Dangerous (12 page)

“And how’re you gonna do that?” she asked, her bright green eyes watching me intensely.

And that’s why I needed to stay away from girls like Dara. They asked too many questions, wanted to dig too deep, wanted guys to talk about their feelings and all that shit that guys hate to do.

“My father owns this store. If sales don’t pick up by the end of July, he’s going to close the doors. He doesn’t think I can make the store a success, but I’m going to prove him wrong.”

And that’s why I needed to stay away from Dara, in particular. She made me want to answer her questions, staring at me with those huge, concerned eyes, making me feel like she actually cared about me.

“Your father owns it?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe you could talk him out of closing it.”

“He’s a businessman. If the venture doesn’t make money, then he gets out of it. It’s that simple. Besides, it’s more important to me to make it a success, so that he doesn’t
want
to close it, to show him that he can think what he wants, but I am not the failure he tries to make me out to be.”

“He actually tells you that you’re a failure?” I was captivated by her lips as the words softly escaped them, prying ever deeper into my psyche. What was it about them that drew my attention every time I was near her? A guy could be entranced by a pair of lips like that touching his skin. But for me, I knew it was more than that. They were
her
lips. For the first time in a long time, part of me wanted to completely open up, but I knew how that would end.

“You know what? I think I’m going to leave for a little while. Would you tell Tom that I’ll be back later?”

The corners of her mouth turned down in a slight frown. Then, she gave me a smile. “Yeah, I’ll tell him. I guess I’d better get back to work.”

She turned and went back inside, strands of her silky hair lifting in the balmy breeze. I waited until she had enough time to go back to the front of the store. Then, I stooped, picked up my cigarette butt, and walked through the kitchen and into the bathroom. I ran water over the cigarette butt and tossed it in the garbage. Then, I brushed my teeth and washed my hands to rid myself of as much of the smoke smell as possible. I grabbed my bottle of cologne from under the sink and sprayed it on my shirt. Walking back into the kitchen, I grabbed my helmet from the counter and headed back outside.

My motorcycle screamed along the black asphalt as I tried to clear my head. I had to focus on the store, on what it would take to be a success. Dara had really taken control of the Fourth of July promotion, and it was a relief to have some help in the marketing arena. Tom hated marketing, and I had to admit that she was doing a much better job with it than I could have. She had more contacts, and there was something about her that drew people in. Her gentle, quiet demeanor made people feel relaxed, safe, yet she wasn’t shy. And she was a hell of a lot prettier than Tom. Our male customers could appreciate that fact.

My shield was raised, allowing the wind to hit my face and offer some relief from the warm temperatures. I pulled the clutch and kicked my bike into a lower gear as I approached the Quail Mountain Cemetery. Not wanting to disturb the serenity of this sacred place, I slowed down as I turned in and coasted along the road, finally pulling over and parking in the cool shade offered by the overhanging branches of an oak tree. I yanked off my helmet and placed it on my mirror. Then, I walked the short distance through the granite headstones to a grave located near a large, intricately carved statue of a beautiful, winged angel.

Sitting on the freshly mown grass, I pulled my knees up in front of me and rested an elbow on each one. Grief and loneliness flooded my senses, and I closed my eyes as I attempted to regain my composure. I concentrated on the sounds around me, the birds singing in the nearby trees, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the soft hum of a lawnmower.

After a few minutes of focusing on anything and everything besides my own pent up feelings, I opened my eyes, allowing my line of vision to fall on Luke’s name, carved into the cold marbleized stone. I shivered despite the warm day as I imagined how cold everything had become since his death. His loss had rocked me to my very soul, a grief so overwhelming that I struggled to deal with it each and every day. I shook my head as if that alone were enough to shake off my disconsolate demeanor. A lump lodged in my throat, making it ache with years of anguish. Raw emotions clawed inside my gut like an aggressive hellhound, and I wished that I knew how to release them from my soul. Yet at the same time, I knew that I was only getting what I deserved. As long as I could feel the pain, then I would be justly punished for my part in his death.

I blew my breath out between clenched teeth. If only I could go back. If only I could undo my actions. This was my cold, cruel reality. I lowered my head into my palms, squeezing my temples in an attempt to get a tiny respite from the emotions that churned in my soul. I knew no relief would come. And I knew that I didn’t deserve any.

I lifted my head, trying desperately to keep the blackness that threatened to engulf me at bay. I would not succumb to the misery that was eating away at my core.

“Why the hell didn’t you fight, Luke? I needed you. Dammit, I still need you.”

I inhaled deeply, my lungs expanding with the warm July air. I concentrated on his memory, trying to conjure the sound of his voice.

I stood abruptly, feeling the need to get away from this place, to be on my bike, to forget.

Once I reached the main road, I twisted the throttle, running my bike wide open. I needed to return to the bookstore, but I found myself driving to Jess’s instead. When I pulled up in front of her house, she stepped onto the porch, having heard the motorcycle.

Sauntering toward me, she brushed her long, dark hair over her shoulder. “Hey, baby.”

I pulled off my helmet and hung it from the mirror.

She walked up to me, straddling my leg between hers as she brushed a kiss across my lips and skimmed her palms over my chest. “Wanna go back to your place?” she asked, her large, hoop earrings swaying as she spoke.

No difficult questions to answer. That’s what I liked about Jess. Dara would be asking what was wrong or how was I feeling. As Jess dropped tiny kisses near my mouth, I had the strange sensation that maybe it would be nice to have someone who was truly concerned about me.

But questions would lead to answers, and answers would lead to more questions. Eventually, she’d know more about me than she really wanted to know. I had told Dara too much already. Better that I not delude myself with dreams of grandeur. There was no rewind button. No clicking an undo arrow. This was my life, and it sucked.

“Yeah, Jess, let’s go.”

As we stood on the patio overlooking the valley, I pulled Jess against my chest and molded my lips to hers, pressing against her body as she groaned softly into my mouth. She ran her hands under my shirt, and her fingernails scraped against the flesh of my back.

“Oooh, baby, you feel so good,” she cooed against my neck.

I took a step back, and she looked at me with round, dark eyes.

I knew she wasn’t used to my rejection, but everything just felt so wrong. I chalked it up to being a freaking nightmare of a day, and I tugged her against me, kissing her with mindless abandon.

***

On the morning of the Fourth of July promotion, Dara beat me to work. The grill was out front, along with a serving table and a couple of picnic tables covered in red-and-white, vinyl,
gingham
tablecloths. Directly inside the front door, Crimson and Scarlet had a long, folding table set up with a dozen different colors of nail polish, a few colors of face paint, an assortment of brushes and combs, and a neatly stacked pile of business cards. They also had a couple of the tall stools that were usually behind the front counter lined up beside the table.

I could see Dara through the plate glass window, setting up various condiments for the hot dogs. When she came back in, she shot me a brilliant smile.

“Great. You’re here.” She walked purposefully toward me. “Isn’t this exciting?” She clapped her hands together and continued, “You’re going to grill the hot dogs. Tom will run the cash register and give out the snap-n-pops. Crimson and
Scarlet
are going to take care of the face painting, nail painting, and braiding. Miss Quail Mountain should be here in a couple of hours. I’ll help customers and take care of any random stuff.”

I admired the way she had taken charge of the event. I had hoped that my parents would be able to attend, but given the fact that they had decided to stay in Europe a while longer, I’d have to be content with proving to my father that I had enough business sense to turn things around.

“Do you really think we’ll have a good turnout?” I asked, unsure of whether this would be enough to jump start sales for July.

I hadn’t expected her to take my hand in hers. She held it, looking directly in my eyes as she spoke. “I know how important this is to you. It’s important to me, too. We’re gonna do this, Stone.”

I nodded my head. She had worked hard on this project with only minor input from me. I was practicing a lesson that my father had tried to teach me about micromanaging. He assured me that it was much more empowering to employees if the manager didn’t micromanage. Too bad he didn’t employ that same technique with me.

Judging by the way Dara had handled the project, I would say that my old man was right. Shit. I never thought I’d believe that.

“Yeah,” I agreed with her. “We are. We’re going to do it.”

After handling some last minute stocking on items that I was sure would be hot sellers, Dara shooed me out the front door to start cooking.

It wasn’t long before our first customer meandered over to the grill. It was a mother with two young children. The children chattered excitedly about the snap-n-pops they were anticipating and about the new video game their mother had promised them that they could play as soon as they finished reading a book. They all ate hot dog combos and went inside for face painting.

People continued to pour into the store. When Mike showed up, most likely to see Crimson, I put him to work at the grill while I went to check on things in the store. Customers milled around the shelves, many of them filling a basket with miscellaneous items. Crimson braided a little girl’s hair while Scarlet painted her mother’s fingernails. I spotted Dara carrying a large box from the back of the store, and I rushed toward her to help her with it. She handed it off to me.

“The shelf on the endcap with the new book is almost empty. So is the one with the brand new video game. They need to be restocked,” she said in a rush. “And I’m afraid we have a problem.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Sophie, a.k.a. Miss Quail Mountain, is running late. Her car broke down, and Chance is on his way to pick her up.” She looked at her cell phone. “She was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago, and who knows when she’ll actually arrive?”

“Your jock is coming?”

“I told you,” she snapped. “He’s not my jock.”

“Apparently, he thinks he is,” I grumbled, suddenly feeling irritable as I remembered the notes that he left on my bike.

“Stone, I don’t have time for this.”

I could hear the panic in her voice. “Take a deep breath,” I instructed. “Everything’s going great, and it’s going to be fine. I’ll take care of stocking the shelves, and you can check on everything else. Let me know if you need help.”

She blew out a quick breath, making golden strands of hair blow away from her face. “Okay.”

I looked at the panicked expression on her face, and I nodded. “It’s going to be okay,” I repeated softly.

She took another breath and exhaled slowly.
“Yeah.
You’re right. It’ll be okay.”

“You’re doing a great job,” I whispered, hoping to build her confidence and meaning every word of it.

She laid her hand on my arm. “Thank you, Stone.” Then, she was off in a flurry of motion.

I restocked the shelves as quickly as I could and filled in inventory on other shelves that were running low. Crimson and
Scarlet
had a group huddled around their table as they painted nails and faces and whatever other girl shit they were doing. I didn’t care what they were doing. Whatever it was, it seemed to be working.

While straightening inventory, I glanced up to see Dara heading toward me. “Stone, I’m going to take a quick break.”

“Sure.” As hard as she’d been working all day, I figured that she could probably use one. In fact, when she was finished, I’d need to make sure everyone had a chance to take a break. A steady flow of customers had browsed the store since we opened.

I finished what I was doing and scooped up the empty boxes at my feet. I hurried into the kitchen and broke them down, so that I could discard them in the dumpster and give Tom a break. As I pushed the back door open, I saw Dara in Chance’s arms, his lips on hers.

Shit. I stood frozen to the spot, resisting the urge to rip him away from her and pummel his nose with my fist. He had some freaking nerve leaving me notes that Dara didn’t belong with me. Maybe she didn’t, but she sure as hell didn’t belong with him, either.

Pressing my lips together and clenching my jaw, I stormed past them and dumped the cardboard in the dumpster. When I turned around, they were both staring at me.