Flirts! 5 Romantic Short Stories (The Flirts! Collection) (5 page)

But I didn’t feel like crying on Mom’s shoulder over this. She’d give me some sickly sweet pep talk about how special I am and how anyone would be lucky to have me blah, blah, barf. Instead, I went to the zoo. I’d probably do too much damage at the mall.

But that didn’t cheer me up. It was a miserably hot day, and even the kangaroos just stood there. Not a hop in the bunch. Plus, there was no one to share a joke with.

It took everything in me not to answer the phone when Brady called. And he called three times. Miranda did, too. I was hoping in a few days the idea of the two of them together would be easier to swallow.

But chances were Miranda wouldn’t last with him a few days. She ate up her men like they were microwave meals; Brady was a single-serving pizza. And no way would he be settling for me as a consolation prize. Hopefully we could strike up a friendship again in a while, but it would never be like it had been.

And I wasn’t even going to insist he pay up on his bet and get me that damn shirt.

I managed to avoid Miranda on Monday, too, by heading in to work early and staying late.

She kept calling and finally left a voice mail. “I really, really need to talk to you about Brady.”

Delete. Not yet.

I also ignored three more phone calls from Brady. I supposed it wasn’t fair. They didn’t know I’d seen them together. Miranda would be furious with me for not returning her calls, but I was still hardening up my emotions. Kind of like a crab that had molted and needed to grow its new shell.

Brady’s messages were vague. “I really want to talk to you, Jane. Please return my calls. Unless you’ve got laryngitis. Or donated your vocal chords to science. Please, just call.”

By Wednesday morning when I dragged myself into work I was miserable. Even the darling ragdoll cat we were boarding for a week didn’t cheer me up.

I got ready in exam room one for a new client bringing in a kitten. Maybe it would be a cute little bugger who would make me smile. I looked up when the door opened. My mouth dropped, but nothing came out.

“Hi, Jane. I’d like you to meet Fluffy.”

“Brady? What are you doing with a kitten? What are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you. You wouldn’t answer my calls, you’re never home. So, I figured you couldn’t refuse a guy with a new cat.” He held it up next to his face and smiled.

“Miranda doesn’t like cats. Or maybe you two have broken up already? She’s like that.” God, I could be such a brat.

He set the cat down on the exam table and made a time-out sign with his hands. “What are you talking about?”

I looked down and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I saw you leaving her apartment Sunday morning. And Fluffy is such a boring name.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t know you were getting a cat, or I would have objected.”

He shook his head. “No, about seeing me at Miranda’s?” His kitten jumped down to the floor, inspecting the place.

“Yes, interrupt your post-coital embrace.”

He rubbed his face with his hands while his kitten brushed against my ankles. I picked it up and stroked its head.

“I was over there asking her about
you
.”

“Me?” I pressed my hand against my chest. “What about me? If I would object to the two of you getting together?”

“I like you, Jane. I really like you. I didn’t realize it at first, but that’s why I wouldn’t let you go out with any of those other guys. My brother? Only if you want to kill me.”

I crossed my arms with the kitty pressed against my chest and tapped my foot. “If you like me, why did you have to talk to her about it?”

His hands circled the air, as he struggled to answer. “For some reason, I can’t let you know how I really feel about you without it coming out like a joke. I needed her advice. And no, I’m not interested in someone like her, with her tally of conquests and plans for worldwide man domination. When I met you, it was like I got knocked over the head and could think of nothing but you. Only, getting hit over the head made me too stupid to realize what was going on. I’ve been a bit gun-shy since I broke up with my ex.”

He reached for my hand but I gave him his cat instead. This wasn’t
Jerry Maguire
. He didn’t have me at hello. “But you were acting so strange when we went out to dinner. I definitely wasn’t getting any ‘I’m interested’ signals from you.”

He sighed. “I know. I was nervous, and I didn’t know how to be serious around you and tell you how I really felt. What if you made a joke out of it?”

I pretended to tidy up the counter, moving a box of plastic gloves around and wiping up a spot that wasn’t there. “I thought you were asking me out because you felt sorry for me.” Wincing, I thought of the frizzy-haired girl and her chardonnay.

He walked over and took me by the arm. “Please, blame it on medication, or a mental illness, or temporary stupidity. I want you, Jane.”

I let the words play back in my head.
He wants me
. “No joke?”

He shook his head. “No joke.” He swallowed and looked down at the floor. “I just hope you feel the same.”

I turned to him and stared, looking for a trace of sarcasm or teasing. But there was none. Slowly, I wrapped my arms around him like I’d imagined doing so many times. “I do.” I squeezed tightly and pressed my eyes shut. “I’ve felt this way since the first night I met you.”

His hands cupped my shoulders. “I guess I’m a little slow.”

“Or maybe it’s environmental poisoning. But you’re worth the wait.”

He bent down and brushed his lips against mine. Fluffy jumped onto the exam table and rubbed against my hip, reminding me I was at work. I broke away from our kiss. “I can’t do this.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

I turned away from him. “I have to examine your cat.” I looked at him over my shoulder and smiled. “We’ll have to try that again when I’m off the clock.”

He let out the breath he’d been holding. “Thank God. I thought you were going to tell me you were joining the Peace Corps.”

“Or a nunnery.”

“Or worse—starting a list like Miranda’s.” He came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and kissed the back of my head.

My stomach rolled in delight. Then I felt guilty for thinking he and Miranda had hooked up. “I need to apologize to her. I haven’t returned her calls, either.”

“You’d better. Last I checked she was looking at bridesmaid’s dresses for what she predicts will be our upcoming nuptials.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Well, she
was
checking out venues for a bachelorette party.”

“Now
that
I believe.”

A week later, I wandered into the bar alone, since Miranda was in the Bahamas with her new beau. Still hadn’t found an Australian with a yacht, though. But, I figure it’s good for her to have goals. Brady saw me and waved.

I scowled at the line of girls at the bar. I scanned the rafters for new bras but there weren’t any recent additions.

I found a stool and sat down. I tossed a small shopping bag at Brady and he caught it. “What’s this?”

“I’m settling up on our bet.”

He pulled out the t-shirt and smiled. “I’m taken,” he read.

One of the girls in front of him pouted. “Aww, you are?”

He looked at me and smiled. “Yes, I am.”

“And his girlfriend is crazy,” I told her, twirling my finger in a circle next to my head. “You don’t want to mess with her.”

“Really?” she asked.

Brady nodded. “She’s gotten into fights over me.”

“She’s been in jail,” I offered.

“The psych ward,” he added.

I nodded. “She even made that shirt just to keep women away.”

The girls were wide-eyed. “Why are you, like, dating her then?” one asked.

He looked at me and smiled. “She’s funny, and beautiful, and she gets me.”

I held up one finger. “Wait, I thought it was because you were afraid she’d kick your ass if you broke up with her?”

“Well, yes. There’s that too.”

“Awww, you sweetie,” I said, leaning across the bar for a kiss. “But wear the shirt anyway.”

His dimples appeared as he smiled and met my lips. “Always.”

* * *

She’s at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Is there any chance he’s Mr. Right?

“Wrong Place, Right Guy”

By Lisa Scott

I was on my way to a bar decorated with bras—wondering if I’d be required to donate mine—when I spotted a cute guy walking toward me. With his sandy brown hair and bright polo shirt, I thought he was potential date material—until he pulled a knife on me.

“Keep quiet, darlin’, and we’ll be fine.” He turned the silver switchblade round and round in his hand as we stood in the empty parking lot.

My heart clobbered my chest and I threw my purse in front of me. “Take it. It’s a Coach. It’s real.” Backing away from him, I clutched the big wallpaper sample book I was returning to the store before hitting the bar. My muscles twitched as if itching to attack. But I was frozen.

He stepped over the purse toward me. “I was interested in the purse until I got a closer look at you.” The smell of rank, stale beer hit me. “Guess it’s my lucky day.”

The knife was inches from my throat. I tried to swallow but my mouth was parched. It was after eight o’clock, and all of the businesses that shared the parking lot were closed. There were a few vehicles, but no sign of anyone. The sun was starting to slip in the sky on the warm summer night, casting long shadows on the pavement.

The man sneered, heat radiating off him. A bead of sweat slid down his tanned face. With his bright white teeth and blue eyes, he had looked like a model at first glance. Now he looked like a lunatic.

Such are my dating instincts.

The knife glinted in the sun as he looked me up and down.

I took another step back. If I’d learned anything from my afternoon dates with Oprah, it was never to be taken to the second crime scene. That’s where the bad stuff always went down. I had to gather my wits and do something, fast.

I held up my hands, trying to invoke the voice of reason. “Just take the purse and no one needs to get hurt. Please.”

He laughed. “It won’t hurt unless you fight.”

I shoved the wallpaper book into his chest, hoping to knock him down, but he grabbed it out of my hands and threw it aside. “Bitch!”

His face was twisted and angry as he lunged for me. When I dodged to the side, a man jumped from the sky, knocking the attacker to the ground with a thud. They scuffled for control, swearing and stirring up dust and dirt. Then the attacker rolled over and held his knife to my hero’s throat. “This doesn’t involve you.”

I should’ve run, but my adrenaline was MIA. I tried to find my voice to scream for help, but it was gone, too. Apparently, I was born with no survival instincts.

The man on the ground gripped the attacker’s arm and head-butted him. The bad guy snarled above him and struggled to free his arm—and the knife.

This guy’s going to get killed because of me
. That’s what finally kicked in my courage. I jumped on the bad guy and straddled him from behind, grabbed his wrist, twisted it behind his back, and wrenched the knife from him.

Just like we’d practiced in tae kwon do class the week before. Without the knife, of course. I stood up and the other man pried his way out from underneath him. I pressed my shiny black pump against the attacker’s neck for good measure. That wasn’t exactly one of our official moves, but he remained pinned to the ground. “It won’t hurt unless you fight,” I said. But there wasn’t much fight left in the guy.

The other man hopped up and ran for my purse. He was shirtless and bleeding.

“What the hell? You’re going to rob me now?” I held the knife back like I might throw it at him.

That’s when the guy on the ground bit my ankle. I jerked my foot away and he rolled over, taking me down with him, right on my rear.

The other guy dove on him, knocking him away.

Pulling myself up into a squat, I pointed the knife at the attacker. “Don’t move.”

He gazed up my skirt and smiled, blood dripping from his mouth. “Nice panties.”

The jumper punched him in the face and the man’s head hit the pavement. He didn’t move after that, but I kept the knife pointed at him and set my foot on his chest in case he tried to get up again. My heart was ready to burst. I glanced down at my ankle. Luckily, he hadn’t broken the skin. The blood in his mouth must’ve been his own.

A black dog bounded across the parking lot toward my savior. “Nice timing, Winston. You show up now?” The dog sat down, his tail thumping the pavement, while the guy went back for my purse. “I’m not stealing it; I’m looking for your cell phone to call police. I don’t have mine on me.”’

I squeezed my eyes shut, embarrassed. “Sorry, I’m in defense mode.” I wiggled my fingers at him. “Bring it here.”

He picked up my purse and handed it to me, keeping some distance between us.

I fished out my cell with one hand, dialed 911, and filled the police in on the situation. “I just got held up in the Parkside Shopping Plaza. The attacker’s knocked out. Hurry!”

The man rubbed the back of his head and came over to me. “You alright?” The sound of sirens split the air.

I gulped and nodded, even though I wasn’t entirely sure. “Where the hell did you come from, anyway?” I asked. “You just flew in like some kind of superhero.” I gestured to the sky.

“Big hero, seeing as how you saved me.” He jerked his thumb toward the oil change shop next to us. “I was working late tonight on the roof, ripping off the last few shingles, and I saw what was happening.” He scratched the dog behind its ear, which set one paw twitching. “And my trusty sidekick here shows up when it’s all over,” he said to the big black Labrador retriever.

“I’m Kristen Gold, by the way. I’d shake your hand but I’m holding a knife.” I shrugged.

“I’m Tony Malone. And this is my useless dog, Winston. Must have been sleeping in the truck, you beast.” He swiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Blood was dribbling from the side of his head into his long dark hair, pulled back with a handkerchief. He had a mustache and goatee, and gleaming tanned skin that covered taut muscles. If I had seen both men approaching me in the parking lot, he’s the one I would’ve been afraid of.

Again, with the infallible instincts.

“I hope they’re bringing an ambulance, too,” I said. “You look horrible.”

He shook his head. “Just a few bumps. I’ve had worse.” He braced his hands above his knees and leaned forward, catching his breath. The man didn’t have an ounce of fat on him.

The guy on the pavement was still not moving beneath me.
Is he dead?

Three cop cars tore into the parking lot. Doors flew open and three officers jumped out, two drawing their guns on the guy underneath me, while another pointed his at Tony.

“Hands in the air, Malone,” shouted one of the cops.

Winston growled, while Tony held his hands up.

“Wait! He tried to help,” I said. “This is the guy you want. The one I’m standing on.” I seriously hoped I wasn’t breaking any laws. I’d never even gotten a speeding ticket.

The police ordered the guy under me to get up and I stepped away. “This is his knife,” I said, holding it out in front of me with two fingers.

The attacker didn’t respond, so two officers pulled the man up from the ground. “How the hell did you take this guy down?” one of them asked me. He linked a pair of cuffs on the guy who was now mumbling and incoherent.

I pointed to Tony. “He jumped off the roof and knocked him over. But then that guy pulled the knife on him. So I disarmed him.” I shrugged.

The cop looked me up and down, taking in all five-foot-five of me, and my bulky, one hundred and twenty pounds. “How?”

“A few tae kwon do moves, but then the guy bit me, so Tony knocked him out.” Didn’t need to explain the embarrassing underwear part.

Tony swore. “Why did you wait for me to jump in if you know tae kwon do?”

I pointed the knife at him. “It’s a lot different in real life with a crazy man holding a knife than it is when you’re practicing on women you invite to jewelry parties and happy hour.” I straightened my skirt and handed the knife to one of the officers.

The short, stocky cop took off his sunglasses. “Malone, you got in a fight with this guy?”

He shook his head. “I punched him when he made a rude comment.”

“He was trying to save me,” I reminded them.

“I should call your parole officer on this.”

My mouth dropped. He was a criminal? And now he was getting into trouble because of me?

Tony shrugged. “I finished parole last month. And it wasn’t a fight.”

Another cop turned to Tony. “You want us to call an ambulance? Looks like you might need stitches in your head.”

Tony waved him off. “Don’t bother. I don’t have medical insurance, anyways.”

I picked up my purse and the wallpaper book and rushed over to him. “I’ll pay. You got hurt because of me.”

He scrubbed his hands across his face. “How about you just get me a six-pack and we call it even? I’m not going to the hospital, and the alcohol will probably help more than anything the doctors could do.”

I frowned. “Let me drop off this book and we’ll talk this over.”

I headed for the paint store, which was my original destination before I was scheduled to join my sister for drinks with the latest guy she was pushing on me. The tiny shopping plaza was off the beaten path, but I’d never considered it dangerous. The ceramic studio where I’d once brought my niece, Lucy, was here, along with an optician’s office, the oil change shop and a few empty storefronts. There were a couple of bars a block or two over. That must’ve been where my attacker had come from.

A police officer caught up to me as I hurried across the plaza. He asked a few more questions as I slipped the book in the drop box. Being the busy-body aunt that I was, I’d volunteered to redecorate Lucy’s bedroom and the wallpaper sample book was a week overdue.

Knew we should have gone with paint instead
.

As we headed back toward Tony and the other cops, the officer stopped me. “Listen, I know that guy helped you out, but you don’t want to hang around him.”

“Why not?”

“He’s got an arrest record, and he’s no stranger to fights. Just say your thanks and stay away.”

But this news didn’t really change my feelings. This guy had leapt off a roof to help me and gotten hurt in the process. Who knows if I would’ve gotten the chance—and the courage—to fight back if he hadn’t intervened? But I figured it was best to humor the cop. “Okay, thanks for the heads-up.”

The officers took our statements and then cleared the scene, while Tony and I stood in the empty parking lot. The day was moments from going dark, and the lights in the parking lot had flickered on. “Does it hurt?” My fingers hovered over the gash on his forehead.

He shook his head. “It’ll probably hurt tomorrow.”

His goatee tickled my arm and I pulled back. “So, you really jumped off that roof?” It was only one story, but still.

“I hung off the side and then pushed off the wall. I didn’t realize you were about to kick his ass or I would’ve kept working.” He grinned, showing off perfectly straight, white teeth.

Something was off about this guy, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. His rough appearance was hiding something beneath. I reached for his arm and brushed off some gravel.

Scratches marked his back and a few tiny stones were stuck in his skin. I set one hand on his shoulder, and used the other to pluck out the little rocks. “They didn’t break the skin. Just a few dents.” His skin was hot under my fingertips. “Turn around.”

He did as I told him without complaint. My fingers grazed his skin, searching for bumps and bruises. My fingers glided over the muscles on his chest and stomach. I sucked in a breath when I saw the backside of his left arm. “You’ve got a really bad scrape. I think the cop was right—you should go to the hospital. That gash on the side of your forehead looks bad, too.” I pulled back, and my hands felt warm from the heat of his skin.

He reached up to feel the wound, and then looked at the tips of his fingers, dappled with spots of dark red. “Nah, the bleeding is tapering off already. I’m fine. You okay?”

I nodded. “If you’re not going to let me take you to the hospital, can I at least take you out for a beer? I could use one myself after that.” I was feeling a bit shaky now.

He cocked his head. “That cop didn’t warn you off?”

Damn it, I was blushing. “I’m a big girl. I can be my own judge of character.”

He stared at me. “I have a feeling you’re going to pester me until I let you show some sort of thanks.”

I nodded. “I am. Smart man.”

He laughed. “Not exactly. Let me pack up my stuff and we’ll grab a drink.”

He loaded some tools in his pickup truck, pulled on a clean shirt, and told me to meet him at a bar on Main Street. “This isn’t the best neighborhood for someone like you at night.” He opened his door, and his dog jumped in.

I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m sorry, you didn’t see me disarm that guy?”

“You might run into someone with a bigger knife and a worse temper next time. A girl like you can’t take any chances.”

I raised an eyebrow. “A girl like me?”

Walking back to me, his gaze swept from my head to my toes. “Beautiful. Rich. Look at how you’re dressed.”

I shook my head. “I’m not rich.” I didn’t mention that my parents were. But beautiful? Yeah, I’d take beautiful even if it was just a smoke job.

“It doesn’t take much to be considered rich around here. Don’t see too many people looking like you in these parts.”

I crossed my arms. “I’m dressed up because I’m going on a blind date.” At the bra bar. Impressive, for sure.

“Then you better get to it. Don’t worry about me.”

I shook my head. “I’m canceling. I’m too upset, and I really want to get a drink. With you.”

“Fine. Let’s get out of here. I’ll meet you at The Sundowner.”

He hopped in his old pickup truck with his dog’s head hanging out the passenger-side window and made a fast right onto Main Street.

My hands shook as I drove to the bar. Maybe the cop was right. I didn’t know anything about this guy. I didn’t even know why he’d been in jail. But still, I needed to thank him. Then I could be at home in my jammies with a bowl or two of ice cream.