Magnolia Blossoms (5 page)

“What did that poor pig ever do to you?” he jokes. I don’t answer because I’m still out of breath from my rage fest. He surveys the damage; his gaze fixes on the overturned tractor. “Want to talk about it?”

I shake my head.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

I shrug.

“Can I help you?”

“I don’t think anyone can help me,” I say, holding back the sob that wants to come. It plants itself firmly in my throat as a gigantic lump.

“Mags, I don’t really know you, but I can tell you this, if you want help, you have to be unafraid to ask for it. Would you like my help?”

“Jace, why are you here?”

“My partner is new, and he forgot a piece of equipment at one of our calls. I’ve been retracing our route, hoping to find it. You haven’t seen an oxygen cylinder around here, have you?”

“I don’t recall seeing one,” I answer truthfully.

“Damn. Okay,” he says with a sigh. “Thanks.”

“Jace.”

He’s rubbing the back of his neck with his palm. “Yeah?” he asks, preoccupied.

“Do you really think you can help me fix this mess?” I ask.

“What? Oh, yeah. Of course. No problem.” He pulls out his cell phone and places a call to a friend of his who owns a wrecker truck. “Lee will be here in about an hour or so. He’s on a call, but he promises to head this way as soon as he finishes up.”

“Thanks,” I say, starting to feel a little more optimistic.

“No problem. Want to tell me what the pig leg is doing over here?” he asks.

“It stinks, so I was trying to toss it into the water.”

“With the tractor?”

“No, at first, I used my scooter, but that didn’t go so well.” I lift my turtleneck to show my midriff, and Jace sucks in a breath.

“What is that from? Is that a rope burn?”

I nod, and he tries his best not to laugh. Slowly lowering my shirt, I turn to walk away from him. He touches my shoulder.

“Maggie, you had to know that wouldn’t end well, right?”

I hold my hand out towards the sunken tractor. “I have a history of not thinking things through before acting upon my ideas.”

“I can see that. Okay, hand me those gloves from over there, please.” He puts on the black dot gloves, claps his hands together a couple of times, and then shrugs his shoulders to limber up. Squatting low, he lifts the remains and easily tosses them into the water. How it’s possible to be turned on by watching a man lift rotting pig, I have no clue, but I’m hot with desire. He misreads my flushed skin, rapid breathing, and closed eyes as something entirely different. “Let me wash up, and I’ll assess that wound better. Is it causing you much pain?”

It really isn’t, but a living, breathing human being without colonies of acne and visible skidmarks is willing to help me! I’m all over it!

“Upstairs?” he asks, pointing towards my apartment. There is no way in hell that I’m letting him into my porn cave.

“No. The house, please,” I say, opening the side door for him to walk through. We pass Sunny’s art studio, and continue down the hallway until the house opens to a large kitchen/living room combo. Standing behind Jace, I take full advantage of his preoccupation with soaping up to give him a thorough scan. His short, dark blond hair looks freshly shorn. In fact, all of the other times I’d seen him, he looked that way. He must be at the barber once a week. His tanned neck disappears beneath the collar of his dark button up shirt, and my gaze travels to his thick, broad shoulders. I want to run my hands over them so badly… to massage them, kiss them, playfully sink my teeth into them.

“You okay?” Jace asks, snapping me back to reality.

“Uh, yeah. Fine,” I say, trying to hide my embarrassment.

“Where can I throw this?” he asks, holding wadded up used paper towels.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Over there,” I say, pointing to the cabinet door to his right. He tosses it, and with a slight chuckle, he asks to see my wound.

“It’s not funny,” I snap defensively.

“I’m sorry. You have to know that I try like hell to remain professional when it comes to medicine, but Mags, darling, it’s very hard to do that with you.”

“Are you saying that I’m the only accident-prone person you’ve ever encountered in your however many years of being a medic?”

“No way. Far from it. Let’s just say that you’re the most memorable.”

“Really? I’m memorable? Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I’m not sure,” he says, nodding his head towards the sofa. “I’m thinking it’s bad for you, since you generally wind up injured. The doctors did great job replacing your teeth and such.”

“Yeah, Big Daddy is still bitching about that bill,” I reply, taking a seat.

He looks thoughtful for a moment. “Your parents, they’re pretty… I mean your mom teaches nude art lessons, and your dad is famous for his court theatrics. I’d imagine that life gets pretty hard for you sometimes. Almost like they overshadow your existence, right?”

At first I’m relieved because someone actually understands where I’m coming from, but then I feel embarrassed. Who wants to admit that she’s nothing, a complete nobody, in the eyes of everyone—including her parents?

“They’re eccentric, but I know they love me,” I answer, hoping he’ll change the subject.

“I’m sure they do,” he replies with a nod. “Is it okay if I raise your shirt to get a look at your abdomen?”

Lying back on the sofa, I agree. His fingers grip the hem of my turtleneck, slowly pulling it higher and higher until it rests just below my breasts. I’m instantly covered in goose bumps.

“Cold?” he asks, sitting beside me on the sofa. I nod, though these goose bumps don’t have a damned thing to do with temperature. I try to keep my breathing calm and steady as his fingers trace the abrasion that mars the milky skin of my upper abdomen. “Any pain?”

“No, nothing serious. Just sore,” I finally get out. He closes one eye and gives me a look that says,
Are you sure?
I nod.

“Okay. If anything changes, make sure you get checked out,” he says, pulling my shirt back down.

“I will. Thank you,” I say, rising to my feet. “Can I get you something to eat or drink?” I ask, desperate to come up with a reason to get him to stay a little longer.

“No thanks, I’m good. I need to find that missing cylinder. Lee should be here shortly, and he’ll take care of that tractor situation.”

I follow Jace to his truck. “Thanks for everything,” I say as he opens the door to climb in.

“No problem. Hey, do me a favor, Mags. Make sure you’re completely healed before partaking in your next adventure, okay? And please, don’t let that adventure be skydiving,” he chides.

I playfully roll my eyes since arching my eyebrows is out of the question. “Consider it done,” I say, closing his door for him. Pain instantaneously travels from my finger, up my arm, to my brain, which tells me to yowl. Tears well in my eyes. “My finger! Oh, my God! My finger’s caught in the door!”

He throws it open, knocking me in the forehead with the window frame in the process. I collapse to the ground. “Fuck! Magnolia. I’m so sorry.” He’s anxiously assessing the damage. “Don’t move.”

He pulls a medic bag from his truck, and after tearing a couple of gauze squares from their packages, he plants them in my hand and tells me to hold them tightly against my forehead. That’s when I realize I’m bleeding. Good thing I’m already on the ground. I don’t even manage a single word before I faint.

A cool breeze is blowing on my face, and my body feels as though it’s gently swaying from side to side. I want to be on my pretend deserted island with Jace, but instead, I’m lying in a small rowboat with my head resting in his lap. His only clothing is a tattered pair of pants, while I’m scantily clad in a homemade bandeau top and skirt made of a few worn strips of fabric. He gently strokes my long, flowing hair as water, the same color of his eyes, softly laps against the small vessel. We’re in the middle of nowhere, yet we’re not fearful. We’re incredibly relaxed, soaking up the cool evening air while delighting in the mere presence of each other.

Smiling down at me, his finger playfully traces down my forehead, over the tip of my nose, and softly across each of my lips. I sigh with content, and taking his hand in mine, I place it on one of my breasts. I feel his leg muscles contract and tighten.

“You like the way they feel, don’t you?” I tease.

“Maggie,” he breathes. I roll so I can run my hands up the length of his legs. He’s so tense and hard as my palm caresses each and every bump leading to the prize at the apex of his thighs
. “Maggie,” he calls louder.

“Don’t worry, baby. I won’t stop until I reach the top,” I say with a smirk.

“Maggie, you need to wake up.”

My eyes fly open to see Jace jammed up against the driver’s side door panel so close that it looks as though he is being smashed by some invisible force. My hands are near his crotch, and it takes me all of half a second to figure out what I’d done. I hide my face in my hands.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to… I’m so embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed about what? Fainting? Don’t be. It happens pretty often.”

“Fainting? Why are you all scrunched up against the door?” I ask.

“You started to make some pretty strange noises while you were out. I was scared you were going to vomit. The truck, I can clean. Myself? Well, let’s just say that I’m not a fan of being puked on.”

“So I didn’t do anything else?”

Jace looks at me like I’m crazy. “Like what? You’ve been out cold. I picked up you after you fainted and put you in my truck. We’re almost to the urgent care clinic.”

“Oh.” The memory of everything that had occurred pre-fainting spell suddenly comes back to me, and I realize I’m in pain. Lots of pain! My head and finger are throbbing. I try to see how bad the damage is to my smashed finger, but I discover that Jace has bandaged it.

“It’s better that way. You don’t want to see it,” he says.

“It’s that bad?” I ask, suddenly feeling lightheaded again.

“No, it’s not bad at all. Swollen and discolored, with a little blood. It’s the little bit of blood that I don’t want you seeing.”

“You’re right. It’s probably best that it stays covered,” I say, pulling it back to my chest.

“Exactly,” Jace agrees, taking his eyes from the road long enough to give me a quick wink.

Once we’re parked, I try to jump out of the truck, but Jace insists that I sit for a while so I won’t crash to the ground once my feet hit the parking lot pavement. He stands in front of me until he’s certain that I’m steady on my feet, and he keeps an arm snaked around my waist as we walk into the clinic.

“Big J! Whaddup? You guys implementing casual weekends at the office or something?” a young man wearing navy blue scrubs asks.

“Not quite, Ben. Off duty.”

“Oh, my gosh. Just when I thought I couldn’t love you more!” a curvy brunette wearing rose colored scrubs squeals. “You’re rescuing homeless people during your time off!” She flings her arms around his neck and pelts him with kisses. “Don’t worry, ma’am. We’re going to get you fixed right on up,” she excitedly clucks. She grabs a nearby wheelchair and shoves it behind my knees. I don’t even have time to protest before being whisked down a hall and put into a room.

“Dahlia, this is Magnolia. She’s not a homeless woman I rescued, she’s…”

“Magnolia. How sweet! Isn’t it fun being named after a flower? Dahlia. Magnolia. See! I love my flower name. Don’t you love yours?” she says in cheery rapid fire. “I’m going to need you to hop on that table right there for me, okay?”

I’m not sure if it’s the stress of the day’s events, or the fact that she speaks so quickly that my brain needs time to catch up with her words, but it takes me a moment to comprehend what she’s asking. Slowly, I stand and shuffle my way towards the exam table.

“Good girl. Right on up there. You’re not allergic to anything are you, sweetheart? Jace, do you know if she’s allergic to anything?” she asks, arranging some supplies onto a tray. We both shake our heads in response. “Jace, honey, you might want to get some peroxide on those jeans. That blood’s gonna stain.”

I glance his way, and he’s got me in his arms before I hit the floor. I didn’t completely go out this time, just some simple knee buckling, but another crash to the ground would have hurt for sure. Without so much as a second thought, he lifts me onto the table.

“Whoops! I didn’t realize we had a fainter in our presence,” Dahlia says, squirting a stream of liquid from the tip of a syringe. Once she is certain the air bubble is gone, she unzips my skirt, yanks it down a couple of inches, and after a quick swipe of an alcohol pad, she sinks the needle into my hip. “This is a pain reliever. It won’t take long to kick in. I’m going to send you for an x-ray of that finger, but first, I want to see your forehead. Okay?”

Even if I wasn’t okay with it, there would be no stopping her. She pulls back the gauze, cleans out the wound, and glues it shut. I’m not sure if she takes a breath the entire time she’s working on me because she won’t stop talking. Jace seems to follow her conversation okay, but I only catch a word or two here and there.

Frustrated that I can’t keep up, I decide to completely zone out.
I’m back in the boat with Jace. Oh, yeah. Back in my happy place. This time he’s rowing the boat. I lustfully watch as each and every sweaty muscle, from his shoulders to his abdomen, contracts and relaxes as the oar cuts into the water. Feeling brazen, I sexily slow crawl toward him, and his breath catches when I lick my way up his sweaty six-pack. He tosses the oars into the boat, and taking my head in his hands, he pulls me to his lips. His passion devours me, and it’s my turn to feel breathless.

Out of nowhere, a massive wave hits, and the sky turns an ominous shade of gray. The boat is rocking so hard back and forth that we can’t keep our balance. I’m tossed overboard, and Jace jumps in to save me. The current tugs us further and further apart, and I lose sight of him. I frantically call for him, and I hear a response, but it doesn’t sound like Jace. The voice sounds oddly feminine.

“…and then I told Becky that if she thinks we’re ever shopping there again, she’s sadly mistaken. Can you believe the nerve of that salesperson? Oh, wait. Look who’s waking up! Rise and shine, porcupine! Those pain meds kicked your little hiney didn’t they? It’s okay. I’m almost finished here. Just a simple little splint for your finger. The break was hairline, so you just wear this splint for a week or so, until the soreness goes away, and you’ll be fine. You may or may not lose your fingernail. No worries if you do; it’ll grow back.”

“Huh?” I ask. Dahlia giggles.

“We’ll go over it when I bring you home,” Jace says.

“Oh, okay,” I say, suddenly flushing because I remember my dream. Jace and Dahlia give no indication that I’d been talking in my sleep, so I begin to relax.

“Thanks for seeing her, Dahlia,” he says, tapping the backrest of the wheelchair to signal that I should have a seat.

“It was my pleasure.” She bends and places her hands between her knees, so she can be face to face with me. “If you need anything, you be sure to come see me, okay? Be careful out there, Magnolia,” she says carefully enunciating each word. Great, first she thinks I’m homeless, and now she thinks I’m stupid. I simply stare at her. “Awww, she’s so sweet, Jace. I see why you took a liking to her. We all have that one special patient who stays near and dear to us. Bless her heart. You take care, now.” She pats my shoulder. None of that bothers me until she goes on tiptoe and steals a kiss from Jace. Well, I guess it’s not technically stealing since he very obviously returns the sign of affection. I look down at my splinted finger, fighting the urge to cry.

Why do I feel this way about a man I barely even know? Maybe it’s because he’s the only man who has ever acknowledged my existence, to pay attention to me, to talk to me, not at me? Whatever it is, seeing him in the arms of another woman hurts me to my core, but I chastise myself for thinking this way. There is no way in hell a man like Jace would ever in a million years want to be with a screw-up like me. The only way he’ll ever be mine is in my dreams, and the sooner I accept that fact, the less it will hurt.

I manage to thank Dahlia before we leave the urgent care clinic, and she gives me a big hug in return. I’m not sure if I like her or hate her at this point. Jace drives me home, and despite my insistence, he remains parked in the driveway, his headlights concentrated on me, as I walk up the steps to my apartment.
One together, two together…
Shit! I miss a step, but catch myself before I take a tumble. He’s at my side in no time.

“I’m fine. Really. It was just a missed step. That’s why I always keep a death grip on the rail. See? I caught myself. You can leave now. I’m fine.” That’s what I say out loud. Inside my mind is screaming,
Leave! Leave now!
I can’t remember if I picked up my naughty stuff! No one ever visits my apartment, so I leave private things lying about. Not to mention trying to explain my boob wall to someone. Geez! If I see a pair that I like, I cut them out of magazines, or print pictures of them, and pin them to my wall in the hopes that one day I’ll be rich and brave enough to afford a pair for myself.

He insists on seeing me inside, and despite my protests, he won’t leave. FUCK! I slowly open the door to the apartment, and as is true with human nature, he casually glances around. His eyes instantly settle on my boob wall, and I will the floor to swallow me. Beet red, I look anywhere but at him. In doing so, I notice a porn disc sitting on top of my DVD player, a bullet vibrator and some oil on my nightstand, and the arm of the blowup doll I use to practice kissing skills sticking out from under my bed.

What can one say after such a find? That’s why it doesn’t upset me in the least when Jace turns on his heel, offers a half-assed wave, and disappears into the darkness. If I ever see him again, it will be too soon. There’s simply no coming back from what has just happened to me.

Just because I don’t want to see him in the flesh anymore, doesn’t mean I want him gone from my life. The scent of his cologne still hangs in the air, and if I close my eyes, it’s almost as if he is with me. I can easily picture the sight of him. I pull off my skirt and turtleneck and slip under the covers. I pull Mr. Loverboy, the blowup doll, from under my bed, gently tucking him in next to me. I rest my head on his shoulder, and eventually, I’m back on the beach with Jace.

When I awaken the next morning, curled in the arms of the blowup doll, the realization hits that I desperately need a man. A
real
man. If I can land a companion, then I won’t need to become a serial killer to gain attention.

I’m happy when that thought crosses my mind, since it’s pretty damned obvious that I’m not cut out to be a murderer. So, how do I get a man? I have no girlfriends to ask. Dahlia said I could see her if I had any problems, but I don’t think that urgency to lose your virginity is what she implied with that statement. Not to mention the fact that Jace has probably told her all about my stash. I need a better plan. Who knows the most about landing a man?

After a few minutes of mulling it over, my eyes light up. A prostitute! They know everything about landing men. I rush over to the freezer and open the box that used to hold fish sticks, but now holds my savings. I’m sure that it’s plenty enough to buy some consultation time with a prostitute. I’ve watched enough TV to know that I’ll be charged, even if I only want to talk. I will have to make it worth her time, at least that’s what I remember seeing on some show.

Now, where to find a prostitute? That one might take me some time to figure out. In the meantime, I stay confined to my apartment, eating nearly everything in sight from the sheer nervousness of my upcoming encounter. I have no clue what to expect. Julia Roberts was super nice as a prostitute in
Pretty Woman
, the women on the TV show “Cops,” not so much. Regardless, I’ll have to wait until I don’t look like one of the Coneheads before venturing out. Eyebrows and hair might help the man-hunt along just a tad.