by Roya Carmen
I bring my hand to my mouth. “Oh no…”
She grabs two cookie trays and slides them into the oven. “What do you say? Coming or not?”
I want more time with her – I’m leaving in three or four days, and I want to make the most of it. Also, I’m looking forward to seeing the place again. “I’m in.”
Her smile warms me. My mother has the biggest most magnetic grin I’ve ever seen. It fills half her face; so many teeth, bright and big. She almost looks like a cartoon character when she smiles. I think that’s why so many people are drawn to her.
The place is not quite like I remember… everything is just a little more organized, brighter. The old tattered posters on the walls are gone, replaced by stylish advertisements in Plexiglass. The worn vinyl flooring has been replaced by a nice wood imitation laminate. The place is not a dive anymore. It’s just like any other convenience store.
Momma turns on the radio speaker, and Madonna’s Lucky Star is playing in the background. It takes me right back. Early Madonna was before my time but Momma loved her. Momma turns the key in the register and does her thing – she’s on auto-pilot. I’ve forgotten how all this works, and I’m sure everything’s changed since I worked here.
She eyes me up and down. Her gaze is stuck to my red heeled pumps. “I like your outfit, sweetie, but are you sure you’ll be comfortable working in those all day?”
I smile. She’s always such a mom. “These are Dr. Scholls. Super comfy,” I tell her. “I wear these all the time at work… or I used to.”
“Okay, if you say so,” she says. “I love the skirt… very you.”
I stare down at the black and white polka-dot skirt and silently agree.
“So what’s on the agenda for today?” I ask, eager to start.
She starts the coffee maker. “The usual. Customers come in, buy stuff. We cash them out. When it’s slow, we stock the shelves.” She eyes my shoes and skirt again. “We keep the coffee going, manage the register, and answer the phone.”
“I think I can handle that,” I say playfully. It’s all duties I used to have at my old job, save for the coffee making.
The door clangs and our first customer walks in – a small elderly lady wearing a fashionable vintage pea coat and matching hat. She smiles brightly at us as she inches closer.
“Maeve,” she cheers, her face full with excitement. “Don’t you look lovely.”
She obviously recognizes me, but I don’t quite remember her. I smile awkwardly.
“You remember Mrs. Wright, don’t you?” Momma says. “She used to own the flower shop in town.”
“Oh, yes,” I say, feigning recognition. “Of course I remember Mrs. Wright. Lovely pea coat, Mrs. Wright.”
She blushes a little. “Why, thank you, Maeve. I’ve had it forever. People in this town don’t really appreciate a good quality coat. They all wear those cheap jackets with plastic buttons. Of course, there’s nowhere in this town to buy decent clothing so you can’t exactly fault them, can you. Just the other day… I spotted a young woman sporting a man’s oversized leather jacket… can you imagine it?”
I glance over at Momma who is smiling widely. I get the impression that Mrs. Wright likes to chat a lot. She probably comes here for a little conversation. “Yes, wouldn’t it be great if we had a decent clothing store in this town?” I say.
“It surely would. I’d be the first one there.”
Momma slides out the tray of scratch tickets. “So what will it be today, Mabel?”
Mabel sets her trembling gnarled finger on the tray, full of excitement. “I think I’ll go for Bingo today.” She points at the last one on the bottom. “I’m feeling lucky.”
“Good choice,” Momma says. “I have a good feeling about that one.”
“Sorry, I can’t stay to chat today,” Mabel tells us. “My granddaughter is coming to visit, and I need to tidy the place.”
Momma rings her up. “No worries, Mabel. We’ll see you again tomorrow.”
With a turn and a slow gait, Mabel waves us goodbye. Momma hurries to the door to open it for her, and Mabel smiles wide. Momma has always been like that, full of small kind gestures.
“She’s a bit of a gambler, our little Mabel,” she says in hushed tones. “Comes in every day to buy a scratch ticket.”
“Well, if it makes her happy,” I reply. “She must win sometimes.”
Momma smiles. “She does.”
We get quite a few customers – the place is hopping. I suppose it helps that it’s the only convenience store in town. There’s a large grocery store on the outskirts of town but many people prefer to come here for a small shop. Momma seems to know everyone, and I recognize a few faces but can’t quite place them.
Around two in the afternoon, we can finally catch out breaths. I settle my tired behind on one of the stools and indulge in an iced tea. “Busy…”
Momma cocks a brow. “Don’t get too comfortable. We’ve got some stocking to do. The refrigerator is low. You might want to take off your fancy shoes.”
Oh crap…
I help Momma lug the cartons of drinks; Evian water, Gatorade, Lipton’s Iced Tea, Pepsi, and more, on wheeled dollies. It’s a tough job, and I help her as much as I can. I’m not used to this. Cases of drinks are a little harder to handle than girl dresses and baby sleepers. “Geez, I-I… can’t believe you have to do this,” I struggle to say, breathless.
“Now you understand what I meant about the shoes,” she says. “Yeah, I’m a tough cookie but I’m getting too old for this, which is why I’m trying to retire.”
I laugh. “Not trying very hard.”
“Well, can’t exactly leave the boss in the lurch, can I?”
A loud clang startles us, obviously someone with a lot of energy. I walk through the aisle and round the corner. My heart practically leaps out of my ribcage when I see Blake. He swoops in like he owns the place, looking as freaking delicious as always in worn khakis, a blue Pepsi shirt, and a leather jacket. Of course he’s here. He’s everywhere I am. I can’t seem to get away from the guy.
His gaze travels slowly over my body and he smiles playfully, that familiar infuriating grin. “What are you doing here?”
“Helping out Momma,” I tell him. “What’s it to you?”
He smiles wide. “Well, you can’t be doing that much helping in those ridiculous shoes.”
I hold my tongue. I want to lash out but he’s not worth it, despite the fact that I’m quite peeved. You can say a lot of things about me but don’t dare insult my clothes. “They’re not ridiculous,” I say quietly. “They’re stylish and functional.”
He laughs and his gaze is still glued to me. Seriously, the man’s scrutiny knows no bounds.
“Hey, boss,” Momma says. “How’s things?”
Boss?!
“Good,” he says and cocks a brow. “Were you stocking again, Sheila?”
She bites her lip. “Yep.”
He shakes his head. “I told you not to do that. That’s why I’m here.”
“Wait…” I say, confused.
Momma turns to me. “Our little Blake has done pretty well for himself,” she tells me. “He owns the place, and the tackle shop, and also Main Street Deli.”
Main Street Deli? The place we used to hang out at all the time? The place where we shared our first kiss?
I’m speechless. I’m flabbergasted. I had no clue. Why didn’t Momma mention this?
Blake blushes, slightly ill-at-ease. “Just good investing,” he says. “And smart business decisions.”
I’m not completely surprised. Blake has always been really smart, and I know his father left him and his siblings an inheritance. The Taylors were much better off financially than we ever were. His father owned a construction company which his brother, Brian, now runs. Marilyn is in charge of all the books, and although she would never divulge private financial information, I only need to look at their fancy home, her designer clothes, and Maddie’s horse riding lessons to know
that they’re doing pretty well.
“Let me take over,” he says to Momma.
“Oh, no need. We’re all done. Maeve was a great help.”
He raises a brow, still staring down at my shoes. “Really?”
I roll my eyes. The door clangs.
“I’ll get it,” Momma says with a smile. She knows there’s some drama going on, and she’s probably going to keep one eye peeled to see what’s going on. She can be so nosy sometimes.
We stare at each other without a word for a long beat. A very long beat. I’m brought back to that night in his bed. I wonder if he’s thinking about that too. His intense gaze and his parted lips might suggest so, but then again, Blake has always had that sexy look, like he’s about to have his way with you, and he’s going to make sure you enjoy it.
Damn him.
“I guess I just can’t get away from you,” I finally say. “You’re everywhere I am.”
“You’re the one who’s in my store,” he points out.
“I didn’t know it was your store,” I scoff and turn on my heel. I walk briskly to the storage room where I’ve left my purse when I was helping Momma stock the merchandise.
He follows close behind. “Would you have come and helped your mom if you’d known?”
I look for my purse but it’s nowhere to be seen. I start to panic. “No.”
“Really? You wouldn’t have helped your mom just because of me?”
I find the purse sitting on one of the storage shelves, next to the chocolate bars. I could sure use a darn chocolate bar just about now.
Blake slams the door shut and makes me jump. My breath catches. He closes the distance between us, so close, I can smell the peppermint on his breath. “Why do you hate me so much?” he asks.
Because you broke my heart.
16
I KNOW WE WERE BOTH going through a lot, and he had reasons to behave the way he did, but that still doesn’t justify his actions as far as I’m concerned. He completely destroyed me, and you just can’t get over that kind of heartbreak overnight. I’m still angry.
“I don’t know,” I reply. “Why do you hate me?”
His striking eyes are dark as he presses his hands on either side of my arms, caging me in – I’m not getting out of this conversation. My pulse races. I hate that he still makes my pulse race.
“Because you’re a tease,” he says, his mouth dangerously close to mine. I hate myself because I want him to kiss me. I shouldn’t want him.
“I’m not…” my words trail off. I’m breathless, barely able to speak.
“I hate you because I want you, and I can’t have you.” He slides a long finger up my thigh, under my flowy cotton skirt. “The little skirts you wear,” he whispers, “the heels…”
Heat fills me. I want to stay in this moment forever. It’s pure want.
He slides his hand up higher and toys with the lace of my panties. “Do you have any idea what you do to me, Freckles?”
I close my eyes and tilt my chin up to his, reaching for more.
He lowers his mouth to my neck. “I want to flip you over that stack of cases and take you from behind. I want to make you scream.”
Oh God…
His hand travels between my thighs, and I spread my legs, opening myself up for him.
He laughs against my neck. “You want this, don’t you?”
I moan softly. “Yes…”
He slides a long finger inside my panties and glides along my wetness. “Yeah, you definitely want this,” he whispers.
I close my eyes and throw my head back. I want him to make me come, right here, in the dark storage room of a convenience store, standing against a shelf of kitchen products.
He slides his finger slowly over my clit, bringing me closer. He teases.
I hold on tightly to his arms, the cool leather of his jacket soft under my palms. “Harder...” I beg.
He pushes a finger in deep, and I jolt at the sensation. I can’t remember the last time I was fingered – it feels so damn good. He presses harder and I sink into the pleasure of it. “I bet Parker doesn’t make you scream often,” he says.
“He… he doesn’t…” I breathe.
I press my sex harder against his hand, desperately wanting to come. He studies me with a curious expression, a whisper of a smile on his lips. I’m completely vulnerable under his touch. I’m willing to open myself completely to him. He owns me.
But then, cruelly, as if he intended this all along, he slowly pulls his hand out of my undies. He shoots me a wicked grin. “Hope you enjoyed that,” he whispers. “Who’s the tease now?”
I’m without words. I’m in shock.
He brings his finger slowly to his nose, the very one he had inside me, and sucks it in his mouth. “Mmm…” he says. He leans into me and I’m still paralysed. He slides his hands down the length of my skirt and presses down the folds. He looks at me one last time, and quietly walks away.
My jaw drops. How dare he? As he opens the door to leave, I grab a bottle of dishwashing liquid off the shelf and throw it at his head. He ducks and laughs. “A little taste of your own medicine,” he says. “Bitter?”
He closes the door behind him, and I’m left alone, in the dark room, wondering what just happened, and how I’ve let myself fall into his cruel trap. I’m embarrassed and ashamed. I cringe at the memory of myself arched against the shelf, one leg hiked up, begging him to pleasure me.
I will never live this down.
I will never be able to face him again.
It takes quite a long time for me to gather up the courage to venture out again. When I do, Blake is nowhere in sight, and I’m extremely relieved. Momma is at the register, and she eyes me with curiosity. “Where have you been?”
“Oh,” I say, hoping the tremble in my voice doesn’t betray me. “I was just in the washroom. Lady stuff, you know.”
She shrugs. I don’t think she wants to hear about my lady stuff.
The rest of the afternoon is a blur. Customers come in and out, and I tend to them like the pro that I am, but all I can think about is Blake and what happened in the storage room.
How am I ever meant to face him again? I wish I could have ripped that impish smirk off his face. He seemed so satisfied. That’s exactly what he wants, to see me squirm and close in on myself like a wilting flower, to see me die of embarrassment. It’s what he expects I’m sure. But maybe I’m not the shy awkward wallflower he thinks I am. Well, I sort of am, but he doesn’t need to know that.
Despite the fact that I hate him with a passion right now, I can’t stop remembering how his mouth felt on my skin, how his hand felt in my panties, how he rendered me completely powerless. No one has ever had that effect on me. I just can’t shake it.
I can’t deny it, and I won’t. I want him. I still do, even after he’s completely embarrassed me and played with me for his own amusement.
Just one time. I want to see how it feels to have sex with Blake Taylor. I just want to get him out of system. And I want to show him that I’m not such a good girl after all.
I look over at Momma who is busy working on a crossword puzzle. I can’t exactly ask her for advice. I fish my phone from my purse and text Mandy.
You working right now?
She replies right away. Mandy always has her phone on her.
Nope. Why?
__
Could you come to Jake’s. Need to talk.
__
Okay. Be there in fifteen. Was bored anyway. :)
__
Cool!
It seems like the longest fifteen minutes of my life. I desperately need to talk to someone about this. When Mandy finally arrives, I tell Momma I’m taking a break. I grab an iced tea for me and an orange Gatorade for her (I know it’s her favorite), and slip on my jacket. We head outside and sit at the picnic table. It’s sunny outside but a little chilly. People are milling about, going about their days. It’s a terrific spot to people-watch.
She twists
the cap off her bottle and takes a swig. “So what’s up? I heard everything was good this weekend. Thanks so much for filling in for me.”
I smile. “It was good actually.” It really was, much better than I’d anticipated.
“You and Blake…” she says with a smirk.
“Yes, me and Blake,” I say. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
She turns to me, curious. “What about it? You two have a thing?”
I shrug. “Sort of… not really,” I falter. “I just… I want him.”
She shoots me a sidelong glance. “Want him?”
“You know...” I say with pleading eyes. Will she make me spell it out?
She pulls a face. “Ewww… please spare me the details. You do remember that he’s my brother, right?”
I laugh. “Oh, so you’re going to be like that again.”
“Yeah,” she says. “I don’t want to hear what goes on with you and my brother.”
“Okay, but…” I go on. “I was thinking… just one time, casual sex, you know?”
She buries her face in her hands and shakes her head – such a drama queen. “No… say no more.”
“You think it’s a bad idea?”
Her face settles. “Well… I don’t know. You’re not exactly the kind of girl who just sleeps around casually or has one-night stands, Maeve.”
I roll my eyes. I am so tired of people telling me what I am, and what I’m not.
“Maybe I am,” I say. “I’ve changed.”
“Really?” she says skeptically.
“Really.”
“Well, I can tell you one thing. Blake definitely is. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him settle down with anyone, but he sure has had his fair share of women.”
My stomach drops a little, but I tell myself that I don’t care. He’s probably great in bed, and that’s all I care about at the moment. I don’t want to marry him. All I want is for him to finish what he started. One time. That’s it. I’m going back to Burlington in three days, and I’ll forget all about him.
“Then he must know what he’s doing,” I quip.