Page 7 of Enemy Crush
Mark and I chat over dinner and then we sit and have another beer while we wait for his to-go order. When the bartender puts his order on the bar, he stands and pays his bill. “Well, it was good getting to catch up, but I have to go feed my hungry wife.”
I laugh. “Take care.”
“You too, and good luck with the store,” he says, taking his food and turning to leave.
I’m left alone at the bar and for the first time, I notice how tired I am. The stress of the whole situation has been weighing on me for far too long. Not only that, but the feeling that I’m letting everyone down is weighing heavy on my shoulders. My back is sore and stiff and feels like it’s going to give out at any moment. These last few months have weighed heavy on me and I feel like it’s taken years off. I check my reflection in the mirror behind the bar and notice the darkness under my eyes, the thinning of my cheeks. Is my hairline receding? No, thank god. I smooth it back into place.
I shake my head at myself and pull my wallet out of my pocket, dropping some money on the bar to cover my tab. Without a look or goodbye to anyone, I get up and exit the bar, heading for my truck. Now that my stomach is full and I have a little buzz going, I know sleep will come easy tonight.
I get home within minutes and let myself into the house.
“Hi! Hi!” Bundy says the moment I walk in the door.
“Hi, buddy. You want to stretch your wings?” I ask, walking over to the cage. I open it, stick my hand in, and he jumps onto my finger. I pull him out of the cage and pet his feathers. “How about a shower?” I ask, heading toward the bathroom.
Bundy doesn’t actually get in the shower with me, but he loves the warmth and the steam. Oftentimes he will perch himself up on the curtain rod and dance back and forth in the steam while I shower. The moment we walk into the bathroom, he flies to his usual spot and I reach in and get the water going. I didn’t do shit to break a sweat today, but the day was long and stressful. I just want to wash it all away.
I strip down and climb beneath the hot flow of water and I hang my head, letting the water pour over my hair and run into my face. When my eyes close, a vision of Stella forms behind my eyes. I relive our time together in the store this evening but this time, I pick up on so much more. Like the way her chest was rising and falling even though I know she didn’t have to walk far. I could see her car down at the bar. I notice the way she’d bite her lower lip and how she’d look up at me from beneath her long, dark eyelashes. I zero in on those red, plump lips and it made me wonder just how soft and sweet they really are. I’ve always wanted Stella, but she kept me at a distance, which was part of the reason I gave her so much shit in high school. I wanted her, but she did not want me. This whole thing is just going to tease me further. If it saves my mother’s bookstore, I’ll do anything I have to.
Chapter Five
Stella
Iwake in the morning feeling refreshed and ready for the day. I take a quick shower, dress, fix my hair and makeup, and then head to the laundry room to start some laundry while I’m at work. I gather my things and I’m out the door a little early. I’m craving a white chocolate mocha and a banana nut muffin, so I plan on stopping at the bakery on my way to the office. The town is so small, you can throw a rock and hit any given place, so it only takes minutes before I’m parking my car on Main and walking into the bakery.
The bakery is always busy first thing in the morning. There are small tables set up here and there and every one of them is occupied. Older gentlemen read over the paper while they sip their coffee. There’s a mom with a couple of kids and a few older couples who always start their day here. The line is long and everyone who receives their order has to squeeze through to get to the door.
Finally, I make it up to the register and I place my order. One person works the register while another retrieves the order, so after I pay, I move over to the side while I wait. I overhear an older couple off to the side as they talk over their breakfast.
“Did you hear about the bookstore?” the lady asks her husband.
“No, what about it?” he asks.
“Rumor has it that it’s going to close.”
“What for?” the old man asks, raising his voice.
She shrugs and brushes some gray hair back. “It’s just not making the money that’s needed to stay open.”
“I hate to hear that. These kids nowadays don’t even know what a book is,” the old man says.
I smile but keep listening.
“I’ll hate to see it go. Doreen was a good friend of mine. She kept that place up and running for years. I hate for the town to lose it. All the history that building has seen…” her sentences drifts off.
“Here’s your order.”
I turn and take my muffin and coffee and squeeze out the door. Hearing that old couple talk about the bookstore makes me feel even more guilty. Sure, I offered to help Paxton, but I knew he wouldn’t accept and I wasn’t exactly bending over backward to convince him. That bookstore means a lot to the people of this town. I want to get him to let me help. I decide that if I don’t hear from him by the end of the day, I’ll reach out and make more of an effort to help him.
I load back up into my car and head to the office. I sit behind my desk and sip my coffee while I start up the computer and phone for the day. Once everything is up and running, I open the bag containing my muffin and start eating while I read over emails. I get several updates from small business owners who I’ve helped recently, keeping me updated on how things are doing. Mark at the garage sent an email thanking me once again. His one-man business is now running well enough that he had to hire more employees. Andy at the ski resort is officially booked to full capacity for the winter season—something that hasn’t happened in years. Bonnie at the boutique in town has had the highest earning month she’s ever had. I read and respond to their emails with a prideful smile.
My cell rings and I pull it from my purse without checking the screen. “Hello?” I say, still smiling at the computer screen.
“Stella?”
“Yes, this is she,” I respond.
“Hey, it’s Pax.”
