Page 2 of Naughty Desires

“What kind of package?” I lick my lips and give him a sultry smile, realizing only when his face smooths to an expressionless mask that I am no longer in Oz.

Silence.

Kill me now.

“Uh . . . I meant, do you have a slip?”

He hands me a parcel slip. “Actually, there might be more than one.”

I stare at the paper in my hand and pray for the ground to open up and swallow me.

“May I have them, Lily?”

“Of course.” I crush the claim slip in my hand and through force of will alone manage to back up into the storage room, one painful, humiliating step at a time.

As soon as I am out of Dr. Steadman’s line of sight, I thud my fist against the shelf. Why does this always happen? I’m thirty-five and not eighteen, and my days of acting like a moron in front of drop-dead gorgeous men were supposed to be over when I married the love of my life.

After checking the package numbers against the codes on the crushed claim slip, I stack them four high and carry them toward the door. Dr. Steadman receives a lot of packages, all in identical unmarked brown boxes. Alexis figures they are supplies for his new dental office, but I like to imagine they contain something more exciting. How can a man as handsome and single as Dr. Steadman have nothing in his life except inspecting cavities and teeth? He has to have some dirty secrets.

Whirrr.

“Oh. Dr. Steadman. What are you doing?”

“This tool does more than polish teeth, Lily. The natural bristles are perfect for concave anatomies and the handpiece maintains a slow and steady 2500 rpm. It was a special order just for you.”

“Lily? You in here?”

Alexis’s voice pulls me out of yet another fantasy, and I shake it off. I have to stop my mind from wandering, but my fantasy life is so much more exciting than my everyday world that consists of working days at the post office and nights as a waitress at the local western-themed bar. I took the second job at ReTox Bar when Chris was laid off to pay the bills. Now I do it to get away from the sheer and utter loneliness of being in the house with Chris in the evening, knowing he doesn’t see me. It’s my childhood all over again.

“Behind the boxes.”

I recommended Alexis to my boss when my colleague, Jen, went on maternity leave. After her husband ran off with his secretary, Alexis needed a job to help pay the bills while she got her new bakery off the ground. Her position became permanent when Jen decided not to come back, but, with everyone communicating by email and the big stores handling their own deliveries, fewer and fewer people are using the postal service, and we know her days are numbered.

“You want some help?”

I catch a glimpse of Alexis out of the corner of my eye. Small and slim, with deeply tanned skin, her long dark hair dyed with purple streaks, Alexis has been my friend since fourth grade. Lacking in any kind of athletic ability, we bonded in the D squad in track and field and have been together ever since, save for the few years she went to college to study to be a chef.

Alexis is an amazing cook, but she never did anything with her Culinary Arts degree. Instead, she put her career on the back burner when she got pregnant, and put her skills into making incredible birthday cakes and treats for hockey away games. As soon as the ex was out of the picture, however, she used some of the settlement money to buy the town bakery from the retiring owners and she’s planning to reopen in just a few months.

“No, thanks. I’m good.”

“You can’t see over the boxes.”

“That’s the point. They’re for Dr. Steadman and I don’t want him to see my face. My brain shut down when he came up to the counter and smiled his Ken-doll smile. It’s like Rex Morgan all over again.”

Rex.The high school bad boy. I wanted him from the moment I saw him walking down the hallway of Revival High School with his shaggy blond hair, black trench coat, and Anarchy T-shirt stretched tight around his starving-musician frame. Unfortunately, I was rendered mute anytime I found myself in his presence, and the one time he did speak to me at a high school dance, I dumped a cup of punch down the front of my dress, slipped as I ran for the door, and spent a few hours in the ER with a mild concussion and a major case of humiliation.

“Actually, I heard Rex is back in town,” she says.

“What?” My head jerks to the side and I miss the small step between the back room and the front desk area. I stumble. Catch myself. But the boxes unbalance and scatter all over the floor. Instinctively, I cringe, waiting for the shout that doesn’t come, the mocking laughter, the cruel comments about my incompetence, and how I’ve got my mother’s lying, cheating, stupid, useless genes. No wonder my dad signed away his parental rights when I was nine years old.

“I’m sorry, Lily, but I can’t deal with you. I don’t want to be your dad. I don’t want to see you and be reminded of that bitch.”

“I’m so sorry.” I crouch down and gather the boxes in my arms under the amused gaze of Dr. Steadman, who is fortunately saved the embarrassment of crawling across the floor to retrieve his parcels by the counter between us. Over the years, I’ve learned how to be careful, to think about every step I make, and to keep my feelings buried deep inside. But something about Dr. Steadman rattles me, and when I’m around him, everything spills out. Just like it used to be with Chris long ago.

“No harm done, Lily.” His voice flows over me like liquid caramel, and I almost wish I had a cavity for it to fill.

“Actually, harm was done.” I place the packages on the counter and hold up the box that was on top of the stack, the corner dented and torn.

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