Chapter Ten
Charles
My phone rings and I answer the call without even checking to see who’s calling.“Hello?”
“Hi, Charles. I know I said I couldn't go to the party with you, but some things changed, and I can go now.”On the other end of the line, Alisha sounds almost shy, and I sit upright in my chair.
My stomach flexes with excitement and I swallow hard, thrilled by the news. I hadn’t expected her to change her mind, and I’m wondering what changed between last night and today, but I’m not about to pry and potentially ruin my chances of taking her. If I get pushy, she might change her mind and I don’t want that.
“That's excellent news, thank you.” I manage to keep my tone quiet and reserved, even though all I want to do is shout my excitement.
“You're welcome. I'm going to hang up now.” She sounds flustered, unsure of what else to say, and I can't help but chuckle.
“I'll talk to you soon.” With that, we both end the call and only a second passes before I nearly leap out of my chair and make my way to the door.
I'm going to do some shopping in the dining room on my laptop. I know this event is supposed to be fancy, so I absolutely plan on buying her everything she needs to look and feel her best for the party. She's going to knock them all dead, and I can't wait.
By the time she shows up at the house, I'm not sure if the person at the door is her or the person delivering the items I purchased.
I almost consider betting with myself about who will arrive first, but that thought is quickly dashed when she arrives. I’m not at all disappointed that she's in my home, however.
She seems extra shy as she scurries to the kitchen like a scared mouse. Her obvious nerves are almost adorable, but I feel bad that she's uncomfortable.
I smile and nod at her before returning my attention to the front door. Only a few moments later, the delivery person shows up and I answer the door, taking the boxes from them with a smile and a wink.
The delivery guy smiles, then turns and heads for his beat-up little car while I take the boxes inside. With quick steps I make my way to the kitchen and put both boxes on the counter. Alisha peeks up over the counter from where she's kneeling down, pulling some dishes from their spot.
“Can you come here for a moment?” I speak in a soft voice, making sure there's an upward inflection to the end of the words so she knows it's actually a question and that she's welcome to say no.
She stands up, wiping her hands on her pants as she stares from me to the boxes and back to me again. “Sure, I have a moment.” With a glance over her shoulder at the countertop, she makes her way to the boxes on the counter in front of me. Her gaze meets mine, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a feeling I'm not going to like this very much, am I?”
I lift both shoulders, unaware of how she does with gifts or how this whole exchange will make her feel. “These are both for you,” I say. “Open the big one first, please.”
She nods, turning her attention back to the boxes, and I notice that her hands are trembling slightly. “Nothing's going to jump out at me, right?” She sounds almost terrified as she throws a glance my direction and I offer her reassurance.
“Nothing's going to jump out at you. You're completely safe.” Something tells me she's not entirely convinced as her shoulders droop a fraction of an inch and she lets out a sigh.
Whispering something under her breath, she pulls a knife from her pocket, unfolding the little blade and sliding the sharp metal along the tape sealing the box. I watch, anticipating the way her face is going to light up when she sees what's inside the box. I've been very meticulous in my decision making and I can only hope that she appreciates the effort even if she doesn’t love the gift. Of course, I hope she loves the gift too.
She gives me a sideways glance out of the corners of her eyes before opening the flaps in the box. As she glances inside, I see her chest compress as she exhales. Her eyebrows lift and her lips form an almost-perfect ‘o’ of surprise as she reaches gingerly into the box with both hands.
She lifts out the silken gray dress, her gaze darting to me before back to the material she’s holding. I’d chosen a color for her that matches my eyes, and the color of the other gifts matches hers. “It’s beautiful,” she breathes, holding up the dress and pulling the length of the gown out of the box.
I want to tell her that the dress is not as beautiful as she is, but I worry that’s too corny of a line and far too soon in our relationship. All of the good things she's been trying to do for me, helping me get my health under control, making me eat better, and even taking my anger head on make me admire her for her strength and unwillingness to back down. She's unlike any woman I've ever met, and I'm both intrigued by her and interested in spending more time together. I can only assume that all too soon she'll let me down or I’ll grow bored of her, or she’ll fail to live up to my expectations.
“Thank you,” she says, holding the dress up to herself. “How did you know my size?”
“I didn't, but I hired someone to make sure that it fits.” I know that this is the place where everything can fall apart; if the dress is too small, she could be upset and think that I want her to be smaller. If the dress is too big, she might feel offended and think I’m saying she looks bigger than she is. This moment might be a perfect test of her reaction to this kind of situational stress and my chance to see if she’s quick to see my actions as criticisms.
“If you'd like, I can try it on right now.” Her eyes are wide and bright, and I nod my head.
“Follow me.” With those words, I lead her out of the kitchen and toward my bedroom. What a strange feeling leading a woman toward my bedroom with no intention of any intimacy. Though to be honest, it would also be strange to have a woman in my home for intimacy - I don’t bring home a lot of company.
I usher her in my bedroom and close the door behind her. My heart thumps softly against my ribs and my mouth dries up as I envision what she’ll look like wearing the dress I’d chosen for her. Thankfully, I don't have to wait long and she opens the door, stepping across the threshold and smiling at me before giving a little twirl.
The shining material flares out around her legs, and she smiles widely as she comes to a halt. The dress hugs her curves in all the right ways, and I'm surprised to see the outfit almost fits perfectly. “It’s perfect,” she says softly, then throws her arms around my shoulders, clearly swept away in her exuberance.
I inhale her sweet scent as my hand hovers just above her lower back, not quite touching, but wanting to rest my hand on her. She pulls away, surprised. “I’m sorry, that was a bit much.”
I smile, my heart melting. “Not at all.” I reach out and gently run my phone along her lower jawbone, watching her eyes widen before the corners of her lips curve up. “There's another box for you to open.”
She seems to remember the other box in the kitchen, and I notice her taking inventory of herself, as if she's trying to figure out what else she could possibly need. Then her expression drives into a knowing look as she lifts up on tiptoe. I love watching her mind work, and I can't wait to see her response when she realizes she's wrong.
With that, we both make our way back out to the kitchen and pick up the box that had held her dress. Tugged at the bottom of the box inside a velvet bag are the shoes that match the dress, and I see her brow furrow as she opens the bag, then glances at the other box.
“Are those shoes acceptable?” I don't want her to be uncomfortable during the party.
She nods, her head clearly preoccupied by curiosity about the other box.
“And are they the right size?” I'm keeping her attention locked on the shoes while delighting in her anticipation to open the other box. I can tell she doesn't want to be rude, but she desperately wants to know what awaits her.
And suddenly, I realize I want to experience her anticipation in another way. I want to feel her hesitate, inhale, and swallow hard right before I touch my lips to hers. I want to feel her body squirm, her thighs squeeze together, her body shiver with desire before I give her what she begs for...
Shaking my head to rid myself of those thoughts, I nod at the second box. “Please open it.” Clearly I need to end this game before I lose my head.
She opens the box and glances at me, obviously confused as she pulls out the smaller box. But when she opens the container, I feel her gasp. Her chest rises, her knuckles go white on the edge of the counter, and her arms flex as she leans forward ever so slightly.
“It’s too much,” she whispers, staring down at the beautiful aquamarine set. I want to tell her that it’s really not - there are much more expensive sets I could have purchased for her, but I chose this one because the color matches her eyes so perfectly.
“I hope you love them,” I say instead. There’s no sense in reminding her about the disparity between our incomes. I don’t want to look like a jerk.
“I can’t possibly accept these,” she says, unable to tear her gaze away from the gems.
“I insist, or I’ll be insulted.” If she’s going to make me play hardball, I will. There’s no way she can turn this gift down that I won’t make her feel bad. When all is said and done and the party is over, she’s welcome to do as she wishes with the items. I simply want her to wear them for the occasion.
The beautiful center stone is circled by diamonds, but the stone’s cut gives the appearance of ripples, like water after a stone is thrown in. I pick up the necklace and loop the chain around her neck, well aware this is not the most expensive gift I've bought, but this is the first time I bought jewelry with an intention beyond “expensive gift.” I wanted one that matched her eyes, and this one is perfect. I fasten the chain and she turns to face me, her fingers delicately tracing the stone.
“Thank you,” she says softly, her eyes luminous, shining brighter in the dress and necklace. Her light brown hair and pretty face are already irresistible, but I can’t stop staring at her.
“What?” she asks, glancing down at herself.
I shake my head, floored by her. “You look amazing.”
Her smile widens. “Thank you.”
Before I can say anything else, my mother walks in. “Hey, guys, I just wanted-” She stops moving, her words freezing in her throat as she stands still as a statue, staring at Alisha.
I watch my mother watching Alisha and can’t hold back a smile, aware my mother sees her absolute beauty too. “Wow,” my mother says, her gaze sweeping down and back up Alisha before she turns to me with a good job! expression that almost makes me laugh. She’s acting more like one of the guys than my mother. “She’s gorgeous. I’m guessing she’s your date for Arson and Laurel’s celebration?”
How did my mom know about that? Now doesn’t seem like the time to ask questions, though, so I answer instead. Well, I kind of answer, as best I can. I nod, my mouth and throat so dry I can’t even speak.
My mother’s attention leaves me to lock on Alisha again as she reaches out to blindly pat my shoulder with one hand, missing once or twice before making full contact. “You’d better claim her as your own before somebody else does.”
I stare at Alisha, watching her eyebrows furrow as her gaze darts back and forth between me and my mother, obviously amused by our conversation.
I hadn’t considered claiming her or trying to make her mine. I’m more interested in seeing where things between us go, but deep down, I wish she was mine for more than just this celebration.
Alisha seems to take my mother’s words as a joke – and maybe they are, but I doubt it – and brushes them off with a soft laugh.
“Why are you here?” I ask, needing to rib my mother a bit and lighten the tension of the moment. I hadn’t expected her home, but she’s no doubt here to say her goodbyes before going on vacation.
Instead of glancing at my mother, I’m sure I’m staring at Alisha like I’d like nothing more than to make her mine. She’s shining brighter than the sun; I can’t imagine anyone not wanting her like I do in this moment.
“I’m here to say goodbye before going on vacation with Harvey.” Her shoulder pats turn into shoulder smacks as if she’s playfully punishing me for messing with her. But her attention is still locked on Alisha, who shifts as if she’s starting to feel a little uncomfortable under the weight of our full attention. My mother sighs. “She’s going to be the most beautiful woman at that party, maybe second only to Laurel thanks to that pregnancy glow.”
I nod my head. I’m sure she’s right about half of that statement—I have no doubt that Alisha will be more beautiful even than Laurel.
“I can hear you guys,” Alisha says with another laugh. “I’m standing right here.”
My mother laughs. “Oh, sorry, dear. It’s just that there’s never been a beautiful woman in this kitchen.”
“Besides yourself, you mean,” Alisha says, and my mother glances at me.
“Marry her,” she whispers loudly enough that Alisha can hear, and her cheeks go pink.
“Let’s start with this part, Mom. Nobody is thinking about marriage except you.” I find myself wondering if I should lay some claim on Alisha, maybe ask her as my girlfriend, because at this point, she’s only going with me as a favor.
But surely no one will try to rip her off my arm at the party.
I’ll have time to make my move.