Special Delivery (The Great Outdoors Book 4)

by Shayne McClendon

  Gently placing her back in bed, he smiled into the face Shania would have in twenty years.

  Beth mentioned behind him, “You’re stronger than you look.” She grinned. “Excellent upper body strength for a smaller man.”

  Distractedly, Shania placed a bouquet of flowers on the table beside the bed and murmured, “Smaller? Oh no. Spencer isn’t small. He’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

  Her words made him feel tall in more than height. Staring into Arabella’s face, she beamed at him and he gave her a wink.

  Gently fussing at her blankets, Shania bent over her mother and smoothed a strand of hair from her cheek. “How are you, Mama?”

  “Better than most days. I see you twitchin’, honey. You go on now and sketch until your hand goes numb.”

  With a kiss to her forehead, she backed around the bed to the door. “Love you, Mama.”

  “I love you. Thank you for your help, Spencer.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Waving at them both, he followed Shania’s pert butt up two flights of stairs and fell into the world they created together.

  It was a strange but glorious life.

  * * *

  In the first two months after meeting her in a freak series of events, work took him out of town several times. He kept the trips as short as possible to avoid the need to lie.

  Returning from a two-day trip, his first stop was her office after changing into his courier attire.

  Patti’s eyes widened when he stepped off the elevator. “Not going to lie…I hate when you’re out of town. She’s jonesing.” She shooed him away. “Go. Now.”

  Appearing in her doorway, he watched Shania jump up from her chair and run across the room. They were eye to eye since she was dressed in delicate vintage clothing and matching heels. Her fingers shook slightly as she cupped his face.

  “Tell me you don’t have to work more today?”

  Stunned at the expression on her face, he shook his head. “You’re my last stop.”

  “No deliveries. Everything can wait.” Sliding her fingers over his shoulder, down his arm, she took his hand.

  Instantly, his body responded and he fought to hide it.

  Leading him across the room, she gently nudged him to the couch and perched on the coffee table in front of it. “Let me…let me look at you for a minute.”

  She raked her fingers through his hair, traced his ear, and lightly lifted his face so she could stare into his eyes.

  The woman was killing him with one soft touch at a time.

  Accustomed to sitting still and silent for long periods for her, he gave her what she needed.

  Finally, she smiled and exhaled slowly. “I’m glad you’re back. H-how was your trip?”

  “Boring. Do you want your book?”

  Tugging her lower lip between her teeth, she grabbed it off her desk and returned. Her hair was twisted into a chignon at the base of her skull and he stared at the different shades of red and blonde in the silken strands.

  They didn’t talk for a long time but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. He drank in her features and she sketched his as the sun moved across the floor.

  Her page filled and when she placed her pencil on the table beside her, she stared at the drawing with a look Spencer recognized.

  It was the expression he knew was on his own face every time he was near her.

  Spencer had no intention of rushing her. The world they lived in wasn’t the same one the other males in his family inhabited when they found their brides.

  In an era of social media, cell phones, and twenty-four-hour news cycles, most people didn’t believe in love. Certainly, not love at first sight. The kind of love Bishop men searched for…and always obtained.

  Eventually.

  If he pushed her, told her how he felt too soon, the result would be her fear rather than her belief. Waiting was the hardest thing he’d ever done but he could bear it more easily now that he knew the truth.

  Shania Murphy was in love with him.

  * * *

  On a Saturday in early October, Shania woke with the fever before dawn and couldn’t go back to sleep. She paced her space for hours waiting for the sun to come up.

  Then she called Spencer.

  He was groggy and it made her smile. “I kept you up too late last night.”

  Working to pretend as if she hadn’t woken him, he replied quickly, “No. I’ve been up.”

  “Liar. What are your plans today?”

  “The same plans I have every weekend.” She heard the smile in his voice. “Hang out with you.”

  “Are you sick of me yet?”

  The question wasn’t all teasing. She took up most his time when he wasn’t working and each time he answered his phone or knocked on her door, she admitted more than a little surprise.

  “Not a chance,” he replied firmly. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than spending time with you.”

  The man destroyed her ability to think.

  “Would you be willing to spend time with me in Central Park? I’d love to sketch you at Belvedere Castle.”

  “Ready whenever you are.”

  “Meet me there in an hour?” she asked him. She added a couple of requests about clothing if he had them on hand. “If you don’t have anything like that, I can add it in.”

  “I’ll be there, Shania.”

  They hung up but her body tingled anyway. Spencer’s voice was something she was starting to dream about every night when she fell into an exhausted sleep.

  He was always careful with her, gentle in ways men didn’t learn anymore. Even though he was almost always hard around her, he hadn’t attempted so much as a kiss.

  Every time she thought about kissing him first, she decided against it. It wasn’t how she was raised and she didn’t have nearly enough experience with men to be sure of herself.

  Until he walked into her office, she’d had little use for men.

  The fever hit her fewer than a dozen times over the last twelve years and none of those obsessions had been male. None of them had brought with it a decidedly sexual element that she might not act on but refused to deny.

  Not one fixation through her entire life touched her heart.

  Sometimes, she thought her muse was mysterious. There were even moments when she thought the man she literally thought about day and night was lying to her.

  Lies that seemed strangely small, oddly inconsequential. Little things she let him get away with because she wanted him to trust her as she trusted him.

  Whatever his secret, she wanted to earn the right to know it.

  Throwing all her supplies in her art bag, she pulled it over her shoulder and walked downstairs. Her mother was sitting up and looked better than she had in weeks.

  “Mama! You look amazing.” Rushing in, she kissed her cheeks and sat on the edge of the bed. “Is something different?”

  A slender hand reached out to stroke her hair. “Don’t get your hopes up, honey. The doctor found another concoction to hold back the pain. A little of this, a little of that.”

  Disappointed but glad to see the shine in her identical green eyes, Shania nodded. “I’m glad. I hate seeing you in pain.”

  “I know.” Arabella glanced at her art bag. “Sketchin’ Spencer again?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t know what else to say.

  “I like him. He’s a good man.”

  “I think so, too.”

  “You light up when you talk to him, when he looks at you.”

  “It’s the fever…”

  “Nah, honey. It’s the love. You can’t fool an old romantic like me.” She held her hand. “He feel the same?”

  Shania shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  Her eyes went wide in surprise. “You mean…he hasn’t tried to…you know?”

  Blushing to the roots of her hair, she shook her head. “Lord. I mean, he’s real gentlemanly. H-he looks at me…” She glanced at the flowers beside the bed. “He looks int
o me like he can see my soul. I’m so obsessed that I could be getting mixed up. You know I’ve always been shy.”

  “One of your best qualities, in my opinion.” Arabella squeezed her fingers. “I like the way you are when he’s around. I like the way you light up. He’s taken with you.”

  “You can’t know that, Mama,” she said quietly.

  Lifting away from her pillows, she cupped the side of Shania’s face. “I know men of his age don’t spend all their time with a woman so she can draw him if they don’t like her company.”

  “You think so?”

  “Oh yes. Follow your instincts. Even if you’re blushin’ like crazy or shakin’ on the inside. When the time is right to get your answer, you’ll know.”

  Hugging her as firmly as she could, she whispered against her hair, “Thank you, Mama.”

  “Go quiet the fever, honey. I love you.”

  “I love you. I have my cell if you need me.”

  Leaving the narrow brownstone a few minutes later, she inhaled the crisp fall air.

  All the way to Central Park, she thought about Spencer and wondered if he could love her…

  As much as she loved him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Shania chose a bench just below the castle and took out her supplies. Flipping through the many pages of Spencer, she smiled, touching each one lovingly.

  He was a remarkable subject.

  Sitting cross-legged under the small gazebo, she sketched a few ideas. Her name murmured at her side made her glance up and the charcoal she held between her teeth dropped into her lap.

  Spencer wore black leather pants and heavy black work boots. The black t-shirt and shades completed the look.

  “Spencer…” As she took him in, she wondered if she could handle the beauty that was almost too much now. When your muse showed up in the costume from your head, it solidified his position as your muse.

  “Is this what you wanted?” She could tell he was nervous.

  Calm down. Remember how to speak English. No matter what you do, don’t drool.

  Chuckling, he told her, “I haven’t worn something like this in a decade. Since I used to go clubbing in college.” He cleared his throat. “Is it alright?”

  “Yeah. I’d say that’s as close to perfect as you could get.” Her ears were ringing so it was hard to hear her own voice.

  She felt like she was moving in slow motion as she stood and circled the man who occupied her thoughts constantly. After taking him in from every angle, she paused to stare up at him.

  “You look particularly fresh and pretty today,” he said. The blue of his eyes practically glowed from his face.

  Self-consciously, she touched her ponytail and wondered at her choice of sneakers, t-shirt, and jeans to meet him. So focused on seeing him, she barely remembered to grab a jacket on the way out.

  “Thank you.”

  He reached out and used his thumb to wipe away charcoal smudge on her cheek. “Where do you want me?”

  A dangerous question.

  For a long moment, her inner self – the one she ignored most often – attempted to derail her completely with images of Spencer between her legs.

  Once her blush faded, she managed to murmur her ideas for the morning. “I thought we could use the wall while the sun was on this side of the castle.”

  He talked while she sketched and Shania soaked up the sound of his voice. At first, distracted as she was, she didn’t hold up her side of the conversation.

  Patiently, he carried it and eventually, she caught up.

  While she sketched, he reminded her to drink or grabbed her snacks from vendors around the park.

  He always did that. It seemed no matter how she posed him, he thought about her personal safety. Every night he left her studio, he told her to rest.

  It was nice, different.

  They walked from place to place and she made him sit, stand, kneel, crouch, stand with his arms outstretched, above his head, behind his back.

  When the temperature warmed a bit, she had him take off his shirt and wondered if she was deliberately torturing herself.

  Spencer’s bare torso revealed to the sun was the stuff of magic.

  He wore dark shades and his shaggy black hair randomly curled over his forehead. Behind the lenses, she couldn’t see his eyes but she imagined them focused intently on her.

  In the afternoon, sketches of his mouth required his silence but he never looked away from her face. Before she realized she meant to say the words, they were out.

  “I love your mouth.” Belatedly comprehending how inappropriate the statement was, she added, “Your lips are lovely. Taken separately from the rest of your face, they could be too feminine. The overall balance is perfect, of course.”

  “Thank you. You have a beautiful mouth yourself.” Instantly, her lips tingled with need but she pressed them together shyly. “You’re a woman who doesn’t crave compliments. How refreshing.”

  “I don’t know what to do with them.” She paused drawing and met his eyes. “I grew up simply. Mama was a nurse all my life. She told me I was pretty but all mothers do that. She was more excited about my drawing and my grades.”

  Currently crouched on the stone wall below the castle, she saw his hand tighten. “I’m sure many men have told you how pretty you are, Shania.”

  Putting down her pad and pencils, she rose and walked to stand in front of him. “Do you think women believe the compliments most men give them? Usually, they come with a cost. I’m not afraid of men but I’m also not naïve. I avoid situations that will distract me from what I want.”

  In a whisper, he asked her, “What do you want?”

  “The rarest and most evasive commodity on earth. I refuse to settle for anything less.” She folded her hands in front of her. “It was something my parents had.”

  “You want true love.”

  “My father died the year I was born and my mother never loved another man. It’s old-fashioned but I don’t care. It has to be real or it will never last.”

  “I agree.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah.” He jumped off the ledge and stood in front of her. It was close enough to catch a faint hint of his aftershave. “I believe that for some people – a very small percentage and far less than fiction would lead you to believe – there’s only one person meant for them.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “I’ve witnessed such a connection all my life. I believe it.” He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re beginning to burn. Let me take you to lunch and I’ll tell you the story.”

  “I’d like that.” Glancing around the park, she smiled. “I didn’t realize we’d been here so long. I’m sorry, Spencer.”

  “It’s been peaceful.”

  He raked his fingers through his hair, pulled on his t-shirt, and moved to help her gather her things. Out of the direct sun, she saw the redness on his skin.

  “You’re sunburned!” She poured water in her hand and used her fingertips to pat the cool liquid on his face. “I treat you horribly, Spencer.”

  “No, you don’t. Mine will fade by tomorrow.” He gently stroked the bridge of her nose. “Yours will take a bit longer. I thought you were wearing sunscreen, little redhead.”

  With a big sigh, she confessed, “I usually do but I forgot.”

  Spencer slung her messenger bag over his shoulder. “I’m taking you for food then home so you can shower and set that burn. My grandmother was fair like you.”

  He led her through the park as she slowly flipped through the sketches she’d done. “Thank you for today, Spencer. This is some of my best work.”

  “I enjoyed it as much as you did.” He smiled at her and she knew he meant it. “What are you in the mood for?”

  Another slide show of erotic images slammed into her brain. Swallowing hard, she told him, “S-something light.”

  He chuckled and took her hand. “Salad fits the bill. I know
the perfect place.”

  At the restaurant, he told her the love stories of three generations of his family. She ate and asked him a hundred questions. One thing she said made him still, made him stare at her with such intensity she couldn’t look away.

  “That’s quite the legacy to live up to. Finding the love of your life and living happily ever after.”

  After a long pause, he said quietly, “I enjoy a challenge.”

  In the back of her mind, a tiny flicker of hope flared to life. A single thought whispered, “Maybe it could be me.”

  * * *

  Holding Shania’s hand as they walked to her home was done casually, without fanfare.

  He took her hand lightly and waited for her to pull away. When she didn’t, he relaxed into the experience and pronounced it one of the best of his life.

  They were three blocks from her brownstone when she said quietly, “Spencer. We’re being followed.”

  Shocked, he glanced down at her and saw true worry. “Why do you say that?”

  Ducking into a small bodega, she removed her sketch pad. In the corner of one page, she’d drawn a quick likeness of his head of security.

  She tapped it with the tip of her finger. “I’ve seen him four times in the last week. At first, I thought I was being dramatic but…now I’m certain.” Frowning, she stared into his eyes. “What do you think he wants?”

  Considering his words carefully, he asked, “Shania, do you trust me?” She nodded. “I know him.” Her eyes widened. “He doesn’t mean us any harm.”

  “But…are you sure?”

  “I’m positive.” He took her hand and held it between his. “I’ll tell you more another time but for now, know that we’re not in danger.”

  He watched her think about what he was telling her. She swallowed hard. “We’re being followed by someone you know who isn’t going to hurt us.” He nodded. “You have things to tell me but you’re asking me to wait.”

  “I know it’s a lot to ask.”

  Her head moved slowly back and forth. “No. It really isn’t.” She tucked her book back in her bag. “I trust you, Spencer. Just like you trusted me not to hurt you the first night you came to my studio.”