Underground Secrets (The Underground #1)

by S. A. Sproston

  “Oh come on, Marlie! You look good. I was just kidding. Don’t change your clothes,” Gemma says coming into the closet and as tries to shoo me out and taking an old pair of sweats out of my hand.

  “No, you’re right. This is definitely inappropriate. I can’t wear this.”

  “Sure you can. This lunch with Wes is only a big deal if you make it a big deal. No matter what you’re wearing.” She grabs my pumps and pulls me out of my room.

  “Fine, but if he tries to do me, I’m blaming you.” She looks back at me and smirks. I can tell she’s biting back some comment. This is probably wise because if I wasn’t nervous before, I sure as hell am now.

  I’M ON EDGE MOST of the morning. I can’t stop thinking about this lunch. I can’t stop thinking about him. Do you know how hard it is to do the kind of work I do in a dress like the one I am wearing today? Almost impossible. I have had stares and comments from both Alex and Henry about my attire, so I can only imagine what Wes will say. I really don’t want to give him the wrong impression, and if he knows better, he’ll keep his perfect mouth shut. This day just needs to end so I can go for a run or drink a six pack to myself while I hide in my room for the rest of the night. I’m just not sure whether I’ll run or drink. Maybe both. Yeah, probably both.

  It’s a few minutes before noon when I hear the door to the store open. I look around the corner from Gemma’s desk where I have been perched on top, chatting with her to help distract myself. I about lose my shit when I see him. He’s here and looking so damn edible in casual clothes. Dark blue jeans, olive green V-neck shirt, with a grey loose beanie on top and his dark hair curling a little bit out of his hat. His muscles and tats look more than impressive today. I wonder what his tattoos look like with his shirt off. I bet they are they are just as sexy permanently imprinted on his chest.

  Hmm… his chest.

  He’s definitely pulling off the bad boy look today; a look that makes me weak of course. Damn, I’m not sure how I like him best, casual or in a suit? I’m thinking it’s a draw. Just looking at him right now is making my breathing is heavy, palms sweaty, and I think I might have actually forgotten how to speak. I could very well be royally screwed when it comes to this man if just looking at him affects me in this way. I have no clue how the hell I am going to manage a real one on one conversation with him without my telling his ass off for once, or being intoxicated.

  This is such a bad idea.

  I watch him for a minute as he slowly browses the display case up front. Then suddenly, he looks over and makes eye contact with me. I blush knowing he must know that I was obviously checking him out. He smiles and waits for me to walk to him. I stand with shaky legs and stride towards him. It’s only now, when he takes me in in full view, he appears to be stunned.

  “Hi,” I say in a small voice, not really knowing the person I am for being so shy. It’s like I’m back in high school! I remember it being much easier to talk to him when I wasn’t sober.

  Damn, should’ve downed a shot of whiskey before he came. Or two.

  For a second there, I think he may have become mute since Saturday, but eventually he speaks, “Hi yourself.” It comes out almost as breathless as I feel when he says it.

  Come on Marlie, get yourself together. He’s only a man. Straightening myself, I breeze past him to grab my jacket, but not before our shoulders graze. I gasp at the touch, but not in a bad way. The feeling was… nice. I have to wonder how this can be happening. How can I be feeling like this? I despise most men.

  This is not going to be good. This is not going to be good. This. Is. Not. Going. To. Be. Good! I repeat the mantra over and over again silently.

  I wonder if he feels it too, this connection? These emotions that I feel every time we speak? Turning back around I notice that all three off my friends are staring at me, pretty much opened mouthed. Well, except Gemma who has a cocky look on her face that says, you like him! I roll my eyes and turn away to walk out. “Way to be obvious, guys!” I think, as Wes opens and holds the door for me to walk through.

  “Where would you like to go?” he asks, appearing to be in a very cheerful mood. That’ll make one of us. I’m over here being a complete nervous wreck and he’s Mr. happy-go-lucky.

  Lucky duck.

  “Um... it really doesn’t matter to me. You choose.”

  He lightly laughs. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”

  Confused, I eye him suspiciously as I watch him walk over to a truck; a black Chevy, which I assume is his, and takes out a… picnic basket? He shuts his truck door and gets change from his pocket and sticks some in the parking meter.

  “Shall we?”

  “Sure… Mind telling me where are we going?” I ask, even though I have some idea as to where.

  “The park. I packed a few things. I hope you like my choices,” He says shrugging his shoulders as he holds up the basket.

  I look down at myself. “Err… I’m not quite dressed for a picnic ya’ know?” Yeah, good choice of outfit, dumbass.

  He smiles scanning me up and down oh so slowly, “I’ve noticed that. Got a date tonight or something?” He asks the question casually, but I can see he feels rejected; it’s written all over his face. This is not starting off well. And wow, he really hit the head of the nail on the head with that one.

  I lie, “No. This is how I always dress for work.”

  “Sure it is,” he quips. “We can find a bench to sit on and eat if you like. Or we can go to a restaurant and eat.”

  “No, it’s fine. I guess I didn’t expect this. I figured we’d go down to one of the coffee shops and chat. Eating in the park sounds lovely, though. I don’t think I have ever sat and eaten at a park.” I hate to admit it, but I am actually pretty excited.

  “Firsts can always be a good thing,” he replies and I somehow sense that there was an underlying meaning to it.

  “Not always,” I want to say, but I keep that to myself.

  The rest of the walk to park is spent in a comfortable silence. I am glad that the park is only two blocks away, otherwise these heels would kill me. We get to the park and find a bench. He puts the basket between us and starts to take out what he had packed. He pulls each item out one by one. Fruit and veggies. I grab a can of coke-a-cola, “Looks good.” And I mean it. Everything appears to be fresh and I take a bite of the berries and they melt in my mouth. It takes everything in me to not moan at the taste. I love berries and these are just right.

  We snack in silence until the conversation begins to pick up when he starts to ask about me. Things about where I grew up, why jewelry for a living, my friendship with Gemma. It’s amazing how easy and comfortable it is to talk to him, even when he asks me about my parents and I explain about my mother.

  Until…

  “You said you don’t date, why? I know you said it was because of your work life, but I just assumed that was an excuse to get me away. That still true?” his eyes bore into me, or my soul, awaiting my answer. I’m not sure which.

  How do I answer this question? I can’t tell him. More like I won’t tell him, but I don’t want to lie to him. I mean, as far as I know he has been honest with me. I have way too many secrets and if I continue on with a friendship with him, how will I keep track? So I decide to skirt around the truth, in a way.

  I take a deep breath, “No, I don’t date. Not that I never have, it’s just that I don’t now. I am extremely busy with the business and don’t really have the time. Everything is coming along perfectly right now and I don’t want to mess it up by dating.” All of what I told him is true, but it’s only the half of it. I said it all so fast that it of came out like it was rehearsed. I don’t want him to think it was rehearsed though. I want him to believe it so he won’t ask again. I look up at him searching to see if he understands.

  He nods, “I see. So possibly in the future then?”

  “Possibly.” Where’s he going at with this?

  “So there’s hope.” His voice is dark and consuming as
he says it. Not a question, but a statement.

  Damn. This is exactly the reason I don’t do this sort of thing. I need to let him know there is no chance. I mean friends I can do, not date. I struggle just to think about dating. Not to mention this whole friendship thing is a big deal in itself for me. “Probably not. Look, I had a very bad… breakup with my ex and I don’t plan on going through something like that again. Ever.” My eyes widen as I look at him. Wonderful. Where the hell did that come from? He has no idea how much I didn’t mean to say that. What the hell is wrong with me? I never talk about him. My ex, Carter. He doesn’t seem that bothered by my statement. I guess he shouldn’t since he has no idea the full extent of that fucking disaster. At least he actually looks like he’s taking in what I said.

  “Okay, fair enough. Friends. Don’t think I won’t try to change your mind though, Marlie. I’m not gonna lie. I find you extremely attractive, funny, smart, and I sure as hell am grateful for you giving me a chance at being friends. I don’t want to ruin that; believe me. I just thought you should know I will try. But friends will do. For now.” He says it matter-of-factly, with that dark edge to his voice again and all I can do is laugh. It’s a cross between a nervous laugh and a this-guy-has-got-to-be-kidding-me kind of laugh. I’m not worried, though. He can try and woo me all he wants, but I know I’ll never date him.

  I can’t.

  I won’t.

  “You’re funny and persistent aren’t you?”

  “Oh, you have no idea,” he replies and we both laugh at that.

  Walking back towards GemMar, the conversation keeps going, though less heavy. I laugh at the jokes he tells me about his childhood. He’s very close to his cousin Jesse; they both run the security company together which is in Denver. He has a total of four offices in the U.S- Denver, L.A, Chicago, and New York. He is currently working on expanding his company to the south and adding another office in Houston. He must be pretty damn well off to own, run, and work it all. Not that it shows. You would never know by seeing him in his casual attire. But, I have seen him in an impressive suit, and that version of him screams power.

  I have to admit, I really enjoyed this lunch. I can’t even remember the last time I enjoyed the company of a man like this. Well, besides family and Henry of course - but they don’t count. Maybe this is good for me.

  Getting back to my store, Wes puts his hand to my lower back as we reach the door. I am not sure why he does it, but I freeze and he notices and he quickly removes it. I turn around to face him, trying to keep calm. Breathe, just breathe. He must see the look of pure fear in my eyes.

  “Shit, I’m sorry. Habit I guess.”

  I raise a brow at him. “This something you do often then?”

  He shakes his head. “No.”

  “Oh.”

  We stand in silence after that. I don’t really know what to say. We went from carefree to tense in a matter of seconds.

  After so long, I can’t take it anymore and I try to break the awkwardness. “Thank you for lunch. It was nice having it at the park and I’d like to do it again sometime. ” I smile at him and then turn to walk into the store.

  “Wait,” he says, just as I reach for the handle. I drop my hand and I turn back around. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure,” I agree, wearily. I don’t like the tone of this question. I have a feeling it’s either going to be a serious or personal one.

  He takes a deep breath. He definitely looks nervous, which is odd, since he always seems so calm and confident.

  “What happened to you?”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, even though I know.

  He looks at me in a sad way, like I’m a dog about to be euthanized. I hate it. Yep, I do not like the question. Why does he keep pushing questions like this? Panic is setting in and I’m freaking the hell out. How do I answer this question? Why couldn’t he have asked me something simple? Not this. Think Marlie, think. Again, I don’t want to lie, but I don’t want to tell him the truth. I take a deep breath and try and put it into the right words. I look up at him straight in his eyes. Those eyes.

  “Look, it’s like that old saying that everyone knows all too well, ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’, and for me that’s very true…plus some. My cover looks like an amazing read, until you open up the book and see that the white pages covered in black ink, are actually dark with red writing. Then you start to read my pages and after the first chapter, you realize you’re not reading a fairytale - but a nightmare.”

  I pause taking a deep breath and continue on, not wanting to stop. I want, no, I need to get this out. “I have a fucked up past and a fucked up present.” I laugh to myself out loud at the absurdity that is my life, but I still keep going. “I am not the kind of girl you would want to get involved with, Wes. It’s best that we stay friends.” There, I said it. I didn’t lie, but I also didn’t give him full detail.

  Staring each other down, I search his face for any sort of reaction, to see what he is thinking. The only thing I think I can see is understanding, which I don’t get. How could he possibly understand it? Understand me?

  Silence fills the air and I can’t take it. “Say something, please,” I plead, desperate to know what he’s thinking.

  Suddenly, he has me backed up against the wall of the building, blocking me from being able to move from him. He’s so close to me, I can feel the warmth of his breath. His right hand is placed on the bricks down by my hip, his left is pressed up against the brick wall above me. I should be scared, but I am not. I’m… turned on? Holy shit! This feeling is like a long lost treasure to me. Lost, but now found. My heart is beating so fast and loud that I am sure he can hear it.

  His beautiful green eyes bore into mine and it makes me feel like I am about to burst into flames. “Don’t think for one minute that you can scare me away. I don’t know what has caused you to be so damaged and scared to be around men, but let me tell you, I am not that kind of guy. Everyone has secrets. Everyone has a past. Some more terrible than others, but I will never hurt you Marlie Edwards.”

  The intensity of what he says hits me hard. Despite my ragged breathing and that I am incredibly turned on by this, I see it, in his eyes that he means it and it scares the hell out of me.

  “I… I don’t… I…” Words fail me.

  He steps back and for the first time, I feel like I can breathe again.

  “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know. I’ll text you later.” With that, he walks off.

  I stand in the same spot for who knows how long, thinking about what had just happened. I think I’m going to have to finally admit it. I like him, and that fucking terrifies me.

  STILL STANDING OUTSIDE LEANING against the brick wall, I hear the door to the shop open and Gemma comes out. “Hey, uh… are you okay?”

  I blink out of my daze and swallow. Well, I try to swallow. I seem to have a bad case of dry mouth. “Yeah, yes, I uh…” Clearing my throat I try to speak more clearly. “Yes, I’m fine.” I stand up and smile at her. It’s a fake smile at best and I can tell she doesn’t buy it. She never does.

  Frowning at me she says, “Are you sure? Because you were leaning against the wall for at least a good fifteen minutes before I decided to come out and see what was up.”

  Of course she was watching me. I roll my eyes at her and shrug, “Yeah, I’m good, chick; just enjoying the feel of the warm sun on my skin.” An obvious lie, since sarcasm dripped from my every word.

  Gemma arches an eyebrow at me.

  “Okay, okay!” I say, knowing she wants to know the details of my lunch. “I’ll tell you all about it later; when we get home. Deal?”

  She smiles and shakes her head, “Yep, that’s fine. But you have got to at least give me something to keep me going the rest of the day.”

  “Fine, it was wonderful.”

  She seems to be pondering what little I gave her. “Hmm… wonderful, huh? Oh, this is fantastic!” she exclaims while clapping her h
ands together.

  I can’t help but smile at her positive response. “I’ll be back in a minute. I’m going to change out of this ridiculous outfit so I can get some real work done.”

  Stepping off the last step that leads to my apartment I get a strange feeling. All of the tiny hairs stand-up on the back of my neck and I feel like I am being watched. Call it intuition or some weird sort of psychic powers, but I am suddenly on high alert. I look around the busy street and sidewalks. I see nothing but people milling about pretending life doesn’t exist outside of their smartphones. Nothing out of the ordinary stands out and I strain hard to find something that does. I try and shake it off but feeling remains as I head back into the store. It felt almost as if someone was watching me.

  Getting back to the store, I check in with Alex for any messages that may have been left I was out. None, and that is good for me. She gives me a weird look. “You okay, Marlie?”

  I instantly plaster on a fake smile. “Yep. Never been better.” I lie to her and then briskly walk back into my workroom. I shut the door, close my eyes, and try to imagine anything but my fears. I think of my visit to my dad and how happy I’ll be to see him and catch a break. The sick feeling I had moments ago slowly dissipates as I think about it.

  We’re leaving early Friday morning. It’s almost a sixteen hour drive. We could fly, and it’s not that I don’t like flying, but driving is my thing; whether it’s racing, or cruising, and I am getting excited about going too. It’ll be good for me to take a break. I haven’t packed yet though. That’s one thing I am sure I’ll leave until late Thursday evening.

  I SPEND THE NEXT six hours working. I’m still there three hours after everyone has left and all thoughts of my odd feeling have left completely. It’s just past 7:30 when I’m climbing the steps to the apartment. I can clearly smell the aroma of Gemma’s cooking and it smells edible. Don’t get me wrong, Gemma can cook, often better than me, but sometimes it can be a hit or miss situation. Tonight the smell coming from the apartment is reassuring. I reach for the door handle and its wrenched open before I can even touch the nob. Gemma is standing right in front of me with a plate in hand. “You have to try this!” she orders me while shoving the plate in my face.