Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Beryl stared into the eager face of Sam Brody as dread materialized inside her body.
What did he want? Stupid question. Beryl knew exactly what he wanted. Sam was a man on a mission to get to know her better.
He thought they should date.
She disagreed.
Beryl was most assuredly not looking for love here on Earth. At least not in the foreseeable future. Meanwhile, Sam had been asking her out since he’d arrived on Earth. It was simply too early in the morning to be fending off Mr. Lovelorn, as she’d privately started to call him weeks ago.
Deputy Sam Brody had apparently decided that they would suit and had been in hot pursuit ever since. Unfortunately, her continued answer of no to every suggestion of a lunch or dinner date on any day of the week had not deterred him one single iota.
It wasn’t that he was ugly, unpleasant or a terrible person. Not at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. He was very nice, very polite and was a reputable, if newly installed, deputy in Old Coot, Arkansas.
That is, when he wasn’t searching her out almost every single day to ask, “How about having lunch with me today? Or dinner?” When she said no, attaching the excuse du jour, he would promptly ask, “How about tomorrow?”
Even if she had been looking for romance, which she was not, Deputy Sam Brody, while being a very nice, handsome Alpha, did not give her any kind of romantic spark when she spoke to him.
The first time they met, Beryl hadn’t felt that difficult-to-explain, indefinable something-something that would make her want to get to know his soul. She still didn’t feel it around him.
That was a very important to her. She wanted to feel a definite spark in any romantic adventure, but she was not looking for romance at this time in her life.
Having been severely burned during her last serious romantic journey, she was not ready to get back up on the horse, as they put it here on Earth.
The romantic part of her soul—which had mostly shriveled to next to nothing after its in defeat in love—thought she should probably go out with Sam just once to ensure there wasn’t a tiny spark that she’d somehow missed or overlooked.
However, seeing him this morning only solidified her made-up mind, as it did every time she saw him. Sam Brody was not “the one” for her.
She knew it in her bones. She knew it in her soul.
It was pointless to pursue anything with him. If she agreed to a date, it would only lead him on, and she absolutely did not want to do that. Having been literally left at the altar on Alpha-Prime made Beryl…incredibly careful about any romantic intentions, whether on her part or anyone else’s.
Deputy Sam Brody, a nice, handsome Alpha man, was not for her.
No matter her private feelings, she still had to do the dance with him and be cordial.
He didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of her true feelings being spilled out in public.
Plus, it made for bad grocery store managerial skills to insult local law enforcement.
She knew this much was true. So, she tiptoed carefully to spare his feelings, hoping he’d eventually take the hint and stop asking her out.
“Good morning, Beryl,” Sam said, his eyes taking in her red hair before centering his attention on her eyes. He was dressed in his crisp deputy uniform, looking sharp and a fine specimen of a man for someone. But not her.
“Hi, Sam,” she said, trying not to sound as cross as she felt.
Beryl liked him as a friend and that was all.
If he persisted in asking her out, one of these days, she’d have to be forthcoming with him.
Today was not that day. She didn’t want to do it in front of any possible patrons of the Supernova Supermarket.
With that in mind, she glanced around to ensure there were no customers close by.
They were as close to alone as they could be in the busy store. Good.
“Are you free for lunch?” he asked, his tone bright and cheery for so early in the morning.
“I’m not,” she said quietly, unable to look him in the eye, not even bothering to say she was sorry. Her gaze went toward the front of the store and the next chore she had to tackle this morning. She needed to restock the cashier stations with more bags.
Please take the hint, Sam. I’m not interested. I never will be.
“What about dinner? Or maybe lunch tomorrow?” he asked hopefully. “Or dinner tomorrow?”
And there it was. He just couldn’t help himself.
Beryl pushed her girly feelings aside, the ones that wanted to avoid confrontation, ready to lay the law down that she’d never be free for lunch if he was looking for romance.
Even if he said they could just be friends, she would always know he wanted more and she couldn’t give that to him.
He deserved better. He deserved to date someone who really liked him and wanted a relationship that might go somewhere. She was never going to be that person for him. Maybe not for anyone ever again.
There was also that terrible scandal back on Alpha-Prime that would likely be forever attached to her family’s name. No matter what her former fiancé said, she had no doubt it was the real reason she’d been left at the altar.
Did Sam not know about that? Did he not care?
Beryl was saved from saying anything at all by a sudden, dreadful noise from the front of the store. It sounded like the growls of an angry robot grizzly bear mixed with a banging noise. Space potatoes, this is shaping up to be a spectacularly long day. And it’s not even 7:30.
It was, however, a handy reprieve from Sam’s constant pursuit.
The terrible noise crashed through the store again. Beryl sighed internally. It was a sound she’d heard recently, but had put off dealing with during an equally difficult day last week. Weren’t they all difficult days? It seemed like it to her.
The store’s large ice maker was having a meltdown and she hadn’t called anyone in to take a look at it. Today, the ice machine sounded like it was one robotic, growling noise away from exploding in a blaze of glory.
She’d have to move the ice machine to the top of today’s to-do list, given the grinding-slash-banging noise had reached an epic level in the last few seconds.
Beryl made her way to the front of the store, Sam following closely at her heels. The rising cacophony of sound told her the ice machine hadn’t given up the ghost yet.
It was right next to the front door. Sam had to go to work sometime, right? Perhaps this would help push him out the door. Probably not, but she could dream.
The square metal ice machine was intact, but that noise was grating. The only way she’d been able to stop it before was to unplug the ice machine, but that wasn’t a long-term solution.
Beryl waved at the cashier, Tanya Miller, who’d just finished checking out Mrs. Coventon, sans her giant box of cookies because of evil coupon rules.
The bag boy, Clement, was following the elderly woman outside with her purchases.
Beryl made a mental note to have Clement restock the bags at all the checkout stations when he came back in from the parking lot. She had a new chore to do.
She walked right to the ice machine and peered behind it to where the plug was stuck in the outlet. She didn’t want to pull the plug but hated the grinding, banging noise even worse.
To her surprise, she saw the source of the banging problem right away and thought there might be a quick fix.
The bracket on one of the back corners intended to keep the machine from tipping over was loose.
Whatever was wrong with the ice machine was causing it to jitter, which in turn slapped the bracket repeatedly into the wall.
Being careful not to trap her fingers, she carefully pressed the bracket back in place.
Mercifully, the banging stopped. The robotic, grinding growl continued.
Beryl was no mechanic, but she figured it was coming from the motor.
So, two separate problems instead of just one. Great.
As soon as Beryl released the bracket, the banging resumed. This time, the long, forlorn sigh she tried to hold in escaped, though she doubted anyone but her heard it over the racket.
“You should probably unplug that,” Sam said, from way too close behind her.
She clamped her mouth shut to stop the unkind words that were about to spill from her lips. She didn’t want to be mean to Sam—he was just so nice—but wished he’d take a hint already.
Instead, she ignored him and stared glumly at the infernal ice machine, stumped. Her head was starting to throb in time with the racket.
“How did you stop the banging noise?” Tanya yelled from her checkout station.
Beryl turned to her, using the move to step away from Sam. Had the man never heard of the term, “personal space”?
“It’s a loose bracket on the back that’s banging into the wall.
I don’t know if it’s a standard size—likely not, given my luck—but probably replacing that would fix the banging noise.
The grinding growl sounds like it’s coming from the motor.
I’m not sure what to do about that except call the repair guy who keeps telling me I need a new ice machine.
” Beryl crossed her arms and walked toward the cashier in a further effort to shake off her ardent admirer.
“Maybe Jake could make a bracket for you,” Tanya said.
“Jake?” Beryl asked.
“He owns Dark Matter Metal & Leather downtown. His stuff is usually more artsy, but I know he makes specialty metal items on request. He made a coat of arms for my cousin a few months ago. It was amazing.”
Sam, who had followed Beryl to Tanya’s checkout like a helium balloon tethered to her wrist, said, “I thought Jake was in the hospital.”
“Hospital?” Beryl asked, surprised.
“Oh, no,” Tanya said. “He’s back at work now. I saw him on my way here yesterday.”