Page 30 of Seaside Cowboy's Fairy Tale

He slid his arms around her again. He didn’t want them to be a confinement, as the attic or her schools had once been for her, so he watched for any sign that she wanted to move. But she stayed there, looking at him, making his blood surge. So he let himself get lost in her eyes, never wanting to be found. Yet he had to ask the questions straining against his throat. “What about your father? Why didn’t he protect you?” He prepared himself for the answer. His father had left a lot to be desired, to put it mildly, and clearly so had hers. “Or...” His voice dropped. “Was he abusive, too?”

She looked away. “Not abusive. Just weak. He loved me in his way, but he could never stand up to my stepmom. He also believed my stepsisters, or it was convenient for him to believe them. Then after he died, it got worse. He left everything to his wife.” She visibly swallowed. “It was either obey her or be out on the streets.”

“How... how did you get out?” He removed his hold on her and sat back in case she needed the space.

Her gaze darted around as if checking for any new developments on the ocean’s mirrored surface. Then she tipped her head back and stared at the sky, her posture relaxing.

“When I was in high school, my stepmom ordered me to go work at a restaurant, as well as continue doing home chores. Of course, I’d have to give her all my earnings. She said it wasn’t like I was getting a good education, anyway, and there was no hope for me going to college. She was right about the latter.”

He clenched his teeth so much that his molars hurt. “She made sure to ruin your future.”

“I guess it was her way to make me stay a domestic servant forever.” Cinderella’s voice turned bitter. “I managed to squirrel away some tips, but not nearly enough to pay for a deposit on an apartment.”

“So unfair!” he muttered under his breath.

“With time, I gained several patrons at the café who became regulars and who were nice to me. I started talking to one of them, a woman in her late thirties, from time to time. Well, she started talking to me, to be precise. Her name was Irene Bruzlin. Eventually, I told her my story. She offered me a custodial job at her company with the chance to move up later, as well as an advance payment. She had a tiny cottage and rented it to me for a ridiculously low price.” She turned to him. Tears sparkled in her eyes that she wiped away fast. “Irene has been my boss ever since. A year after I started working at her company, I rented an apartment. She could rent out that cottage for a much higher price than I was paying.”

“I’m glad someone was kind to you.” Something inside him softened.

“Yeah, me, too. Sometimes all it takes to change someone’s life is a little kindness. Abuse and cruelty don’t exist just because of the bully. They exist because the rest of the people are weak inside.” She paused. “Irene even offered to pay for me to go to college. And I did take online courses here and there. But I didn’t feel I had the time or resources to spend on college then.”

“Maybe one day.” He didn’t know what her dreams were, but he wanted every one of them to come true.

“There’s a lot of information online these days, so I educate myself that way. Thank you for listening. Even more for understanding.” Her lips shifted up, her hazel eyes lighting like proverbial sunshine appeared from the clouds. “You know what? I feel hungry now. Let’s eat.”

“Gladly.” His stomach started feeling empty, too. He brought the cooler from the galley, then opened the large picnic basket, and took out the spread of cheeses and meats, as well as sandwiches with Japanese Wagyu beef or Ibérico ham and plates with fruit and pastry.

“I don’t know about college. One can’t enter the same river twice.” She leaned over and let water filter through her fingers.

“But one can enter different rivers many times. I hope you like cheese and sweets.”

She chuckled and helped him arrange the rest of the food on the makeshift table. “I do. And true about the rivers. What about you? Not whether you like sweets, but you know, about your family and what shaped you.”

“My late dad was abusive, but I have awesome brothers and the best mother in the world.” Never mind that he’d neglected his relationships with his mother and his brothers for years. He winced. He’d never appreciated his wonderful family as much as after meeting Cinderella and learning about hers. “My brothers are the salt of the earth, and Mom’s loud and outspoken and loves with her whole heart.”

And he’d love for her to meet this woman. A low breath rushed from his lungs at the surprising thought, and to hide the confusion, he turned to look at the sparkling ocean meeting the glorious sky. After Madison, whom his mother hadn’t liked and warned him about, he’d never brought any of his dates home to meet Mom.

How would a meeting with Cinderella even go?

Hi, Mom. This is Cinderella. I have to call her that because she keeps her real name a secret. I met her recently, and I’ve only gone on two dates with her.

He suppressed a grimace. Yeah, that would go well. Not!

“I’ve met your Mom, but only briefly. She sounds awesome.” Wistful notes turned her voice breathy as she munched on prosciutto, then Genoa salami. “And I’ve met one of your brothers. If the others are all the same, they’ll be awesome, too.”

If only she’d said “all the same ashim.” Then he set his ham sandwich down. “You’ve met my mom and my brother? When?”

Her eyes darkened as if she said too much. She lowered her head. Was she only pretending to study the assortment of food? As she settled on ricotta cheese, she didn’t answer, so he let her off the hook. Okay, he just fished for different information. “Is it okay to ask when your birthday is?”

“It’s in May, but it doesn’t matter. Since Dad remarried when I was a kid, none of my birthdays have been celebrated. It’s okay. I’m used to it.” Her shoulder rose in a half shrug. She tested another slice of cheese, this time Camembert, then picked up a Gorgonzola.

“No!” Anger surging in him again on her behalf, he leaped to his feet. “It’s not okay. It’s not okay at all. Birthdays should be celebrated. Especially children’s birthdays. Milestones, as well.” But then, how many of his brothers’ birthdays had he missed? “Youshould be celebrated.”

“Thank you.” She gestured to the spread of cheeses. “This is more than enough. When was the last timeyoucelebrated your birthday?”

He froze, then sat down again. He couldn’t remember. Oh, he could. “When I was home from college, Mom insisted on celebrating. But once I started working, I decided to stop having birthday parties. There never seemed to be enough time.”

She didn’t say anything as she picked up a sandwich with Brie cheese, but he got the message. A new idea perked him up. He’d need help executing it, though, and he knew just the person to ask.

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