Heels of Love (G Street Chronicles Presents From Love to Loathe Series) (3 page)

The rest of the weekend went by fast. Chelle took me to the Space Needle, and then we took a tour on a big duck tour bus. One minute we were riding in the street, and then the duck turned into a boat, and we were floating in the water.

Today was my first day at my brand-new, swanky job at the world’s famous coffee company. Their corporate office just happened to be in the PNW. My job was low-key; I am now a full-time mystery shopper, aka THE SNITCH. I feel like a traitor; I have to visit coffee stores and buy stuff, and then rate my service. I knew one day someone would find me out; then I would get it. I know the saying,
snitches get stitches is true
. Chelle knows the marketing director, and she hooked me up big time. I get a company car, credit card, and an unlimited supply of the world’s best coffee.

I walked into the office wearing my best black suit and spiked heels. The receptionist’s eyes got wide, and then she smiled at me. She greeted me and asked how she could help me. I gave her my name, and then I told her it was my first day.

“Oh, Mrs. or Ms.” she asked.

“Ms. But….please call me Cricket,” I insisted.

“Sure thing,” she said. “I’m Ophelia, but everyone calls me O.”

I followed her as she showed me the bathroom, conference rooms, and the kitchen. We finally made it around to my office; well a box with no windows is more like it. Well, it was not a box, but it didn’t have any windows. I would have to liven this up a bit, because it was a little depressing.

“Well, if you need anything, just pick up your phone and dial zero. D’Artagnan, will stop by in just a moment,” she stated.

“Uhmmmm, D’Artagnan? I asked.

“Oh yes…just you wait and see,” she smiled.

I placed my small, cardboard box on my desk and started unpacking. Three picture frames, a high heel tape dispenser, a purse post it holder, and a sterling silver letter opener set…I was done.

There was a knock at the door, and I focused on the doorway. I sucked in a quick breath because there was a six-foot six Adonis standing at my door. He stood with his hands crossed over his chest and he leaned into the doorframe. He gave me a cocky smile and his eyes looked as though they could see right down to my thong.

I had to catch myself because my eyes were wandering too far down south. I jerked myself right and made eye contact with him.

He gave me a crooked smile. “Hi Eugenia. I’m D’Artagnan, your partner in crime.” He strolled over to my desk with his hand out.

“Hi, it’s very nice to meet you. Please call me Cricket,” I said, gripping his hands and shaking.

“Well, you are not what I was expecting at all,” he said.

“Yea, they ordered a medium but got a 2X instead,” I laughed, losing eye contact now.

“No, they normally don’t hire pretty girls,” he said with a smile.

“Oh, that was a good one. Now does that normally work on the girls?” I asked pulling my hand from his. He got a tighter grip and led me over to my desk. He had just crossed the personal space bubble I had up.

“Now I wouldn’t know that because I don’t fool with girls,” he growled.

“Oh, so do you like little boys?” I breathed out. He looked me over as if he could see straight through my clothes, and I suddenly felt exposed.

“No princess, I like grown women who know exactly what they want.” he growled again. “Oh, so you’re into Sugar Mamas.” I grinned.

At that, very awkward moment my phone buzzed, and I heard O’s trilling voice bursting through the speakers, “Cricket, you have a package at the front desk.”

D’Artagnan didn’t ease up on the grip; I glared at him and then glanced down at my prisoner hand. “Well, first day, and you’re already getting little trinkets,” D’Artagnan said.

“Uhhh, Cricket?” O asked.

“She’ll be right there, O,” he answered.

“Oh, okay, D’Artagnan,” she said in a dazed voice.

The speaker died out, and then D’Artagnan smiled at me. “We have a meeting in ten minutes in the Caramel Mocha Conference Room.” He finally let my hand go, and I quickly raced out of the room.

I prayed all the way down the hall that I didn’t stubble over an invisible line on the floor. Walking this fast, with this weight, and in these heels was dangerous. I made it to reception, and O was on the phone. She pointed to a clipboard on her counter and motioned for me to sign it. I saw a line with my name printed on it and an X beside it. I signed at the X, and then O pointed around the corner to a room with the door wide open. Boxes and boxes and then more boxes. I saw a large flower arrangement with the most amazing flowers I had ever seen. I picked up the large arrangement with both hands and wobbled back to receptionist. I sat the arrangement on O’s desk and waited for her to get off the phone. She was writing a message down and I decided to hunt for a card in the arrangement. I had no luck finding one.

The flowers were in a frosted vase. I looked and looked for a card, and nothing. I heard people talking in the hallway and looked up at the clock. I had four minutes before the meeting. There were twenty-eight flowers in the vase, and they were beautiful. All of them different colors and styles. I looked again; no card. I would have to research this later; I left my office and the sweet smell of the flowers.

D’Artagnan stood at the end of the hall, holding a thin folder. I walked past him, not saying a word; then, he appeared next to me. Neither one of us said a word as we walked into the conference room. He pulled my chair out for me at the long table before the meeting and after.

At the end of the day, D’Artagnan stood by my rental car. I unlocked the door with my wireless entry, sliding my briefcase in the passenger seat. Reaching to shut the driver’s door, D’Artagnan cleared his voice. I looked up at him.

“Cricket, I just wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier. Please let me make it up to you?” he asked.

I just sat there, looking at him.

“I was the new guy here for nine months. And my parents taught me better than that,” he stated. I watched him, and he had transformed into a different person. He seemed genuine now; the cocky asshole had finally left the building.

“I accept your apology.”

“Please let me make it up to you. Dinner at Palisade, or maybe Maximilian; and my treat?”

“Rain check?” I asked.

“Sure, but we will sit down together real soon, and I will wine and dine you, Ms. Hooper.” he smiled.

“I’m positive you will, Mr.—uhhhhh?”

“Crain. D’Artagnan Crain,” he chimed.

“Where does the name D’Artagnan come from?”

“Let my mother tell it, and she says it’s Romanian; but my father says she was obsessed with
The Three Musketeers
. My baby sister’s name is Echo,” he said.

“Echo?”

“Greek Mythology. She was a famous nymph.”

“Oh, well that is interesting,” I mumbled.

We sat in an awkward moment. “Well, I’ll see you in the morning,” I stammered. D’Artagnan gave me crooked smile and then a hundred watt show with those sparkling whites. I swallowed hard as he walked away from the rental.

All the way back to Chelle’s, I thought of the flowers. I knew deep down exactly where they came from, but I couldn’t admit it to myself. They were tall, strong, mysterious, and wild things. I knew he had to be the one who sent them. They were him all the way down to the last steam. I had no idea how my mud god somehow had found me

Later that night when I got ready for bed, I looked at a number I had never called before. I finally tapped the screen, and my phone started dialing. It rang three times, and then a stern voice answered.

“May I speak to Lil Samson Jyme,” I asked.

“Speaking,” he laughed.

“I owe you an apology, and I assume a ‘Thank You’ is in order as well,” I said.

“What exactly are you thanking me for,” he asked.

Oh, so he wanted to have one of
those
conversations…I didn’t take him for the gloating type, but I guess I was wrong. “Well first off, for helping me get out the mud, second for repairing the mailbox, and third for that amazing floral arrangement. They’re beautiful, and I’m so grateful.”

“You forgot one,” he said.

“Uhmmmmm.” I answered.

“And for not killing you.” he answered.

I sat there not saying a word. I knew my breath was getting heavy, but I didn’t know what to say. “I’m really sorry about all that,” I whispered.

“We’re even,” he answered, disconnecting the line. I sat there looking at my cell phone until the backlight went black. I sat and thought for a moment, this man could have killed me and chopped me up into tiny pieces and no one would have found me. But I was intrigued and almost addicted to the mud god; not the possible murder on the reservation.

Chapter 2

The First Date

O
n my way to work the next morning, I needed a little musical courage to help me through the day. Beyoncé was blasting about her video phone when the song was interrupted, it was a number I recognized, but had decided not to save in my contacts. The touch screen car stereo was blinking bright, and the speakers were chiming in my ears. I touched the screen and answered the phone.

“Lunch at twelve,” His voice was not asking, and I didn’t know how I felt about that. All I could think about was,
what would Beyoncé do
?

“Alright,” I said. For one brief second, there was silence, and then Beyoncé was back in my ear on the second chorus. I smiled and then I frowned. I didn’t even get a chance to ask him how he knew where I worked. I had never told him that before, and we didn’t know the same people, so how did he know? He just hung up the phone; no farewell, no goodbye, nothing.

At eleven thirty, I grabbed my makeup bag and headed towards the ladies’ room. As soon as I stepped out into the hall, I ran smack dead into Mr. Crain. (In order to keep our relationship professional, I decided to call him ‘Mr. Crain.’) I dropped my halfway-zipped makeup bag, and he lost his folder full of papers. I went for his papers; he went straight for my makeup bag and grabbed at the rolling lipsticks and liners.

He took a deep breath. “Cricket, that fragrance you’re wearing is remarkable.”

“Thank you.”

“May I ask what it is?”

“I’m not sure. I swiped a couple of sprays from my roommate’s vanity this morning,” I answered.

“Oh, I didn’t know you knew anyone here. That makes me feel better,” he said.

I gave him a strange look. I frowned at him then I felt the heat rising on my face. I tried to hold it back, but I felt my eyebrows narrowing. I knew now I was scowling hard at him. I tried to pull myself together because in all honesty, no matter how much he was stepping into my private boundaries, the man was still my boss.

He explained. “No, I meant, I worry about you being all alone in the big city,” he sputtered.

“I used to live in New York and Atlanta. I think I’m safe here,” I snapped.

“I didn’t mean-”

I interrupted, “Don’t worry about it,” I said, pulling my makeup back out of his hands and handing him his folders. I turned and headed towards the bathroom again. I refreshed my face and stepped back into my office.

O buzzed my phone. “Cricket, your twelve o’clock is here,” she chimed.

“Thank you, O. I’ll be right there.” I grabbed my purse and smoothed out my black, ruched dress. I walked down the hall and turned towards the reception area, but stopped as soon as I saw the back of his head. Lil Samson Jyme had his hair pulled up in this funky, but very sexy ponytail bob thing. He wore a white button down shirt with denim jeans and a pair of brown boots. He was on his cell phone and didn’t notice when walked into the room.

I looked over at O, but she was not looking at me at all. She was in this misty trance; her eyes never left him.

“O, I’ll be out the office for the next two hours at a lunch meeting.”

“Yea, okay, Crick-” is all O said.

As we left the building, two women walked up to the entrance, and Lil Samson pulled the door open for them. Still on his cell phone, he didn’t notice the two women stumbling over each other as they tried to get a better look at him. I walked up behind him and just stood there. He smiled into the glass and I walked through the opened door. When I passed through the door, he held a hand out for me and I placed my hand into his. We walked down the hall to the elevators. I hadn’t held someone’s hand since junior high. It was kind of nice.

The elevator dinged, and he told his caller he would get back with them after his lunch meeting. He hung up the phone, placing it into his back pocket. He didn’t look at me or speak. I watched him in the steel elevators doors, and he was smiling.

Just then, the doors opened, and out spilled three women and two men. The women did double takes, and the men stared. One of the men in particular, stared us both down with an open mouth. D’Artagnan Crain stood there with two big brown bags from the deli across the street.

“Cricket, I didn’t know you were leaving the office for lunch. I brought you something back from the deli.”