Chapter 2 #2
I resist the urge to follow her. Something about the security guard's sentence has piqued my interest. Because he described a persistent woman? I go to the intercom, activate the now-functional camera to see if it's the redhead standing at the door. Maybe she wants to apologize?
Okay, that's a bit of a stretch. But it's better to watch from here. Out of range of her slapping hands.
When the camera image comes into focus, I pause for a moment. It's not the redhead. What I see instead is a petite woman with black, curly hair, a simple yet somehow elegant dress, holding a bouquet of flowers.
I can't describe it, but there's something about her.
Can I even see her dimples right now, while she's talking to Dilara?
I almost activated the intercom, but that would broadcast my voice through all the speakers in the living room.
That might not necessarily be to my advantage.
So I opt for the walkie-talkie in my hand.
"Enough. Leave the property," Dilara says, pointing to the driveway. "Or I'll..."
"Your nectar tastes like the gold of the bouquet. I want a taste of you!" the woman begins. I don't understand what she's saying, but the sound of her voice does something to me. I listen to the nonsense, spellbound. Then I realize she's reading from the card on the bouquet.
Oh God. She's just a flower girl. But what a flower girl. You can see that honest anger in her eyes. That fire. I'm truly captivated by this woman. She's from another world...
"Wait a minute, Dilara. I'm coming," I hear myself say into the walkie-talkie and head for the door.
******
When I open the door and see this delivery woman in her dress, our eyes meet. Damn, she's even more beautiful than through the intercom's 4K camera. I struggle to compose myself, feeling a heat building in my stomach and slowly rising.
"So you're the guy who's into nectar," the woman says grumpily, holding the bouquet out to me.
"Cute. Persistent and sassy too," I say, smiling when I see the slight tremor in her hands. A little insecure, a little defiant. Just how I like it.
"How can I help you, Miss..."
"Peterson," she croaks, as if she's suddenly lost her voice.
"A pleasure, Miss Peterson," I murmur, walking toward her and kissing her hand. I watch her out of the corner of my eye and can practically feel the kiss having its desired effect.
"Mr. Rodgers, I must remind you that there are some important people waiting for you inside," Dilara interrupts the moment.
"Then go to them and put them off," I say. I know it's an obvious bluff. Right now, nothing is more important than this mysterious woman with the black, curly hair.
"I'll take care of this matter here," I say, looking at her and wondering if she feels what I'm feeling. There's something between us. Is this what people mean when they say the chemistry is right? I don't know. But I do know this: I want her. But before that, I want to find out why she's here.
"So, Miss Peterson. You can call me Alex. What brings you to me, and who wrote the silly text on the card?" I ask, trying to fix her with my gaze.
"That was you," says Miss Peterson.
"You can call me Alex," I repeat, wanting to make it clear that I can be her friend. If she wants to be.
"Okay, it was you. And now I'd like my four hundred dollars and then you can... you can give the flowers away and drink the nectar of your chosen one," she says, holding the flowers out to me.
"Do you have a first name, sassy Miss Peterson?" I ask, putting as much charm into my voice as I can.
"Beth." Her voice is barely a whisper.
"So, Beth. I didn't order anything. I'm sorry, but I don't intend to pay for the bouquet and... is that gold leaf?" I ask, noticing the glittery stuff in it.
"That's right. As per the order you don't want to pay for," Beth snaps, and I feel that energy, that heat emanating from her, practically jumping over to me. Most delivery people just give in. This woman is different. And I like that. I like her.
"Listen, Beth. Someone's been playing pranks on me lately. Ringing the doorbell, ordering food, and now even flowers. Understand?" I ask, tilting my head.
"All I understand is that some rich snob is cheating me out of four hundred dollars," Beth retorts, turns on her heel, and starts to leave.
"Hey, wait a minute," I say, putting my arm on her shoulder to turn her around. The touch sends a thousand volts through my fingers, and for a moment, it's like I'm seeing stars.
"What do you think you're doing," Beth says, turning around, and before I can react, she shoves me back with full force, so I stumble backward and land butt-first in a small puddle in my driveway.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...," Beth says, clapping a hand over her mouth in horror.
"It's fine, I shouldn't have grabbed you," I say, waving it off and turning to survey the full extent of the disaster.
"Oh God. I am so sorry," Beth says and starts brushing the dirt off with her hands.
"Are you spanking my ass after shoving me?" I ask, having to grin with amusement as I watch her.
"S-Sorry. I didn't mean to, I... should go now. I..."
"You think you're getting away that easily?" I ask, hardly recognizing my own voice and feeling my heart pound like crazy. This woman is so different from anyone I've ever met.
Then I pull the wad of hundred-dollar bills from my pocket, count out four of them, and hand them to her. "I'll pay for the bouquet if you believe me that I didn't order it and didn't commission the silly card."
"No, you don't have to. The dry cleaning for your pants will surely cost more. I really should..." she says, ignoring my outstretched hand.
"You should take the money and as compensation..." I pause. "Come inside with me and have a drink. Let the pants be my worry."
For a few seconds, she says nothing, just stares at me. I think she's wrestling with herself and is perhaps as taken aback by the whole thing as I am. Then she nods and takes the money from me.
"One drink," she says.
"That's all I want," I say with a grin, happy as a teenager that she's coming with me.
******
"So you're telling me you made the bouquet yourself and the delivery guy stood you up?" I ask again, having her tell me the story one more time.
"That's exactly what happened," Beth says, taking a sip of her now second caipirinha, the ordering of which felt like a small victory to me.
The bouquet is on the bar next to us. It looks really nice, as far as I can tell, because I don't really have an eye for flowers and can't remember ever giving any away.
"What a happy coincidence," I murmur, deciding to step things up a notch as I see a few more guests, including the city councilman, saying their goodbyes.
"Want to dance?" I ask her, extending my hand as the band strikes up a slightly slower song.
"I should really go. I mean, I..."
"One dance," I say, holding my hand out a little closer to her and waiting for her to take it.
"With your wet pants? You really don't want to go change them?" she asks, placing her hand in mine. There's that feeling again, that her warmth is seeping into my whole body, as if we're merging.
"Exactly. You've already said four times that you should go, and if I come back with fresh pants, you'll surely be gone. I don't want to risk that," I whisper as we begin to move in time to the music.
"Old charmer," she says, tapping my chest and laughing.
"Ouch," I say theatrically, clutching my chest. "First shoving, then hitting. Are you into that sort of thing?" I ask.
Once the sentence leaves my mouth, we look at each other in a long silence. I know that was pretty clumsy. That doesn't usually happen to me. Why am I acting like a schoolboy around her who's apparently forgotten the basic rules of flirting?
"Do lines like that usually work?" she asks, deliberately stepping on my foot and grinning.
"Actually, never," I say, grinning back.
"What a stroke of luck that the delivery guy bailed," I whisper, stroking her cheek with my hand.
Our eyes meet. Someone says goodbye to me and claps me on the shoulder, but I don't even notice. I only have eyes for Beth. For her hair. For her dimples and those wonderful eyes. And those lips...
Slowly, I move closer to her face, as if waiting to see if she'll push me away again.
But we're past that stage. I know that when my nose is almost touching hers and I see her close her eyes. Just a few more millimeters, and then our lips touch, and suddenly I know that this is exactly what I've wanted to do since I first saw her through the intercom.