Romance on Mountain View Road (10 page)

Adam let out a drunken wail. “I don't, either.” And then he did cry.

Jonathan and Chica made a discreet exit. Hopefully, come morning, Adam would have forgotten this humiliation. And remembered his determination to get it right in the romance department.

Chapter Eight

T
his was it, the moment Kyle would make his big impression on Jillian. He got the box of Sweet Dreams chocolates from the front seat of his car where he'd carefully laid it and made his way into the Safe Hands office building. Wait till she got a load of this.

Jillian was not alone. Lola from accounting and Marie, one of his fellow cubicle workers, were standing at her desk, yakking. Shouldn't they be at their own desks by now?

He slowed his pace, hoping that by the time he reached Jillian they would have drifted off. But there was no drifting. Both women remained where they were—like a couple of boulders. Or guard dogs.

What to do? Should he keep on walking, catch her later? Yes, he decided. He'd give the candy to her later.

He picked up his pace to move past them but Marie, who must have had eyes in the back of her head, suddenly exclaimed, “Sweet Dreams chocolates!”

“Who's the lucky girl?” asked Lola.

Crap. This was awkward.

“Are they for someone here?” Marie asked.

And there was Jillian, smiling up at him. So much for waiting until later. It was now or never. “Well,” he began, and set them on her desk.

The women fell on them like starved vultures.

“Oh, are you going to get brownie points for bringing us all chocolates,” Lola said before he could finish his sentence, and stuffed a bonbon in her beak.

Not all of you.
“Actually,” he began, looking at Jillian, “I bought them for—”

“Here comes Mr. Wrangle,” Marie said in a low voice.

At the mention of the big boss's name the party was over. The women scattered, Jillian called, “Good morning, Mr. Wrangle,” and Kyle, who was five minutes late, left for his cubicle, cursing under his breath as he went. Why hadn't he taken one more minute to tell Jillian the chocolates were for her? What a dope.

“You okay?” Mindy asked as he settled into his cubicle.

“Yeah. Why?”

“You look kind of mad.”

Mad? What was there to be mad about? He'd spent a king's ransom on chocolate to impress the woman of his dreams and gotten exactly nothing in return. Not even a thank-you from anyone.

He did get one later when he made a trip to the water cooler. From Mildred Parks, who was old enough to be his grandmother. “Kyle, that was so sweet of you to bring in candy for all the ladies. Thank you.”

That was him, Mr. Sweet. “You're welcome.”

“But you should save your money,” she advised. “Spend it on your girlfriend.”

The candy was supposed to be his first step toward making Jillian his girlfriend. He forced a smile and said, “Good advice.” How he wished he'd handled the whole situation differently.

As he returned to his desk he caught sight of Jillian, hanging up the phone. Maybe he'd ask her how she liked the candy.

Oh, no. Here came Ted Darrow. Jillian tapped her pencil and gave Ted a little wave. Kyle watched contemptuously as Darrow strolled over and planted a butt cheek on her desk. Was that a new suit he was wearing? And now...aw, shit. She was offering him some of the Sweet Dreams candy. Talk about bad candy karma.

He marched back to his cubicle and plopped onto his seat. This was sick and wrong. Sick. And. Wrong.

The Ted Darrows of the world got everything—height, good looks, cool clothes. Women. Candy other men paid for.

By lunch Kyle had made an important decision. He needed a new suit.

“I thought I'd grab a sandwich down at Filly's,” Mindy said.

Kyle didn't have time to go to the in-house café. He had an important mission. “I've gotta run some errands.”

“Oh. Sure. No problem. See you later.”

He barely heard her. He was already bolting for the door.

He tried not to look as Jillian came out of Ted's office wearing a smile. Office romances—the big boss frowned on them, especially when one of his higher-ups mingled with the little people. That wasn't stopping Darrow from trying to mingle with Jillian. He was going to use her up like toilet paper and then toss her.

But not if Kyle had anything to say about it. Some new clothes, a dinner date, and Jillian would be safe with a man who really appreciated her.

Now she was alone. Maybe he should turn around, go back and explain that he'd gotten that candy for her. He wheeled around to go and talk to her but was thwarted by the appearance of yet another pair of females, purses in hand and ready for lunch. Yakking away, they flanked her on both sides.

Okay, not now. Kyle left the building wearing a frown as well as his unimpressive clothes. Why did women always run in packs? Sheesh.

He was still feeling grumpy when he walked into the Wenatchee Valley Mall. Even trying on a nice suit didn't cheer him up. Yes, the suit fit fine, and he looked pretty darned good, if he did say so himself. But he saw more in the mirror than the suit. He saw a short man. Ted Darrow had a good six inches on him and there wasn't a thing he could do about that. Unless...

He took out his smartphone and did some quick online research. Hey, here was just what he needed, a shoe store that sold “heightening shoes,” which promised to add five inches to his stature. And they had overnight shipping. Sold! He purchased a pair of black dress shoes and some loafers. Oh, yeah. Mr. Suave meets Mr. Big.

* * *

Betsy did a double take as she drove by the theater. “Oh, my gosh!” she cried, and pulled her car off to the side of the street. She got out of the car and stood on the curb, gaping at the marquee.

Instead of the latest movie title, it read Betsy, I Need You. And there, by the ticket window, stood Gregory, looking hopefully at her.

She tore across the street and threw herself into his waiting arms.

He hugged her as if he'd never let her go. “Baby. I was so wrong. I'll get it right from now on, I promise. Give me one more chance.”

“After this, how could I not?” she said, laughing.

He crushed her to him, taking her lips with all the passion he'd stored up on those long, lonely nights apart. When he finally released her, he had tears in his eyes. “I almost lost you, all because of my stupid pride. But never again. I'm a changed man.”

“Are you? Really?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Count on it.” He gestured to the marquee. “This love story is going to have a happy ending.”

Adam shut the paperback Jonathan had left for him on the kitchen counter, with a Post-it marking this particular scene. There it was, a perfect example of item number five on Jonathan's list, the romantic gesture.

Also a good way to make a public fool of yourself. But if that was what it took, Adam was willing. Tomorrow morning, he was going to show Chelsea how much she meant to him. He tossed the book on the floor and rolled over on the blow-up bed, trying to get comfortable. Man, he hoped this worked. He couldn't take very many more nights on this thing.

More than that, he couldn't take too many more nights away from Chelsea. He missed her smile, missed being able to tell her about his day, missed having her curled up next to him as they slept. Sleeping alone felt wrong, like half of him had been cut away.

He sure hoped this romantic gesture would do the trick. He wanted his other half back.

He took the next morning off and went to see Emmit Brown, the crusty old man who owned Falls Cinema.

Emmit wasn't as cooperative as the theater owner in that book had been. “I put some love message up for you, then I have to do it for every yahoo in town who's having woman trouble. Pretty soon, nobody knows what's playing, only that Johnny loves Suzie, and pretty soon I don't have anybody coming in to see a movie,” he said, and went back to stocking candy.

“You don't, anyway,” Adam said. “You get stuff in six weeks after it's hit every other theater in the state.”

This turned out not to be the best way to argue his case. Emmit looked at him in disgust and shooed him out of the theater lobby. “Go buy some flowers.”

“I tried that,” Adam grumbled.

“Then carve your initials in a tree. Hire a skywriter. I don't care what you do as long as you do it somewhere else.”

“Fine. See if you get my business,” Adam said. Damn it all, now what was he going to do?

Inspiration hit him when he drove past the Safeway.
That
could work. Plus he knew the manager. He parked his car and went into the grocery store to see his pal Denzel Wilson. He hoped he didn't strike out again. At some point he had to get back to the office and do some work. How did the men in those romance novels manage to earn a paycheck when sorting out their love lives took so much time?

Fortunately, Denzel was in his office and had a few minutes to spare. Denzel had a wife who was high-maintenance, always expecting him to take her places, making him hang out with her family every Sunday. If anyone would understand Adam's plight, it was Denzel.

Still, Adam had learned from his encounter with old man Brown. After the bro hug, he dangled a carrot. “Been fishing lately?”

Denzel shook his head sadly. “Been too busy.”

“Well, whenever you want to borrow my VXP rod...”

Denzel's eyes lit up like the Las Vegas strip at night. “Yeah?”

“Sure. I don't have time to use it right now.”

“Sweet. So, what can I do for you?”

“I need a favor. Chels and I are having problems.”

“I feel your pain.”

“I need to do something nice, get her attention.”

“Flowers,” said Denzel. “That always works with Letitia.”

Adam shrugged. “Tried that. But I did have an idea. You know that sign out in your parking lot where you post what's on sale?”

Now Denzel was looking leery. “Yeah.”

“Can you put up a message for me? Just for this afternoon, long enough for Chels to see it.”

Denzel rubbed the back of his neck. “I don't know. That's for our store specials.”

“Come on, man, I'm not asking for long. I'll pay.”

“You don't have to pay.” Denzel thought a moment. “Just for this afternoon?”

“That's all. Once she sees it you can take it down.”

Denzel scratched his head and thought again. At last he said, “Okay. After all, the store's an important part of the community.”

That would be Denzel's story for his regional manager, most likely. Well, it worked for Adam.

“Only for this afternoon, though. That's the best I can do.”

“That's all I need. Thanks, man.”

“What do you want it to say?”

Oh, that. Too bad Jonathan wasn't here. He'd have been able to think of something. Adam tried calling his cell but it went straight to voice mail. Bernardo would have all kinds of ideas, but he'd be working in his orchard and ignoring his cell. Kyle was clueless and Vance would laugh at him. He was on his own. What to say?

Keep it simple, he decided. “Put ‘Chelsea, I love you.'”

Denzel nodded his approval. “Sounds good.”

Adam clapped him on the back. “Thanks. I owe you.”

“Let me borrow that fly rod this weekend and we're even.”

“You got it. Come by Templar's place anytime and pick it up.”

“Templar? Jonathan?”

“I'm staying there.”

Denzel looked shocked. “You mean she kicked you out?”

Humiliating to have to admit. Adam nodded.

“You weren't kidding when you said you were having problems.”

“We'll get it sorted out,” Adam said. He sure hoped he was right.

He said goodbye to Denzel and went to the office, where he tried to concentrate on the data about several new medicines he'd be repping soon.

Once late afternoon arrived, he found it almost impossible to keep his eyes focused on his computer screen. His gaze kept straying to his phone. Chelsea would be done at the nursery now. Any minute she'd be driving by the grocery store on her way home. She'd see the sign, know he was serious, call.

Finally his phone started playing Luke Bryan's “Drunk on You,” Chelsea's ring tone. He'd selected it a few nights back when indulging in a maudlin moment of self-pity. The memory of better days of her dancing around the house in her T-shirt and shorts, singing along to the country station, had been enough to make it too hot for him to sleep in Jonathan's spare room, no matter how wide he'd opened the window.

Now he grabbed his phone like a lifeline. “Chels.”

“Very funny, Adam. Was I supposed to think that was cute?”

No, she was supposed to think it was romantic. What had gone wrong? “I thought you'd like that.”

“You thought I'd like being on sale for a dollar ninety-nine a pound? That was mean. And tacky.” She ended the call before he could say anything more.

Well, this was a far cry from what had happened in that book he'd read. He left the office and drove back to Icicle Falls to see what had gotten his wife so steamed. It wasn't hard to figure out once he hit Safeway. There, for all the town to see, the big sign outside the store said Chelsea...$1.99 a Pound.

“What the hell?”

He parked his SUV and marched inside the store. The place was packed with shoppers picking up dinner essentials on their way home from work. He found his pal Denzel busy overriding some problem on one of his grocery checker's stands.

Denzel finished up and, catching sight of Adam, smiled at him. “So, how'd it go?”

“How'd it go? I'm in deeper shit than I was before, thanks to whoever put my wife on sale for a buck ninety-nine a pound.”

“Huh?”

“Come and see.” Adam wheeled around and marched out of the store, positioning himself where they'd get a good look at the very effective job Denzel had done of humiliating Adam's wife.

“Aw, shit,” Denzel muttered.

“You can say that again,” Adam snarled.

“Man, I'm sorry. I sent one of our baggers out to take down the flank steak loss leader and put your message up. We got busy and I called him in. I thought he was done, since he was just standing out there talking to a girl. That kid's ass is fired.”