Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015

by Melinda Curtis

  Aaron leaned in and kissed her cheek. It was meant to be a chaste kiss, she knew, but the sparks remained, tingling her skin even after he pulled away. All that heat-spiking, butterfly-fluttering, and heart-skipping stuff started up again, just like it did every time he touched her in the book store.

  “Ok, I’ll call then,” he said across a smile that reached those dark brown eyes as they burned into her. “Thanks for a great afternoon, Hannah.”

  As she moved to get into the car, Aaron slowly released her hand. She was going to need a cold shower when she got home – maybe a good stiff drink or something. Oh boy.

  Chapter 5

  Aaron sat at his desk fiddling with the Rubik’s Cube. He had solved it twice already this morning and was only a few turns away from solving it a third time. He was quickly running out of colleagues to scramble it up for him.

  He eyed the phone on his desk. It was early, just after nine. Hannah would be at the bank by now. He wondered what she was wearing. A skirt and high heels? Slacks? Whatever it was, he was sure she looked stunning.

  Too bad he didn’t need a loan. That’d give him a valid excuse to go see her, or call her at work. His motorcycle and truck were both paid off. He had all the toys and gadgets a man could ever possibly need. Home improvement projects weren’t on his agenda, and he didn’t have the desire for an ATV or boat. So, a loan really wasn’t in order. There was no reason to call her at the bank. He’d just have to wait and call her at home, but waiting was the problem.

  Kind of like waiting for his boss to read the story. He could be working on page layouts, his usual Monday gig. Focus was an issue because Hannah was a distraction and he couldn’t get her out of his head. More than that, he needed to know his boss was going to run the story. The fact she hadn’t given him any confirmation yet had him sitting on the edge of his seat and solving the Rubik’s Cube at record speeds.

  “You want me to time you?” His buddy Mike parked himself on the corner of Aaron’s desk.

  “Nah, I’m just screwin’ around. I oughta get to work.”

  “You want to get a cup of coffee? Talk about it?”

  Damn, was his anxiety that apparent? Probably, since Aaron didn’t make a habit of procrastinating when it came to work, and it’s not like fiddling with the Rubik’s Cube was a subtle distracter. He appreciated Mike’s offer, but there was nothing to talk about. He was anxious about seeing Hannah again, and about the story, but he needed to sit and wait on both accounts. He just hoped his boss would ease his pain soon enough.

  “Hawk, can I see you for a minute?” Shannon finally appeared from her office door across the room as though he had willed her there.

  Shit. Getting called into the editor-in-chief’s office was usually a bad sign. It either meant she hated your story and you needed to do a complete rewrite or she hated it so much it was getting cut completely.

  Even though he’d been waiting for a response, getting called into her office was the worst case scenario. He’d sent her the story at midnight last night, knowing she’d see it soon after she got in this morning. Aaron had been sitting at his desk for two hours waiting for Shannon to confirm the story was a go. He hadn’t expected to be called into her office.

  All eyes followed as he crossed the office. It was mostly looks of sympathy. Everyone knew what it meant to be called into the chief’s office.

  Mike chuckled and walked with him until he got back to his desk. “Good luck, man.” Mike had had his own ass chewed in that office more than anyone else at the paper. Probably collectively, so his sympathy was sincere. Aaron nodded at his stalky friend who sported a Red Sox t-shirt and slacks that looked like they’d been slept in.

  As Aaron strolled casually toward Shannon’s office, he told himself no big deal. Maybe she just needed some clarification on something. Yeah right. Shannon didn’t call you into her office for clarification.

  “Shut the door,” she demanded after he stepped into the modest room. Shannon Miller sat behind the desk, short brown hair brushed back from her face. Even though she was in her late forties, she looked young for her age, by at least fifteen years.

  It was Monday, deadline day, so she was dressed casual in jeans and a short-sleeved sweater. Most days she wore a business suit, but not on deadline day. Often she’d end up staying late to put the weekly paper to bed. There was no staying late in a business suit.

  Shannon’s chubby face didn’t fit with her average size and weight, but it worked with her stern expression. An expression Aaron had seen before.

  This was not the first time he had been summoned for a bad story. This however, wasn’t a bad story. He knew it wasn’t. His writing had come a long way since he’d started with the small paper two years ago, mostly receiving praise from the editor-in-chief. Shannon exercised praise in front of everyone. She reserved ass-chewings for the office, behind closed doors.

  Shannon squinted at the computer screen, a tactic Aaron was familiar with. He drew in a deep breath as he sat in the chair opposite and waited for her to say something.

  She shook her head as she read the screen. A couple times Aaron thought her eyes welled with tears, but that quickly dissipated as she shook her head again. “So what’s the story behind this story?” she finally asked, pinning him with a look that made his heart thump in the worst possible way.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t bullshit me, Hawk. I’ve been doing this since you were sucking your thumb. You’re either a survivor or you’re in love with this woman. So what’s the story?”

  Shit. How was he going to get out of this one? Apparently, escapism was written all over his face, because Shannon reeled him in with a look that a mother would give a child when he had eaten her last piece of special chocolate.

  “Oh, no you don’t. No fallacies. No escape. You’re going to tell me the real story here or it goes in the circular.”

  “What does it matter, Chief? You’re either going to print it or you’re not.”

  “Aaron,” she said, then, paused for a minute as if she had to collect her thoughts.

  Aaron popped his knuckles. Shannon never called him by his first name, not since the day he was hired when he told her his nickname was Hawk and she went with it. She obviously meant business.

  “This is the best story you’ve ever written. I hate motorcycles. My second husband loved his motorcycle more than he loved me and I’m still bitter. This story, though, it makes me want to grovel at his feet and beg him to take me on this ride.” Shannon stared at the screen again.

  “There’s crap in here that I have every right to cut out as your editor. How she watches her daughter in the sand box. How she fiddles with her fingers when she’s remembering her husband – and this part about resolve in her eyes. This isn’t a newspaper article.”

  “I was just trying to capture the emotion of the event.” Aaron hoped his lame excuse would prevent her from making any cuts in the story.

  “I get that. It makes this story and woman very real. It makes her a friggin’ hero. No, scratch that. It makes her more than a hero, except for the loss of her husband, this is the kind of woman we all strive to be. Priorities in order. Passionate. Intelligent. Committed.”

  The chief sure had Hannah nailed, but Aaron hadn’t written any of that. “Umm, chief, are you reading my story? Because I’m pretty sure I didn’t provide a description like that.”

  “Oh, yes you did. You may not have written it, but it’s there, between the lines.” Shannon shook her head again, as if struggling with what to do with the story.

  “And these pictures. Well, our little weekly paper really isn’t worthy of art like this. And that’s what it is. Pure art. There are only two things that inspire art like this. Love and hope. So you’re either in love with Hannah Locke or you’re a survivor.”

  As Shannon looked him square in the eye, her presence in the room seemed to expand, like the villain in a cartoon. Aaron tried not to cower, but as her voice became more stern, he wasn’
t sure he had the power not to. “Which is it?”

  Aaron mustered his courage, knowing the chief really wasn’t a villain. She was just trying to sell papers. She liked to know every angle, even the ones that didn’t get reported. There was a high level of trust at the paper and integrity was a prerequisite for all employees.

  “I just met Hannah Locke on Saturday,” Aaron responded honestly, hoping that’d be enough to get her off the subject of love. Because even though she was his boss, his personal feelings really weren’t any of her business.

  Shannon slammed her palms down on the desk. “So! I believe in love at first sight – happened with all three of my husbands. So don’t think I’m buying into anything other than the fact you’re in love with her.”

  “All three, Chief? Maybe love at first sight isn’t really working for you?” She had a sense of humor; Aaron hoped calling her out wasn’t bad timing on his part.

  Shannon sat back in the chair and kicked her feet up on the desk. “It worked just fine for me,” she said raising her eyebrows and smiling as though she enjoyed thinking about her ex-husbands. She looked to her left, where she kept pictures of all three men. “I’m still in love with all three of them, but their egos were too big to be with a strong woman like me. And you still haven’t answered my question.”

  Strong woman was right. She wasn’t about to give up. Aaron however, still had a little resistance left in him.

  “What makes you think I’m a cancer survivor?” he asked, stalling further.

  “Been there, done that. You know I’m a survivor.”

  Aaron did know. Shannon wasn’t shy about it. In fact, she was proud. Whenever a cancer-related news lead came up, she fully supported it, and went through her usual drill, which Aaron knew was coming next. She didn’t disappoint.

  Shannon patted her left breast. “This one’s real.” Then she patted her right. “This one’s reconstructed.” Then she looked him straight in the eye, a no bullshit expression. “So I know this story is personal, Aaron. It’s written all over your face. Besides, you brought it to me and asked to be put on it. I want to know why.”

  This was a losing battle. Aaron knew it. He also knew he could trust his boss. “Testicular cancer. I’ve been clear seven years. I’d appreciate a little confidentiality.”

  Shannon whistled through the small gap in her front teeth. “Good lord, Hawk.” She paused a moment, shaking her head. “The door’s closed, so you know I’m good on the confidentiality. But why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  “I just don’t talk about it, ok?”

  Shannon nodded, apparently respecting his privacy. “So that explains the story. Tell me about these pictures?” She tossed printed copies onto the desk in front of him. Full eight by ten copies. There she was. Hannah. With all the emotion of a widow who had lost her husband to cancer and all the resolve to fight back so no one else would feel her loss. Love at first sight didn’t even begin to sum it up.

  “I wrote the captions for them. That should explain it,” he told her.

  “The captions are perfect. That’s not what I’m talking about. I want to know about the pictures, Hawk. How many did you snap?”

  “A lot. I’m not really sure how many.”

  “Bullshit,” she said leaning further back in the chair. She was crossing her hands over her chest, studying him hard. Aaron squirmed in the chair.

  “A couple hundred,” he confessed. “I picked the ones with the most emotion. These really tell the story of the event – the meaning behind it.”

  “A couple hundred. How many have Ms. Locke in them?”

  “A lot.” Aaron sighed, then leaned forward, hoping to give Shannon a little push back on the push she was giving him. “You know, this event is in memory of her husband, but this year it was about her. It was her first ride. It was the biggest turnout they’d ever had because of the work she does with her sister-in-law. She even gave the opening speech.”

  Aaron stood u and started pacing. He was a survivor. The chief was a survivor. But the fight back wasn’t just about survivors. “We cover survivors all the time, but not caregivers. Once the survivor is lost to cancer, the caregiver is forgotten. This event … this article, it’s about being a caregiver who keeps fighting back even after a battle has been lost. There’s a lot of people like Hannah out there. Someone needs to step up and say thank you.”

  “I read your masterpiece, Hawk, I get it – but a couple hundred images? That’s a helluva lot of snaps, even for an event like this.”

  “You know photography is my passion,” he said, leaning on the back wall, crossing his arms as he looked over the scattered images on Shannon’s desk.

  “Passion. Well, there’s an accurate descriptor,” she snickered, “but it has nothing to do with photography. Did you honestly just meet her on Saturday?”

  “I did,” he said.

  “Then you didn’t come to me with this story under false pretenses? Because that’d really piss me off.”

  Shaking his head, he told her the truth. “I swear, Chief. Malinda Locke told me about the fundraiser at church. She invited me to ride. I’ll admit that being a survivor influenced me some, but there are a lot of survivors out there, and even more caregivers. As a reporter, I thought it’d be a good human interest story.”

  She studied him again. Shannon had good intuition, but she was even better at reading people, especially when they were lying. No one lied to the chief without getting their asses handed to them.

  “I believe you, but I also think you are in love with this woman.” Shannon tapped her fingers on one of the photos of Hannah. “If you really only met her Saturday, that’s irrelevant to this lead.”

  Only met her on Saturday. That was the truth of it, but Aaron felt like he had known her his entire life and wanted to know her for all the days he had left. She was kind and thoughtful. Beautiful and smart. Witty and fun. Incredibly sexy. In love with her? It was a possibility. More likely a probability the way his heart raced when he thought about her. He had to give it more than a couple of days to be sure.

  “So the story’s a go?” he asked.

  “You bet your ass it is. Even though I should, as a credible newspaper editor, I’m not going to change a word. This story has passion, inspiration. With Relay coming up next month, we need that. Hell, without Relay, we need it.

  “Thanks, Chief. Can I get back to work now?”

  “Sure. But hey, just out of curiosity…are you going to see her again?”

  He saw the hopeful smile on his boss’s face. Love at first sight – she really was a true believer.

  “I hope so,” he confessed. He was supposed to call her later in the week. Did Monday qualify? Probably not. He’d force himself to wait at least one more day.

  “I don’t know what it’s like to be in her shoes, losing a husband to cancer, but she’ll be missing out if she doesn’t take a piece of you.” She winked at him.

  “Thanks. I think.”

  “Now get back to work. I’m pretty sure you have a layout to work on.”

  Chapter 6

  Hannah opened her eyes to find the big blue eyes of her daughter staring back at her.

  “So Mommy, it’s Saturday morning. Can we go to the Coffee Shop? Can we, can we?”

  “Good Lord, Tabs, what time is it?” Hannah attempted to rub the sleep out of her eyes. She hadn’t slept well all week and was exhausted, but apparently sleep wasn’t on her agenda this morning either.

  “It’s 7:30. If we leave now, we’ll get there right when Teresa is opening. Then we can have first pick of the cinnamon rolls.”

  They went to the John Stark Coffee House almost every Saturday morning. When it was warm enough, they walked, and headed up to the cemetery where Steven was buried before they finished the loop home. Hannah loved the routine. It was familiar and comfortable. Tabitha always got a cinnamon roll. When it was cold, she got a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. When it was warm, she got a smoothie. Hannah was a little
bit less predictable. She always got a latte, but breakfast varied.

  “Well, Tabs, can I get a shower first? Then we can head down?”

  “Ok, Mommy, but I want to walk. Can we?”

  “Yes, sweetheart. We can walk. Looks like it’s sunny out.” Hannah’s curtains were closed, but the backlighting indicated the sun was up and alone in its occupation of a blue sky.

  “It’s really sunny out. There aren’t even any clouds,” Tabs told her, confirming Hannah’s suspicion.

  Tabitha ran out of the room and turned on Cartoon Network. A long shower wasn’t in the cards, not even with the TV on. If she took too long, Tabs would be banging on the door. It was just as well, Hannah didn’t want to give herself time to think about sexy Aaron Hawkins and how he had called twice this week. Both times she had avoided his calls. Since he left messages on the machine, she was now blatantly ignoring him.

  She hadn’t been in the shower long when Tabitha pounded on the door. “Come on, Mommy! Hurry up!!”

  “I’ll be out in a minute, Tabs. You need to learn a little patience!” What was up with her today? She wasn’t usually this impatient.

  Hannah cut the shower short and dried off quickly before tugging on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. She grabbed one of Steven’s old zip-front sweatshirts, one of the few things she’d had kept of his clothes. Everything else was donated to a clothing drive, but he had half a dozen sweatshirts that Hannah loved to wear even when he was alive. Now she wore them all the time. Today it was the navy blue BoSox with the collar instead of a hood.

  “Alright, Miss Impatient. You ready to go?” Hannah’s shoulder length hair was still wet, but she didn’t much care. Her hair usually looked better when it air-dried outside. She could warm up with a nice latte when they got to the coffee shop. With the morning sun in a cloudless sky, it was possible she might break into a mild sweat instead of catching a chill in the early morning air.

  It was 7:50 when they headed out the door.