We're One (2 page)

“Oh, no, you don’t.” He grasped the shoulder of her shirt and held it up, leaving her hanging between the folds. Her gravelly voice had produced goose bumps assaulting his already interested and aroused body. That velvety huskiness would classify as any radio station manager’s dream.

The baseball cap she had pulled down to cover her hair hid her somewhat, but since she had to look up at him to see into his face, he had seen hers clearly. Before she knew what to expect, he whipped off the hat. Stunned, he took a step back and stared.

Masses of the most glorious blonde curls cascaded over her shoulders and back, partially covering her face. The night wind unfurled numerous strands, blowing them in every direction. Some streamed behind her; some flew across her cheeks, teasingly reaching out to him. The multicolored lights reflecting off the blonde wildness haloed a sheen of silver that riveted him in place.

Turning her head sideways, forcing the bulk of her hair to flow to the back, she stunned him with her slant-eyed, upward gaze.

“Mr. Parks?” She waved her hand in front of his face. “Ya-hoo! Give me my hat. I don’t want to be recognized. I could get in big trouble.” She finally reached over and nabbed it away from his limp grip.

Her action brought him back. “How do you know my name?” Ashley watched in amazement as she tucked the bat between her knees and, using both hands, swept all the hair into a twirl, wound it into a tight coil, and shoved it up and under the brim of the cap she’d held gritted between her teeth.

“Everyone in town knows who you are. You and your brother own the Parks Casino on the Strip.”

“First of all, my name is Ashley—or Ash, if you prefer. Most of my friends do. Secondly, how did you come to know I needed rescuing earlier? That alley was pretty secluded.”

“My apartment window is right above there. I heard them threatening you by name. I couldn’t just sit there and watch the three of them beat you to death, so I covered up as best I could, grabbed the bat and ran down the back stairs. I only hope Joey didn’t get a good look at me.”

“Joey! You know him?”

“Sure! He’s my boss.”

“I told you I’d be fine. You didn’t have to escort me home.” Stubbornness, apparent in her angry tone, rang clear. “I’m not a child, and I do have protection.” She waved the bat towards him in one hand and watched him dodge swiftly, proving his agility.

“As if I’d let you return to this area alone. What if Joey and the boys waited around for someone to show up with a bat?”

“We’ve walked around for a long time. I’m sure they’d have given up by now.”

“We wouldn’t have had to walk if you’d ditched the weapon, like I wanted you to, and let me buy you a drink somewhere, or better yet, come to The Parks with me.” Stubborn little cuss wouldn’t give an inch to all his pleading. Words had to be dragged from her so conversation had flagged, and he’d used all his best lines. It had been a long, painful hour.

“I couldn’t leave my bat. What if somebody stole it? I might need to use it again. Look, I know how to protect myself, so you can leave me now.” By this time, they were at the back of her apartment. She held the door open but blocked it with her body.

Her chin stuck out, and her pugnacious look humoured him.

He didn’t move.

“Fine. If you’re so determined, come on, and let’s get indoors.”

They hastened into the back door of a grungy brick building. As only one small light bulb worked, she led while he followed her up wooden stairs that creaked and groaned on every second and third step. On the fourth floor they walked halfway down the long, dingy hall before she opened the door to Apartment 404. He was happy to arrive, because the overwhelming smell in the passageway, of cooked cabbage and onions, nauseated him.

In her apartment, an astonishing vision greeted him. There were books everywhere, folded clothes piled high on the back of the sofa, and dishes piled on the counters. Newspapers, strewn across the grey arborite table, were left open and rumpled. Plates of crumbs and empty milk glasses decorated the coffee table, and crushed used napkins spotted the floor.

In direct contrast to the mess, an amazing array of healthy plants enhanced every corner of the room and filled the bay window, most blooming with colourful flowers. This disparity didn’t compute somehow. And to further confuse him, every surface he spied was cluttered, but the place gleamed with cleanliness. Newly waxed hardwood floors shone from a recent treatment. Starched, prissy curtains, arranged just so, hung from the windows over the sink, and longer, expertly pressed material draped large balcony windows. The furniture might be covered with paraphernalia, but the fact that it all gleamed, polished to a high glossy shine, became obvious to anyone who looked carefully past the untidiness.

She sneaked peeks, watching for his reaction to her messy apartment. Feeling guilty, and then angry, about her discomfort put a sour look on her face. She’d completely broken from her past behaviour of fastidiousness, and now her eccentric ways held no routine. Rules and disciplines about housework she’d enforced at home looking after four male slobs had stopped the minute she became free. She’d sworn a mighty vow that, as soon as she lived alone, nothing in the world could make her be that obsessive-compulsive housekeeper again. Nothing and no one—ever—never again!

Right!

Secretly the clutter was killing her, but stubbornness pushed her to ignore it. Disappointment gathered as she watched him studiously, courteously avoid staring at any one place very long. After all, what good did her rebelliousness accomplish if there wasn’t anyone to take note of it. He finally settled his gaze on her, and he smiled with such warmth that nervous twitches prickled at her neck.

“What are you looking at?”

“A beautiful woman with eyes the colour of my favourite marble in a collection I treasured as a kid. The aggie became my special lucky charm and, without fail, travelled in my full, little-boy pocket. In those days, I ruled as street champion, envied by the other boys, all because of that one gorgeous marble. I held the revered title for months.” His charming way of bragging entranced her.

Crystal, mesmerized, had to ask. “What happened to it?”

“A big bully, three years older, Hector Rumble was his name, beat me up and stole it.”

Sympathy oozed from her wide eyes, and unconsciously her hand reached out to pat his arm. “The monster! I wish I’d have been there with my friend here.” She waved the bat a bit too close to his face and had to stifle a grin as he backed up.

“No problem, I just went home and told my big brother on him. Rhett fixed the situation in no time.”

“Good for you! Did you get your marble back?”

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a rather large, magnificent marble, and as he rolled it gently the colours vibrated as if alive. Soft variegated greys intermingled with pearly whites. Silver veins flowed throughout, encouraging the brilliant subtleties—a miracle of silver softness enclosed in translucent glass.

“My most precious possession, until today.”

He stared at her with a look she couldn’t interpret, but it brought the neck twitches back, big time.

Discordant growling interrupted the scene, and had him whirling around to stare at the biggest, nastiest, scruffiest cat he’d ever seen.

“What in the world is that?” He pointed and waited.

“Don’t be silly. You can see very well it’s a cat. She doesn’t like strangers, is all. It’s her kittens, you see. She frets about them.”

“What in the world did she mate with—a cougar? Your cat is one mean-looking feline.”

“She’s not mine. That animal sabotaged me.”

“ Okay, I’ll bite, how?”

“Well—if I tell you, promise me you won’t laugh.”

“I won’t laugh.”

“It meowed ‘help.’ I swear it did. How could I ignore a cat that verbally told me it needed help? Don’t you dare laugh!”

“Nope, wouldn’t think of it. Did she say anything else?”

“Don’t be an idiot. And quit smirking. She was pitiful and hungry. So I told her straight—she could stay one night. After that she was out on her fat behind. I brought her in, fed her, and what does she do to repay me...?”

“What does she do?”

“I’m telling you. The little sneak stabbed me right in the back. Teach me for being so darn agreeable.”

“I’m scared to ask. How did the little sneak stab you in the back?”

“I went to work and came home to find her curled up on my bed with four newborn kittens. I had to sleep on the sofa for two days before she’d let me move her and the babies into the box over there.” She pointed at a roomy crate, lined with a fleecy blanket, a cut-out opening in the front for the mama cat to come and go but with too high an edge for the tiny kittens to get over.

‘You’re bigger than she is. Why didn’t you just put her on the floor the first night?”

“Fat lot you know. She gave me that pitiful look and...”

“And meowed ‘help’ again, and you caved in.”

“Something like that. But I’ve given her notice. Soon as Hewie, Dewie, Louie and Donald are big enough, she’s out.”

“I suppose you’ve named mama Daisy?” The twinkle in his eye had her narrowing hers, but since he didn’t outright laugh, she controlled herself.

“It did suit, and I have to call them something while they’re here.” She shrugged her shoulders, her hands out, palms up.

“Of course you do.” He looked down to the floor, but she saw the grin he couldn’t hide.

Trying not to take offence—after all the man was injured—she moved away, leaned the bat against the wall and pulled her cap off. She swung her head from side to side, allowing the mass of gold to settle where it wanted, then grabbed the works over her left shoulder and parted it into three sections to braid it. She turned to see him avidly staring.

“Look, your lips are bleeding again where they smacked you. I’ll put the kettle on if you will go into the bathroom and get the first aid kit that’s on the counter in there, the one over the tub. I have to clean up your face.” She pointed him to a door, then hustled towards the kitchen area at the back of the room where, hidden behind the piles of clean dishes and boxes of cereal, rested the kettle.

****

He went toward the door she’d indicated, and as he passed by he glanced sneakily into the bedroom area, hidden behind curtains of wooden beads.

Ashley had grown up a slob, but over the years his habits had changed to where he now liked tidiness. She was the complete opposite. Her room looked as if a tornado had made a quick pass through. He stopped. Upon closer inspection, every surface was clean, but it looked like everything she owned was scattered helter-skelter.

The bathroom wasn’t much better. Like the rest of her place, the room gleamed with cleanliness but organized confusion seemed to be her decorating style.

As he reached for the red-and-white first aid bag on the counter, he brushed the shower curtain with his elbow and the plate-sized turtle swimming in the tub snagged his attention instantly. He came back into the living room-kitchen area to see her stretching her lithe form as if she had a crick in her back.

“You do realize you have a turtle in your bathtub?”

“Uh-huh! Some family’s abandoned pet. I found her on the side of the road, half dead. I don’t want to keep her, but I will, just until she feels better. Then Olive goes, too.”

“You named her Olive?”

“It’s her colouring. The name’s appropriate.”

“Right. So, you’ll put Olive out with the cats.”

“Yep. She’s out, her and the birds.”

“Birds?” His eyes were huge and his voice had risen.

“They won’t leave. Imagine my rotten luck, having not one but two budgie birds find me. They’re a pair, and so tame that when I opened the window the silly things flew right into the apartment. I tried to shoo them out, but they refused to leave. Kept landing on my shoulder and chirping. I’d hoped maybe the cat would scare them away, but it seems that I’ve found the only cat who has no interest in birds whatsoever.”

Just then a yellow budgie flew from a perch formed like a trellis over a large plant and made itself right at home on Crystal’s shoulder. It pecked at her cheek with what could only be termed affection and looked at her in a questioning manner. With an embarrassed grin, she held her finger up for the bird to flutter to and made her way to a cupboard where she removed a bag of seeds. Pouring a small amount into a dish, she gently manoeuvred the pretty thing to step down and eat.

Within seconds, another bird flew across from the same perch and landed near the dish of food. Feathers of green interspersed with black were very attractive. The chatter as it settled amused both Ashley and Crystal. They chuckled and caught each other’s smiles.

“I’m dying to hear what you call these two, Snow White and Cinderella?”

“Couldn’t. The yellow fella is male. So I called them Beauty and the Beast.” She fleetingly let her thoughts wander to all the pets she’d rescued over the years—too many to remember.

He snagged her interest with his next question. “I gather wildlife has a thing for you.”

“It’s not my fault. Honest! I try hard to ignore them, but I just can’t.” Her hands shot up in a protective gesture.