Short Story Collection

3. Sultry Rose

Sighing, I cover my lips in a layer of Sultry Rose, the shade that promises to captivate the heart of that special someone. I have no desire to captivate anybody's heart, especially not someone who can be swayed by something as frivolous as lipstick. I would much rather captivate my bed.

Besides, I don't even know that special someone. Yes, I'm going on a blind date. Me! The girl who tried to glue her front door shut in an effort to keep the world out. Never use hobby glue for a big job like that; it doesn't work...

Almost two months ago, I was in a bad accident while riding my bicycle, and my cousin took care of me and my three cats. I owe him many favours, and now he is collecting in the cruellest way possible. His cranky boss's obnoxious son (his words) is visiting, and he wants me to show him around town and help the guy have some fun to unwind.

Jake has never been great at making good decisions. I'm about as much fun as the skin on a cup of old coffee, and I hate going into town.

I just want to pull on my PJs and snuggle up with my game controller. Places like Whiterun and Riften in Skyrim are the only kind of towns I want to visit, but here I am, dutifully wearing a pretty floral blouse as instructed, applying the lipstick the sales lady insisted brings out the roses in my cheeks and the ocean in my eyes.

I want the roses and the ocean to stay the hell off my face and leave me alone!

The doorbell chimes its way through a cheeky tango and taking a deep breath, I smooth down the soft material of the short skirt I'm wearing, grab my purse and try to put on a welcoming face while I walk to the front door.

Flipping the lock and yanking the door open, I remember that peepholes are a thing, and so is Stranger Danger. Many other wise words of warning are swirling through my mind, but it's too late; I'm already face-to-face with a giant with windswept hair, wearing old jeans and a motorcycle jacket. Though he does look rather sexy, I have one very important question.

Why the hell am I dressed up?

"Hi, Jenna Smoak," he smiles, and suddenly, my hormones are gleefully flooding my veins, giggling in my ears.

"Maybe..." I say, tilting my head, being super cool as if I'm not on the verge of adding more Sultry Rose to my lips to double my captivation powers.

So, Jake gave him my name; that makes sense. He didn't give me his name, though.

"You're looking great; I'm glad to see you're finally on the mend."

On the mend?

Jake wouldn't have told this stranger personal information about me... would he? We're just going on one semi-date; this is not a marriage meeting. We don't need to know details about each other, though looking at this dark-haired, dark-eyed stranger, I really wouldn't mind getting to know some of his details.

"I was worried that you were not going to pull through; two weeks in a coma is frightening."

Just how much did Jake tell this guy?!

"I meant to come by earlier, but I figured you would have your hands full just re-adjusting to life... Still, I'm really glad to see you again, especially looking so well."

"Again?" What the fuuuuuuuudge?! "You know me?"

"Yes, in a way. I know that you have a degree in Metrology, that you like cycling on the back roads, and have a bit of an ice cream addiction."

"Huh?" I say, my mind filling with all the many ways I'm going to kill Jake. He cannot give out so much information to a stranger! Not even to one with a smile that is turning my insides into jelly. "I know nothing about you."

"Well, we can fix that," he drawls in a voice like warm velvet, and I'm suddenly giggling out loud.

"Well, shall we go?" I suggest nervously.

"Go?"

I notice the motorcycle parked in my driveway and glance down at my outfit. This is not going to work.

"Would you mind if we take my car instead?" I ask, slipping into the house to grab my car keys from the bowl on the entrance table. My hands are trembling while I lock the front door, suddenly rather excited about my first date in a very long time.

"Jenna, we-."

I am surprised when Jake's grey sedan comes up my driveway and parks, blocking my car.

"Hey, Cuz!" he calls, frowning at me as he gets out of the vehicle. "Hi, how are you, Mason? Is everything okay?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, wondering if Jake forgot the plans. "I'm going on a date with your boss's son."

"Date?" Jake flashes a look at Mason, my car, and the motorcycle and then indicates his car, where a sulky-looking blond teenager is sitting in the passenger seat. "That's Dmitry Lebedev, my boss's son."

Oh! Not a date, then! Wait?!

"Then... who...?"

"Detective Mason Campbell," he introduces himself, clearly amused by my attempts to impersonate a tomato. "I'm assigned to your hit-and-run case. Last time we met, you were in a coma. I came to see how you are doing and to tell you that we've arrested a suspect... but I'm totally open to having a date instead."

The End

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