A Curvy Girl for the Cadet: A Perfect Fit Novella

by Sugar Jamison

  “Eating healthy is one thing. What’s the matter with a nice bowl of macaroni and some good homemade gravy? Or how about some meatballs with some broccoli rabe? And never,” she shook her hands skyward, “has anyone ever found anything wrong with a sweet Italian sausage. I could show you how to make my sausage and tortellini soup. My Danny loved it.”

  “Aubrey loves my food. She helps me plan the menu.”

  “Chow mein casserole.” She shook her head. “Whoever heard of such a thing?”

  Daisy knew she wasn’t going to win that argument so she decided a change in subject might be good. “Did the deliveries come in?”

  “They’re in the cooler. The mayor’s office called. They would like one of your famous lemon vases and they only want you to do the arrangement.”

  “Really? Why?” She walked over to her work station and began pulling out her supplies. She could have worked in the back, but they didn’t get much foot traffic in the store since they mostly worked on contract with the local businesses. “I learned most of what I know from you.”

  “You’re better than me, kid,” she said without hesitation. “You’ve got vision that I don’t. That’s why I’m probably going to be eating meatloaf for dinner while you’ll be preparing eyeball stew.”

  “I have never eaten an eyeball in my life. Unless you count those little gummy ones they give out at Halloween and those are delicious. But then again I find all candy delicious. I even like candy corn, which gets a bad rap and I don’t know why.” She pulled out her bowl of lemons and started slicing them. “Danny used to make me a candy corn drink every year, did you know that?”

  “Knowing my son he threw a handful of the stuff in a red cup full of vodka and called it a night.”

  “No.” Daisy laughed. “He made it with orange sherbet and pineapple rum. His bartending skills were something he took great pride in.”

  “It was probably the only thing he took pride in. I loved the boy, but I still get so mad at him for leaving you and that pretty little girl alone.”

  “He died,” Daisy reminded her softly. “It’s not like he ran off with another women.” But sometimes she wondered if he would have been happier if he had. After he was medically discharged from the marines things had gotten really bad between them. His partying had increased. His behavior became more erratic. If Danny hadn’t died, Daisy would have divorced him, but she had never told Loretta that. She couldn’t bring herself to.

  The door to her shop opened and she was expecting to see her delivery guy walk in, but it wasn’t Eric. It was her neighbor, the one she hated to admit she thought about long after he walked away from her last night.

  “Good morning, tall and delicious,” Loretta said, a predatory smile curling on her lips. “How can I help you this morning?”

  “Loretta,” Daisy hissed. Her mother-in-law had a thing for younger men. They had a thing for her too because she didn’t look anywhere near her sixty years and she was a dead ringer for Jennifer Tilly, bountiful curves and all.

  “What?” She looked over to Daisy. “I was just greeting our customer. He’s cute, isn’t he? I usually like ‘em a little more clean cut, but he’ll do as long as his beard doesn’t scratch me.”

  Clayton walked over to her, ignoring Loretta’s brazen come on. “You’re my neighbor.” He studied her face with those icy colored eyes and she felt like she was being inspected.

  “I am. And you’re in my shop.”

  “What’s your name?” he asked her, apparently not one for small talk.

  “Daisy Lee Gracen.” She extended her hand. He looked at it for a moment as if he didn’t trust it, but then he shook it. She was no petite flower, but his hand swallowed hers. It was warm and rough. The hands of a working man. His grip was firm and for some reason heat traveled up the back of her neck, she could feel the little hairs on it stand at attention. Such a weird reaction for a handshake from the scary man who lived next door. “You must be Clayton Calhoun. I get your mail sometimes.”

  He nodded. “You have daisies on your lower back. Now I know why.”

  She blinked at him for a moment, not sure she had really heard what he had said. “Excuse me?”

  He didn’t look apologetic or embarrassed, but his words weren’t exactly smarmy either. Just matter of fact. “You garden. Our houses are very close. I’ve seen them.”

  “You’ve also seen my ass then.”

  “I’m not complaining about it.” There was no hint of humor in his eyes. No laughter in his voice, no smirk curling his lips, but she smiled. He had made her smile. The pressure of his hand increased just a little bit more and she realized that they had never ended their handshake. She pulled her hand away from his, still feeling the heat radiating through it.

  She cleared her throat. “Was there something I could help you with?”

  “You’re a florist.” It wasn’t a question.

  “And you’re a scruffy bearded man in my shop.”

  He raised his brows slightly. “What’s with the lemons?”

  “It’s for an arrangement I’m doing.” She had a smaller square vase inside of a larger round one and filled it up most of the way with water before she started arranging the lemons inside of it.

  He watched her work silently for a few moments. She had worked in a flower shop for ten years, a floral designer for eight of them, and had done thousands of arrangements, but this time she was nervous. Having him watch her, even though she knew the flowers wouldn’t be for him, made her nervous.

  “Hmm,” he said after a while. “I need flowers for my mother.”

  “Were the flowers you had yesterday supposed to be for your mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you gave one to my kid?”

  “Yes.”

  “And now you have to replace them.”

  He nodded once. There was something about him she couldn’t put her finger on. He was a mess. Wild hair. Thick beard. Paint smeared clothes. But the way he held himself… Tall. Confidently. Like he was always in command. The beard and hair just seemed to be hiding it all.

  “You want sunflowers again?”

  “And daises,” he said looking her in the eye. “Put daises in there.”

  She stopped the arrangement she was working on and did what he asked with her best sunflowers and tiny white daisies as accents. He watched her as she worked again, not saying anything, never making an attempt at small talk and she wondered what was going through his mind.

  “Is this okay?” she asked when she was done.

  He just nodded again. “How much?”

  “No charge.”

  “I want to pay.”

  “Too bad. Consider it a neighborly thing to do.”

  “Thank you, Daisy.” He extended his hands to hers and she took it, but this time he just squeezed her fingers slightly before he took off.

  “Well…” Loretta said.

  “Well what?”

  “Somebody has a thing for you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s just my neighbor. He didn’t even know my name until today.”

  “He didn’t have to know your name to admire your ass.”

  Daisy shook her head and sighed. Clayton Calhoun was going to be hard to get off her mind today.

  Chapter 4

  “This place is a mess,” Abraham said as they walked through one of the rental properties Ambrose’s company owned.

  The place was trashed. Completely. But it was all a part of being in the property management business. “They’re not getting their security deposit back. That’s for damn sure.”

  “Look at all the shit they left behind. Literally.” Abraham shook his head. “That’s dog mess in the sunroom.”

  “And we’ll have the pleasure of shoveling it out.” They did a walk-through of the bedrooms. Thankfully there were no holes in the walls or missing fixtures, just junk the tenants had left behind. “You ever think about getting a new job?” he asked Abraham as they entered the last room.


  “Ambrose pays us too well for me to think about that. Plus benefits. I would be a fool to leave.”

  “What if I told you that I knew of a job where you could make twice as much as you did here?”

  Abraham stopped and regarded him suspiciously. “Sounds like a con. You know my father was a police officer and my grandfather a preacher. I don’t do anything that’s not above board.”

  “And you think I would?”

  “No,” he said without hesitation, “but I don’t know where a couple of army vets can make the kind of money you’re talking about without doing something illegal to get it.”

  “I’m talking about going back,” Clayton explained. He hadn’t told anybody yet about his offer. Either of the offers he had received, but he felt like he could share this with Abraham. No one else in his world knew what it was like to be over there.

  “Going back where?”

  “Afghanistan. I got an offer to train the local security over there. I can bring you over with me. They’ll set us up good.”

  “No.” Abraham turned away from him and started examining the items that were left in the room. It was a kid’s room, complete with a bedroom set. “Who leaves all their kid’s stuff behind? Some of this stuff looks brand new.”

  “Just no. You don’t want to hear anything else about it?”

  “No. I served my country and I’m proud of my service, but I’m not going back there. And when that IED went off and sliced into the femoral artery in your leg, you almost bled out. You almost died. I know because I watched it happen.”

  “You saved my life. I owe you.”

  “You got me this job.” He sighed, looking frustrated. “But if you want to pay me back you’ll stay your ass here. Your sister is having a baby. Your mother is happy to have you back. Why can’t you just chill for a while?”

  “It has been a while. I’ve been home for over a year.”

  “And it’s tough. You hit the ground when you hear a car backfire and the Fourth of July always fucks you up because the fireworks make you feel like you’re under attack. And sometimes when you sleep at night you see the faces of the guys who died right before you. It sucks. It fucking sucks, but going back won’t change that. I can’t see how it would.”

  He was right. Clayton knew he was right about it all. Especially the nightmares. They had started when he was in the hospital and still sometimes held him tight in their grip. He thought being here would be better, but it wasn’t. At least he would be too preoccupied to think much about it. He would have a purpose. He would be working for something bigger than himself.

  “You should talk to somebody, man.”

  “I don’t need a shrink.”

  “Not a shrink. I go to a group on Sunday nights. Guys just like us. Everybody has got their story. It helps to hear them. You could come with me.”

  He wasn’t sure talking to a bunch of men like him would make anything better. He would just have other’s horrifying stories in his head mingling with his own. “I’ll think about it.”

  Abraham nodded. “We’re going to have to bring in a Dumpster to clear out all of this stuff. You sure they aren’t coming back?”

  “They moved to New Mexico. Said we could toss whatever was left.” He looked around the room again. There was a broken dollhouse in the corner, complete with legless and headless dolls and on the shelf there were books. One set was brand new and still in its unopened box. It seemed like a waste just to throw them out. “Some of this stuff can be donated.”

  “Yeah. Let’s clear that stuff out first. Luckily it looks like most of the damage is cosmetic. I’ll pull some guys off the condo project and have them patch up this place.”

  *

  On his lunch break Clayton drove to his mother’s house to drop off the flowers he had gotten for her that morning.

  His neighbor was a florist. He would have never guessed that. The sexy woman who wore tight ripped jeans and a bright pink, body hugging tank top with Jimi Hendrix on it didn’t fit the picture he had in his mind of a florist. He could see her as a bartender. Or a lounge singer. A tattoo artist maybe. But she was a florist who had the most perfect name for her job.

  He always thought she was wildly beautiful, but today he got to see her up close, he got to study her while she worked. He got to hear that low husky voice when she spoke. She turned him on.

  Just by looking him in the eye and speaking to him.

  Abraham was right. It must have been too long since he had been with a woman. He was incredibly attracted to the last woman on earth he should be. She had a kid. He steered clear of single mothers. There was usually an ex lurking around and a kid who didn’t want anyone replacing their father. But not only that, Daisy lived next door to him. He wasn’t looking for attachments. Nothing long term. Messing with his neighbor was a bad idea. He couldn’t avoid her after it was over.

  He was going to have to keep his distance. Admire the sexy florist with the husky voice from afar.

  Maybe he would go with Abraham to a bar this week. It might be good to work some of this tension off.

  He pulled into his mother’s condo complex. It was still odd for him to visit her here, even though she had been living here for five years. His father kept the house when his mother left and now he lived in Clayton’s childhood home alone. Sometimes having his girlfriend stay over in the room he had shared with his wife for twenty years.

  It pissed him off. But he wasn’t sure why it did. His mother had wanted to leave, in fact Clayton insisted that she did, but just going back there and seeing another woman there with pictures of his father and her on the wall instead of the family that have lived there, didn’t sit right with him.

  His parents were better off divorced. They were friends now. His father had gone through counseling. His mother admitted to her faults in their marriage. But he was still pissed. His parents were happy now and he was pissed because they couldn’t get their shit together when he and Maggie were kids.

  He had told Maggie not to worry about her marriage, about being a good mother to her children, because without a doubt he knew she would be, but he knew how fucked up things were when they were growing up.

  And he worried too, wondering if one day he could be a good father, a good husband, because he wasn’t sure what those things looked like.

  He got out of his truck, flowers in hand. The door opened before he even had the chance to knock, and his mother’s boyfriend was there with a huge smile on his face and pig printed apron on his body. Despite everything Clayton really liked Gordon. He owned his own butcher shop and gave big slabs of beef as presents.

  “Hello, Clay! You’re just in time. I got a great cut of baby back ribs at the shop and I just couldn’t wait to sink my teeth into them. So I let my nephew run the shop for the rest of the day and here I am.”

  “I guess that explains why I smell barbeque sauce.”

  “Good stuff too. Make it myself down at the shop. I’ve got some cheesy jalapeño garlic bread in the oven and some of my famous bacon baked beans cooking away. I hope you’re hungry. Betty!” He called to Clayton’s mother. “I was right. Your boy is here.”

  “My boy!” His mother came out of the kitchen with a dish towel in her hands. “Gordon said he thought he heard your truck. Can’t miss that great big noisy thing, but I didn’t believe him because you were just here with your sister last night and I didn’t think it possible for you to bless me with two visits in less than twenty-four hours, but you’re here.” She kissed both his cheeks. “What are those?”

  She looked at the flowers in his hand.

  “I’m replacing the flowers that Alex got for you that Maggie was supposed to give to you.”

  “That silly girl.” His mother grinned. “All last night she kept saying there was something she was supposed to tell me, but she couldn’t remember what it was. Her brain has turned to mush. I was like that with you, sweetheart.” She patted his cheek. “You made me dumber than a doorknob. Your father thought
it was the cutest thing. One time he laughed so hard he snorted coffee right out of his nose when I called the phone a call-y thing because I couldn’t remember the name for it.”

  “That’s hard to imagine,” he said. There had been no laughter in their house. No lighthearted moments. It was hard for him to imagine his father that way. He was a much different man than he used to be. A more understanding, kinder man. But it was hard for Clayton to wrap his head around. It was like an imposter was invading his body.

  He felt his mother’s hand slide up his cheek. “We were very happy once. You and your sister were made with love.”

  But they weren’t raised in it.

  “I just came to give you these, Mom. I’m going to head back to work.”

  “But we have all this food! You’ll stay.” She shook her head. “You’ll stay and you’ll eat.”

  “I’ll go check on things,” Gordon said, heading to the kitchen. “I’ll give a shout when everything is done.”

  That left Clay and his mother alone. He didn’t spend much time alone with her, preferring to have Maggie there as a buffer. But there were times when it couldn’t be avoided. “How are you, honey?”

  “I’m fine, Mom. Same as yesterday.”

  “Maybe.” She stroked his beard. “You might be the same as you were yesterday, but you aren’t the same boy you were before you left for war. You were my little daredevil. My risk taker. You were always full of excitement. Full of life. Now I barely recognize you with all this hair you have covering your face.”

  “I grew up, Mom. And if war doesn’t change you I don’t know what does.”

  She nodded. “I want you to be happy, Clay. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

  “I know.” He stepped away from her. “The food smells good.”

  *

  “I don’t know why Loretta gave me such a hard time about our dinner tonight,” Daisy said later that evening as she was slicing a red pepper. “There’s nothing weird about this recipe.”

  “Uh huh,” Aubrey replied from the table.