee down to her ankle, his touch causing heat to shimmer and shift like rippling waves. Somehow the way he touched her leg made it okay. Not strange or weird, just there. However, his gesture also felt oddly seductive, the slow trail of his finger, the way it lingered. He cupped her calf. “This leg’s shorter. Did you stretch the bone?”
“Yes.”
“Painful.”
“Yes.” Brenna remembered the braces and screws, the hospital visits and feeling as though she were made more of steel than flesh. It had been worth it. She looked down at the scar some parts still looked rubbery and disfigured like melted Play-Do instead of skin, but at least her leg functioned.
Hunter was quiet a moment then said, “Because your leg is structured this way it forces you to put pressure on the outside area of the foot. The cane is supposed to help you stabilize, but puts pressure on this muscle here.” He gently squeezed.
She moved away uncertain she could tolerate the rest of his ‘demonstration’. “Yes, yes,” she said quickly. “I understand.”
“My new design won’t do that. Try it.”
Brenna tentatively took the cane Hunter held out to her. She walked the length of the living room surprised that she instantly felt lighter. “Oh, it works well.”
He nodded, pleased.
“But there’s just one problem.”
“What?”
She grimaced. “It’s ugly.”
Resignation replaced a look of hurt. “Yes, that’s why it hasn’t sold.”
“It’s bad enough having to use a cane,” she explained, trying to soften her criticism. “You don’t want to draw even more attention to it.”
“You’re right.” He reached for the cane.
She moved it away. “Perhaps if you worked more on its aesthetics it would be more appealing. The color’s all wrong. You realize that, don’t you?”
“Yes, but the material—”
“I’m sure the material is very suitable for the structure, but it has to look attractive.”
He sat forward. “My priority is function. I’m not good with aesthetics.”
“Try another color and is this necessary?” She pointed to the large bolts.
“Yes, it—”
“Perhaps you could accomplish the same goal in a different way.”
Hunter sighed. If only he had the time. He had reports to finish. “I’ll see what I can do, but if I’m promoted I’ll be moving to the Director of Research and Development and Marketing.”
“Why?”
Her question gave him pause. “Because it’s the next logical step in my Plan.”
She sat. “Oh yes, your plan. I’d almost forgotten about that. So your Plan no longer allows you to develop new ideas?” She tilted her head to one side and studied him. “You don’t seem the marketing type.”
“I’ve created reports on our competitors and gathered and analyzed data, studied buyer demographics and—”
“I’m not suggesting you can’t do your job, just that you could use your skills elsewhere.”
“I won’t be stuck in one area while others pass me by. I constantly strive to improve myself. As Director of these two divisions, I’ll be expanding and refining myself.”
“I can understand R&D, but why marketing?”
“Marketing is critical to moving up the ladder. My grandfather believes potential CEOs should understand every division if they plan to run the company.”
She nodded. “Do you want to head the company?”
“Yes. I want to see Randolph Medical Supply Company become one of the most exemplary in the industry. I’d also like to segue into other markets. We’ve been a little closed in our thinking which has served us well in terms of stability, but may hurt us in the long run. There is a need for expansion. The company can handle a slow growth and is strong enough for some trial and error approaches to marketing and product development. It’s falling a little behind the current technological advances available to companies like ours. I want to get it up to certain standards and beyond.”
He spoke with such passionate conviction Brenna smiled. “I’m surprised you’re not CEO yet.”
“My Uncle holds the position. I have a while yet.” He grabbed the cane and stood.
“Would you like anything to drink?” The question came without thought.
He hesitated. “Sure.”
They went into the kitchen, but didn’t know how to act cordial around each other without an audience. They weren’t friends after all, just performers who were part of the same show.
But Hunter didn’t want it that way anymore. Brenna was becoming dearer to him than he wanted to admit. He’d been intrigued by her at their first meeting, but now he could no longer deny his attraction. Hunter watched her, but not as a casual observer. He noticed her every movement his mind trying to capture every gesture so that when she was not with him he could conjure her up in his memory. He liked the way her hands worked. They weren’t gentle, but swift and efficient. He liked the way she held her head—cocky almost defiant. He turned away annoyed. He was being irrational. Sure he was attracted to her, but watching her like this was not logical. He steeled himself against his emotions. He would not lose his heart again. “I’ve changed my mind.”
He said the words so suddenly she nearly lost hold of the glass. She set it on the counter. “You can change your mind without shouting.”
He lowered his voice. “I wasn’t shouting. I have to go because...I...” His words trailed off.
She offered him an excuse. “Have errands to run?”
“Exactly.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
Their words were simple, innocuous. The look they shared was not. It steamed, heated with banked desire and longing. And the more it remained unspoken the stronger it seemed to grow.
Brenna broke the gaze and went to the door. “Thank you for thinking about me.” She opened the door. “I mean the cane.”
He passed by her and headed down the stairs. He suddenly stopped and turned. “You were right the first time.” He started up the stairs.
Her body filled with anticipation as he approached her. “Was I?”
“Yes.” His gaze dropped to her lips. “I’m going to kiss you.”
“Why?”
His eyes met hers, startled. “Why?”
“Yes, why?”
Hunter rested his hand against the wall and leaned towards her. “Do I need a reason?”
“I thought this might be part two of your seduction agenda.”
“No.”
“Then what do you call this?”
“Experimentation.”
“And what is your hypothesis?”
“I’ll let you know.” He kissed her, arousing a passion she’d thought she’d safely hidden away. Brenna faintly heard her cane drop. She rested her hands on his chest not to push him back, but she didn’t want to claim him either. She only wanted to savor the moment, savor the emotions being lit within, savor him. She’d expected his mouth to become more demanding instead it became sweeter like the liquid taste of melted sugar. Brenna gripped the front of his shirt; his arms circled her waist. They stumbled into the wall.
At that moment Tima opened her door and stared at them. “Oh, sorry. I thought someone had knocked.”
“No,” Brenna said breathless. “Um. This is Hunter.”
“Nice to meet you, Hunter. I saw you at the fair.” She rested her hip against the doorframe and folded her arms. “Though I doubt you saw me.”
He eyed her extravagant outfit. “I saw you. I just thought you were part of the fair.” Brenna hit him.
Tima laughed. “Pauline was right.”
“About what?”
“You.”
Hunter wasn’t curious enough to ask
what her meaning was. He released Brenna. “I’d better go.” He picked up her cane. “I’ll give you my analysis in the morning.”
She grabbed it. “Nothing handwritten and remember to double space.”
He didn’t release it. “I’ll try to remember.”
“Good.”
Tima loudly cleared her throat.
Hunter let go and left. Tima pulled Brenna inside her apartment and shut the door. “Start from the beginning.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“So you weren’t enjoying yourself?”
“Lust was getting the best of us.”
“Lust is a terrible thing to waste.”
“The day after would be a nightmare. I couldn’t imagine waking up next to him.”
“Then let me paint a picture for you. First he’s naked—”
Brenna laughed. “You’re a bad influence on me.”
“I just think you should have fun. And he’d be a lot of fun.”
Brenna bit her lip. “I’m not sure. He’s up to something.”
“Of course he’s up to something he wants to sleep with you.” She shook her head in pity. “Has it been that long?”
“He has another agenda.”
“His look spoke of only one. He’s interested. If you two would allow yourself to drop the charade, you’d admit you were enjoying yourselves.”
“Could a relationship based on deceit become real?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“We’re too much alike.” “With one great difference. You’re a woman and he’s a man. Think about it.”
***
Miles steepled his fingers and looked at Hunter. “Sleep is an activity that allows our minds and bodies to rejuvenate. It is a necessary activity that allows us to restore ourselves.”
Hunter glanced up from his desk. “Is there a reason for that mini lecture?”
“Yes, you look like you’re not getting any.”
He returned to his desk. Sleep wasn’t the only thing he wasn’t getting. “I’m not tired.”
Miles stood, glancing at the calendar on his phone. The calendar on the wall was a month behind. He changed it. “That’s not my point.”
Hunter sounded bored. “What is it?”
“Forget it.” He leaned on the desk. “What are you working on?”
Hunter held out the pad of paper. Miles studied it then set it down confused. “You’re working on the Trandor cane? Why?”