Dare Me Forever (4 page)

I suspected that I’d
never understand what it was like to expect everything to come so
easily. Sure, my success looked easy from the outside, but I’d made
it happen all myself. I didn’t have a family business to lean back
on. Everyone assumed I’d grown up with a silver spoon in my mouth,
but nothing could be further from the truth.

I took a few more bites
of my toast, looking at the real estate listings in nearby Escondido.

I’d also worked day
and night to get to the top, constantly on top of the market, buying
right in depressed markets and flipping when the market was at the
peak. With my business acumen and tireless efforts, I’d succeeded
where most had failed and now was developing the most prestigious
waterfronts in the world.

I looked out the window
at the California coastline, which glistened with opportunity. It was
mine for the taking.

Maria came back. “Your
signature, Mr. Anderson.” She had cute dimples, and a nice round
ass. It was good to see her five mornings a week.

I looked again at the
coastline that I planned to develop. I wanted Jim to help me lead the
company to more profits, but Hunter was acting like a spoiled brat. I
couldn’t stop thinking he had some plan up his sleeve. I’d have
to watch him closely. It was already second nature for me to be
paranoid--I’d been accused of that many times--but keeping my wits
about me had saved me in some very tight spots.

This weekend was the
annual office party. Even though I’d been here for years, I still
couldn’t get used to the food people wanted served. Of course we
had fish and chips in England, but not the varieties of burgers,
fried chicken, and hot dogs that were so popular here. Perhaps after
a few beers I could smooth things over with Hunter. It was never good
to have the feeling that you always had to watch your back. And I was
happy to work with him and there was more than enough work and profit
to go around. Hunter would just have to get used to having a new
boss.

I signed the bill, and
left a good tip. They deserved it.

I’d taken over plenty
of other companies and the politics of this place were nothing new.
It was much less rough than the streets of my hometown on a good day.
Hunter didn’t know who he was dealing with, and I hoped he wouldn’t
push me too hard. Otherwise, he was going to learn the consequences
of messing with a real boss who wasn’t related to you. And it
wouldn’t be pretty.

Amy

Unpacking the last of
the boxes, I surveyed my store. Some might call it small--I liked to
say
intimate
. My obsession with all things paper started
because of my dad: when I was a kid, I would always be envious of my
parents’ huge stacks of mail, so he sent me postcards from
everywhere he went, even if it was just down the street. He would buy
them from the drugstore on Ocean Avenue and write me long messages,
pretending that he was on a long adventure. Whenever he’d pass a
flea market or thrift store, he would always make time to stop and
pick up some more postcards, until I had an enormous collection. From
there I’d started collecting beautiful paper, envelopes, pens. Now
my obsession had grown into my very own boutique. It was a dream come
true. I only wished my dad could see it.

I’d been able to
secure a bank loan (scary! And so adult!) and built up a bunch of
commissions, so that when I opened my store,
Sealed With A Kiss
,
a stationary and gift store, I’d already have some customers. And
just in time, as Luke might need help with spending money at college.
My mom was going to foot the tuition, thank god, but I wanted him to
have some cash and I didn’t want him to work full time like I had
all through school or have to ask
her
. He deserved to have the
time and energy to devote to his classes, and to have a good time.
With my calligraphy skills and graphic design degree and with wedding
season just around the corner, I was ready to make this business
really successful. I just hoped it all worked out, and I bet the bank
did too.

I already had a few
commissions, but the first felt fitting for a new store. A baby
shower. I sat down at the desk near the cash register, and began
looking through the different paper options in pale yellow—they
didn’t know if it was a boy or girl, so yellow was the neutral pick
of the season. As I began playing with the different papers, and
arranging them in a new and special way, I’d decided to do a weave
of my favorite papers to make it really special. I cut thin strips
and started to weave the paper together, which I’d later use as a
template on Photoshop for the card’s background. I’d then print
it on high quality paper for texture, and it would be unique. I got
lost in the repetitive motion of the weave and hardly noticed when
the bell on the door jingled. I looked up, just as Hunter walked in
the door, holding two steaming cups of coffee.

“I couldn’t
remember how you took your coffee. This one is black, this one has
cream. I’ve got some sugars in my back pocket.” He gestured with
his chin to the back of his tight pants. He did have a great ass, but
no matter how hot he was, there was no way I was going to reach into
his back pocket. “Happy Grand Opening,” he said with a smile.

“Soft opening,” I
corrected. “I still have a bunch of things to put out,” I said,
gesturing to all of the unpacked boxes behind me. “Thanks for the
coffee. I have this invite I need to work on, and I didn’t make any
this morning.” I stood up and took the coffee with cream. I took a
long sip and closed my eyes, breathing in my favorite smell and
gathering myself. Just what I needed—to get the day started, with
him
coming in. I didn’t want to show him he had any effect
on me, especially since he clearly had a girlfriend.

“The store looks
fantastic. I actually need a card for my mom. It’s her birthday.”
Hunter walked towards the card section. I had a few of those whirly
round card displays, and I’d made it up a few days before, but
there were still a few cards I hadn’t put out. I thought about Mrs.
Morgan and her style and knew the card that would be just right for
her. I looked through one of the partially unpacked boxes until I
found what I needed. “How about this one?” I asked. On the card’s
cover was a bouquet of flowers, hand painted by a local artist.

Hunter walked closer.
“Perfect,” he said, his eyes on me instead of the card. I felt
myself blushing, so I quickly walked back to the cash register. “I
feel silly charging you. Do you need a bag?” He shook his head no,
and took the card from my hand. His fingers gently touched the side
of my hand. The familiar charge of electricity ran through my
fingers. His phone rang. He looked at the ID and said he had to get
it and that he’d be right back.

He left and stood
outside the door, pacing back and forth. He frowned in the way he
always did when he was stressed but I couldn’t hear what he was
saying. I wondered who he was talking to. Maybe someone at work? Just
as my curiosity was waning, his voice tripled in volume. He wasn’t
yelling, not quite, but I could hear the intensity in his tone. I
couldn’t make out everything, but I heard him say that “he’d
get it,” and “he wouldn’t be late.” If he hadn’t been so
loud, I’d still think it was something related to some property,
but who talks like that to colleagues?

He walked back in and
his eyes looked tense, angry and a bit wary. He obviously still had
the call on his mind, but just as I was about to ask him what was
wrong, he came around the counter and stood close behind me. “What’s
that?” He pointed toward the invites and the complicated weave I
had only half finished. His hot breath tickled the back of my neck. I
could also feel the edge of his hip pressing lightly into my lower
back. Despite myself, I couldn’t help but remember all of those
great nights we had together in high school, when he was pressed up
behind me just like this.

I slowly turned toward
him. Our faces were so close that our noses almost touched. Why was
he flirting with me, since he obviously was with Jennifer? To break
the tension, I handed him the work I’d done on the shower
invitation, placing it between us to give me some space. I was
relieved when he stepped back. He might be damn attractive, and
thoughtful by bringing me coffee, but I didn’t want him back in my
life in that way.

“You have a great
eye,” he said holding the pattern up to the light. I ducked my head
down in embarrassment. “No really, you have a lot of talent.” I’m
not good with compliments.

The bell on the door
chimed merrily, announcing the entrance of a few middle-aged women,
who started browsing the still incomplete journal section.

I smiled over at them.
I was glad to see new customers, and happy that they were
interrupting this moment with Hunter. Somehow just being near him,
made my thoughts all muddled, and I could feel myself beginning to
obsess about the past and why he had broken up with me. I didn’t
want to be thinking like that.

At that minute, Pamela,
the owner of
Curve
, a boutique down the street and my former
employer, walked in. She looked as bright as always—she insisted on
wearing only super colorful outfits. Today, she’d outdone herself.
A purple top with a pretty floral pattern in a lighter lilac,
sweeping silk pants in gold, and purple shoes. She somehow always
made the look work.

“Amy, the store is so
lovely. I can’t wait to make my first of many purchases,” Pamela
cooed as she walked into the stationary area.

Hunter took that as his
cue to leave. “Well Amy, I’ll take this and let you be, although
it would be great to see you sometime.” He touched my hand again.
“I’ll take you out to dinner.”

Jamie always told me I
didn’t say yes enough to new experiences. And while Hunter still
had an almost irresistible charm and confidence, I couldn’t risk my
heart again with him, and besides, I don’t date men who are in
relationships. Maybe I’d misinterpreted his relationship? This is
the kind of thinking that makes Jamie yell at me.
You’re not
agreeing to marriage, just having dinner.

I took a deep breath.

“That’d be great.”
I paused as my heart started beating too fast. “But I don’t
know.”

“Come on, Ames,” he
hummed. “I’ll pick you up. For old times’ sake.” Again he
squeezed my hand. I felt a rush of heat to my face, and I bet I was
blushing again. I felt like a teenager. Even though I didn’t
understand his intentions, it felt good to be having this attention
again. But I wasn’t the kind of girl to date someone in a
relationship. Before I agreed I needed to know if Jennifer was in the
picture.

“Hunter, I’d love
to. Will Jennifer come?” I asked.

He looked surprised.
“No,” he said. “Why would she?” As I opened my mouth to
explain, he nodded knowingly. “Oh—this is about the barbeque,
isn’t it? Yeah—sorry about that. She was being weird. We dated a
year or two ago, but not anymore. I guess for her old habits die
hard. But anyway, no, I was thinking this dinner would just be us,
catching up.”

Even if we were just
going out as friends, I felt relieved. “Ok.”

We’d catch up and
that would be the end of it.

Ryan

I sat at my desk all
morning and most of the afternoon, planning the project on Ocean. By
three in the afternoon, I still hadn’t had lunch. It was just this
one last permit to be obtained holding me up. There had been so much
red tape before I could start to build the business center, but we
were almost there. Making phone calls, improving our projections, and
making people see that this was a goldmine opportunity was keeping me
busy. It would be the first of its kind within fifty miles. Perfect
for business retreats and conferences.

I had a wonderful
colleague, Jenna, whose instincts and analysis were invaluable. I
never cut corners or took chances. Everything was carefully
researched, fact-checked, and sourced before I made any decisions. I
was decisive, but only when equipped with the best information. She
made sure I had it. But I’d just made a deal with the connecting
waterfront to Solana Beach, and if all went well, I’d start the new
project soon after, heading towards Del Mar. I was anxious to get
things going. The center was just the beginning. It was just a few
local politicians that needed to be wined and dined—they were
adverse to change and needed to keep their ecologically friendly face
to the public. What I needed to do was convince Congressman Richards
that the development would bring in badly needed money into the area,
jobs, and a real future. If I could get him, he could convince the
city council holdouts of the worthiness of my plan. Maybe it wasn’t
ideal for the birds, the fish, but it was for the people.

The phone rang.

“Mr. Anderson, Jim
Morgan on the line.” I picked up right away.

“Ryan, still having
trouble with Congressman Richards,” Jim said. “He’s a stubborn
one. There is that fundraiser at the public school on Thursday. I was
going to go, but I’m thinking we should try you with him.”

Mr. Morgan hadn’t
been able to secure Richards support as quickly as most of the
others. I’d go to the fundraiser, and I’d have to think about how
I was going to make him invested in the development. MORGAN
properties’ was sponsoring a table. Maybe I could successfully
pitch the project over dinner. I could make them see that developing
the entire coastline would make California more like the French
Riviera or Italian coast, increasing the livelihood of its residents
and the value of their property.

“Good idea. I’ll
go.”

I had a sense that
Congressman Richards didn’t trust me, and that was why Jim was
having so much trouble. I needed the man to see sense.

But first, lunch. I
could send my assistant out, but I hadn’t left my desk all morning,
and anyway, I needed some fresh air.