by Mimi Barbour
Crystal, mesmerized, had to ask. “What happened to it?”
“A big bully, three years older, Hector Rumble was his name, beat me up and stole it.”
Sympathy oozed from her wide eyes, and unconsciously her hand reached out to pat his arm. “The monster! I wish I’d have been there with my friend here.” She waved the bat a bit too close to his face and had to stifle a grin as he backed up.
“No problem, I just went home and told my big brother on him. Rhett fixed the situation in no time.”
“Good for you! Did you get your marble back?”
He reached into his pocket and withdrew a rather large, magnificent marble, and as he rolled it gently the colours vibrated as if alive. Soft variegated greys intermingled with pearly whites. Silver veins flowed throughout, encouraging the brilliant subtleties—a miracle of silver softness enclosed in translucent glass.
“My most precious possession, until today.”
He stared at her with a look she couldn’t interpret, but it brought the neck twitches back, big time.
Discordant growling interrupted the scene, and had him whirling around to stare at the biggest, nastiest, scruffiest cat he’d ever seen.
“What in the world is that?” He pointed and waited.
“Don’t be silly. You can see very well it’s a cat. She doesn’t like strangers, is all. It’s her kittens, you see. She frets about them.”
“What in the world did she mate with—a cougar? Your cat is one mean-looking feline.”
“She’s not mine. That animal sabotaged me.”
“ Okay, I’ll bite, how?”
“Well—if I tell you, promise me you won’t laugh.”
“I won’t laugh.”
“It meowed ‘help.’ I swear it did. How could I ignore a cat that verbally told me it needed help? Don’t you dare laugh!”
“Nope, wouldn’t think of it. Did she say anything else?”
“Don’t be an idiot. And quit smirking. She was pitiful and hungry. So I told her straight—she could stay one night. After that she was out on her fat behind. I brought her in, fed her, and what does she do to repay me...?”
“What does she do?”
“I’m telling you. The little sneak stabbed me right in the back. Teach me for being so darn agreeable.”
“I’m scared to ask. How did the little sneak stab you in the back?”
“I went to work and came home to find her curled up on my bed with four newborn kittens. I had to sleep on the sofa for two days before she’d let me move her and the babies into the box over there.” She pointed at a roomy crate, lined with a fleecy blanket, a cut-out opening in the front for the mama cat to come and go but with too high an edge for the tiny kittens to get over.
‘You’re bigger than she is. Why didn’t you just put her on the floor the first night?”
“Fat lot you know. She gave me that pitiful look and...”
“And meowed ‘help’ again, and you caved in.”
“Something like that. But I’ve given her notice. Soon as Hewie, Dewie, Louie and Donald are big enough, she’s out.”
“I suppose you’ve named mama Daisy?” The twinkle in his eye had her narrowing hers, but since he didn’t outright laugh, she controlled herself.
“It did suit, and I have to call them something while they’re here.” She shrugged her shoulders, her hands out, palms up.
“Of course you do.” He looked down to the floor, but she saw the grin he couldn’t hide.
Trying not to take offence—after all the man was injured—she moved away, leaned the bat against the wall and pulled her cap off. She swung her head from side to side, allowing the mass of gold to settle where it wanted, then grabbed the works over her left shoulder and parted it into three sections to braid it. She turned to see him avidly staring.
“Look, your lips are bleeding again where they smacked you. I’ll put the kettle on if you will go into the bathroom and get the first aid kit that’s on the counter in there, the one over the tub. I have to clean up your face.” She pointed him to a door, then hustled towards the kitchen area at the back of the room where, hidden behind the piles of clean dishes and boxes of cereal, rested the kettle.
****
He went toward the door she’d indicated, and as he passed by he glanced sneakily into the bedroom area, hidden behind curtains of wooden beads.
Ashley had grown up a slob, but over the years his habits had changed to where he now liked tidiness. She was the complete opposite. Her room looked as if a tornado had made a quick pass through. He stopped. Upon closer inspection, every surface was clean, but it looked like everything she owned was scattered helter-skelter.
The bathroom wasn’t much better. Like the rest of her place, the room gleamed with cleanliness but organized confusion seemed to be her decorating style.
As he reached for the red-and-white first aid bag on the counter, he brushed the shower curtain with his elbow and the plate-sized turtle swimming in the tub snagged his attention instantly. He came back into the living room-kitchen area to see her stretching her lithe form as if she had a crick in her back.
“You do realize you have a turtle in your bathtub?”
“Uh-huh! Some family’s abandoned pet. I found her on the side of the road, half dead. I don’t want to keep her, but I will, just until she feels better. Then Olive goes, too.”
“You named her Olive?”
“It’s her colouring. The name’s appropriate.”
“Right. So, you’ll put Olive out with the cats.”
“Yep. She’s out, her and the birds.”
“Birds?” His eyes were huge and his voice had risen.
“They won’t leave. Imagine my rotten luck, having not one but two budgie birds find me. They’re a pair, and so tame that when I opened the window the silly things flew right into the apartment. I tried to shoo them out, but they refused to leave. Kept landing on my shoulder and chirping. I’d hoped maybe the cat would scare them away, but it seems that I’ve found the only cat who has no interest in birds whatsoever.”
Just then a yellow budgie flew from a perch formed like a trellis over a large plant and made itself right at home on Crystal’s shoulder. It pecked at her cheek with what could only be termed affection and looked at her in a questioning manner. With an embarrassed grin, she held her finger up for the bird to flutter to and made her way to a cupboard where she removed a bag of seeds. Pouring a small amount into a dish, she gently manoeuvred the pretty thing to step down and eat.
Within seconds, another bird flew across from the same perch and landed near the dish of food. Feathers of green interspersed with black were very attractive. The chatter as it settled amused both Ashley and Crystal. They chuckled and caught each other’s smiles.
“I’m dying to hear what you call these two, Snow White and Cinderella?”
“Couldn’t. The yellow fella is male. So I called them Beauty and the Beast.” She fleetingly let her thoughts wander to all the pets she’d rescued over the years—too many to remember.
He snagged her interest with his next question. “I gather wildlife has a thing for you.”
“It’s not my fault. Honest! I try hard to ignore them, but I just can’t.” Her hands shot up in a protective gesture.
Wow, her reaction seemed over the top. Her defensiveness stirred a latent feeling of chivalry, and he couldn’t help but wonder who in her life had instilled such reactions, and how he could settle a score with them on her behalf. Just the thought of anyone hurting this beguiling, sensitive creature made his blood boil. Time to change the subject. Bring a smile back on her haunted face.
“I’m scared to ask, but are there any other creatures I should know about, maybe a snake under the bed or a lizard in the closet?”
Her mouth scrunched up as she looked at him and saw his saucy grin. Her hands fell to her hips and her head tilted to the side. “Now you’re just being silly.” The twinkle he saw deep in her pearl grey beauties convinced him he’d
succeeded in his quest. Happiness suited her.
He’d never before met such an interesting character all wrapped up in one dazzling package. An obvious soft touch for animals, true, but he’d seen her in action with her bat, and there was no holding her back. She had backbone, and bullies didn’t stand a chance against that tough streak buried in her mushy heart.
Thanks to his position at the casino, beautiful women were a dime a dozen. Everywhere he looked, there they were, willing and available. It wasn’t that he lived like a saint, but after seeing the special love between his brother and Carrie, he knew he’d never settle for anything less than the kind of relationship they unwittingly flaunted.
“Beauty is as beauty does” was an old saying he liked to repeat each time his attention stalled and settled for any length of time on any one girl. He’d pay close attention and, sure enough, disappointment followed as each proved by her behaviour that she was all glitter and glamour on the outside with no real substance on the inside.
Mirrors don’t lie, and his portrayed dark good looks every morning. His position as part owner of the Parks Casino evidently added to his attractiveness, so there were many opportunities for romance. Dedicating most of his talent to being a pleasant, happy kind of fellow certainly played a part in his popularity, also. Relying on intelligence to override his softhearted tendencies had saved him from settling for anything less than perfection.
Chapter Three
“Sit still, Ash! Quit being such a baby. Mercurochrome doesn’t sting all that much.”
“You try putting it on an open wound and see if you still believe that nonsense. Ow! You’ve already doused that cut. You’re enjoying torturing me with this nasty treatment, aren’t ya?”
He turned around and caught her gleeful smile. She’d tried wiping it off, but it was too late.
“You wicked woman! You’re having fun.”
She couldn’t help it. Tiny giggles erupted into huge chuckles. His disgruntled face, decorated with red marks, was too funny. She’d even drawn a small heart over one particular gash. Eyeballing her artwork made her crack up again.
Most likely, the stress created by the earlier pandemonium played a part in her unusual playfulness, but whatever the cause, she hadn’t laughed so hard for such a long time, and it felt wonderful.
“Humph! Go ahead and laugh. I like to see a girl enjoying herself. I’ll be glad to sit here, bleeding to death, while you have your fun. Don’t worry about me.” He interlocked his fingers and placed them around his crossed, swinging knee. The teasing note in his voice wasn’t lost on her.
“Pooh! You’re just a big sucky. And I’ve finished. Your injuries are all cleaned and disinfected.” She replaced the lid with the saturated red ball attached.
“What a good sport he is” stuck in her mind and wouldn’t be lifted. Not once tonight, through everything that happened, did the man sitting so nonchalantly in front of her lose his cool. No anger, no fists—smart mouth, smart talk, and shrewdness appeared to be his way of handling a situation where most other men would have exploded into violence. She felt safe with him.
Where did this intuitive trust come from? It unsettled her. How did this man slip inside her protective walls so quickly that she felt as if she’d known him forever—liked him forever?
It resembled, in a way, her affinity for the little creatures that always seemed to find and recognize her and come to her for care and love. In the same way she couldn’t disregard a sick animal who’d burrowed its way into her heart, neither could she ignore him. It was that complicatedly simple. What did she do now?
He had to go.
Amazing how a person could shut down when cornered and frightened. Her manner and voice changed from warm amusement to stern, cool implacability.
“It’s very late. Joey and his pals will be gone by now. I’m safe here in my apartment. I’d bet my bottom dollar they didn’t recognize me; therefore, I’m not at all worried. I think you’d better go.”
He shot to his feet and walked over to where she stood. “Not before we come to some agreement for payback. I’d like to take you out for dinner—at the very least.”
His wink created a strange reaction in her pulse speed, and those blue eyes? Heck! They ought to require a license as lethal weapons. She shook her head decisively. “Uh-uh!”
Ignoring her, he lifted her hand and playfully kissed the tips of her fingers. “My lady warrior, I must show my appreciation for your most gallant defence in my moment of need.”
She whipped her hand away from his soft lips and held it behind her. Looking everywhere but into his eyes, she stepped back, putting space between herself and his magnetic exuberance. The intensity of his gaze burnt into her, luring, enticing, but she held back from returning his stare. Realizing she’d be lost if she let him capture her with his devilish glint, she remained strong.
Long, drawn-out seconds passed.
“Well?” He demanded a reply. “Will you let me show my gratitude?”
“I’m sorry, but tonight’s the first night I’ve had off in a long while, and I suspect I’ll be working pretty well nonstop for the foreseeable future. I work evenings until quite late, and by the time I get off, I’ve had it. All I want is peace and quiet, and my bed. Besides, I don’t expect payment for helping someone in distress; it’s what people do—or at least should do.”
“Like your needy, pitiful animals, I’m just another unwanted obligation. Is that it?” She heard the plaintive note in his voice, like a child needing reassurance that he mattered. She couldn’t and wouldn’t go there. Not with him, not with any man. She toughened her heart and gave him the answer she decided would send him on his way.
“Yes.”
This time, her hardened attitude in place, she stared him down. Then she turned to walk toward the door and opened it, waiting.
He sauntered toward her slowly, tempting her to change her mind.
She didn’t.
He forced his card into her hand. “Take this, and if you ever need me, all you have to do is call.” He stepped into the hallway and stopped, his back toward her. “Lock the damn door.” His mutter came across clear and sulky. Then he left.
After closing and locking it, she slid down the door’s support and wrapped her arms around her bent knees. What a night!
Earlier, determined to ignore the commotion outside her window, she’d tried shutting it out. But she’d recognized Joey and Arnie from the casino as two of the three ruffians and sensed they could be vicious when provoked. Within seconds, she was in her bedroom throwing clothes around in an effort to come up with a costume in which she wouldn’t be recognized.
Thankfully, she still had her baseball cap and her favourite old soft flannel shirt of her father’s, which she’d used as a nightgown during the times the cold settled over the Montana plains back home. And she’d had her bat! Saved her before, and it sure came in handy tonight. No telling when a girl would need a bat to help get her point across.
Her mind wandered back to the time she’d last used her reliable weapon. Slaving away to look after three brothers and a father, all as useless as water to a plastic plant, she’d done everything—the housework, the garden, the cooking—the works. No thanks, no help, and no way she’d continue when the time came to move on. Her lazy family, crafty enough to know when they had it good, tried to physically detain her and her small suitcase, but they were helpless against “the wooden equalizer.”
The neighbouring boys, who’d hung around with her brothers drinking and carousing, had no small part to play in her choice to leave. The Neanderthal bullies hunkered after her like drunks to a free bar, but their assumption that she’d be willing to scratch their horny itches incensed her, and her trusty bat convinced them that she was seriously offended. After a few well-connected swings, the stubborn jackasses allowed that she’d gotten her point across.
Sticks and stones became her riposte, as they tried calling her vile names to batter away at her determination. The expe
rience left her hardened against the whole male species. After all the years of sweating in her large garden to have enough food put up for the winter, cleaning up after insensitive louts who had worse manner than the farm animals, and living in near-isolation with only one older English woman as a friend, Crystal had had it; she was done, finished. Fed up with enough male chauvinism to last her a lifetime, she left, vowing that never again would any man have control over her.
Ever!
Chapter Four
“Ash, lemme come up. I need to talk to you. It’s jush me, I promise.”
Joey’s drunken voice over the in-house phone pleaded, and Ash didn’t have the heart to refuse. After all, he had a score to settle with his little scumbag friend, and he wasn’t averse to looking after it now. Ever since last night, when Crystal had forced him from her apartment, his normally happy mood had been flipping between morose to unpredictably edgy. Using Joey as a punching bag might help release some of those gripping frustrations.
The woman had gotten under his skin. One moment she portrayed a lighthearted buddy, the next a coldhearted bitch. He didn’t get her, and putting her out of his mind wasn’t an option, either. She stuck like a fly to flypaper.
The loud thump on his office door heralded Joey’s arrival. With one hand Ash twisted the knob and yanked open the door. With the other, he reached out, snatched Joey’s shirtfront and, cantankerous as hell, pulled him into the room.
“Whoa there, bosh. Hold your horshes. I come in peash. In fact I have information, whish might interest you. It’s my way of saying—no bad feelings.”
Ashley let go of the drunken idiot. Looking down his nose into the widened, glassy-eyed stare of the smaller guy, he watched Joey’s hands go up in the don’t-hit-me position. Like a dog turning to show his belly, Joey portrayed no threat whatsoever. No threat, and no fun to kick the stuffing out of, in his stumbling condition. Ash quickly lost his motivation. It would be way too easy.