by Dorlana Vann
The first thing she planned on doing, as soon as he stood in front of her, was apologize for accusing him of taking advantage of her. And then acknowledging the evening for what it had been, two adults enjoying each other’s company . . . for one night. But that was all it could ever be.
“Then why can’t I get him out of my mind?” Brenda whispered. She hated that she’d actually been watching for him to walk through the crowd. Every time she saw the top of a shaved head, her heart sped up. She couldn’t deny she liked his company, liked the way he looked at her, and loved the way he made her feel wanted. And she was really attracted to his vulnerable side. That’s the side she could really relate to. He hid it with that body. No one would believe anything had ever been broken inside. And he had opened up to her, and that was why she’d told him more than she should have about herself. But for some reason, he’d made her feel safe. And she hadn’t felt that way in a long time.
She couldn’t deny it any longer that she felt something for him, something more than just a physical attraction. He made her laugh. He made her want to let her guard down. Was that possible? Was there actually someone out there who she could be her true self around?
She pulled out her phone to see what was keeping him, and noticed he’d sent her a text: ‘Rocky should be there soon.’
“Coward,” Brenda said to her phone and felt anticipation weigh her down even more. She had to talk to Neal tonight. As soon as Rocky got there, she would tell him she wanted to call it a night. She needed to go home and wait for Neal. She couldn’t leave it like this for a second longer.
Brenda scanned the room for someone who looked like a Rocky. What kind of name was Rocky anyway? Then she accidentally made eye contact with a guy, who had obviously been watching her for a while. She shook her head and frowned, hoping that would give him the hint, and continued her search. With her peripheral vision, she saw the eye-contact-guy approaching.
Even though this was, technically, why she’d come here, she knew even from across the room that she didn’t want to talk to him. He was young, tall, good-looking, and cocky. Cocky was definitely not her soul mate.
“I couldn’t help noticing you noticing me,” he said.
She opened her mouth to say something when someone said, “Sorry I’m late, doll.”
There stood the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on. Dirty-blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, a pretty face if not for the five o’clock shadow, smiling, flirty eyes, and a mischievous side grin. Boots, jean, belt buckle: a cowboy, minus the hat, probably didn’t want to mess up his hair. He took her breath away for a second. But she regained her composure quickly.
She was about to excuse herself from the previous conversation, until she realized he’d already left. Brenda smiled at the ridiculously good-looking guy who’d claimed to be with her. “Rocky, I presume.”
“At your service.”
“Now how did you know I was your client?”
“Neal told me to look for the Barbie doll.”
“Excuse me? Barbie doll?”
“Hold up before you get all women’s lib on me. It’s not what you think.”
“Really? Let’s see: blonde, high maintenance?”
“Okay, well, maybe it is what you think. But you left out beautiful and perfect.”
“You’re good, I’ll give you that. However, I know there are at least three other women in here who fit that description.”
“He also said you were an uptight attorney.” He nodded his head to the right. “Barbie doll on my right is wearing a skirt up to her navel. Barbie doll behind me is sitting with a group of friends and they have about twenty sample glasses of beer on their table, and Barbie doll number three, over by the pinball machine, has some guy’s tongue in her mouth and hand on her ass.”
“I guess that would make me the uptight one.” Brenda felt a surge of melancholy at the thought of Neal describing her that way: an uptight Barbie doll. “Okay, so how did you know that the guy I was talking to was someone you needed to scare away? Maybe I liked him.”
“He’s wearing tennis shoes, cheap ones at that. Your heels, on the other hand, cost at least two hundred bucks. Am I wrong?”
“I didn’t notice his shoes, but you were right to shoo him away. Nevertheless, I would prefer to pick my own friends.”
“Yes, ma’am. I usually tell the girls to ask the guy, ‘Now what was the name of that boxing movie that starred Sylvester Stallone?’ That way, the dude calls me themselves.”
“Clever,” she said flatly.
“First, let’s get you a drink that you will actually drink. Otherwise, there is no conversation starter.” Rocky patted the bar. “Bartender!”
Brenda thought, well, he’d come to help her, the least she could do was buy him a drink.
The bartender turned like she was annoyed at being summoned, but then she took one peek at Rocky and just about undressed, then and there. She pushed her boobs out in attention and smiled a huge toothy grin. “What can I get you?” She twirled her hair.
“The lady will have an Ace Apple Cider, and I’ll take an Alaskan Black.”
“Is that all? Would you like to sample anything? Anything at all?”
“Maybe later,” he said, touching her hand and giving her a wink.
She giggled and then poured the drinks without taking her eyes off of Rocky.
Brenda shook her head. That was why she would never go out with a guy with movie-star looks.
The bartender set the drinks on the bar. Rocky went to pull out his wallet, and the bartender said, “It’s on the house.”
“Thanks, doll.” Rocky leaned back on the bar and nudged Brenda. “Okay, give me sense of who we are trying to attract. I’ve never really done this for real, but it might work.”
“What do you mean? You’ve never really done this for real?”
“You know. The whole scarecrow thing.”
“Neal said you did this all the time. Was that incorrect?”
Rocky seemed to weigh the question by rocking his head back and forth. “Yes and no. You see, occasionally my reputation precedes me.”
“I can’t imagine why.” Brenda took a drink of her cider and decided it was pretty good, which she didn’t like at all.
“There have been a few times where I’ve met a girl who refuses to go out with me because they’ve heard rumors. If I think they are really not interested, I leave them alone. On the other hand, if I sense an ‘I want you, but I don’t want to get hurt’ hesitation, I suggest being their scarecrow. It saves a lot of time when they’re going to end up in my bed anyway.”
“How exactly would that work out in your favor, seeing as you’re only the decoy?”
“I shoo away a couple of dudes, in the meantime, we get to talking, and I get to wooing.” He leaned in, his ice-blue eyes the only family resemblance to Neal, giving her the look she was sure had held plenty of prisoners and whispered, “A couple hours later, we’re in my bed. My best time is fifteen minutes. She didn’t even finish her girly drink.” He grinned as he sat back.
Brenda felt all her blood rush to her face. She couldn’t move or breathe or hear anything else Rocky said or anything that was going on in the bar. Bump-bump, bump-bump, her heart beat in her chest as her mind flashed back to the first time Neal had offered to be her scarecrow and how he and Zadora had tried to trick her. All he’d wanted to do since she’d meet him was to convince her to live there rent-free. She blinked back to reality as a girl walked up between her and Rocky.
Brenda turned her barstool the other direction and stared at the floor. That son of a bitch. Neal hadn’t been trying to help her. He probably didn’t even like her. Why should he be interested in her? She’d done everything in her power to turn him away. So why hadn’t he run like a normal man would have? Why had he stuck
around and been so nice? Because it had all been some game, that’s why. How long had it taken Neal to get her defenses down? That story he’d told about his best friend’s wife was probably fiction, made up on the spot to earn sympathy points. Not to mention all the compliments and understanding about how Larry had treated her. What had she been thinking? They were buddies. They’d probably even laughed about it.
Lies.
She had fallen for the whole thing. Idiot. Idiot! This had been his plan all along. He had probably thought that after sex she would let him stay rent-free without having to do the house. Maybe he and Rocky had more in common than just the blue eyes. Neal was a playboy. And that look in Neal’s eyes after she’d thrown him out wasn’t hurt, it had been defeat because his plan had failed.
Well, at least she hadn’t let her guard down this morning . . . but it had been close. And the contract had been signed. All she had to do was wait on him to screw up, and that would be that.
“Did you hear me?”
“What?” “I was wondering if I could buy you another drink. But if not, it’s okay.” The guy with black square glasses, a suit coat, no tie, hair combed to the side, started to walk away.
“Wait. What’s your name?”
“Eugene,” he said, wide-eyed.
“I’m Brenda. And do you know what? I would love another drink. Do you want to get a table? I’m starving.”
The guy’s teeth were a little crooked, his ears were a little big, and his clothes were really expensive. Perfect.
“Give me a second?” He practically ran to a table in the corner where a couple of guys sat. He said something to them, and they glanced her way, and then gave Eugene high-fives.
Brenda sighed, satisfied with her decision.
She looked back over to Rocky, who now talked to three girls. She thought he was the one who needed a scarecrow.
Rocky managed to direct his attention to her and nod his head, acknowledging that she was with someone she wanted to be with. How the hell did this guy know? She had to smile at him, even though he was Neal’s cousin, and said, “Thanks. I’ll send you a check.”
He shook his head and said, “It’s on me, doll. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Brenda directed her attention to the nervous guy. His friends had left, and he waved her over. As she tucked her hair behind her ears and headed his way, she thought I’ll do whatever the hell I want.
Chapter 14
Neal could barely keep his eyes open after working the double shift down at the café, but he didn’t miss the classic brown Jag parked in front of the house. Five o’clock in the morning was too early for a visitor. He was curious but not enough to not go to his apartment and crash, fully dressed and smelling of greasy food.
When he woke, four hours later, he remembered it was Monday the fifth, and he had promised to help Mary move this morning. He didn’t like the idea of his twenty-four-year-old sister moving in with her boyfriend and had tried to talk her out of it. He didn’t tell her, but he liked her living by herself even less, so he’d decided to deal with it. Besides, Mary’s boyfriend seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. He had a job—a better one than Neal’s—and seemed to really care for Mary.
When he jumped in the shower, the car parked outside this morning wouldn’t stay out of his thoughts. He didn’t want to think the obvious, that Brenda had already picked up some stranger and brought him home. She was a lot of things . . . but easy? Two nights, two men? The whole situation had left him rundown. She had him coming and going.
He stepped out of the shower and dried himself as he went to his room to get dressed. He dug through his clean laundry and remembered Brenda’s panties he had tossed in there. But he couldn’t find them.
Strange. Had Brenda retrieved them from the laundry room? He shrugged his shoulders. “Who cares what that woman does?” He wasn’t even going to call Rocky and see how it went last night because he didn’t care. He didn’t care if Brenda brought home the entire bar and had an orgy. She could do what she wanted. From that moment on, he would keep it like she’d said: business.
He grabbed a banana on his way out the door and plowed right into someone.
“Pardon me.”
Neal frowned as he eyed the guy up and down. “No, it’s my fault.”
The guy with glasses, slicked-back dark hair, suit jacket, and a cordial smile nodded, and then knocked on Brenda’s door. Neal stuck around in case she needed help getting rid of the solicitor who had walked inside the house uninvited. Neal wondered if he’d left the front door unlocked. He wouldn’t have been too surprised seeing as how exhausted he’d been earlier.
Brenda opened her door, and Neal heard her say, “Hey, you.” And then she let him inside! What the hell was going on? Neal shook his head and headed to the front door, not being able to afford wasting another minute on that woman.
As soon as he opened the door, thick humidity and a boom of thunder greeted him. He watched the wall of rain cross the street like it was daring him to get to his truck before it did. Neal took off running, but the rain won the battle, giving him his second shower of the day. But at least the sky didn’t fall completely until he sat safely inside and had shut door.
There was another clap of thunder, but it was too bright outside to see the lightning it had followed. By the sound of it, it had hit close. Neal jumped, realizing he hadn’t even taken his keys out of his pocket. He stared at the mysterious car still parked in front of him. But it wasn’t that much of mystery, now was it? He hated the way he felt: jealous. It gnawed at his stomach, made him feel nauseous, made him want to . . .
He jumped again at the sound of his phone buzzing in his back pocket. He pulled it out and read the text from Mary saying they were going to wait another day to move because of the weather. He could’ve texted her back and told her he had a tarp and could cover the stuff that they put in the back of his truck. Instead, he wrote: OK.
By the time Neal made it back inside the house, his clothes clung to his body and his tennis shoes sloshed on the floor all the way to Brenda’s door. He stood there a good five minutes without hearing a sound, and then he made himself walk away. He went to his apartment and sat on the couch.
He should’ve knocked on the door to see if the guy was in the living room . . . or in the bedroom. But then he remembered—he didn’t care—it was just business. He decided to distract himself by getting busy finding people to help renovate the apartments. He had a lot of work and didn’t want to think about the fact that, most likely, he was in over his head. He’d run his father’s business for a while, but it was only roofing. At least he had a few contacts. He pulled out his phone and started making calls.
He had himself a plumber, a drywall specialist, and a floor guy by early afternoon. Those were the things that would take up the most time and money.
Satisfied with his results, Neal remembered that he had to make Brenda’s food for the day. She hadn’t said if she wanted breakfast, lunch, or dinner, so unless she said otherwise, he would cook it at his convenience. Now seemed very convenient.
Inside the kitchen, he searched the refrigerator and pantry and tried to piece a meal together in his mind. “Grilled cheese and tomato soup is a meal.”
He gathered the ingredients: sourdough bread, Gouda cheese, Swiss cheese, and butter for the sandwich. A can of crushed tomatoes, onion, fresh basil, and cream for the soup.
He had it prepared in less than an hour. He knocked on Brenda’s door with one hand while he held the tray with the food with his other.
When Brenda opened the door, she was mid-laugh. “Oh, it’s you. What’s this?”
“Lunch,” Neal said, unamused.
“Oh.” She held out her hands for the tray.
Neal was grateful that at least she was fully dressed. She wore a blue button-down
shirt, fastened two buttons from the top, and a flowery blue skirt that hit right above the knees. Modest, but fitted, and emphasized her curves.
Neal moved the tray slightly to the right—out of her reach. “It’s hot and heavy. I’d better carry it in.”
She shrugged and moved out of the way.
Neal spotted the twerp who had entered Brenda’s apartment earlier. He sat on the couch, the same one Neal had pushed Brenda up against while undressing her.
The guy had one leg crossed over the over, like a girl’s. He jumped up and came toward Neal, his hand out in a welcome and a friendly smile on his face. Asshole.
“Hi. I’m Eugene. Eugene Spenser.”
Neal blurted a laugh that even surprised him. He glanced at Brenda, who stood behind him. She gave him an appropriate ‘go to hell’ look.
“Of course you are,” Neal said, setting the tray on the coffee table and shaking his head. Eugene still had his hand out, waiting. Neal accepted the handshake, wanting to squeeze the life out of Eugene’s delicate fingers. He refrained, knowing it would be a dick move. “Neal Parker.” He tried to stare him down, and it worked.
Eugene blinked, frowned, and glanced at Brenda. “Nice to meet you.”
Neal held on to Eugene’s hand until Eugene tugged it away and cleared his throat.
“Is that your car out there?”
“Yes, it is. Are you a car man? It’s a 1968 Jaguar XJ—”
“You sure were here early this morning.”
“Well actually, I stayed over. We got in pretty late last night.”