Let Me Call You Sweetheart: Come Rain or Come Shine (3 page)

“Okay, not so fast, Cleaver.”

He had his hand on her hip, and she tried to get exasperated, but instead she felt extremely self-conscious.
 

Sam began singing again. Tom Waits this time.

Jeeves pulled her closer. He was light on his feet, of course. Because he was good at everything he did, most likely. “This will be our song.”

“‘I Hope That I Don’t Fall in Love With You’? I guess if we were going to have a song, which we aren’t, this would be a good one.”

“How long have they been married?”

“Sam and Myrtle?” He nodded. “Twenty years.”

He made a whistling sound through his teeth. “Wow.”

She wished he would stop pulling her closer. “They were high school sweethearts.”

“Did you grow up here?”

“No, I wish. I moved here ten years ago.”

“From where?”

Charlie didn’t even like saying it out loud. “Milwaukee.”

“What made you move—”

She cut him off. “Are you planning on mowing your lawn?”

“Huh?”

“It’s getting pretty long. It looks bad. You’re making the whole neighborhood look bad.”

“The neighborhood is us. We’re the only two houses on the bluff.”

She couldn’t think of what to say. His grass was a little long, but not even really that bad. “This isn’t our song.” She hated this flusterstorm gathering in her stomach.

“Well, technically, when a couple dances to a song, their first is called ‘our song’.”

“We’re not a couple.”

“We’re a couple of something.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

She didn’t like being this close to him. He didn’t smell right. He was supposed to smell like rich-guy cologne or something fake. She inhaled deeply. He smelled like he’d just come off the clothesline after a day in the sunshine. Charlie looked up in time to see him avert his eyes. “You were looking down my top.”

He shook his head no but answered, “Yes.”

She sputtered on a response. “Of all the…what kind of…why?”

“Why?” Jeeves jerked his head back a bit. “Well, because there are breasts in there.”

“Does this work on women? I mean, I’ve seen pictures of you with really attractive, talented women. And this is how you get them?” Models and actresses wearing size two and four-inch heels.

He looked up as if he was trying to remember. “No. This isn’t how I usually go about things.” Jeeves pushed her away a step and turned her in a circle, slowly bringing her back into his arms. “I’m actually quite charming. And most of the time, I don’t get caught looking. I look—I just usually employ more stealth.”

“So, I’m not worth the stealth?”

“You aren’t going to date me. You hate me. I figure I have more wiggle room since you already think I’m a jerk.” He turned her in another circle. “I figure I can be my true self with you.”

“I feel so blessed.”

“I’m probably still going to try to get you to sleep with me. It’s the principle.”

She sighed. “Everyone in this bar knows you don’t want to sleep with me.”

“Why is that?” He moved her in a combination of some sort that ended with him behind her and her wrapped snug in both his arms.

They continued to sway. She was not going to get starstruck. She just was not. “Well, for one thing, I’ve been a total shrew to you. Don’t think that didn’t get around town eight minutes after you stole my muffin.”

“So you’re a challenge,” Jeeves said, low in her ear. She fought the shivers that wanted to shimmy with the sound waves from his voice. “Why else?”

“I outweigh your usual girlfriends by at least fifty pounds.”

He rested his chin on her shoulder. “Is that how we do things in the country? I guess I need to rig up some kind of fish scale on the deck or something, so I can properly weigh and measure my women.”

“I’m not your woman.”

“Yet.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Wait. What’s that?” She wriggled her bottom and laughed at the small poke. “You really do want to sleep with me.”

“That’s a roll of breath mints, but thanks for the vote of confidence.” Jeeves rolled her back out then back into his arms. “You’re going to be tough on my ego.”

“I’m not going to be anything to you but the person who lives on the same street.”

“There’s a powerful attraction to the-girl-next-door for a man.”

No reply for that came to mind, so instead, she let him draw her flush against the length of him and rested her head on his shoulder. He was so annoying, but he smelled good and it had been too long since she’d been held by a man. Knowing nothing would happen made it safe, pleasant even. Jeeves Allencaster was a temporary condition. She might as well enjoy the attention. She could verbally eviscerate him a different day.

She was completely safe.

Except that roll of breath mints had switched pockets and was most assuredly not a roll of breath mints.

Chapter Three

Through the window of the pet shop, Jeeves saw Charlie cycle by and ran out to flag her down. She was at the corner, wearing another damned dress with thick tights and a wool coat, leaning the bike against the bricks when she looked up at the sound of her name. It was November. Why did she wear dresses in November?

She put her hands on her hips. “I have asked you to please stop calling me Cleaver.”

“I need your help. Can you come here please?”

He didn’t wait for her answer, just pulled her down the block and into the pet store past the scratch posts, then the aquariums, and finally into the back where the problem that plagued him stared up with soulful brown eyes and dreadlocks.

“What is that?” Charlie asked.

“I think it’s a poodle.”

“Are you sure?”

“No. Not really.”

She scrunched her face. “Why are you showing me this?” she asked finally.

“I need you to tell her that she is not coming home with me.”

Charlie tilted her head and studied the dog, and then her devil’s food chocolate gaze transferred to him. “You want me to tell the…um…dog…that you aren’t bringing her home.”

He nodded. This wasn’t going well. “I came in for a fish. I don’t want a dog.” Jeeves swallowed hard and avoided looking the poodle in the face. “I don’t have time for a dog. Dogs need things and they chew things. This dog looks like she needs a lot of things.”

“This dog looks like she’s the thing that was chewed on.”

“And there’s that. If I were going to get a dog, it would be a different kind. No offense, Medusa,” he added, hoping not to hurt her feelings.
 

Charlie peered at the sign. “Her name is Lady. I thought poodles were smaller. Are you sure she’s a poodle?”

“Her name is Medusa.” Stupid pet store. “Why do they have a dog here anyway?”

Charlie wrinkled her nose and looked back at the poodle. “Don’t most pet stores have dogs?” She shook her head. “Actually, Linda doesn’t sell dogs or cats. She does foster some for the county shelter, though, on occasion.”
 

“But why this occasion?”
 

Charlie turned around to face him, her back against the glass. Her cheeks were still rosy from the bracing chill outside. Next to her, behind the same glass, Medusa sat up in a regal position looking like a ridiculous Muppet from
Sesame Street
. Jeeves got a very uneasy feeling looking at them together, the world’s surliest woman and the world’s ugliest dog staring at him as if he were the crazy one. Foreboding gathered in the base of his spine. Something told him this wasn’t going to be the last time the two of them ganged up on him like this. He realized he was likely looking at the rest of his life.
 

Just like that.

Panic bubbled in his stomach. “Please,” he said when he found his voice. “Please just tell her it isn’t going to happen. Someone else will come along with the perfect family for her. And they’ll remember to feed her and spend time with her. And they won’t make her mad all the time just by entering a room or sitting at the same table.”

“Are you all right, Jeeves?”

His mouth was suddenly very dry. It had been a game, the mild flirtation. He’d known it rankled her, so he’d done it on purpose. The dancing close at the tavern, while pleasant, was all the more fun because she hated that she loved it. The next day, he’d mowed his lawn with a heart shape in the middle of the grass instead of a diamond pattern. He’d been getting his paper every day wearing tight jeans and no shirt, despite the cold, because he knew she rolled her eyes at him—but still watched every morning. She’d even played back the last few days and it was fun. Harmless fun.
 

He gulped a little, looking at her now and remembering the way she’d changed out of her clothes in front of the drawn shade last night, knowing he was watching. Her silhouette so shapely, like an hourglass of lush, provocative sin.

But they both knew it didn’t mean anything. She didn’t even like him. Christ, he wasn’t even sure he liked her.

“Tell that dog I’m a bad bet.”

“Have you hit your head recently, Jeeves?”

“Tell her,” he gasped. This was not happening. He did not move here with the intention of falling for his neighbor. He wanted peace and quiet. He would never have a moment’s peace again if he took up with her.
 

Cleaver shot him a wary glance and turned to the dog behind the glass. “Oh sweetheart,” she began. “He’s a terrible bet.”

She glanced back, and he motioned with his hand for her to keep going.
 

“You don’t want a guy like Jeeves Allencaster. He’s…” She looked back at him again. “He’s more than a little crazy for one thing.”

Yes, that he was.

Charlie spoke conspiratorially to his dog behind the window. “He thinks he’s God’s gift to womankind.”

“Hey, I work very hard on my abs.”

“He thinks that he can charm his way out of any situation.”

“No, I think I can charm my way
into
any situation. Big difference.”

She sighed heavily. Wow. He’d like to hear her make that sound again, only lying down. What the hell was wrong with him?

“He really isn’t made for small-town life, baby,” she cooed at the dog.
 

“I’m very happy here. I’m never moving again.”

“He’s a player.”

Jeeves put a hand on her shoulder and turned her around. “What the hell kind of nonsense are you trying to fill my dog’s head with?”

She bit her lip and looked up at him, those dark lashes pulling his gaze, beckoning like a mirage, because that’s what she was. Charlie Jeeves wasn’t real. Nobody could look so beautiful and soft and sweet like some goddamned confection and be so ornery and fire breathing.
 

“I’m really concerned that you have a head injury. Do you have any blocks of time unaccounted for recently, any lumps?”

“I may be a lot of things, but a player has never been one of them. I’ve never promised a woman anything I didn’t want to deliver. I don’t leave a string of broken hearts in my wake and I don’t have any head trauma.” He had both his hands on her shoulders now. “Are you Greek?”

“What?” Her eyes were bright and a little startled.

“I don’t know. I can’t control anything right now, least of all what I say. But I’m looking at you and trying to figure it all out. You have this lush skin that’s pale but not white and all that curly hair.”

“My mother is Greek. What does my heritage have to do with your dog?”

“Damn it. She is my dog isn’t she?”

“Can I go do my errands now?”
 

She ducked out of his arms. That was okay, for now. He needed to think some more about this anyway. Maybe he could talk himself out of falling for her. Probably not. But he could try.

Four hours later, Charlie looked at the Caller ID number and groaned. She pushed
Talk
. “No, you may not borrow a cup of sugar.”

Jeeves spoke low into the phone. “She won’t eat.”

“Why are you whispering?”
 

He really was the strangest man. She’d decided after three cups of coffee at Myrtle’s that she was done with the flirty games. The crazed look in his eye at the pet shop made her feel distinctly unsafe that he understood they were just kidding. He was becoming unhinged. Like Jack Nicholson in
The Shining
.

“I don’t want her to know I’m talking about her. Can you come over?”

“What? No. Jeeves, I don’t know anything about dogs with eating disorders.”

“Please?”

“Maybe she’s just not hungry.”

And yet somehow, fifteen minutes later, Charlie was trudging across the lawn, in the dark, muttering about crazy neighbors. When Jeeves answered the door, he looked down in surprise at the bottle of Jack she thrust at him.
 

“You need a drink,” she said, and pushed past him.

Medusa was snoring happily on a dog bed near the fireplace. She looked like a small horse with an afro. She didn’t even vaguely resemble a poodle. In front of her were six soup bowls, each filled with a different color of kibble.

“What exactly is going on here?” She followed Jeeves to the kitchen and he poured them both a drink. She looked around, peeking around the corner to the living room again. He was really quite neat. And he’d unpacked everything. Charlie was pretty sure she still had unpacked boxes in her guestroom and she’d lived in the house for ten years.
 

“I bought her six different kinds of kibble and she won’t touch any of them.” He handed her a glass. “Is neat okay? I might have some Coke or club soda. Or ice even.”

“This is fine. I brought it for you anyway. Medicinal.” She sipped the whiskey. “What is going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Jeeves, you’re acting crazy. Okay, crazier.” She pulled him into the living room and sat them both down on his leather couch. The room was masculine, all browns and golds. Masculine, but comfortable.
 

“Getting the dog is a big step for me.” He looked into her eyes very deeply. Maybe he was trying to figure out what nationality her father was if her mother was Greek.
 

“Yes, the dog is a lot more responsibility.” Charlie glanced over at the creature. “She seems pretty well-adjusted, though. I think she’s drooling.”