by Kelly Moran
“No, I don’t mind, but you just met me. Are you sure you want to give me a key?”
“I trust you.” An oddity, that. He trusted, truly trusted, very few people. Somehow, she’d made it on that short stack after a few hours. Fact was, she was kind, genuine, unsuspecting, and didn’t have an insincere bone in her body. He didn’t think people like her existed anymore. Besides, the kitten liked her and she knew about cats since she had one. Plus, she lived close. “You keep an eye on Storm sometimes and I’ll thank you with dinner once a week.” Or more. “Deal?”
Aw, yeah. A huge smile. “Deal.”
Chapter 4
What a night. Heck, what a day. Work, the committee meeting, introducing herself to Jason for the first time, going with him to get supplies, and then dinner at his place. Ella hadn’t had this much excitement since her cousin Gerta had brought home her date for the junior prom.
In her defense, Gerta had failed to mention the boy resembled the third rank in a gang with his tattoos and saggy pants. My, her aunt and uncle had pitched such a fit. Ella had spent all day helping her cousin do her hair, nails, and get dressed in a gorgeous emerald gown Ella would’ve looked like a beached whale in with her curves. Not that it mattered since she didn’t go to prom, no one had asked her, but she wouldn’t have been half as lovely or sophisticated.
As she made her way up the stairs and down the hall to her apartment, the events from the evening ran through her head like an unfettered jackrabbit. Her stomach, heart, and mind warred to the death on the combination of glee, embarrassment, and shock over what had unfolded.
Jason had quite the reputation as a playboy, one who preferred taking risks to sitting idle. She’d heard stories about him in passing, both good and bad. She always figured if she ever had a face-to-face with him, she’d form her own conclusions. Gossip only held part of the factual truth and snuck it in as rumor. The man she’d met tonight was spot-on and way-off to what she’d expected.
Yes, he was handsome and charming. She’d known that much. He was also clever and funny. She’d banked on that, too. She was totally surprised by the hints of uncertainty she’d caught at random moments, such as when they’d briefly discussed how to care for his new kitten. A real man admitted when he didn’t know something and was smart enough to ask for help. At least, that was what her uncle always said. Jason also had a sensitive side. Traces of it had eked into the confines of his truck when he’d brought up his dad and found out her parents were dead.
But the real shocker was how nice he’d been to her. She just…hadn’t been prepared for that. Sure, people were pleasant with her in that cordial way one was with an acquaintance. How-are-yous and smiles as she passed, but Jason had actually asked about her interests and listened like he’d cared about the answers. He’d gone out of his way to brush off the mortifying things she’d said while babbling and didn’t call her an idiot or create excuses to get away. He’d even tried to make her feel better by saying her run-on sentences weren’t annoying.
Pulling her keys out of her purse, she paused outside her apartment to locate the correct one. The door to the unit across the hall opened, and she glanced over her shoulder.
“Hi, Miles. Hope you had a great day.”
She’d spoken to the tenant briefly before a few times and knew he worked at the youth recreational center where the committee meetings were held. They’d encountered each other there, too, but he’d never seemed to make the correlation she was the same person. Which was fine. She was used to it. It wasn’t as if she was a memorable person, and he was a sweet guy.
“Hey, there…” He ran his fingers over his short, coarse black hair and offered a lopsided grin. His stark blue eyes contrasted his mulatto skin and added to his attractiveness.
Even if she had any flirtation skills whatsoever, he’d been dating Brent, a veterinarian assistant at Animal Instincts, since last summer. Thus, her gender wasn’t his type, never mind her personality or appearance. Still, she could appreciate him in silence.
He shuffled his feet, and she realized he was trying to recall her name. No biggie. She was used to that also. Aside from a couple committee members and her students’ parents, most townsfolk tended to forget. In fact, faculty still gave her the hairy eyeball when she walked into the teacher lounge for lunch, regardless of how she’d worked at the school for three years.
And if that sometimes hurt her heart or wounded what little pride she had, well…no one had to be the wiser.
She smiled, taking pity on him. “Ella.”
“Yes, Ella.” He dropped his hand, slapping his thigh. “Sorry, I was distracted and drew a blank.”
“I understand. How’s Brent? You two always look so happy.”
His sudden grin proved the phrase “drunk on love” with accuracy. “He’s great, thank you. We’re maybe going to move in together this fall when my lease is up. He owns a house in that older subdivision near the cemetery.”
“That’s wonderful. Congrats!”
“Thanks.” He waved. “I’ll catch you later. Have a good night.” He turned to go, but abruptly spun around. “Hold on. Your last name wouldn’t be Sinclair, would it?”
“Yes, it is.” Her first reaction was delight he remembered, but it quickly spiraled to ruh-roh because if he’d had a brain fart on part of her name, the rest was sure to follow.
An ah-ha expression transformed his features. He pointed at her like she’d sprouted a horn through the center of her forehead and dubbed herself a unicorn. “You’re the one everybody is talking about.”
“What? Surely not.” She laughed, but his emphatic nod brought her statement dead to rights. The hairs on her nape rose. Clearly this was an error. No one talked about her unless the phrases who-is-that or when-did-she-get-here proceeded. “I sincerely doubt that.”
“No, they are. The town’s Twitter account posted about you and Jason a couple hours ago. Apparently, you guys are getting hit with Cupid’s bow from the Battleaxes.”
Okay, now she knew he was mistaken. Nonetheless, her chest pinched with the struggle to breathe. “That’s…” Absurd. A terrible idea. And unfounded. If anyone thought her and Jason would be a good match, they were loonier than a box of Fruit Loops. “No way. Besides, I thought the matchmaking thing was just a joke.”
“Oh, it’s no joke. They do it all the time. They set up Brent and I, and his coworkers at the clinic, plus a bunch of others. That lady who runs the nursery with that chef from the bistro, that librarian with the new lawyer at the firm on Main. Countless couples.” He glanced down the hall and back again. “I have to go, but look up the tweets. I wish you luck.”
She must’ve stood outside her door for a good five minutes in a state of shell shock before snapping to and going inside. Depositing her purse on an end table, she plopped on the sofa, phone in hand.
Xena strutted out of the bedroom and draped herself across Ella’s lap, demanding attention. Al-al-yi-yi.
“Hold on, pretty kitty. Mommy needs to lose her shiatsu for a second.”
Al-al-yi-yi.
“I heard you. Stand by.”
Tapping the Twitter icon, she waited for it to load, then went to the @RedwoodRidge account profile. Scrolling, she found a pic of Jason holding Storm with a tweet that said, Sexy firefighter not only rescues damsels in distress, but cuddles them, too.
That was the tweet he’d referenced earlier. She scrolled up to newer posts about the Charity Ball reminders and paused when she landed on the most recent tweet. Her heart stopped beating so fast it left skid marks.
Word on the Street: Jason Burkwell& Ella Sinclair were spotted at a pet store up the mountain and spent a lot of time in his apt after. Animal magnetism brewing? We say rawr, yes!
The “Word on the Street” tweets were something she’d read often. Every time a new romance in town had started or gossip was dubbed important, they had that tag.
Crab buckets. No. It couldn’t be.
Jason had more experience than 007 in his prim
e.
Ella had…none. Absolutely zero.
He was sexy and suave and smooth.
She was clumsy and awkward and invisible.
That was the key…invisible. She could be one of two people in a room, and she’d be unnoticeable. Seriously, who even knew she existed? And of all the exhibits in their particular zoo, what made someone think her and Jason were two compatible monkeys? Did they just sit around and say, let’s come up the most entertaining unlikely pair of primates and throw them in a pen? See what happens? Who has the popcorn?
Furthermore, how had they…
Oh, geez. Geez, geez, geez. With geez on top. Her and Jason had been set up. Right from the start, this had all been planned. And she was the unsuspecting moron who’d fallen for their trap.
Him agreeing to a bachelor auction + her coerced into dropping off a tux = bam.
Add in the kitten he rescued that he couldn’t re-home and her being a cat owner who knew just how to care for one, and double wham.
Reluctantly, she glanced at some of the eighty-seven @ responses to the tweet as her stomach threatened to revolt. There were more who the heck is she replies than anything else, but there were quite a few no ways or it’ll never lasts thrown in. There was little comfort in realizing the entirety of Redwood Ridge, Oregon, agreed with her.
Jason had mentioned tweets about his rescue from his shift. He had to have seen this and was on the same page as everyone else. His casual, witty comebacks tonight proved it. He’d rebuked her blunder about dinner being a date, correcting her to a thank-you. He’d never made a move or hinted at interest.
She’d been rejected and hadn’t even been aware. By him, the town. Truly, what did she expect? Men had never shown her any sort of attention in the dating department. Still, this particular brush off stung. A lot.
Sickening dread swam in her belly, coagulating with humiliation and shame. She should’ve just left the tux on his doorstep and gone home.
Glancing around her cozy, two-bedroom apartment, she fought the tingle of tears behind her eyes and ball of emotion in her throat. She had plants and books and movies. A good job and satisfaction in teaching. Her cat. A small, but loving family. She had some skills at decorating, too. Her sectional was a pretty cobalt blue and matched the smoky gray walls. Her stained glass tables caught the sunlight midday and her pictures were romantic reprints by famous artists during that movement.
It was enough. Like her therapists had said, she should acknowledge the bad things but focus on the good ones. And in doing so, she grabbed her notepad and book of matches on her way to the kitchen.
She took a moment to write her disappointments and regrets from the day onto strips of paper, then one-by-one, held them over the sink and struck a match. It was a therapy technique they’d instilled in her as a girl after the accident to help her not be afraid of fire and a physical means to let things go. Usually, it worked. Sometimes, it didn’t.
Tripped over my own feet and fell at Jason’s. Cindered to dust. Blabbered on and on because I was nervous. Ash. Assumed the offer of dinner was a date. Poof. Let the Battleaxes manipulate me, allowed myself to hope he liked me, didn’t pay attention at my meeting… Burn, burn, burn.
When the last of her regrets for the day were toast, she lit a white linen-scented candle and turned on the exhaust fan before heading into the extra bedroom to do her cat chores. Routine was good. It had kept her sane during rough patches. She needed to stick to it.
Xena wove herself around Ella’s feet, and she murmured nonsense to her baby while scooping litter, changing the water dispenser, filling the food dish, and vacuuming the cat tree. After collecting all the loose toys and putting them in a pile by the futon, she made her way into her bedroom.
Everything was just as she’d left it, neatly organized and clean. She’d saved for a year to buy the furniture, but it had been worth it. The bed was a queen with an elaborate etched cherry headboard and tapered four posters. The canopy had sheer white lace draped along the top and reminded her of a fairy tale. Two matching dressers and nightstands completed the set. She’d painted the room a pale yellow to compliment the burgundy and gold comforter. Three dandelion prints in various stages of growth hung on the wall opposite the window.
It was her favorite room in her haven and, sometimes, on difficult days, she just liked staring at what she’d accomplished. Proof she was stronger than she often believed. It hadn’t been easy with crippling anxiety to go to college and obtain her degree. Making the transition back to Redwood Ridge was hard, but she’d done it. Interviewing for her position and starting a new job? Terrifying. Yet, through it all, or despite, here she stood.
She glanced at her phone and thought about texting Jason an apology for this evening or inadvertently getting him mixed up in the matchmaking scheme. Perhaps reassure him she’d only bother him for Storm’s care. But she didn’t have his number and it was probably best just to let him contact her if her services were needed. She put her cell on the nightstand to charge.
In the adjoining bathroom, she washed off the meager amount of makeup she’d applied this morning and stripped her clothes, dropping them in the hamper. From there, she sat on the toilet lid and stared at the thigh-high white stockings covering her legs.
No matter how much time passed or how long it had been, this was always the hardest part of her routine. Getting dressed in the morning covered her injuries, masked them from the world so she could survive. A buffer, of sorts. Undressing at night exposed her pain and revealed the damage it had left in its wake.
Slowly, she rolled the stockings down her legs and kept them inside out to hand wash in a moment. The silicone gel inserts at the toes and along the calves couldn’t be put in a machine. She used to hear the crackle of flames or her parents’ screams when she removed the stockings due to PTSD, and she flinched out of habit before looking at her legs.
This, ultimately, was why a guy like Jason would never be interested in a girl like her. Bypassing all her personality quirks or humble appearance, no man wanted to be with someone where a fourth of her body resembled a monster.
Everything below the knees was nothing but thickly scarred white and red flesh. The silicone stockings gave her the appearance of smooth skin. Normalcy. Without them, it was a cluster and maze of disfigurement. The worst of it were her feet. They’d had to amputate her toes, all of them. It seemed strange, but she barely recalled what they’d looked like before the fire.
After she’d finished physical therapy all those years ago, she hadn’t let anyone see her scars since. Not her aunt, uncle, or cousin, nor the few dates she’d been on or the couple of friends she’d acquired. Not a soul besides the doctors. Though those close to her had tried to hide their reactions for her benefit, it had been impossible.
Disgust. Pity. Aversion. Shock. She’d rather avoid it all.
She allowed herself a moment to mourn, then rose and washed her stockings in the sink, hanging them on the shower rod to dry next to her two extra sets. They were incredibly expensive and insurance considered them cosmetic, so she had to pay out of pocket if she needed new ones. She tried to take good care of them to last as long as possible.
Xena was already waiting in bed for her when Ella finished. After blowing out the candle in the kitchen, she climbed under the sheets and turned on the TV, muting it.
Typically, Ella would call her aunt and chat for a bit before texting her cousin Gerta, but it was later than normal because she’d been at Jason’s. Her aunt would be asleep. She chewed her lip, deciding to try her cousin.
Are you still awake? Ella watched the screen as the whirl icon indicated her cousin was typing a reply.
Gerta: Yup. Surprised u are. It’s late. Hot date?
Ella: LOL. Hardly. Was helping a friend.
While she waited for a response, she frowned at the screen. She couldn’t really say Jason was a friend, yet it was easier to keep it simple than to go into the whole story. She’d tell her cousin later.
; Gerta: Boo. Good you’ve made friends tho. U never go out.
Ella: I do sometimes. How was your day?
Gerta: Not bad. Daniel got a promotion. He wants to look at a bigger house. Says so we can have more kids.
Daniel being Gerta’s devoted husband. They had a two-year-old daughter, Wendy, who was cute as a button. She had Gerta’s bronzed skin, thick black hair, huge brown eyes, plus her lithe frame, but Daniel’s megawatt smile and height.
Ella: Grats to him. You know you want more kids. I’ll spoil them.
Gerta: U don’t have to carry them and ruin ur figure.
Ella rolled her eyes. Her cousin had an hourglass shape born from centerfolds in the fifties. Since their training bra years, men had wanted her. It had taken her a mere three months to get her figure back after delivering Wendy.
Ella: Whatevs. You’re beautiful.
Gerta: TY. So are u. Regret number today???
Her cousin always asked how many disappointments Ella had to burn each evening. It was nice to have someone care and check in, but it often made Ella feel more embarrassed by her faults and how often she wielded them. It did hold her accountable, though.
Ella: Too many to count today. I’ll tell you later. I’m fine. No biggie.
Gerta: U sure? I can talk for a few.
Ella: Positive. Gonna crash now. Love you.
Gerta: Love u harder, chica.
Setting the phone aside, Ella absently petted Xena and stared at the show on her wall-mounted flat screen.
“Well, pretty kitty, at least we’re not on an episode of Forensic Files. There’s that.”
Chapter 5
At a scarred corner table inside Shooters, Jason kicked back in his chair and absently rubbed the condensation on his beer bottle with his thumb. Pool balls clacked from games in session on the other side of the bar, the occasional thwaps from darts hitting boards adding to the mix. Stevie Nicks screeched from the jukebox, grating his ears, and making him long for some good classic rock. The scent of fried food clung to every available surface, blending with that of cheap perfume and a trace of desperation.