by P. L. Harris
Rose had a strange sense of excitement bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Yes, this was really on the nose, but also, she could see how maybe someone could find love—or, you know, something like that—here. She shook her head almost imperceptibly. Not for her though. This wouldn't work for the Crazy Cat Lady. She was only here to embarrass herself in front of the entire nation.
Rose hesitated. Unlike the other times, it wasn't immediately obvious. She didn't feel the answer in her gut.
Definitely not the petals. Roses or not, it seemed more than a little...cheesy.
She bent and touched the sand. Raising a fistful from the ground, she let it slowly cascade from her hand to the ground. It was pure white and cleared of the debris that you see in real beach sand.
The path of sweets was made up of unwrapped lollies, an Allen's Party Mix—vibrantly colourful jelly beans, snakes, raspberries and creams, bananas. She loved these lollies! Every Friday she and Steven would share a pack. He would stop by her desk and grab a handful, and they would talk about their plans for the weekend while they chased a sugar high. She would eat all the black cats and he would immediately snaffle the pineapples. The thought of the lollies made her a little sad. Would they still share their Friday sweets now that she knew they'd never be together? It sounded too painful.
The yarn was made of cornflower blue wool. Rose rubbed the thick, soft length between her thumb and forefinger. There was something familiar about it, but she couldn't place what.
"What path will Rose take?" Mr Handsome asked, breaking her free from her distracted pondering. “Will it be the path to true love?”
Rose stood abruptly, the wool still caught between her fingers. The ball of yarn tumbled over itself, rolling towards her. Suddenly, the thought—the one that had been twisting around her mind, darting away each time she reached for it—unfurled. Jay Catsby! She had decided to learn to knit, but before she had gotten too far into her first granny square, her cat, Jay Catsby, had begun to bat the yarn about her living room, tangling the wool into knots around her furniture and enticing Catniss into the game. Rose had immediately given up on knitting, but enjoyed the unadulterated joy her cats had had with the yarn—until she had to untangle the mess they made of her home.
"The yarn," she said to Mr Ken-Doll.
"The yarn!" An enormous smile spread across his face, revealing a straight row of gleaming white teeth. "Rose is going to follow the yarn."
She walked towards the curtain. This time it didn't automatically open; she pulled back one side of the curtain, to reveal a sliver of the scene behind.
Rose hesitated. Suddenly this didn't seem so ridiculous. Maybe she really could meet her person. Maybe her true love was hiding behind a curtain somewhere in the back of this studio. Maybe even behind this curtain.
"Rose, will you pull back the curtain, please.”
Rose took a deep breath, and pulled the curtain back further and ducked through the gap. She waited for the lights and confetti; for a man to appear before her.
But there was nothing.
A completely white room. Then something came into focus. A tall white table—pedestal?—with something on it. Something small. She took a step forward.
Cat food. A tin of cat food.
"I'm sorry Rose; you won't be leaving with your true love today. But you won't go home empty handed—we have a two-month supply of cat food for you." Mr Smarmy was right beside her, speaking too loudly.
The Crazy Cat Lady goes home alone. As usual. And this time she got to humiliate herself on television, as well as end up alone. At least she had Jay Catsby and Catniss at home waiting for her.
Rose blinked, trying to ease the sting in her eyes, and she breathed in against the thickness in her throat.
"Rose, can you tell us how you're feeling?" Mr Plastic asked, his face manoeuvred into something she suspected was supposed to look like concern.
She couldn't do it. She didn't want to cry on national television. Did she really need to stay, so they could make fun of her? Crazy Cat Lady goes home with cat food.
Her vision began to blur. She blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay.
She spun around in the white room, looking for a way out. It all looked the same. Where had she come from? She pushed at the curtain. She couldn't find the gap, so she dropped to her knees and crawled beneath the curtain.
She wasn't helping herself! This would be even more humiliating on television. But she just couldn't face it. She couldn't answer that awful man's awful questions about her feelings, and about what true love meant for her, and about what she was going to do now, and about if she was worried about dying at home alone, leaving her starving cats to eat her decaying body.
She pulled herself up to her feet. She was back in the room with the trails of petals, sand, lollies, and the yarn.
Rose could feel the strawberry shortcake sitting like a lump in the back of her throat. The sugary goodness felt acidic now.
A big camera came through the curtain, followed by a person holding it steady, keeping it aimed straight at her. She spun and pushed, fumbling at the curtain beside her, the one with the path of lollies. Without lifting or pulling the curtain aside, she just walked straight into it, hoping it would part for her. Somehow—the only good luck she'd had all day—it didn't catch on her head and make her fall, it just gave way and she lurched through, crying and panting, her heart rate erratic with a dizzying concoction of fear and humiliation and nerves.
Rose stumbled and someone caught her. She pulled away from the person, vertiginous and struggling to get free, wanting to be out of this studio, away from the curtains and the bright lights and the cameras.
She heard her name. And again.
"Rose. Rose. Rose. Rose," someone was saying.
Steven.
He was standing there, looking at her. He looked worried.
He must have been in the audience. Or maybe he was here doing one of those friend testimonial things. He had seen the horror first hand! She had to get away. She spun.
He grabbed her hand.
"Rose," he pulled her back towards him, "you found me."
She didn't turn to look at him. She couldn't bear to see him trying to stifle a laugh or to see the concerned look on his face—he would be genuinely worried about his friend, the Crazy Cat Lady. She pulled away, and stumbled forward as he released her wrist.
"I love you, Rose."
She reached forward, trying to find the break in the curtain, trying to find a way out.
His words suddenly hit her. He loved her?
She turned.
"I thought you would pick the lollies." A small uncertain smile crept onto his lips.
Rose felt her mouth open and shut several times. She was utterly lost.
"I—" the word came out as a squeak. She cleared her throat, hearing the phlegmy post-crying noise it emitted. "I love you too."
She stood completely still and just stared at him.
The curtain behind her shifted, brushing against the back of her leg. There was movement in her periphery. But she couldn't tear her gaze from Steven's sparkling green eyes, which were beginning to crinkle at the corners. There was whispering all around her.
She felt a hand, hard, on the small of her back. "Kiss him!"
A shower of confetti and balloons rained down from above, as she stood on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around Steven's neck and kissed him.
Passionberry Dreams
D.D. Line
A long, appreciative whistle pierced the air.
Koen’s face burned with embarrassment beneath his aviator sunglasses. “Damn you, McClane,” he muttered. No way he would be modelling short bike shorts, an unbuttoned police uniform shirt, and a police cap if it weren’t for his superior officer’s meddling.
It’s for a worthy cause.
Like him, representatives of Trinket Bay’s emergency services were holding a fashion show to raise funds for the hospital’s rehabilitation unit. It meant those
in need, like McClane, wouldn’t have to travel to Perth for treatment.
Koen spotted a reporter in the crowd with their mobile phone pointed at him and gritted his teeth.
For a worthy cause.
He didn’t know how he’d get McClane back for this, but he would.
“Hey! Thief!”
Koen turned towards the voice instinctively. He tracked the movements of a woman waving something pink in the air, heading out of the park. He scanned metres ahead to see another figure ducking and weaving through the crowd.
“Stop! Police!”
He jumped down from the raised catwalk, scattering the audience.
Koen sprinted through the weave of stalls and pop-ups, determined to cut the lead runner off.
“Look out!” he shouted to part the crowd.
Everything else became a blur as he rushed after the runner. By the time he saw the other pursuer in his peripheral vision, it was too late.
They collided. There was a tangle of limbs, a sudden rush to the ground. The heavy aroma of sugary sweetness and a floral but subtle perfume enveloped him.
He landed hard on his back but forgot any pain when his body reacted to the soft curves pressed against him. Only one woman made him hyper aware of her presence.
Nerida Graham.
NERIDA SMILED HER THANKS to a generous customer when he stuffed a fifty-dollar note into the donations box on the far end of her trestle table. His daughters squealed in delight when he picked up the half-dozen pack of cupcakes and pointed to an empty picnic table a short distance away.
With steady hands, she piped another delicate frosted blossom on a cupcake and placed it on the serving tray. She’d give it a moment to set before placing it in the portable cooler. She was already baking a cake for the hospital fundraiser dance, but when she’d heard they were doing a fundraiser fair and fashion show, she didn’t hesitate to volunteer her time.
If only the hospital contained more modern facilities when she was a teenager, things might have been different. Which was why she’d do everything she could to help now.
A loud burst of whistles and cheers sounded from the crowd. She looked up from her piping and froze.
Koen Henderson was as good looking now as he’d been all those years ago. Better, even. Two years older, he was the same age as her twin brothers, and even as a child, he wanted to be a police officer like his parents. He’d filled out his high school uniform just right, but now his police one moulded to his strong, firm body. The honeyed skin of his toned arms was on display. Broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist and hips.
Icing squirted from the bag she’d unwittingly squeezed.
“Oh, shoot,” she said as she hurriedly wiped up the icing. “Sorry, Constable Henderson, as mouth-watering as you look, I have work to do.”
Someone bumped into the trestle table. Nerida looked up in time to see hands reach for the donations box before their owner dived back into the crowd.
“Hey! Thief!”
Nerida rounded the trestle table, icing bag still in her hand, chasing after the culprit. Perhaps sensing her behind them, the person picked up their pace. Nerida did too.
And ran headlong into the man she’d been ogling moments before.
THOUGH HIS BACK ACHED, Koen’s attention was elsewhere. Not only was he covered in something sticky, but the gorgeous woman in his arms looked ready to explode.
“Did you see him? Her?”
She pushed off his chest, knees straddling his hips.
Eyes on her face, Koen.
“The thief?” he managed. He fixed on her piercing, dark chocolate glare.
“Yes! I’d have caught them if you hadn’t got in the way!”
“What are you doing chasing down a suspect? You might have been hurt!”
His need to protect kicked in, placing him on high alert. Well, except for his body’s insistence he took notice of what was so tormentingly pressed against it. He put his hands on either side of her arms to shift her so he could stand.
“They must have continued towards the main street,” he said.
“But...oh!”
He winced. He’d been in such a hurry to get out of the awkward closeness and following his own advice about where to look so closely, he hadn’t noticed the bag of icing in her hands. The bag squeezed between them, covering not only his bare chest but her T-shirt too, making it cling to her like a second skin.
With a grimace, he got to his feet, welcoming the distraction the pain brought.
“Sorry, Constable,” she said. She turned around helplessly, as though the thief would appear any second. “I didn’t see much. Oh! They were wearing a hoodie, in this heat?”
He took a deep breath to refocus on his job. “And no one else saw anything?”
“I was alone at my stall. Both my assistants are out making deliveries.” She glanced at her watch and then at the bag in her hand. “And the icing on my cupcakes is probably melting all over the table as we speak.”
She glared at him again as though somehow that was his fault too, turned, stared in the direction he believed her thief departed, frowned, and stomped back towards her stall.
Damn. She’d done everything she said she’d do in high school.
And all those adolescent feelings came rushing back.
Damn it! Stop getting distracted. You have a job to do.
He moved to the end of the park and looked in both directions. From what he could see, the local foot traffic moved at a steady pace, but he didn’t expect to see anyone in the clothing Nerida described. The thief might have disappeared into any of the shops or laneways. The fashion show was a temporary distraction, but he was on duty now. A discreet cough followed by another giggle reminded him he still wore the ridiculous outfit and what he now knew to be icing dripping down his front.
“Damn,” he muttered, wiping the sticky mess from his chest and grimacing as he headed for the change rooms behind the runway. With any luck, he’d get inside, change, and no one would be any the wiser.
NERIDA HUFFED, FUSSING with the cupcakes before putting them in the cooler. The flowers drooped far too much for her liking.
He’d be back. She understood that. But Nerida wasn’t ready to face Koen. Not because of the stolen money or her as-yet-unknown thief. His treating her with polite indifference hurt. That, and the knowledge his nearness still sent her hormones racing.
She’d adored him in high school. She believed he cared for her too. And not because she was the little sister of his two best friends. She remembered the intent way he’d watched her as she used to copy his grandmother’s every move in the kitchen. One night, upset after ruining a batch of his grandmother’s Native Lemon Myrtle cookies, he’d kissed her, and it was the most perfect moment she’d ever experienced. Then he’d backed off, and it was as though she’d imagined it.
She tried to tell herself it was because of the police academy, but when her brothers mentioned he was seeing a fellow cadet, she’d been heartbroken. By the time Koen returned, she’d finished high school. Although they’d mourned together at his grandmother’s funeral, things were awkward between them. They both knew the lack of modern equipment at the local hospital and her stubborn refusal to leave her beloved home after her fall were partly to blame for his grandmother’s demise. The loss and her confusion regarding Koen took their toll. With no reason to stay, Nerida moved to Perth to follow her dreams.
She made sure her brothers told him she’d found someone special too. Only he’d turned out to be a thieving mongrel who stole a coveted job from her. That’s when she realised it was time to come home.
Well, he’d dust for fingerprints on the trestle table, probably interview her and whatever else he needed to do, and she’d be as professional as he seemed to be. No ogling the man when he reappeared. No staring at his muscular physique. And no listening to his deep, velvety caramel voice that oozed sensuality, sending her libido into overdrive.
Sigh!
It wasn’t his fault so
meone robbed her. Or that she’d blindly raced straight into him, as heady a mix of heaven and hell as that was. That she’d covered them in Davidson Plum-flavoured icing wasn’t her finest moment either.
She didn’t expect to recover the stolen money, and it broke her heart. The town needed that hospital equipment.
At least her brothers weren’t in town. They’d be sure to invite everyone over for a BBQ when they finished their current jobs. She’d have to attend. If Koen arrived with someone else... No, it was too much. Better to keep her traitorous thoughts and emotions to herself.
Nerida glanced at her icing-splattered clothes. She couldn’t keep working like this. She needed to change.
KOEN STEPPED INTO THE tent behind the catwalk. He’d been so distracted; he’d left his badge behind. Thank goodness McClane wasn’t around to witness that.
Nothing prepared him for the sight that greeted him.
He attempted to look away, but his eyes weren’t quick to obey. All her creamy skin begged to be kissed. Mere wisps of lace revealed as much as they concealed in the sexiest bra he’d ever seen.
“Koen! Get out!”
All the warnings from her brothers to leave their sister alone and not stand in the way of her career dreams came rushing back. She spun, arms over her head as though incapable of lowering them, and cursed.
“You, um, sure you don’t need any help?”
“I’m fine!”
“You’re about to hit the ironing board.”
If she kept moving around like some dancing temptress, he’d have to go back to the police station and have a cold shower.
“Let me get you out of those clothes before you hurt yourself.”
He winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
You idiot. You did not just say that.
Mercifully, she turned her back to him.
“The tag’s caught in my hair tie. Be gentle, okay.”
Koen made quick work of untangling her silky hair and took a huge step back. When she turned, he forced himself to stare at the ceiling. She rushed past him; T-shirt pressed modestly to her chest.