by Jessa Eden
“Tell him there are some major problems at Marla’s salon. Tell him to put it on notice that it is in danger of being shut down.”
“Any particular reason?” Mitch asked.
“Just make it unpleasant… how about something unsanitary?”
That would get under Marla’s skin.
“Okay, will do,” he told me.
“Let me know when it’s done.”
“On it.”
I could never do anything halfway with Marla.
Even when I was in high school.
When I sensed she was wavering in her resistance to tutor me, I made sure to strike while the iron of her kindness was hot. I tracked her down during lunch a couple of days after I took her home. I got the scoop from a friend of hers and headed out to the school’s greenhouse.
I smelled the wet dirt, which seemed to be everywhere, as I walked through the thin screen door of the greenhouse. Thousands of plants were all over the cheap looking green dome.
Why the hell would Marla be out here?
I found her standing over a table, drip feeding a dying plant.
“Come on, little guy. I know you can make it,” she encouraged as she put him back down on the crude wood top holding a bunch of other small plants.
“Do you talk to all the plants?” I asked from behind her.
“Aah!” She let out a frightened gasp as she shot up and turned toward me.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” I offered apologetically.
“How did you find me?” she asked, her eyes still wide.
“I’ve got my spies. I knew who to talk to.”
“You mean Stacy?” she asked as she grinned, finally relaxing.
“Maybe. Why are you out here?”
“Sometimes I like to spend my lunch out among the plants,” she offered, pointing to a brown sack lunch.
“Why?”
“It’s relaxing. The plants are always glad to see me. Unlike some people, they like the time and attention I give to them.”
“That’s kinda weird.”
She cocked her head defensively as she put her hands on her hips. “Why is that? Plants are living things that have a special job. They give us oxygen, share their bounty, and give us something beautiful to look at. What’s weird is that you don’t get how important Mother Nature is to our well-being.”
I grinned, enjoying her feisty explanation. “I hadn’t thought of it like that before. Show me.”
She furrowed her eyebrows and crossed her arms. “I’m not sure I want to.”
I shot her a coaxing grin. “Come on. You see things so differently than any other girl I’ve ever known.”
“Really?” She studied me suspiciously.
“Yeah, really.”
She uncrossed her arms as she sized me up. “All right,” she finally said. “Follow me.”
She pointed to a large table full of individual plants which were beginning to bud. “Over here, we keep the vegetables and herbs. Can you smell that?” she asked as we both took a big whiff of the air.
Over the dirt, I did smell traces of mint, rosemary, and one of my favorite spices.
“Do I smell oregano?” I loved Italian food.
“Yep.” She reached over to a little plant and ran her hand up and down its budding green leaves. “Smell it.” She offered her hand and sure enough, it smelled of fresh oregano.
“Nice.”
From there, she took me around, introducing me to a completely new world of nature. I had no idea plants did so much for us.
“These are pansies.” Her face lit up, her voice soothing as she tenderly caressed a curved leaf.
The sun glinted off her long, dark hair and I had the sudden urge to wrap her glossy locks around my fingers just to feel its silkiness.
At the time, I didn’t know how attracted I was to her. I thought this was how it was with most girls. The insatiable lust, which ran through my blood beating out her name repeatedly.
But I have never felt that way again. No matter what hot model or bimbo I had beneath me, no one ever came close to making my blood run hot like Marla Matthews.
She glanced at me then, her big doe brown eyes suddenly soft. “This was my mom’s favorite flower.” She held up a pot of yellow daisies.
“Was? Is your mom not around anymore?”
She hung her head. “No, she isn’t.”
My heart went out to her. “Ah, Sunshine. That’s rough.”
Her eyes filled with unshed tears. “Yeah, it happened about a year ago. She died from brain cancer. It’s just me and Emma, now,” her voice was laced with grief.
Damn, I didn’t like hearing that.
I reached over and tucked her hair behind her ear, wanting to make her feel better.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” I said as I leaned into her, overcome with the need to be close to her. I could smell the strawberry shampoo coming from her shiny, soft hair.
“You have the prettiest hair, Marla Matthews,” I said, picking up a few strands and rubbing them between my thumb and pointer finger.
It was just as soft as it looked.
“Uh, thanks,” she said, blushing.
Her sexy lips parted, sparking something intense inside me.
“I wanted to say I was sorry for the other day. I shouldn’t have called you boring. You are most definitely not boring.” My lips hovered over hers as I dared myself to kiss her.
She gently pushed me away. “Thank you for saying that. But this doesn’t mean you get to take liberties with me,” she explained as I struggled to control my attraction to her.
“Liberties?” I asked in confusion.
“Yeah, liberties, like taking advantage of me.”
I smiled wickedly, hoping to charm her. “A little sugar doesn’t hurt anybody.”
“Maybe. But I don’t throw my affections around lightly, Beau Shepard.”
“Affections? You sound like Jane Eyre,” I teased.
“I might be old-fashioned, but I can’t afford to be your conquest of the moment. You don’t even seem to care about your grades. Why would I think you could care about me?”
Whoa. That was heavy.
I shoved my hand into my front pocket. “I learned not to care about much a long time ago.” Marla brought out an honesty in me I had never experienced with another person.
“Why?”
“It was just easier than pretending I was smart.”
Her gaze softened; her brown eyes bright with warmth. “Oh, I think you’re plenty smart, Beau Shepard.”
“You do?”
“Oh, yeah.” Her gentle gaze studied me. “I want you to tell me the real reason you don’t like English class.”
I looked away, stripped of my usual confidence. “Reading has always been hard for me.”
Her face lit up with understanding as I glanced back at her. “Ah...Now, I get it. That’s why you’ve been working overtime to avoid reading Jane Eyre. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“Because I didn’t want to see that look of pity on your face.”
“It’s not pity. It’s compassion. Everyone has their struggles.”
“Yeah, but my dad says weakness isn’t acceptable.”
“If there wasn’t weakness in the world, how would any of us get stronger?” she countered.
“I hadn’t thought of it like that before.”
“Yeah, we all have things that are hard for us. It shouldn’t stop you from trying.”
I shook my head and grinned. “Are you always this optimistic?”
“Yeah, pretty much. I choose to stay positive because the alternative is to become bitter and negative, and I don’t want to live like that.”
“How did you become so wise?” he asked, his blue eyes full of wonder.
“I don’t know. I just always follow my heart.”
“So is your heart willing to help me with my paper?” I asked, hoping it was the perfect time to pop
the question.
She sized me up, cocking her head to one side and sighed. “All right, I’ll tutor you.”
“Yes!” I said, throwing my hands up in victory.
“You’re not going to complain about being bored?”
I put my hand over my heart. “You’ve got my word, Sunshine. In fact, I wanted to see if you wanted to come over to my house for dinner tonight and help me do a little work on my paper.”
“Are you serious?” She took a step backward, looking scared.
I grinned widely, trying to put her at ease. “Absolutely.”
“You’re being real here, right? You’re not trying to be mean or nasty are you?”
I shook my head in denial.“No, not at all. Just come to dinner, Sunshine.”
Her body relaxed as she realized I was being sincere. “Okay.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“No, I can take the bus. I just have to arrange for Emma to be watched, but that shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Good. But I’m still gonna pick you up, Sunshine. Remember, I already know where you live. So be ready at seven.”
She finally gave me a genuine smile. “All right, all right, I’ll be ready.”
“That’s more like it,” I said, feeling like I had won the game of my life.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Marla:
Pleasure.
The act of surrendering to your sensual self for no other reason than you want to. I practiced this concept as often as I could. I regularly took long baths, savored my favorite jasmine tea daily, and reveled in my lip gloss collection.
But even those weren’t enough to keep me from teetering on the edge of an emotional wipeout after seeing Beau again. He was a curveball that had me completely out of whack.
I realized this fact on a Tuesday afternoon in early July as I mixed up a combination of rose hips, yogurt, and honey to use as a mask at the salon. Tiredness overtook me as I put the brush back in the dish and sat back in revelation.
Drip,
Drip.
Like a leaky faucet, I had been doling out my grace trying to hold it together as I battled old feelings and anxieties. I was in dire need of a little pampering, so I could recharge my batteries.
I asked Beth, the other massage therapist at Casa Oschun, to give me a massage at the end of the day. I climbed up on her table and she worked miracles on my tense body. I was so much more relaxed as I headed home.
My stomach growled as I passed a couple of restaurants, reminding me I had to do something about dinner. All day, visions of eating a succulent lobster kept dancing through my head.
So I pulled into my local grocery store and decided to pick up a lobster and a green bean, tomato salad. I even splurged on a piece of strawberry cheesecake for dessert.
I paid for my groceries and headed out to the parking lot, when my cell phone started belting out “We found love in a hopeless place.”
Emma’s ringtone.
“Hey, Sugarpop. What’s up?” I greeted as I stopped at the trunk of my car.
“We’re having a barbeque for the Fourth of July. You game?” Emma asked.
“Sure. What do you want me to bring?”
“Ooh...how about something fabulous for dessert?”
“Sure. What are you barbequing?” I asked as I unloaded the bag of groceries into my trunk.
“Just steak and potatoes. It’s Micah’s favorite.”
“Okay, I’ll think of something. I’m at the store right now. Do you need me to grab anything else?”
“No, we’re good. Just make us something good for dessert.”
“Will do. See you later.”
“Love you!”
I smiled into the phone. “Love you, too, Sugarpop.”
I loved my sister’s unbridled zest for life.
Her innocence was one of her best qualities and I liked to think I had helped her stay this way. That kind of thinking reminded me why I had made the decisions I did all those years ago.
I ran back into the store, trying to think of a sweet treat to bring to the party. It didn’t take me long to decide as I spotted the ripe peaches in the produce section. They practically begged me to take them home and make them into a mouth-watering pie. I bagged up several peaches and grabbed some ice cream for Pie à la Mode.
Perfectly delicious.
Just right for a summer evening.
I headed home and unloaded my groceries as I heated up a pot of hot water. When it was boiling, I threw in some spices and prepared myself to cook a living animal.
“Sorry, little guy,” I said, picking up the lobster. “Thank you for giving up your life, so I may have a good meal,” I told my dinner before I tossed him in the water and put the lid on very tight.
I hated this part, but I was willing to live with the consequences. I put some butter on the stove to melt, while I opened the container of green bean, tomato salad and spooned some onto a plate.
As I waited for the lobster to cook and my stomach grumbled in hunger, I recalled the first time I had a fancy meal at Beau’s house.
After he cornered me in the greenhouse and I agreed to have dinner with his family, he picked me up right on time that night. After dropping Emma off at my neighbor’s, I had waited anxiously until I heard the deep rumble of a car engine through the threadbare walls of my apartment, as I grabbed my backpack and headed outside.
As I ran down the concrete steps, I glanced up and saw him in a fiery red 1969 Mustang. It was such a cool car. He obviously came from money. He didn’t act like it, but there it was in his shiny, red Mustang.
“Get in,” he motioned through the open window as I arrived at the passenger door.
He revved the engine as I climbed into the front seat. “Listen to her purr,” he hollered above the massive sound of the engine.
“Yes, it sounds fast.”
“Oh, she is.”
“How many cars do you have?” I asked, thinking about the Jaguar he picked Emma and me up in on Saturday.
“Just one. This is my Betty,” he claimed, lovingly patting the black dashboard.
“Betty? As in Betty Boop?”
“Nah, just Betty.”
“Then go on, Betty, get us to dinner.”
Offering me a cheeky smile, he gunned the engine. “Betty is at your service,” he said as he shifted into first gear.
We took off like a shot, peeling out of the parking lot, as if we were running from the law.
I clapped my hands together and laughed as Beau high-tailed it to his house. “Oh, that was fun! I never get to do that. The bus never peels out.”
He grinned again as I tried to stay immune to his charms. “You always surprise me, Sunshine.”
“Why’s that?”
“Just when I think you’re a stick in the mud, you show me you know how to laugh.”
I opened my mouth in mock-outrage. “I’m not a stick in the mud. I just have a lot of responsibilities. My fun radar just gets lost sometimes,” I explained. “I bet you don’t have to worry about that.”
“Nope, I’m always up for a good time, but I’m glad to see you can have fun.”
“I can. Believe it or not, I am quite a fun girl.”
“Oh yeah? How so?”
“Are you interviewing me? Are you asking me for my fun resume?” I teased, feeling comfortable with him.
He shrugged, his shoulders just beginning to thicken with muscle. “Maybe. Guess I’m just curious.”
I liked his interest in me. “Hmmm, Emma and I love to do each other’s hair and watch movies in our PJs. That’s fun. I like to listen to music and hang out with my friends, when I get the time. Um, I also like to garden and read books when I get the chance,” I provided as we waited for a light to turn green. “Does that satisfy your curiosity?”
“For now.”
“Good because I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong impression of me or anything.”
“No, I wouldn’t want that,” he teased.
“So are we having dinner first or working first?”
“My dad’s real formal. We’ll have dinner and then work.”
“Okay, that works for me. Always better to work on a full stomach.”
He glanced sideways at me, worry in his gaze. “Listen, I have to warn you my dad’s a little uppity.”
“Uppity?” My voice went high.
“Yeah, you know snobbish,” he tried to explain.
That didn’t really help.
“So, just to be clear, I should prepare to be uncomfortable?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Just don’t take anything he says personally.”
“I’ll try,” I said unsure of what I was walking into. “Anything else?”
“Nope, just be yourself and don’t let my dad bother you. That’s it,” he advised as we drove into a wealthy neighborhood I was unfamiliar with.
“Okay, I think I can handle that.”
“Good.”
I was done talking about his scary dad. “How was your day?”
He glanced over at me, his trademark smile in place. “Uh, pretty good. I got an A on my math test.”
“You did? Wonderful. Did you study for it?”
“No, I’ve just always been good with numbers.”
“Gosh, I wish I was. I study those stupid trig formulas till I can’t see straight.”
“Well, if you want, I’d be willing to help you,” he offered unexpectedly.
“You would?”
“Sure. It’s the least I can do.”
“Okay, I’ll let you know if I need help.”
“Sounds good.”
We rounded a corner, heading toward a colossal Southern plantation seeming to take up a whole city block.
There was no way this was where Beau lived.
But he turned into the gated driveway, the iron-wrought gate swinging open to the palatial estate.
“Holy cow, Beau! You live in a mansion.” My jaw dropped open as we pulled up the long driveway and the southern antebellum came to life before my very eyes.
“I know, but it’s home,” he said quietly, almost like he was embarrassed.
“I guess,” I agreed, taking in the large columns of the plantation style house.
Bright lights shone from the upper and lower wrap-around porches, while an impressive set of columns adorned the front of the white house, surrounding the front door in an elaborate circular stoop entrance.