by Nia Arthurs
Ms. Becky shifted her gaze from me to Spencer, but she kept silent. I was equally incapable of speech. Spencer broke the pregnant pause when he clasped his hands together.
“Well, shall we?” he gestured towards the dining room. I followed blindly, something niggling at my brain. Then the thought materialized.
Missy!
“Spencer, where is Missy?”
“Missy?” Ms. Becky asked, “The black haired lady roaming the house?”
“That’s her.”
“She was browsing the sun room when I left her. I’ll go see where she is and bring her in.”
I thanked the housekeeper and followed Spencer to the balcony, not saying a word. I was still reeling from that quarrel earlier and trying to figure why I had a reaction to his every innocent touch. Back in Belize, I’d met my share of admirers, especially of the sweet talking construction working variety. In fact, when I was twelve on my way home from school, a drunken homeless man, tapped me on my rump! Let’s just say, that scenario ended with me punching the guy out and running away. With all of that worldly experience under my belt, I still couldn’t figure out exactly what it was about this man that threw me so off-kilter. Why did I have the strength to tell another random stranger to “buzz off” and yet I felt drawn to Mr. Hunky Pants as though something deeper than circumstance had drawn us here?
Unaware of my thoughts, Spencer led me to a cozy terrace with a small round wooden table and charming padded iron chairs. The balcony overlooked the infinity pool that bled into jagged cliffs barricading land from ocean.
“Whoa,” I advanced to grip the railing lining the edge of the terrace and beheld the mountainous view. “That’s really cool.”
Spencer walked to stand beside me and agreed. The air between us had changed again, leaving me feeling terribly self-conscious and off-balance.
“You hungry?” he asked. Nodding, I followed him to the table where he pulled out my chair before seating himself. After that, a period of silence reigned. I waited for Spencer to say something, anything to break the awkward stillness, but he seemed quite comfortable staring at me and then the mountains. I had a childish urge to stuff carrots up my nostrils and give him something to stare at. Thankfully, Missy arrived before I could turn that idea into reality.
“Oh, this all looks so delicious!” she exclaimed. Her energy was not unfounded. Darling vegetables like broccoli, carrots, celery and cucumber slices lay in a colorful tray with ranch dip at the center. Creamy mashed potatoes lay in an aromatic heap in a wooden bowl. Steak awaited in a large glass pan. Miss Becky had already poured lemonade into our glasses. If Spencer had been an average looking guy who kept his eyes to himself, I would have been ravishing the food. As it were, my stomach was in knots and my appetite was halfway to Belize.
Missy didn’t seem to have a problem digging in, so I mustered up the courage to reach my hand out and grab some cucumber slices. Spencer narrowed his eyes at me. With trembling fingers, I ignored him and put the cucumber slice into my mouth. The cool burst of flavor calmed my nerves a bit. Spencer coughed. The table stilled to stare at him.
He smirked, “You just ate Larry.”
I froze, gazing at my murderous fingers with newfound horror as Spencer burst into laughter.
I was not amused.
Could this day get any weirder?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Thankfully, I emerged from lunch with Spencer unscathed and actually managed to eat some food, minus the veggies. Spencer had scarred me for life. I was never eating cucumbers again. Strangely, our host did not appear to be much of a conversationalist. Spencer managed to remain tight-lipped throughout the meal and deflected any questions about him, back at Missy or me.
I noticed the trend increased when it turned to his work, “So, you said that you work with technology patents, Spencer?”
I clarified between bite of scrumptious steak.
“Yeah, the office is the office, quite boring. Tell me more about this trip you took to Jaguar Paw. You said that you zip lined?”
Missy answered for me. “Actually, I zip lined. Melody got stuck.”
“Missy,” I warned.
“What does she mean?” Spencer asked.
I put my fork down and tried to explain another episode in the calamity that is my life. “When you zip line they give you gloves that have a hard backing, allowing you to pull down on the line. The harder you pull, the slower you go.” I demonstrated the positioning of my hands so he could see what I was talking about.
“What’s so embarrassing about that?”
“She got stuck.” Missy gleefully informed him.
I confessed, “Yes, I sort of pulled on the line too hard and too fast. I got stuck in the middle of the rope-slide.”
“That must have been frightening for you,” Spencer said sympathetically, “But don’t they have equipment to deal with that sort of thing?”
“They do.” Missy interjected again, “But the pulley got stuck, so they couldn’t manually reel her in.”
“How high were you?” Spencer directed the question at me.
“Let’s just say, they would have needed more than a ladder to get to me. I was looking down on the trees.”
“Wow, how did they eventually get you down?”
“Someone came and fixed the pulley.”
Missy laughingly added the most embarrassing piece of the story, “The line came in so fast after that that Melody sped into the landing hut and knocked over three people. One man almost toppled to his death.”
“Now that’s kind of an exaggeration. He wouldn’t have died, exactly, the worse thing would have been a concussion.”
“You should have seen the way she walked after that. It was hilarious.”
“Those riding harnesses were uncomfortable. I had a wedgie.” I mumbled.
Spencer coughed to hide a laugh.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” I complained.
“Okay, let’s stop torturing Melody. Missy, tell me more about this pageant that you won.”
Missy dove in with enthusiasm and Spencer and I shared a look of understanding. I recognized the topic change for the kind act that it was.
“Thank you.” I mouthed to Spencer.
He nodded.
Missy noticed our exchange and stopped mid-sentence. A strange expression crossed her face before she smiled sweetly at our host.
“I’m talking too much,” Missy said apologetically.
“What,” Spencer tuned back into the conversation at hand. “No,”
Sagely, Missy shook her head, “I am. I’ve gone on and on about me and the pageants I’ve won and of course that’s important, but Melody’s barely had a moment to speak about herself.”
“Huh?” I responded, a forkful of mashed potatoes mid-way to my mouth.
What was Missy up to?
“Look at that face, Spencer. Don’t you think it’s a beautiful face?”
Spencer wiped his fingers with the cloth napkin and leaned back in his seat.
“I do. I think Melody is a beautiful woman.”
Wooh, did someone turn the temperature up out here?
A bit thrown off by that huge compliment directed at me, Missy hurried to get past the moment.
“Well, I was in high school with my sweet friend and she’s come a long way since then in the looks department.”
I stared at Missy quizzically. Was this chick even for real?
“Don’t be shy. Tell him about high school, Mellie.” Missy cooed.
Mellie? No one called me Mellie, especially not Missy Garbutt.
“Uh, okay.” Bewildered, I put the potato-filled fork down, “I went to high school with Missy and uh… oh, I was the head of the newspaper club.”
“Cool.” Spencer grinned and confessed, “I was the head of the AV club.”
“Geeky,” I teased.
“Nerdy,” he playfully tossed back.
“Okay!” Missy objected, “In high school Melody had terrible acne!”
Stun
ned, I froze, my eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to process what I had just heard.
Missy smiled triumphantly. If she was waiting for a medal in the Mean Witch Olympics, she surely deserved it.
Spencer’s tone was stern when he spoke. “I think most people have acne when they’re in their teens, Missy. I don’t see the point,”
“No, see she had it really bad. She used to get teased for it all the time.”
Spencer abruptly pushed from the table and stalked toward me. I cowered, not because I feared that he would hurt me, but from the intensity of his features. Coming before me, he stooped so that we were eye to eye. He was totally invading my personal space again, but I couldn’t step away. I literally couldn’t.
I was in a chair.
Spencer surveyed every single inch of my face. I trembled because I knew all the flaws he would find there. I knew every dark mark. I’d obsessed over every tiny blemish that had permanently ruined my skin. I knew what I was not. I knew what my face was not and would never be.
“It’s perfect.”
Perfect.
Wait, what?
He stood and delivered his diagnosis with all the gravity of a dermatologist, “It’s perfect.” He then stalked back into the house, “Excuse me. I seem to have lost my appetite.”
Missy and I sat in wide eyed surprise at his unexpected departure.
“Missy,” I scolded when my wits returned, “What was that all about?”
Missy pouted and shoved a carrot stick in her mouth. “I was just trying to be helpful. It’s so obvious that you are crushing out on him. And as a woman with a lot more experience than you, I took it upon myself to protect you. You should be thanking me.”
I glared at her, “You can’t be serious. You’ve been nothing but rude to me since you got in the vehicle in Los Angeles.”
“Yeesh, you try to do some good and you get punished for it. Good luck with your inexperience. I hope he doesn’t break your heart.” Missy hurled at me before storming into the house.
It was a telenovela out here. My appetite was gone too.
After lunch, I scooted out of my chair and went in search of Spencer. It was time to go home. Even if I had to pay a cab a ridiculously high fare to take us back to the apartment, I would. I needed to get out of here. I found Spencer in his office, clicking around on his computer.
I knocked on the door. “Hey,”
“Hey,” he replied, “Sorry about earlier. I had to leave before I said something nasty.”
I ventured deeper into the office. “It’s okay. Missy has a knack for bringing the worst out in people. I think it’s time that we head back.”
He got up from around the desk and came to stand a few feet away from me.
“I’ll call the car around to take you two to the Cellulite Tower.”
I peered up at him, “You’re not coming with us?”
“No, I’m sorry. I’m not as brave as you. I’ll keep my distance from Ms. Garbutt until further notice.”
I laughed, “Don’t worry. We’re heading back to Belize on Saturday, so you won’t be hearing from us again.”
An awkward pause permeated the air as my words soaked up the space. I knew it was time to say good bye. I faintly heard Missy bid Ms. Becky adieu. As I gazed up at Spencer, I reminisced on the crazy turn of events that had led me here. I had not expected to meet any delicious, hunky men on this business trip. Nor had I expected to connect so distinctly with one, even if he did have jerkish tendencies. The reckoning hour was coming and my meeting with Mr. Thomas would determine if I still had a job when I got home. But even if my employment was secure, I was flying back home tomorrow. My family didn’t have airfare lounging around the house for me to return in the hopes of seeing this mystery of a man again. So for all intents and purposes, this was goodbye.
These somber thoughts ran tracks through my mind as I stood in the office with Spencer to collect my shoes and my purse. Missy had excused herself to the bathroom so it was just Spencer and I. Though he barely spoke, I could feel the shift in his mood. He looked troubled and my initial desire was to soothe his furrowed brow and make him laugh. I shifted through my plethora of jokes as I slipped on my high strappy zebra heels. Armed with my gorgeous shoes, I admit, I felt ten times bolder. I gathered my notes and purse slowly, prolonging the moment when I’d have to bid him farewell. After I’d reorganized his desk about three times, I finally gave up and prepared to walk out of his life.
I was sure Spencer had met better-looking and wealthier females. But I’d never met anyone as gorgeous or as intriguing as him before. And I would be lying if said I didn’t consider quickly snapping a selfie of us in that moment. Instead, I shyly crossed to him.
“Well, thanks for lunch.” I put out my hand for him to shake. He lightly grasped my palm.
“You’re welcome. Thank you for running into me.”
I cut him a look, but there was no ghost smile in sight. I remarked smugly,
“I’m not falling for that. I hold to the opinion that you ran into me.”
His ghost of a smile appeared and then bloomed into a full on 160 wattage grin. I almost fainted. Stoic Spencer was yummy. Ghost smile Spencer was sexy. But that grin, mien, smiling Spencer was beautiful. I memorized the point of his chin, the bridge of his nose, the definition of his cheeks, the adorable slant of his eyes, and the confident tilt of his hair.
“You should smile more often.” I blurted. Too late, I couldn’t shovel the words back in. Spencer’s smile grew and so did the foot in my mouth. Despite this, I still found room to spew out my thoughts in a flow of nervous babble.
“Um, you know because I read an article about smiling the other day. Did you know that smiling has immense physical and psychological benefits? I mean, not only can a smile boost your mood but it can also bolster your immune system. So yeah, that’s why you should smile more. It has everything to do with your health. Right, and not how incredible it makes you look.”
Spencer’s features loosened with another grin at my massive word vomit but I was powerless to stop myself, “Which is another fact about smiles. Studies show that…”
Like a panther to its prey, Spencer stalked toward me. Placing one hand on my waist and the other on my cheek, he commanded softly,
“Stop talking.”
I couldn’t. I had other facts. There was a study linking farts and smiles.
“But -”
Before I knew what was happening, Spencer grasped my face and placed a soft, butterfly light kiss on my lips. It was such a brief touch, the gentleness of which I had not suspected this tall man was capable of. My hand flew to my lips. I had not expected that. For brief and light though it was, I felt the pleasure of it all the way down to my toes.
My first kiss.
Mother of Wedges.
I glanced up at him, uncertainty in my eyes and gathered up the facts to jumpstart my brain which had been rocked into silence with that smooch.
Fact 1: Spencer’s hands were still on my waist and cheek.
Fact 2: Spencer’s cologne was probably the most tantalizing scent I’d ever smelled.
Fact 3: I’d just had my first kiss and it was the sweetest touch, a fitting first.
My next impulse was to launch myself at him crying “Let’s do that again!”
Unfortunately, the momentum was lost when my brain recharged.
Brain said: You’re leaving tomorrow.
You’re never seeing him again.
You don’t know anything about this man.
My strict Christian upbringing and practical brain bullied my desires into submission. But my desires cried in defiance.
You like him.
He’s super sexy.
You’ll never have to see him again; you have nothing to lose.
My desires had a point. But Brain, sensing my sway in the direction of Desire dealt a low blow.
Brain:
You have no idea how to kiss a man. Do you think he’ll appreciate your clumsy atte
mpts?
Touché, brain, touché.
Knocked into cold reality, I stepped out of Spencer’s loose embrace, embarrassed out of my mind. The brain versus desire argument had taken place inside of my head and in a matter of seconds, but the conflict left me deeply affected.
“Wh-why did you do that?”
Spencer shrugged as if he’d just killed a fly or made spaghetti, not kissed the socks off me.
“You were talking too much.”
My mouth fell open.
“Why didn’t you just tell me to shut up?”
“I did. And then I did it again… in my own way.”
I had no words and almost cried out in relief when Missy’s voice echoed in the hall.
“Melody?”
“Coming!” I yelled back and without a backward glance, I escaped the calm, cool, and delectable confines of Spencer Braden. Walking outside and boarding the car felt like stepping out of a fairy tale. There was no doubt that Spencer was a prince. My role as Cinderella, however, was a vast misunderstanding.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mr. Thomas’ office was a professional blend of the traditional and modern. His tasteful desk was made of metal and glass. The wingback chairs that sat at diagonal angles were wooden and woven backs. Plaques, certificates and pictures with the CEO of Maladon Resorts posing beside important people graced the wall. Mr. Thomas and the President. Mr. Thomas and Nelson Mandela. Mr. Thomas and Nicky Minaj. Though the last picture amused me, I did not smile. This was a solemn affair. Mr. Thomas could damage my career and have me unemployed in a minute. Sobering thoughts.
I distracted myself with another amusing event that had taken place when Missy and I had arrived in the building. Miss Sunshine was at the receptionist desk again today, but Brawn #1 and Brawn #2 were nowhere to be seen. Miss Sunshine had immediately apologized to me for having me escorted out and for her indirect hand in having me tasered. She’d tried to cajole me into signing a liability contract absolving the building’s owners from any responsibility had I chosen to seek legal action. I’d declined to sign just to see her squirm. But I personally had no desire to sue anyone. It wasn’t my style.