Fate Interrupted (10 page)

Ben pushed
through the swinging door, holding Darth Vader’s head on a platter. He stopped
and followed everyone’s gaze. “You must be Steve,” he said, carefully setting
the head in the glass case and extending his hand. “I’m Ben, Brooke’s husband.”

“Hey, Ben,” Dean
replied, shaking his hand.

“It’s Dean,”
Brooke corrected out the corner of her mouth.

“Oh,
Dean
, sorry, man,” Ben said, glancing at
his wife. “You’re right; he does kind of look like Bradley Cooper, but way
taller.” He leaned forward like he was about to tell Dean an important secret.
“Those Hollywood types are always little hobbits in real life. Trust me, I’ve
been to LA.”

Dean pointed to the
Darth Vader. “Is that a cake?”

Ben followed the
point and nodded.
“Billy Jefferson’s ninth birthday
tomorrow.”

“That is
amazing. It looks just like his head!”

Ben chuckled
shyly. “Thanks, man.”

“Assorted?” Evy
asked, holding up an empty pastry box.

Dean’s eyes
darted over to her. “That’d be great.”

“So, Dean,” Ben
said, folding his beefy arms across an Avenged Sevenfold t-shirt.
“You from around here?”

“Born and
raised.”

“Hey, do you
know if that Jeffrey
Dahmer
tour is still going on
anymore? I can’t find out much about it online.”

“And that’s my cue,”
the black lady said, grabbing her blueberry muffin and drink. “Thank you,
ladies,” she sang out.

“Thank you, Mrs.
Johansen,” Brooke and Evy said at the same time in airy voices.

Brooke watched
Mrs. Johansen disappear outside and turned to her husband.
“Ben,
stop being so creepy!”

“What? I’m just
trying to catch up on my Milwaukee history.”

“Then go to a
brewery,” she snapped.

Ben turned to
Dean and rolled his eyes.

Dean laughed. “I’m
not exactly sure about the tour,” he said, watching Evy fill his box and
wanting to return the favor.

“Huh,” Ben
muttered. “We did the Charles Manson tour last year in LA and it was insane.”

Dean lifted his
brow. “I bet.”

“It was like you
could still feel their ghosts at those houses,” Ben whispered, shivering with
the chills. “You believe in ghosts, Dean?”

Dean’s eyebrows
drew together. “
Ummm
, well, one time my TV turned on
in the middle of the night.”

Ben’s eyes
widened. “I’ve got an EVP recorder. You want me to come by sometime?”

“EVP?”

Ben nodded.
“Electronic Voice Phenomenon.”

Dean swallowed
dryly.

Evy pushed past
Ben and came around the counter. “Let’s go outside.”

“We should grab
a beer sometime,
Deano
,” Ben hollered over the
counter. “I’ll take some readings!”

Dean shot a hand
into the air, following Evy out front where four tables and chairs made up a
small sidewalk café. She set the pastry box on a table and pulled out a white
chair. He took off his jacket and sat down, watching the breeze tickle her hair.

“Wow, that
wasn’t embarrassing or anything.”

“He seems like a
good guy.”

“He needs to
stop asking people about that Jeffrey
Dahmer
stuff.
Even I know it’s a sensitive subject around here.”

“Well, he
doesn’t seem like the type to be as interested in the
Fonzie
statue.”

She giggled
softly. “You’re right.”

“So are Brooke
and Ben from Des Moines as well?”

Evy nodded.

“What brought
em
here?”

“Ben was a
tattoo artist with this huge guy named Hicks at a parlor in Des Moines. Hicks
is originally from Milwaukee and wanted to move back home to open his own shop
with his cousin and Ben as partners. Ben was
soooo
excited about it.”

“No wonder his
cakes are so detailed. Guy’s got skills.”

“Yeah, Ben is
incredible, and they found the perfect spot right here in downtown, but Hicks
ended up getting into a bar fight the night before they were supposed to sign
the lease.”

“Uh-oh.”

Evy nodded grimly.
“He’s still got three years left to serve in prison.”

“Wow, he must’ve
messed someone up pretty good.”

“Smashed
a pint glass into some guy’s face over an argument about football.”

“Holy
shit.”

“Poor guy had to
have a hundred and forty stitches and several rounds of reconstructive
surgery.”

“What happened
to the tattoo shop?”

“When Hicks went
to prison it fell through.”

Dean cocked his
head to one side. “So Ben opened a dessert bar instead?”

“Well, Sugars
had been one of the places they had looked at for the tattoo shop but it had a
kitchen they didn’t need. Meanwhile,
Brooke
had always wanted to start her own bakery and Ben immediately thought of this
place.” Evy gazed at their reflection in Sugars’ front window and smiled. “He
said he kept seeing her baking brownies in that kitchen. And when the dessert
bar aspect came into play they found something they could enjoy doing together,
like it was meant to be.”

“He must really
love her.”

Her hand found
his on the table. “It was such a romantic thing for him to do.”

He squeezed her
hand and stared into her eyes. “Would you settle for a dozen roses?”

She wrinkled her
brow and laughed. He wanted to kiss the nape of her neck and work his way up to
those luscious lips. They called to him without speaking and all he could think
about was getting her alone and putting his hands all over her. She grinned as
if reading his mind and dropped his scorching gaze. He waited for her eyes to
find their way back to him, knowing it wouldn’t be long. She wrung her fingers
on the table in front of her and looked back up, making his heart stutter.

“Hey, what’re
you doing tonight?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

She blinked at
him. “I’m not sure. Why?”

“Let me take you
out to dinner.”

She twirled a
lock of hair around a finger, his brown eyes and messy hair awakening something
inside of her she never knew existed. Never before had she felt such heat make
her body tremble. Her sister was right, there had to be something wrong with
him.

“Just
you and me this time, and nothing too fancy.”

She nodded
before she even realized she was doing it, unable to resist him in any way,
shape, or form. It was way too late for that. “What time?”

***

Dean checked his
watch and softly knocked on Evy’s front door. Silence answered him. His senses
felt heightened, like a vampire. He could hear his heart banging against his
chest. He shifted in his stance, trying to see through the heavy wooden door like
he had x-ray vision. It was so quiet.
Too quiet.
He found
himself wondering if she was even home, wondering if she had changed her mind.
He stared at the peephole looking back at him. It looked like a light was on in
the living room so he raised his fist to knock again.

The door opened
with a loud crack as the swollen wood freed itself from the jam. He flinched with
the noise and dropped his hand to his side, trying to act cool. Her warm smile
and perfume washed over him. The front of her satin tank top
was
tucked
into a pair of jeans that complimented her hips. His eyes
traveled the length of her legs to the painted toes peeking out from some dark
blue high heels. His heart responded accordingly, sending palpitations running
amuck.

“You look...beautiful.”

She opened the
door all the way and stepped off to the side. “Thank you. So do you.”

He stepped
inside, scanning every inch of the place like a crime scene investigator,
wanting to know everything about her he possibly could.

“Well, you
passed the first test,” she said, shutting the door and locking the deadbolt.

“And what’s
that?”

“You’re not a
vampire, because I didn’t invite you in.”

“Yeah, but you
swept your hand out, which I think, technically, counts as sign language.”

A red tongue wet
her lips as she sashayed into the kitchen, her heels lightly clicking across
the tiled floor. “No biting.”

“Well, you’re no
fun,” he replied, examining some framed pictures for clues. “This is a great
place.”

“Thanks,” she
said, coming back into the room and handing him a cold bottle of beer. “Have to
park three blocks away but it has its charm.”

“And you can see
the lake.”

She followed his
gaze out an eastern facing living room window. “Barely,” she laughed, taking a
quick sip of red wine and heading into the bathroom. “Give me two minutes.”

“No hurry,” he
said, running his hand along the hand carved woodwork adorning waist high
built-ins dividing the quaint dining room from the kitchen. He bent for a
closer inspection of her books and a picture of her and Brooke with what must
be their parents. Their mom had the same dazzling green eyes, all of them
stretching smiles from ear to ear as boats whizzed past in the background. “Your
parents must be really proud of you and your sister.”

Her head popped out
of the bathroom. “They are, but they wished we would have stayed closer to
home.”

He glanced over
his shoulder and their eyes locked with some invisible bond, stronger than
anything he had ever felt before. Her gaze ran down his long-sleeved button down
to his jeans and boots. He thought he heard her sigh but wasn’t sure. She blinked
like she had just come to and ducked back into the bathroom. He gravitated
toward her, dying to know what she was doing in there, needing just one more
glimpse.

He came around
the corner of the small bathroom and leaned in the doorway, the smell of hair
spray and lotion hanging in the air. He quietly watched her brush makeup onto
her cheeks, each gentle stroke drawing him in closer.

She jumped when
she saw his reflection in the mirror and clapped a hand over her chest. “Oh my
God, you scared me,” she chuckled. Her eyes fell to the sink and a gasp escaped
her. She slid a compact-sized package of birth control pills into a drawer and
slammed it shut, flushing with color the makeup could not hide.

“Sorry,” he said,
taking a sip of beer while his eyes ravaged her entire body. “But I think
you’re messing with perfection.”

She smiled at
him in the mirror and set the brush down on the sink without looking, her eyes
piercing him with something he could not read. She turned to him and shut the
light off, her scent lighting him on fire.
“All done.”

He grabbed her by
the wrist and yanked her to him. This time he definitely heard a sigh. Her soft
body pressed up against his, her perfume enflaming his senses. They gazed into
each other’s eyes, the air charged with beauty products and expectations of
things to come, only breaking eye contact long enough to study each others’
lips. Less than three inches of space stood between him and what he wanted and
it was no match.

“I’ve been waiting
to do this all day,” he whispered, pushing his mouth onto hers, tasting the sweet
red wine on her lips.

Evy took a startled
step back and then threw her arms around his neck, sucking him into her mouth.
Her eyes closed as her wet tongue flicked against his. He pushed her back into
the bathroom and set his beer on the counter, cupping her face in his hands and
gently directing her movements to mirror his own. Dean pressed his pelvis into
her, forcing a light groan from her soul, which strengthened his resolve.

Evy parted for
breath and staggered backwards, staring at him in wild wonder, her chest
heaving beneath her shiny top. She glanced at his silhouette in the mirror and
shrank against the shower door. “What is this?”

The fear on her
face filled him with doubt, making his heart flutter. “What is what?”

Her voice shook
when she talked. “Whatever you’re doing,” she whispered.

He studied her
with grave eyes, no intentions of going back now, and pulled her into his arms.
Their faces jerked to a stop inches from one another. His fingers ran through
her soft hair as her unmatched beauty sent tremors of anticipation shooting
down his spine. He leaned in and kissed her softly, forcing himself to stop
before he drained her.

“We should probably
go.”

She swallowed
hard, her chest rising and falling. “Okay.”

He let her pass
by, inhaling her fragrance that enveloped him like a mystical spell, and
followed its trail into the living room. She took some lip-gloss from her purse
and carefully ran it across her lips. His tongue swept across his own lips, his
appetite getting wetter.