by Kira Blakely
“Easy, boys.”
And just like that, their barks change and their tails wag.
“Oh, it’s you, Nathan,” the middle-aged man on the porch calls out. “I was wondering why Red and Rover suddenly seemed so excited.”
“I’m sorry to come here so late, Ted.” Nathan approaches the porch with the dogs, and I follow.
“No worries,” Ted says. “I was still up watching TV. Besides, it’s your property.”
So, this place does belong to Nathan.
“Sam, this is Ted,” Nathan says. “He was a friend of my dad’s. Ted, this is Sam.”
“Nice to meet you.” Ted offers his hand, and I shake it.
A friend of Nathan’s dad? I’ve never even heard of his father.
“Ted’s going to be looking after this place,” Nathan adds. “He’s the only one here now, but I’ll hire a few people to help him.”
“What exactly is this place?” I ask, unable to rein in my curiosity any longer.
“Well, it isn’t much now,” he answers. “But it’s going to be a dog shelter.”
“A dog shelter?”
Now, that’s a surprise, especially coming from someone who preferred robots as pets.
“I thought about some things after you left last night. I thought about the dog I used to own, too. And I decided it’s not a bad idea to put up a dog shelter. You wanted to put up one, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but…”
He decided to put up a dog shelter just because I suggested it?
“This house is old, but it’s got a lot of rooms. We’ll fix it up, put in the necessary equipment, maybe even turn one room into a clinic. Then we’ll start taking dogs in. Stray dogs mostly.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “You bought a house just to make it into a dog shelter?”
“You might find it hard to believe, young lady,” Ted says. “But this man’s very generous.”
“Thanks, Ted.” Nathan pats him on the shoulder. “But I don’t need any help impressing a woman.”
Ted chuckles. “Of course, you don’t. I’ll leave the two of you alone.”
After Ted goes inside with the dogs, Nathan sits on the porch stairs. I do the same.
“You and Ted seem close,” I tell him.
“Well, he was more of a father to me than my father ever was.”
I want to know more but decide not to pry. “Is that why you chose Ted to run this place?”
“That, and the fact that he loves dogs.”
“I can see that.”
“He’s had Red and Rover for years, and I don’t think I’ve ever known him without a dog. He gave me one, too, a Labrador I named Todd.”
“Nice name.”
“Do you have a dog?”
“We have lots of dogs back home,” I answer. “On the farm.”
“I see.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t own a dog at my apartment. But they do allow cats, so I have one. A silver tabby named Siberia. She’s three now. And I have three goldfish. They all get along somehow.”
“You really do love animals, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do,” I admit with a sheepish grin. “Maybe it’s because of my brother, Jack. He loved animals. He was a veterinarian, actually.”
“Was?” Nathan gives me a puzzled look.
“He’s gone now.”
Nathan lowers his head. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
I shake my head, not wanting to dwell on the tragedy. “What about you? Surely, you must also have something you love.”
“Love is a strong word.”
That I can’t deny.
“There are a lot of things I enjoy, though,” he adds. “For example, I’m enjoying spending time with you right now.”
My heart skips a beat at the way he looks at me. I look away.
“Did you bring me here just to show off and impress me?” I ask.
“Is it working?”
I don’t answer. But yes, I’m impressed. No guy has ever given me more than a bunch of flowers before. True, the dog shelter isn’t exactly mine, but it feels like a gift to me.
The best gift.
“And also to prove to you that I’m not as heartless as you think.”
I look at him, a pang of guilt stabbing me in the gut. “I’m really sorry I—”
“It’s okay,” Nathan cuts me off. “You were being true to yourself. I can’t fault you for that. Actually, you’re the first woman I’ve been with who’s acted that way. It’s refreshing.”
I smile. And to think I was feeling scared that he might get me fired because I spoke my mind.
Just then, my stomach grumbles, reminding me that I only had a salad, which apparently has already been digested. It’s embarrassing, but Nathan just chuckles.
“Hungry?” he asks.
I nod.
“Shall we grab something to eat?” he asks, standing up. “Actually, I’m hungry, too. I didn’t really get to eat dinner.”
I get up and shake the dust from the back of my skirt. “Why were you at the Marriott?”
“I was supposed to meet someone who had an interesting idea for a new app but he canceled at the last minute. I was on the phone with him when I saw you leaving.”
“You noticed me leaving?”
“I think I’d notice you anywhere.”
My heart skips another beat.
“Then I saw that guy go after you…”
“Barry Baker,” I inform him. “He’s a member of the paparazzi. We’ve bumped into each other a few times before, though I loathe to put him in the same line of work.”
“Of course not. You’re a professional. He’s a con.”
“That he is,” I agree.
At the memory of what he did to me, I cringe. “I can’t believe he kissed me.”
Nathan turns to me, touching my cheek. “Let me wipe that memory away.”
And the next thing I know, his lips are on mine. Unlike last night, this kiss is soft, gentle.
And yet, it has a stronger effect on me, making my heart race.
Like before, I can’t resist. I can only surrender, my eyes closing as I kiss him back feebly, my lips parting to let his in.
His tongue explores slowly, thoroughly, wiping every trace of that horrid mouth-to-mouth — I don’t dare call it a kiss — from earlier away. And when he’s done, he leaves me warm and wet and melting.
Wanting more.
Just then, Nathan’s phone rings, disrupting the moment.
“Hello,” he answers.
I try not to eavesdrop, watching his expression instead. He seems concerned. Worried, even?
After the call, he looks at me with a frown. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. Lucas wants to meet me now.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll drop you off back in town, but I’ll have to cancel that dinner.”
I wave my hands. “No problem. I don’t mind really.”
“I feel bad, though. Can we have dinner tomorrow, instead?”
I only pause to think for a moment. “Yeah. Sounds good. I have work at noon but I’m free in the evening.”
“Great. Why don’t you give me your number so I can call you to let you know what time I’ll pick you up and where?”
“Sure.”
I do that. He gives me his number as well then smiles at me. A genuine smile. Not a grin.
A breathtaking smile.
“It’s a date, then.”
***
A date?
As I lie on my bed in my apartment, staring at the ceiling, I still can’t believe that I’m going on a date with Nathan Landers.
Me, an ordinary woman who grew up on a farm and works for a magazine, going on a date with a billionaire entrepreneur?
What would Pam say?
Nah. I know what she’ll say. She’ll say I’m asking for trouble, that I should know better than to go out with a man whose only intention is to get me in bed.
But is that really his only intention?<
br />
He said I’m not like the other girls he’s been with…
What if he’s just saying that?
What if he wants to stop fooling around and start a serious relationship with me?
Is that what you want to happen?
That question makes me pause. Is it? Do I want to be in a relationship with Nathan Landers?
Have I fallen for him?
I shake my head. No. I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ve only just met the man. Well, yes, I’ve seen him several times before, but I’ve only just spoken to him last night.
And you kissed him.
No. He kissed me.
And tonight?
Fine. We kissed.
Two nights. Two kisses.
So what? Technically, the first one doesn’t count. Even if it does, it doesn’t matter.
He’s just a crush. So what if I’ve spent time with him? I haven’t fallen for him.
Yet.
Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.
Shut up. It’s just a date. Nothing more.
Just a date…
I sit up, suddenly realizing something. Not counting dinner with Barry tonight, which I want to forget about, I haven’t been on a date in ages. I’ve been trying to stay away from men, in fact, not wanting to have to break anyone’s heart, including mine, when I finally get my chance to travel the world with my camera. I know, I know. It might be years before that happens, but I just want to be ready. I feel like if I am, the more likely it will be for it to happen.
Well, it’s not like I was the one who asked Nathan to go out with me.
A date, huh?
I pick up the framed picture of me and my brother on my desk, sighing.
“Big brother, I’m counting on you to make sure everything goes smoothly.”
Chapter 5
A Hornet’s Nest
So far, so good.
I smile as I read the text Nathan sent me this morning for the tenth time.
I’ll see you at six-thirty. Can’t wait.
I know, I know. It may be a lie. Just another of those sweet lines from his book that don’t mean anything. But my heart skips a few beats just the same.
My event finished on time at two, so I was able to go home, take a shower and change. In the end, I chose a beaded little black dress. Chic. Classic.
I even had time to go to the salon to have my hair styled and my nails done.
Now, I’m ready. Well, almost.
I just have to buy myself some breathe mints. If there is any chance that Nathan decides to kiss me again, I want to be prepared. It’s been a while since I’ve had to prep for a date and someone kissing me and I’m nervous but excited about it. This whole thing is totally unexpected and I’m enjoying the thrill of it all.
I already have the safety pins Mattie gave me in my purse and some tape in case I need to do any temporary fixes.
I’m not taking any chances.
I head over to the convenience store. Moments later, I come out.
Now, I’m ready.
I cross the street and start walking. The art gallery isn’t far away and I still have — I glance at my watch — thirty-three minutes. Enough time to look at some paintings while waiting for my date.
Excited, but trying to keep myself calm, I put one foot in front of the other, “The Greatest” by Sia playing in my head.
Suddenly, the music screeches to a stop and so do I, a familiar sight coming into view across the street.
A pickup truck parked in front of a café.
Not just any pickup truck.
Rusty red. A faded bumper sticker saying Born To Be Wild above the dent.
A dent caused by the fence one stormy night.
The fence on the farm back home.
Yup, I know that truck. There’s only one of its kind in the world.
My brother’s truck.
The question is: What is it doing here in New York City?
I cross the street to investigate, peeking inside the café, my eyes growing wide as I recognize the couple sitting near the counter. The woman is in her mid-50s with graying hair and glasses, the man in his early 60s, his hair bald and his mustache white, his worn brown leather jacket the same one he’s been wearing for the past twenty years.
Alice and Charlie Willis, my parents.
What are they doing here?
They haven’t noticed me. They’re busy talking to someone. A man in his forties with black hair.
I’ve never seen him before.
Well, at least, my dad is talking. My mom’s quiet as usual. She always looks so small and timid beside my stocky, loud father.
She seems more timid than usual, though, her shoulders slumped as if she’s trying to make herself disappear, as if she doesn’t really want to be there.
She seems nervous, too, her hands twisting the hem of her shirt.
But why?
Who are they talking to? Why are they here? Why didn’t they tell me they’d be here?
They usually call when they come to town.
Unless… they don’t want to see me? Why wouldn’t they? I’m the only child they have left — the only family they have left, in fact. And the last time we spoke on the phone, everything was fine.
There shouldn’t be a reason why they don’t want to see me.
There’s one more thing bothering me.
Why did they drive my brother’s pickup truck? My Dad hates driving that thing. And he hasn’t touched it — no one has — since Jack died.
Something isn’t right. And I have to find out what.
I enter the café, and as soon as my mother’s eyes meet mine, hers wide and full of anxiety, my suspicion is confirmed.
Something’s wrong.
“What’s going on here?” I ask as I approach the table.
Mom stands up and gives me a hug. “Oh, sweetheart, what a surprise.”
“What are you doing here?” my father asks grumpily.
He’s only grumpy when the Yankees lose. Or he’s hiding something.
“I live here, Dad,” I tell him, eyeing the envelope in his hand. “Have you forgotten?”
“Shouldn’t you be at work?” he asks.
Shouldn’t you be in Rumney? I want to ask.
“We were gonna call you, but we didn’t want to disturb you,” my mother says, stroking my cheek. “Oh, you look so beautiful.”
She’s trying to butter me up, which means Dad’s done something I don’t like.
And I already have a feeling what it is.
“Dad, why is Jack’s pickup truck in front?”
“What pickup truck?”
“You know very well what I’m talking about. Rusty Red. With a dent.”
“Oh, that dent can be fixed easily,” the stranger at the table says. “After that, all it needs is a new coat of paint and it will be as good as new.”
I look at him. “I’m sorry. I’m Samantha Willis, their daughter. You are?”
“George Harding.” He shakes my hand. “I contacted your father a few days ago about a pickup truck he was selling, and I asked him to bring it here so I could buy it. It looks better than I thought.”
I freeze. So, it’s true. I had a feeling that was it.
“Dad?” I look at my father, my voice trembling. “You sold Jack’s truck?”
“I’m sorry,” George says. “But who’s Jack?”
“My older brother,” I answer. “He died a few years ago.”
“Oh.” George looks sorry he asked.
“That’s right,” my father says. “He died. So, he’s not gonna need that truck anymore, is he?”
I can’t speak. I can’t breathe, tears pooling in my eyes. How dare he say that? How dare he raise his voice at me in a public place when he hasn’t done it since I was five?
“Sam…” I feel my mother’s hands on my shoulders.
They’re not comforting. They’re restraining, knowing I’m about to burst.
“And you know I can’t drive th
at thing,” my father goes on. “And neither can you.”
“Things have been tough on the farm, Sam,” my mother adds softly. “We still haven’t recovered from that storm last year, and then the pigs got a respiratory infection a few months ago. We need the money.”
“You could have at least told me,” I say. “You know I would have done anything just so we wouldn’t have to sell Jack’s truck.”
“That’s why we didn’t tell you.” My mother rubs my arms. “We didn’t want to bother you.”
“I would rather you bothered me instead of hurting me like this.” Tears trickle down my cheeks. “How could you think of selling Jack’s truck without letting me know, knowing that I’d be devastated?”
“That’s exactly why we didn’t tell you, damn it.” My father raises his voice, causing a few heads to turn. “I knew you were gonna cry and put up a fuss. You’re not a little girl anymore. Grow up.”
Mom moves behind him. “Charlie…”
Dad looks at me. “Jack’s dead. There’s nothing you can do about it. So just fucking move on, all right?”
For a moment, I don’t move. I can’t. I’m so shocked by my father’s behavior, I can barely breathe.
When the shock fades, the pain sets in. Then the anger.
“I don’t expect you to understand, Dad. After all, you’re not his little sister. Yes, he was your son, but he’s been long dead to you, hasn’t he? Ever since he decided to live his life as his own and not how you wanted him to.”
My mother comes over to me. “Sam…”
I shrug off her hand, my gaze, blurred with tears, still on my dad.
“It may just be a truck to you, but for me, it stands for so much, for everything he loved. And that can’t be measured in money. And you know what else can’t be measured in money, Dad? The love and respect of your daughter. And now, you’ve lost it, too.”
I turn on my heel, leaving. I ignore my Mom calling after me, knowing she wants to come after me but can’t because she has to stay by my father’s side. And I ignore the people in the café whose stares are stabbing my back like daggers.
I don’t care. I don’t care anymore.
Chapter 6
Captured
I only start caring again an hour later.
By then, it’s dark inside my apartment, the only illumination provided by the glow of the streetlamp slipping in through the cracks in the blinds.