Wasted Vows

by Colleen Charles

  I pushed against him, pretending for a second to resist, when really I was already gone. Long gone.

  He marched me backwards, out of sight of the door and pressed me against the brick wall of my bakery. Cars sped by in the street; some of them honked their horns at us. Noise barely registered. Like time had stood still for this perfect moment. This perfect, unruly kiss.

  I tried to break away and break the spell, but he held me captive. To his smell. To the feel of him pressed against me. To everything.

  He parted my lips and captured my tongue, twisting it with his as he increased the pressure, passion overtaking him. Overtaking us both. I tilted my head right and kissed until I gasped for breath.

  He stroked my cheek with one hand, then ran it down my neck onto my breast and cupped it, feeling for my nipples under the fabric of my shirt with his thumbs. My nipples erect from the cold or from the man. Or both.

  “Wait,” I commanded as I pushed him back an inch. It was like trying to use force to move a mountain. A mountain of muscle and sinew. Through the haze of passion, I slapped my hand against his shoulder. Those eyes, blue orbs of desire, finally focused on my hand. Then on my face.

  “I’m sorry. So much for going slow to earn your trust. But when you dragged me out here …”

  He leaned his palms against the building and pressed his forehead against mine. I was trapped between his arms. Finally, he pushed off from the bricks and stepped back, the fresh snow crunching beneath the soles of his boots.

  “Can we agree to go out now? I promise this won’t happen again.” He winked. “Unless you can’t resist me.”

  Resist him? Holy mother of God.

  “Yeah. Pick me up at the front door to the bakery at eight,” I replied, handed him his coat, then turned and sashayed into the bakery, giving him a view of my round behind and proud of myself for not looking back, even though I wanted to. Damn, did I want to.

  Chapter 8

  I rested my hand on the table beside my glass of water, secretly hoping he’d grab it again. And touch the sensitive place between my thumb and pointer.

  He didn’t.

  A perfect gentlemen on his best behavior.

  “I’m glad I finally wore you down,” Gabe said, then took a sip from the glass of red the waiter had brought him.

  He’d been surprisingly cued up on the different types and names of wines, but I’d already forgotten what this one was. I grasped my glass as well and threw back a few sips. Delicious.

  Best. Wine. Ever.

  Gabe’s lips curled into a smile over my delight in the vintage he’d chosen.

  “What?” I asked, putting the glass back on the table with a soft clink.

  “Nothing, I just like the way you do things. Full on. With passion and spirit. It’s authentic. Like you’re not trying to be someone or something else to impress me.” He swirled the fine stem between his fingertips then set down his wine.

  He’d brought me to 112 Eatery. The interior was cozy, the brown tables and dark wood floors made me feel at home, even though I was from Atlantic City where the tables were more likely to have markings for chips, vomit and wet rings from sloppy cocktails. We’d moved to Bemidji when I was eleven.

  I glanced at the front window and smiled. The snow had started to come down again, pristine flakes layering on top of the slush covered sidewalk. “Are you impressed?”

  Gabe grasped my hand and a shock ran through my body. He left the question on the oak table and countered. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “About the snow, that’s all.” It was technically a lie. The fact that I shouldn’t be with him had crossed my mind multiple times. Even though he’d just served up a beautiful compliment about my authenticity, this wasn’t me. Allegra Wilson didn’t go out on spur of the moment dinner dates with the hottest men in the city. The men who could have any woman they wanted. The women that were not me.

  “Hmmm,” he rumbled, using his free hand to stroke the stubble on his chin. “If you say so.” She admired the sexy edge the days-worth of beard growth gave his face.

  “I’m not used to places like this.” I chirped a laugh to cover up what I really thought about the evening. His skin against my skin had brought back that desire; it made me want to grab him across the table and suck the taste of the perfect wine from his perfect lips.

  “Not used to them? Surely, other guys have taken you out on dates,” Gabe noticed as he poured more wine for them both.

  “You could just ask if I’m seeing anyone else.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” he replied, then paused and nodded. “But now that you mention it … are you?”

  I drew in a breath and eyed the older couple at the table next to ours. They were lost in their own conversation, holding each other’s hands, leaning towards each other with their heads almost touching.

  My girly heart strings twanged at the sight of it.

  I turned back to Gabe. “No, not for six months.”

  Why did I have to go and admit to a time frame? The words had just popped out. Now it appeared that no one wanted me when in fact, the bakery had monopolized my time for well over a year.

  “Six months,” he remarked, drumming his long fingers on the white tablecloth. “That’s a pretty long time.”

  I slid my hand away from him and he frowned. “I’m not that popular” I replied, “I don’t get that many invitations when most of my time is spent in the kitchen. Baking.” And even if I had, I still wouldn’t date them. Gabe was one big exception to the rule.

  One big blue-eyed, ripped exception.

  “I don’t get that many invitations either,” he replied, and raised his palms in mock surrender. Then he winked at her. “Unless you count my Aunt Agnes’s bridge partner. Every week she asks me to take her to the see the Minnesota Orchestra. Says I wouldn’t regret it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh please, that line was as delivered as a baby by the stork. I’m not blind; you’re obviously a looker. You probably get a lot of attention. Girls fall all over themselves to get closer to you.” I wondered how many pairs of wet panties had been thrown at his head. Like she’d like to throw the red lace thong she had on right now. She should have worn granny panties, then she wouldn’t be having these thoughts about undergarments in the middle of a crowded eatery.

  His expression darkened, eyebrows drawn inwards and down. “Don’t be so quick to judge, Allegra.”

  “Call me Ally,” I corrected. “And I wasn’t trying to judge you. It’s just expected. I’m okay with that. It’s not like we’re going to see each other again.” I’d spent the entire night thus far, convincing myself of that. All the way through the fourteen dollar sweet and sour crab salad.

  “We will see each other again.” He brushed the back of my hand again.

  I flinched and touched the spot his fingers had been. Like my tender flesh had been seared by his gentle touch.

  Branded.

  “Gabe, I’m really not interested in anything serious. And before you say you’re not either, I’m really not interested in a fling either. I’m not that kind of girl.”

  “Which kind?”

  “The kind who can put feelings aside when the chemistry is hot,” I replied, settling back in the chair to create distance between us. “I’ve never had a one night stand and I never want to. If that makes me old-fashioned and unattractive to you, so be it.”

  “Who was he?” Gabe asked, clenching his jaw then releasing it. His expression heated. Like he cared. “Mr. Six-months-ago. The one who obviously fucked you over and made you so bitter.”

  “That’s none of your business. And its super off-topic. And … I’m not bitter. I just know what’s good for me.” I flopped my napkin onto the table and rose. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the ladies’ room.” And get the hell out of here. Away from Gabe and the uncomfortable feelings he roused in me. I needed to be one hundred percent on my game because the success of my bakery depended on it. I would not fail at my life.
Not again.

  He didn’t answer me, just stared at me for a lingering moment, eyes ablaze with desire and something else. An emotion I couldn’t place.

  That look haunted me all the way to the bathroom stall. I wished he’d been a complete douche so I could run away. But I’d seen it. I’d seen something in his eyes besides just lust and a desire to get laid. I sat down on the toilet and drew in deep breaths to steady my mind. Resisting him was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. But I did have to.

  I had to.

  Chapter 9

  I would resist.

  I sat on the toilet for five minutes, practicing diaphragm breathing and meditation. I’d learned the techniques when the first letter had arrived from Shakopee. From my mother.

  I could still remember my tears blurring the black ink, staining the paper. As she begged. Begged me to believe her. Begged me to get her out.

  My mind grasped for memories of joy. Of love. As I struggled to slow my pulse and calm my body, those memories never came. Every time I pictured her, it was caged behind bars like a pacing lion. Incarcerated. I’d been twelve before I’d understood what that meant. Now, it took everything I had in me not to mention it. Expose it.

  Hidden.

  Like she would always be.

  Like the heroin she’d kept in every nook and cranny of our efficiency apartment downtown. And every nook and cranny of her body as she muled across the border from California to Tijuana.

  I never wanted to be her. I never wanted to feel like I’d failed the people around me as thoroughly as she had. I could tell from Gabe’s wardrobe, intelligence and carriage that he hadn’t come from the wrong side of the tracks like I had. Once he found out the truth, he’d run. Far away from the girl with the checkered and sordid past. And no family.

  A therapist had taken my mother’s place when it came to guidance, which was probably a good thing, since Deidre would’ve probably screwed me up beyond any hope of salvation if she’d been given the chance. I’d probably be high as a giraffe’s ass if not in the penitentiary myself. She still tried to reach out. The letters arrived weekly, like clockwork. They were in a cardboard box in my closet. All unopened except for that very first one. The one that had shattered my junior high school heart into a million pieces.

  I placed my palms on my knees and waited another second. My heart had stopped pounding a mile a minute at least. The throbbing in my temples lessened.

  I rose and walked out of the stall, then stood in front of the mirror. My light green eyes were wide with fear, and I’d slapped some pale pink lip gloss on my lips, but they trembled. He was out there, waiting for me to come back.

  I brushed my long, wavy blonde hair back and smoothed the tight red dress Kelly had dressed me in for the night. It accentuated my curves, kind of making me feel like I was on display. And there was a lot to display. I knew I shouldn’t wear it, but I’d wanted this one night. One night to feel wanted. Beautiful. Desirable. By the only man who’d ever made me feel that way.

  I rubbed my arms to calm the gooseflesh because I couldn’t delay this any longer. I had to go back to him, finish the meal and tell him not to bother me again. The only problem being, he wasn’t really a bother. At all.

  I wanted him to bother me all over my bedroom. All over my fevered skin.

  “Allegra,” I said in my best scolding tone, glad I was alone in the ladies room. I pinched my cheeks for good measure. “You can handle this.”

  Then I walked out of the door and back towards our table.

  Gabe’s back was to me, and he had his phone out, pressed to his ear. He gestured with his right hand as he spoke.

  I slowed down on my approach. The clink of cutlery on the plates was soft, so was the dull hum, and I could just make out his conversation.

  “Are you serious? Yeah, I’m kind of in the middle of something here.” He paused and shook his head. “No, I’m not complaining. It’s just,” he broke off and listened for a second, “it’s her. I’m with her.”

  A ton of ice water dropped into my stomach, spreading coldness from my belly to my extremities.

  “Yeah, I guess. Okay, I’ll be there in ten.” He hung up.

  I strode forward to meet him, pretending I hadn’t heard him talking about me to a stranger on the other end of the phone. Talking like I was an inconvenience. Or something annoying him tonight. What kind of twisted game was he playing? Or was I just being paranoid?

  “There you are,” Gabe said, flashing that smile. All charm and sweetness. It made my insides clench tight. “I was starting to get worried.”

  My stomach lurched again. A veiled chastisement at how long I’d kept him waiting. “Here I am,” I replied, then slid into the chair opposite him. I placed my second-hand Coach clutch on top of the table and waited.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, wriggling his lips from side-to-side. “I thought you’d gotten sick or something.”

  “What? Why?”

  “You were in there for a long time, Allegra.”

  “Ally,” I corrected, then slipped my bag off the table and into my lap. “No one calls me Allegra.”

  “I do,” Gabe corrected. He waved his hand to summon the waiter for the check. “I’m sorry to do this, but something’s come up. An emergency at work. I’ve got to run.”

  We hadn’t had the entrees yet, we hadn’t even ordered them, but it was a relief to escape this with my feelings and pride intact. I hadn’t even had to pull the plug myself. Waves of relief should be washing over me. Why then did I feel even sicker? Sure, my female ego had taken a knock, but that was a small price to pay.

  “That’s fine. No one understands work emergencies more than I do,” I said shrugging.

  “I hope you don’t think this classifies as a proper first date,” he replied, “because it doesn’t. I’ll call you.” He stretched his neck and scratched it.

  “Don’t —” I couldn’t take that trite blow-off about calling. Not from him. Not after everything that had transpired to bring us to this restaurant.

  “I’m not giving you a line of bullshit.” Gabe leaned in and gazed into my eyes, softening his lips by pressing them together. “You bring out a side of me I didn’t know existed. I like it. It scares me, but I like it. I want to see you again and I won’t take no for an answer.”

  The sincerity struck me in the chest. I flattened my hand over it to calm the fluttering of my heartbeat and his eyes followed my hand to the seam where my red dress ended and my cleavage began. “I guess, yeah, okay. You know where to find me.”

  “I’d much rather have your number. It’s Stalker 101 that I have to hunt you down at your bakery every time I want to chat,” he said, then barked a laugh.

  Tell him no.

  Tell him no.

  Tell him no.

  Instead of following my brains good advice, I found myself opening my clutch, fumbling around inside for my business card. The one I’d been so proud of when I’d created it myself online with gold embossed foil. The same color scheme as the bakery. “I guess you’re right.” I produced the card and slid it across the table, so I wouldn’t have to touch those massive hands.

  He caught my wrist and turned it over, then run his thumb across my skin, over the pulse. Thank God for the deep breathing. “Thanks for coming out with me tonight, Allegra.”

  “That’s fine, I mean, it was my pleasure,” I said, but suspicion broiled alongside the nerves. What was this guy’s deal?

  Gabe rose, holding the card. He flicked it between his fingers. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Chapter 10

  “He just left you there?” Kelly rubbed her fingertips over her temples. It was the end of the day and she’d obviously had a long one. Christmas was a crazy time of the year, and they’d had an influx of business, thanks to the Starbucks red cup controversy. The corporate conglomerate’s loss was Kelly’s gain.

  “He paid the bill at least, and he asked for my card so he could call and plan another date. A proper first date he ca
lled it. But yeah, he left me there.” I sighed and leaned across the counter in the coffee shop.

  Pat locked up behind me, grunting sourly when a customer banged on the door. “We’re closed,” he said gesturing to the white sign hanging from thin wire. “No, no, closed. Come back tomorrow!”

  The guy whined something about caffeine withdrawals through the glass and banged again.

  “Merry Christmas to you too,” Pat replied, then turned and marched off to the kitchen, grumbling about rudeness during the holiday season.

  “I can’t wrap my mind around this guy. He pursues you like crazy, then ditches you at the restaurant. What the hell?” Kelly turned and made two cups of coffee, pumping the arm of the coffee grinder to fill the bowl beneath it. “I mean, a little mystery is good, but that’s just plain strange. And rude.”

  “I didn’t even tell you the best part.”

  “There’s always a best part with you,” Kelly said, then switched on the milk frothing machine. “Tell me.”

  “He took a call first. I went to the bathroom because I felt like I was about to have a panic attack and when I came out, he was on the phone to someone and he mentioned me. He said her, like it was some kind of dirty word.”

  “What?! No way,” Kelly said, huffing out air through her open mouth. She took out two cups for cappuccinos.

  “Yes way. He told the guy or woman or whoever that he was with me. He hung up before I sat down, then told me he had to get to work. An emergency.” I accepted a cup from her and slurped the foam off the top. Ah, I felt better already.

  “That’s suspicious as hell. What’s he playing at?”

  “I don’t know, but it sure didn’t sound like a work call. It was way more, friendly, you know.”

  “I wonder if it was another woman,” Kelly mused, drinking some of her own cappuccino and getting foam on her top lip. She didn’t wipe it off, so I took a napkin and swiped the milk moustache away for her. “Mmm, thanks.”