Redhead Blitz (22 page)

Sunlight filtered through the paper accordion shades of Sean’s bedroom.
 
Gigi
sipped from her mug of coffee and admired the delicious man sprawled naked across the bed.
 
She was tucked comfortably into a brown plaid chair that sat in the corner by the window.
 
It epitomized Early American Ugly.
 
The man needed new furniture in the worst way.

After washing up, she’d donned one of his dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up, made coffee and taken a peek around the first floor.
 
Awful furnishings aside
——
apart from the expensive television in the living room, the place screamed
Animal House——
the house was quite charming.

Her gaze returned to Sean.
 
He made his queen-sized bed look small.
 
She smiled, remembering their mutual declarations of love and last-night’s love-making.
 
Never had she felt any measure of contentment close to this.
 
But never before had she been in love.

As her gaze drifted to the covered window, she wondered what was happening with Al and Annie.
 
They’d both been so unhappy.
 
Whatever the outcome, she hoped her neighbor returned soon.
 
She missed her.

“Hey.”
 
Sean’s voice was gravelly as he pushed up on his elbows.
 
“Do I smell coffee?”

“You do.”
 
She moved to the side of the bed and held her mug out to him.
 
He took a couple sips and then stretched to set it on the nightstand.

“You know, as much as I love that first cup of coffee in the morning, I’d love waking up with you in my arms even more.”
 
He patted the bed beside him.
 
“You’re too far away.”

She took one step back.
 
“Not this time.
 
If I get any closer we both know what will happen.”
 
She grinned.
 
“I’m starving and I’ve got pancake batter ready to go.”
 
She headed toward the door.
 
“Meet me in the kitchen.”

Minutes later, as she stood by the stove, Sean’s hands twined around her from behind.
 
The man was semi-aroused already.
 
Turning in his arms, she kissed him.
 
He tasted of toothpaste and coffee.
 
The kiss deepened before she remembered her task.

“Whoops.”
 
She pushed him away and hurriedly flipped the browning pancakes.
 
“You get the plates.”

Later, as they finished eating, Sean was noticeably quiet.
 
He’d polished off seven pancakes, so she didn’t think her cooking was the problem.
 
Something else was causing his uncharacteristic reserve.

She grasped the back of his hand, curling her fingertips into his palm.
 
“What’s wrong?”

He pushed his plate away and met her gaze.
 
“I hope you’ll forgive me for this.”

And before she could ask what he needed to be forgiven for, he knelt next to her chair.
 
Surprise and shock held her unmoving.

“I wanted to do this in some romantic setting.
 
You deserve the best, with me wearing a suit and not just a pair of boxers, but I don’t want to wait another minute.”
 
He took her hands in his and all her worry dissolved.
 
“Will you marry me,
Gigi
?
 
I want to fall asleep with you in my arms and wake up with you each morning.”

With his chin lowered, he studied her face.
  
“We can have a long engagement, no problem.
 
Or we could fly to Vegas next weekend.
 
Whatever you want.
 
But at the very least, I want you to move in with me.
 
Today, if you’re willing.
 
I love you and having you here would make me happy.”

Tears of joy blurred her vision, and she threw her arms around his neck.
 
Moving in would made her happy, too.

“That depends.” Her boundless joy spilled over into a bit of teasing.
 
“Would I have carte blanche about what stays and what goes?”
 
She straightened and gestured at the rickety table and mismatched chairs.

He laughed and rose to his feet, pulling her into his arms.
 
“All I want is you,
Gigi
.”
 
They kissed long and hard.
 
And afterwards, taking advantage of her breathlessness, he added, “Just you and my television.”

The End

If you’d like to read Heidi and
Rafe’s
story, look for SERVICING RAFFERTY at SamhainPublishing.com or wherever you buy electronic romance books.

As my way of thanking you for purchasing REDHEAD BLITZ, on the next page I’ve included the following bonus vignette.
 
Enjoy! -
 
Janie
 

WORTH THE WAIT

By

Janie Mason

“What in the world have I done?”
 
Annie Marcum didn’t know what had caused her steak of impetuousness.
 
Some weird allergic reaction?
 
An astrological phenomenon?
 
Temporary insanity brought on by standing too close to microwaves?
 
This recklessness had started weeks ago and was still going strong.

Staring into the bathroom mirror, she barely recognized herself.
 
Ordinarily, she would have bet her favorite pair of reading glasses—and wasn’t
that
depressing—that she was the most level-headed person within a five-hundred mile radius of Greenville, Ohio.
 
So what in God’s name had possessed her to cross the threshold of the
Hot Hair Salon
and tell the stylist to
go for it
?

She fingered the tips of her light brown hair.
 
It was so short.
 
Well, not as short as a man’s cut, but weekend pony tails were a thing of the past.
 
The layered cut had looked great on the model in the magazine, but Annie didn’t know whether she’d ever get used to it.
 
She’d worn either a French twist or a pony tail since Josh was born twenty-six years ago.

“Are you insane?” she asked her reflection.
 
You’re a forty-seven year old widow, not a twenty something fashion model.”
 
She continued fingering her hair, still stunned that the stylist had been able to talk her into adding blond highlights to the medium brown color she’d used for years.

“People aren’t going to recognize you.”
 
But as she said the words, they sunk in like an anchor tossed into the sea.
 
Would that be such a bad thing?
 
She figured if she was sick of herself the way she was, maybe other people were, too.

Still toying with her hair, she tried to study her appearance through a stranger’s eyes.
 
The blond highlights did make her look as if she’d spent the summer months outside in the sunshine rather than in an office under fluorescent lighting.
 
Her complexion was fresh and healthy, due in part to the long walks she’d been taking in the hills surrounding the cabin.
 
And although there was no scale in the bathroom, the looseness of her slacks confirmed she’d lost weight in the past few weeks.
 
Too bad she’d had to go through a major identity crisis for
that
to happen.

She flipped off the overhead light, went out to the great room and tossed another log into the stone fireplace.
 
Lately she’d had trouble keeping warm.
 
Since the cabin was nestled amongst the thick woods of Hocking Hills, tomorrow morning she’d have to either hike along the road or down the trail to the lake to soak in any sunshine.

With dusk approaching, Annie tilted all the interior shutters closed and heated a can of soup.
 
It was hard to be inspired, cooking for one.
 
Later she poured a second glass of wine and curled up in her dad’s ancient leather chair, anticipating yet another quiet evening with no solid ideas about what direction her life should take.

Lost in memories, she let herself become entranced by the flames.
 
Quitting her assistant’s job at the high school had been the Mount Everest of knee-jerk reactions.
 
But something inside her had snapped when she’d heard Al preaching his sermon about the sins of inter-office relationships to poor Sean Fitzgerald.
 
She’d waited until she and Al were alone in the office to make her thoughts on the matter known, but her whirling emotions had skyrocketed like a launched missile.
 
Loose lips sink ships; wasn’t
that
the truth.
 
In a matter of minutes, her unguarded words had changed the course of her life and here she was, metaphorically drifting at sea in a leaky lifeboat.

In an attempt to blink away reality, she turned on her e-book reader and watched the small screen flicker to life.
 
But although the romantic suspense novel was well written, she couldn’t fix her mind on anything other than the uncertainty of her situation.
 
No job, with no real desire to search for another.
 
Not that she needed to right away.
 
She’d invested the insurance money after Jack’s death wisely and tended toward frugality, so finding employment wasn’t urgent.
 
If Josh wasn’t so busy, she’d fly out to Scottsdale to visit her son.
 
But this was his company’s year end and, as a CPA, he was putting in a lot of overtime.
 
Maybe she should look into taking some classes.
 
But as quickly as the idea came, it fizzled.
 
Some adults enjoyed the challenge of college classes, but Annie had no desire to become a student again.

She set her e-book reader and glasses aside, pulled the plackets of her cardigan together and allowed the crackling fire to lull her to sleep.

Al Matthews cursed the darkness for the hundredth time and switched on the bright setting of his headlights.
 
Unfortunately, with trees lining both sides of the gravel road, this stretch looked exactly the same as the previous mile.
 
Earlier, when he’d finally realized his
Mapquest
directions were as helpful as a bullhorn at a funeral, he’d stopped to ask the way.
 
The old man behind the counter at
Martha’s Bait and Videos
had been near impossible to understand with that mouth full of chewing tobacco.
 
Al thought he’d caught
second left
and
right at the V in the road
, but now he wouldn’t wager a dime that he’d correctly interpreted the fellow’s garbles.
 
There hadn’t been another car along the road since he’d started out again, and if he didn’t see anything within the next minute, he was turning back.

What was Annie thinking, staying out in the sticks all by herself?
 
Al didn’t care if it was her brother’s weekend retreat.
 
She could be unconscious, or bleeding, or screaming her head off and no one would know.

Oh, that’s great, Al.
 
Scare yourself shitless, why don’t you?
 
He willed her to be alright as he squinted into the night.
 
If anything happened to Annie, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.
 
After all, he was the reason she’d up and quit.
 
He shouldn’t have argued with her.
 
The fact that she’d called him on the carpet—which his Annie rarely did—should have been a sign something was up.
 
Then she’d blown him away—assuming she’d said what he thought she’d said—and taken off before he’d been able to string three words together.

Al slammed on his brakes as a fat opossum scurried across the road, the car’s tires skidding in the gravel.
 
The road was deserted, so he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
 
Maybe he should have waited until morning to try to find the cabin.