Chapter 8
BLYTHE
Lance was up to something.
It was glaringly obvious, no matter how innocent he was pretending to be. He insisted on going to the store to get a few essentials this evening before they went hunting for furniture tomorrow. It was really sweet of him to offer to help move things with his truck, but something was up. He kept disappearing and reappearing, holding a shopping bag while they were at the mall which was a waste of time. There was nothing she really needed here - yet.
Even at dinner, he had been elusive or mysterious about things. He didn’t say much, but what he said implied there was more to this friendship or arrangement that they had. She barely knew the man; he’d rejected her and then suddenly was stepping forward to be nice or help her. It was hard not to squash down those moments, too, because she desperately needed that help.
“Can we go by my place to see if there is anything left?” she asked quietly. They were now walking through the aisles at Target. Lance was pushing a cart, picking up a few things here and there.
“It’s probably ruined with water or smoke,” he hedged, not holding back. “Most of the time, it’s not just the fire but what happens to put it out that ruins a lot of family heirlooms, treasures, and other things. I mean, even if we went and found a closet full of untouched items – they would smell heavily of smoke or…”
“I’m talking about my car keys, my purse, or…”
Lance’s hand touched hers, causing her to look up in surprise.
“I already contacted the dealership, talked to your boss, and told him what was going on. I asked him to order another set of keys for your vehicle, and he said that wasn’t a problem since you bought it there. The keys will be there in about a week, and then I’ll get it towed to the dealership to be programmed.”
“You did?” she whispered tearfully, touched and surprised.
“Yeah, and I had them send any paperwork for you to my address because I didn’t know your new home address. I hope I wasn’t overstepping, but things were kind of a mess for a few days and…”
“No, it’s fine. I really appreciate it.”
“Once you get settled in your place, we can forward your mail to the house.”
“I had just turned in the paperwork that morning at the post office, so I should have mail at my new home,” she agreed, nodding, and then looked past him. “That will work.”
There, just past his head, was a box of college essentials. A dish drainer, two plastic bowls, two plastic plates, and two small cups. Something like that would work for her at the house until she really got a chance to get settled or received a settlement for her things from the insurance company. Thank goodness for renters’ insurance.
“Nope.”
“What do you mean, ‘nope,’” she replied, looking at him in surprise.
“This is your chance to start over – why start with crap?”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, hear me out,” he hesitated and looked a little nervous. “Close your eyes and imagine for a few moments, all right? If you were registering for a housewarming party or a wedding…”
“What?” she blurted out, her eyes opening and meeting his – only to see his frown as he put his hand over her eyes.
“Uh, hello? Pretending, remember?” he retorted in a hushed voice. “Close your eyes and daydream for a second. If you were registering, would you pick a cheap set of plastic plates for yourself?”
“Well… no?”
“Exactly. What would you select if you could choose anything? This is your moment to begin anew, to dream with a blank slate. Don’t skimp and ‘deal with things’ – but allow yourself to imagine.”
Blythe swallowed and nodded, keeping her eyes closed even as he pulled away his hand from her eyes… listening. His voice was weaving a spell around her, inviting her to think outside the box.
“Pretend you are setting up your home for the very first time. I want you to imagine holidays with family, candlelit dinners, meals in front of the television. You want something that is special, something you like, but something that you would also be proud to use in front of friends and family. If it was your birthday, what would you want to see a slice of birthday cake sitting on – a plastic plate or maybe something like this?” he asked softly and she opened her eyes, meeting his.
In one hand he was holding a delicate plate with swirls of petals and ivy… and in the other was a stoneware plate with big brown splashes. Both were nice but not exactly what she had in mind. Turning slightly, she hesitated and heard his voice again.
“Don’t you dare look at prices either… this is a one-time purchase.”
Blythe laughed nervously, glanced at him, and saw his knowing smile. He caught her, knew her better than she realized, and was drawn toward something a little more feminine and brighter toward the end of the aisle. He was already putting the two dishes back on the display stand and moving behind her as she stopped.
There before her was a lovely, scalloped plate with a spray of pink roses in the middle that was lovely yet delicate. She could see herself having dinner there in front of the TV, but there was no one in her life. No holidays, no candlelight dinners, or…
“This one?” Lance asked, picking up the pink floral dish. “This one’s very pretty and elegant.”
“It’s not too girly?” she began and saw him roll his eyes.
“You’re a girl, and I am completely comfortable in my masculine side. I can go for pink flowers if it makes you happy.”
“Um, we aren’t buying dishes together or setting up a house together,” she began, confused.
“Of course not. That would be crazy-talk, wouldn’t it? No, I was trying to explain that when I’m helping move the furniture or putting together shelves or stuff, I would be comfortable eating pizza off there.”
“Ah, okay.”
“Relax – and we’ll get the pink dishes. Did you see that there is cutlery that has little roses at the end of each fork, too?”
“There is?”
“Yeah, let me show you – that and some pink water goblets,” he offered, smiling easily. “Now that I know you have a feminine streak in you that likes girly things, it’s going to be much easier to shop together.”
“Lance,” she began, hesitating and pulling the shopping cart to a stop so she could look at him. Her eyes met his, saw his easy going demeanor, but something in his gaze made her pause. “I really appreciate you helping me and keeping me calm during all of this. I can get really frazzled and…”
“Hey,” he whispered, reaching out to cup her cheek like he’d done this every day of his life, but to her, this was new, almost overwhelming, to feel him reaching for her like it was nothing.
This was everything.
She’d had a crush on him for so long, had yearned for moments like this in her dreams, and had even felt intimidated when she thought he would kiss her and didn’t. No, there was something so incredibly moving about the simplicity of that touch that made everything in her hesitate, stand up, and take notice.
“This is what friends and couples do when they start dating or build a relationship… and we’re on a date, remember?” he breathed. “It might not be a normal date like other people, but I think shopping can qualify. It allows me a chance to get to know you, and we can talk and isn’t that what dating is - just a couple of people getting to know each other?”
She swallowed and nodded, feeling his thumb brush against her cheek.
“Let’s go look at utensils, and then we’ll do something crazy, like picking out a knife block or – gasp – a trash can,” he teased softly, leaning forward to rub his nose against hers. There was a glimmer in his eyes, showing that he was teasing her, and it was wonderful.
“Oh my gosh…” she blurted out nervously, chuckling, feeling almost giddy and bubbly in a weird way. Where was this guy before and why was he being so sweet about all of this?
Blythe followed him to the other aisle, selecting different items to help get her started. There were so many things that she needed to purchase all over again, and it was a little overwhelming. She was looking at toasters, completely sick of shopping already and needing to put away these things to make a list of others that she might need, only to hear a loud exclamation.
“OOoooOOOh! Check it out! Gimme your keys…” Lance was blurting out in a rushed manner, looking almost panicked. “Hurry – I’ve never seen this before, and I wanna check it out.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked nervously, handing him her keys.
“This is sooo cool,” he said excitedly and then put his back toward her, rushing over to a vending machine in the distance. He was already swiping his card, shoving her key in the slot, before she made it to his side and hesitated. This was a key copying machine, and he was copying her house key?
“What are you doing?” she balked, shoving him on the arm and trying to get his attention.
“Duh, what’s it look like I’m doing?” he retorted, pointing at the display that was cutting a bright blue key behind a pane of glass. “I’m making a copy.”
“To quote you – duh! I see that, which is why I have a problem. Why do you need a copy, and you could ask, you know!”
“Would you have said ‘yes’?”
“Why do you need a copy?”
“So I can move stuff over and help get you settled.”
“Then I would have said ‘yes’ if you asked me for a key.”
“I’m asking you now,” he said, rolling his eyes and huffing. “Can I have a key since we are being so formal about things?”
Blythe glared at him and squinted.
“You know, I should tell you ‘no’ just for that tone you had… but yes, you may use a key for a little while to help me move over a few things.”
“See? Why does there need to be drama?”
“Drama? Drama? Why do you think I’m being dramatic?”
“Aren’t you? Just let this happen and go with it.”
“Let ‘what’ happen? Go with ‘what’ exactly?” she asked, rubbing her forehead in frustration as he removed the new key from the panel and inspected it against hers before handing it back over to her.
“Is your head bothering you?” he asked, looking concerned.
“You’re bothering me,” she snapped and saw his crestfallen expression – and sighed. “Lance, I just get tired easily, and this all feels overwhelming to handle, you know. I mean, it’s a lot. I don’t know how long it’s going to take to get my insurance check and…”
“I said, ‘don’t worry’,” he replied softly, picking up her hand and putting it against his chest. “Trust someone to help you when you need a break, okay?”
“There’s a cart full of items that says, ‘I should be worrying about money’…”
“And I’m telling you not to,” he smiled. “I’m not rich by any means, but I’ve got my feet under me, and you don’t yet. So, let’s scratch each other’s backs and things can all be handled later on when things are better.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. Do you want ice cream? I could go for a hot fudge sundae. How about you?”
She blinked at him several times because he was changing directions once again on her, keeping her mind spinning. They were just talking about keys, money, friendship, and now ice cream?
“Um, sure?”
“Let’s get this, head to your place and put it away, then we can make a list of items to get tomorrow because we haven”t started a list yet… and have ice cream while sitting on the floor. It will be like picnicking. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
“You’re weird,” she chuckled nervously and looked at him – only to catch his playful wink as he grinned, pushing the cart toward the register.
Thirty minutes later,Blythe was unlocking the front door to her home only to feel Lance scoop her up, carrying her inside. She stared at him in surprise as he set her down not a second later before darting back out to the truck to get the bags from the back.
“What was that?”
“Firefighters are superstitious. We don’t say ‘bye’ to each other. You don’t clean your helmet – it’s bad luck. I have a rabbit’s foot on my keychain and a four-leaf clover. So, when you are walking into a new house – you carry a girl over the threshold.”
“A bride gets carried over the threshold…”
“Well, you’re not a bride, and neither am I,” he harrumphed, lifting the bags and putting them on the counter. If she wasn’t so shocked by his candid statement, she might have been insulted, but it was true – and he was acting like it was nothing.
Ignoring her standing there, he walked over and tried his key in the door, before dropping it back into his pocket. Lance whistled lightly to himself and handed her a sundae that was melting – along with a spoon.
He quickly dug out a notepad and an ink pen before digging into his own ice cream. Walking back into the living room, he flipped on the hallway light, casting a glow in the empty darkness, then plopped down on the floor, leaning against the wall like it was nothing… and hesitated.
Lance patted the floor beside him pointedly.
Blythe sighed and moved to take a seat – only to feel him nudge her shoulder playfully.
“This is nice.”
“Thank you,” she said nervously, smiling as she dug out a bite of ice cream. “I really liked the covered patio and the kitchen.”
“It’s cozy. I see why you were buying this place.”
“I was supposed to move the next day.”
“You are moving now,” he said quietly. “This can be your ‘next day,’ and we can put it all behind you now.”
“I lost everything…”
“You are starting over, yes – but sometimes everyone needs a fresh start in order to find their place… or a swift kick in the teeth.”
“I feel like I got both,” she admitted, taking a bite and trying not to get weepy. “Two steps forward, but I keep sliding down the hill.”
“Then look up, take my hand, and realize that you aren’t climbing alone. I’m attached to an anchor, waiting, and ready to help.”
Blythe looked at him and saw his eyes were watching her – only to see him take a bite of his ice cream pointedly. She chuckled softly, realizing that she was making more of this than he intended or implied. He was just being friendly and sweet, and they had only really begun talking. He claimed they were now ‘dating’ but then had also mentioned that he wasn’t interested in dating anyone either.
Grabbing the notepad, he arched an eyebrow at her.
“You need a couch for us to sit on,” he began and scribbled it on the paper.
“Yes. A television, a couch, um…”
“Can you spell ‘Um’ so I make sure and write it down,” he teased, smirking and looking at her as she rolled her eyes.
“A bed, towels, a shower curtain…”
“Let’s focus on the bed thing,” he interrupted. “What’s your ideal bed? Big bed? Small bed? Super plush? Satin sheets? Cotton T-shirt sheets? Lots of pillows? A body pillow? Oh, tell me you hug a body pillow to you at night and…”
“Skip the bed,” she muttered.
“Um, the bed is really important and something you’ll use daily.”
“It’s also personal, and I’ll figure it out.”
“I thought I was going to help you?”
“Not if you are going to make things sound dirty or…”
“Wait a second,” Lance protested, looking at her in surprise. “I’ve been on my best behavior and haven”t made a dirty comment yet.”
“Satin sheets? Body pillows?”
“Those are legit questions!”
“Those are questions a perv wants answered!”
“Okay – so now I’m a perv for being nice?”
“No, you obviously have one thing on your mind, and I have prior experience with the way your mind works - which is why we are not discussing my bedroom furniture.”
“Wow. I never took you for a prude.”
“A prude?!” she gaped, stunned and stared at his profile as he scribbled something and underlined it three times dramatically. “What did you just write down?”
“Prude,” he said simply and shrugged.
“I’m not a prude, and not wanting to discuss my bedroom with you doesn’t make me a prude. It makes me a very private person.”
“Private people sleep in beds too, you know.”
“I don’t believe you,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead again… only to see him write down something else. “Now, what are you writing down?”
“Ibuprofen, sheesh… nosy much?”
“Oh my gosh,” she began in exasperation – and heard his chuckle.
“Anyone ever tell you that you are not only a prude but uptight, too?”
“You are insufferable.”
“And a realist.”
“Fine!” she snapped. “What kind of stuff would you pick out for the bedroom?”
“Why my lovely little Boop, I thought you’d never asked,” he said huskily, and she knew in that second, that she’d fallen right into his trap. “I want a big bed that I can play around in easily, rolling in every direction with plenty of room to stretch out or cuddle if I want to. I really think I want a four-poster bed frame with soft sheets and…”
“Stop…” she whispered, feeling her face flush with warmth as she stared at him. His eyes held hers as he continued speaking despite her request.
“Lots of pillows,” he murmured. “I want a haven, a soft bed that welcomes me… somewhere I can collapse into knowing I’m finally home.”
“Oh mercy,” she barely uttered, her heart hammering in her chest as she pictured him crawling into a soft, fluffy bed. She could see a small mountain of pillows, a down coverlet, all the soft coziness he’d just mentioned, but that wasn’t what caught her breath.
No.
It was her picturing the mental image of him climbing into bed toward her where she was waiting for him. She could imagine the look on his face, him shrugging off his clothing in that instant, and the flare of wanton abandonment in her own soul was overwhelming as she stared at him, those feelings wrapping around her like a cocoon of yearning desires.
“But that’s just me,” he shrugged, looking away and leaning back from her. “Why don’t we finish our ice cream and put away the bags since it’s getting late. I know you’ve got to be tired, and tomorrow we can go look at furniture.”
“Couches.”
“Couches, beds, and other things…”
“Lance…”
“Fine, we’ll do this your way,” he said evasively – but that smirk she’d seen earlier in the day was still there.
She might have won this argument, but that war had already been fought. It was over before it began, and there was a clear victor already - somewhere, someway, somehow… and Blythe had a distinct feeling that she was standing firm all right – but not on the winning side she once imagined.
No, victory was looking much, much different.