A Love Denied
I enjoy a nice cozy romance every now and then, but very little of my stories have anything to do with relationships. To date you will not even find a single sex scene in my books. They make me nervous and I am always self-conscious of what my friends and family would think of my take on contemporary love. Here is my PG, gushy little love scene.
She noticed his blatant staring from the corner of her eye, but ignored him. The factory workers who stopped at the small supermarket for their lunch on the way to work often gawked at the city girl picking up eggs and milk for the day.
“I would catcall you, but you know how to kill people.”
Pretending not to hear him, she continued her path into the store. Hush fell over the patrons as she passed, eyes forward, never down.
Now, who in their right mind? She thought, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. Her resumé was no secret in this place. Hell, the town was so small they knew about her entire life before she even unhitched the moving trailer. Ten years of military service and a failed marriage brought this Denver girl back to Morganfield, Kentucky.
But that voice had no accent. No southern drawl. She should have looked. Hopefully he was gone before she finished.
“Cash, check, or debit, sweetie?”
“Cash, Ms. Sue. Always cash.”
A set of muscles wearing a hat started bagging her groceries.
“Oh, I have my own bags. Please. Use these.”
She fought with the bundle to release a single bag for him. She held it out avoiding eye contact. Muscles in hats rarely needed more attention than she was willing to give. Waiting long enough to realize he was not taking the bag from her she set it down and looked back at Ms. Sue for help.
“Honey, he don’t work here.”
Heat rose up her neck to her cheeks and she prayed she could leave before the hives became more evident.
The hat-wearing pile of muscle also had a smile. A familiar one.
“You’re either going to help me, or let me do it myself.”
The man laughed, accepted her discarded bag, and continued working.
Anna stared at him, unable to rationalize this man finding her in the haystack of nowhere Kentucky.
Mr. Jeff, as she called her best friend Emily’s dad, cleared his throat in line behind her. Speaking so even the factory audience could hear, “Do you know him, Anna? Is he bothering you?”
“No, and no,” She said to the older gentleman.
Sue handed Anna her change. She folded a couple of bills and offered them to the man.
“Oh, this is full service,” he stood presumptuously close to her after over a decade apart. “I’ll carry these out for you.”
Anna swallowed the pulse from her throat and waved a comforting hand at Mr. Jeff before leading the muscle outside.
“He’ll shoot you before I do,” she joked, refusing to look at him until her pounding heart and butterfly stomach was under control. She knew things about the man helping her likely few women knew. They had been children of sorts, clumsy, naïve. His eyes were friendly and his smile, warm and familiar. She memorized his features years ago. Then he married. Years later so did she. He was forgotten.
“What are you doing here?”
“I think you know why I am here.”
“Because you’re obsessed with me and stalked me across the country to my favorite grocery store to profess your undying love and threaten to kill yourself if I don’t agree be with you?”
“No, you asshole.” No one would have guessed he was not from a neighboring town. His jeans and dirty, fitted ball cap could have been Morganfield’s uniform. Andrew rubbed his neck and said nothing else. His bicep obvious in his t-shirt, not stretching the fabric but threatening to, made Anna hyper aware of her own physique. After two kids, she was not in the shape she was in her twenties. This sudden realization gave her a foothold on her overly hopeful emotions.
“What are you doing here?” she pressed again, looking around for town gossipers.
Ms. Sue was likely on the phone giving a running commentary to the bunko club. The ladies at the hair salon across the street peeked through mini-blinds, holding up their phones and recording the entire interaction to share on the neighborhood social media site. Anna knew the headlines all too well: Ms. Norton’s Mystery Man. She had enough unsolicited publicity for just moving back. Owning the only Bed and Breakfast for fifty miles could have been dubbed a crime by how many married women dubbed her business a whore house. A divorced mom of two had to do something for an income, but prostitution was not one of them.
“Well, I thought I’d come see you.”
“But why are you here?” she finally stepped closer to him.
Andrew put the bags down gently and closed the remaining distance. She hugged him back, eyes closed wanting so much for this moment to not be a dream. She held her arms around his chest, because he was too tall to reach over his shoulders. He smelled clean, though no cologne. He was as awkward as she remembered, but still easy on the eyes.
“Your friend said you were here,” he said pressing his cheek to her head.
“I hate you so much,” she said when she released him.
“Rude. And a lie.”
She picked up a bag leaving one for him to carry, “Did you want to get something?”
“No, I ate at your place.”
“You’re staying at the B and B?”
“Where else would I stay? In my defense I didn’t even know you owned it until I got here. Had a nice chat with Emily.”
Anna cocked her head and gave no expression though his laughing eyes made her melt inside.
“You’re a stalker.”
“You stopped writing me. Kels let me know what happened and that you’d moved back so I figured I’d swing by on my way to training. See how you were doing.” He opened her door for her.
“You know I’m fine, Andrew.” She faced him for a moment, took the bag out of his hand and closed the car door. “I pushed you away because our conversations always seemed one-sided.”
“You were married, Anna. I didn’t want to be the reason it didn’t work. Hell, I wish you and Raul did work out so you wouldn’t have to go through the pain of ending your marriage. If anyone knows how shitty divorce is, it’s me.”
“You knew. You knew all these years all you had to do was breathe like you wanted me. Nothing’s changed. I stopped writing to you because it was obvious this would never be what I wanted it to be.” Anna fell silent when she realized she was almost yelling. “My marriage was running on borrowed time, but I was starting to imagine you as a backup plan. Even admitting that is ridiculous. That’s why, even after, I never contacted you again. You were so adamant about never marrying again and being alone that I knew I wasn’t being fair to myself. So, please tell me, why are you here?”
“Anna, I love you. I knew it back then and ignored it. I made up that bullshit so you wouldn’t think I was trying to break up your marriage to be with you. When you stopped writing I actually started to believe it. If I had one more chance at a real life, it would be with you. I was stupid to break your heart then. I’ve thought about you every day since.”
“Dammit, I hate you.” Anna got into her car and left him in the parking lot.
“A lie!” he called after her, smiling as he climbed into his truck.