<< Go Back

Game of Hearts

By Kathryn J. Bain

Order Now!

Chapter One
I shouldn’t be a single mother at this time of my life. I should be in the comfort of a home with a white picket fence and a nice guy who supports me. The name on the mailbox should read Mrs. Deborah Doesn’t-have-a-care-in-the-world. But my children like to eat. For the last two weeks, I hadn’t eaten lunch in order to afford the small round cake for our high school party. A small luxury on my already tight budget. On the plus side, I’d lost three pounds. Now I might end up slinking away without anything at all.
I turned my shoulder from the nagging people and spilled my purse out on the counter searching for any penny I might have buried. How could I not have enough? And mean store manager Mr. Mason wouldn’t let me write a check. My debit card for the new account hadn’t arrived so I had no other way to pay but cash.
“Lady, are you going to take all day?” someone grumbled.
What else could go wrong? I scrounged until I found two more cents. An elderly woman behind me graciously handed over the final penny. After thanking her, I hurried to the exit.
I daydreamed of paying for a cake with a one hundred dollar bill, then opening the box and shoving it into the grocer’s face. The thought brought a smile, and my good mood returned. I whistled under my breath. The rain pounded down on the plastic awning over my head. With no end in sight to the storm, I decided to take my chances.
I raced to my vehicle in the heavy downpour. Would the strip mall ever get around to fixing these potholes? Behind my car, I jumped around a hole filled with water. My eyes faced downward, hoping I didn’t slip and drop the cake.
Boom.
My body met a soft roadblock. I flailed. My feet slid on the slick cement. The protective grip loosened from the box in my hand. It tilted one way. I juggled it with my left hand, then my right. I overextended. The box and its contents flew up like an Italian chef throws dough. I hit the ground and a rush of air escaped my lips. My gaze traveled upward past a man’s face, even higher to the cake—freed from its confines, rushing down to meet me.
Plop.
The cake fell onto my head. Icing dripped down my face. Apparently, butter whipped icing is waterproof because the pouring rain barely washed it away.
The lyrics from “MacArthur Park” played in my mind as I sat in the water. I hated that song. “I’ll tell you who left the cake out in the rain. I did,” I muttered as pieces of vanilla cake swam toward the drain.
“You did, huh?” The man I had bumped into snickered.
“Stop laughing at me.” I smacked the puddle. Drops bounced up and hit me in the face. The water seeped through my gray sweat pants. I must be a real mess.
“You have to admit, this is a rather humorous situation.” He knelt in front of me.
The rain settled down to a sprinkle. Why hadn’t I waited under the awning?
“I don’t find anything funny about it,” I snapped. “I bought the cake for a party and now it’s ruined.” It’s not like I could afford another one. The thought of no dessert at all disappointed me further.
“I’m sorry I laughed. It‘s probably more amusing from my vantage point than yours.”
“I’m sure it is.”
He extended his hand toward me. “Here, let me help you.”
Fat chance. “I think you’ve done quite enough already.” I grabbed the bumper of my Honda to pull myself up. My feet hit the icing slicked cement. They flew up and out from under me.
Splash.
Tears danced on the rim of my eyelids as icing oozed down my face. A sugary sensation flooded into my taste buds from frosting sliding into my mouth while I sat soaked and flat broke. All for what? A silly high school bash.
“Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” I swiped at more glaze as it crawled down my cheek. This was just one more thing on top of everything else.
“I believe you bumped into me.”
The stranger knelt in front of me, but I refused to look at him. I didn’t want him to see the tears building.
“Now,” he said. “Are you going to sit there all day in that puddle or would you like me to get you out? Of course, if you’re comfortable, I’ll just go and leave you to enjoy.”
“Of course I’m not … Do I look comfortable to you?” I paused. People had started to gather. “I would appreciate your help.”
I grabbed the large hand he offered. As he pulled me up from the puddle, I wondered how much it would cost to clean his leather bomber jacket. I finally took a good look at him to see what kind of disaster I’d created.
My breath caught in my throat. He had the deepest, most penetrating mocha colored eyes I’d ever seen. I stood upright and he grabbed me around the waist and swung me away from the slippery mess, planting my feet firmly on the pavement. I wasn’t sure if the leap in my stomach came from the twirl or this gorgeous creature holding me.
“Better?” He wiped something from my cheek. His touch not only soothed, but excited at the same time.
“Yes. Thank you.” My pulse pounded in my ears. His hand remained on my waist. My stomach coiled with a strange desire. Warmth flowed through my body. I swore he could tell every thought running through my mind. Some not pure.
His dark brown hair grayed slightly at the temples and laid matted down from the rain. Slight stubble surrounded his chin and I fought the urge to kiss his full lips. Seconds passed before I realized he still had his hands on me. I shook my head. I’d been without a man longer than I realized. It’s the only thing to explain my lightheadedness. I pushed myself away and gave attention to the icing on my forehead.
What was wrong with me? I swallowed hard and tried to regain my composure. “You’re right. It was my fault.” I giggled when a dark green sugary leaf zigzagged its way from the man’s forehead to his cheek. Green and gold sprinkles trailed after. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it. You look so funny.”
“You think I look funny? You should see yourself.” He reached his hand up, grabbed a small piece of cake from my head and shoved it into his mouth. “A bit gooey from the rain, but pretty good overall.”
“I’m sorry about your jacket.” Unease set in. I’d forgotten how to speak to any guy not a friend, much less one so attractive.
“I think I’ll live.” The handsome man placed his finger in his mouth. With a wink, he added, “I have to admit, you taste pretty good.”
His fascinating eyes sparkled when he smiled. His nice jeans and deep brown jacket fit him to a tee. By contrast, my sweat pants hung off my waist, and my windbreaker hung on me covered in multicolored icing. My pants were soaked. I felt like I’d wet myself.
“I guess we need to see about that cake you just lost. Come on.” Mr. Handsome led me back toward the store. “What are you celebrating?”
“My oldest begins high school this year.” I followed like a lost puppy before I realized we were heading back into the building. I hesitated as I reached the entrance, too humiliated to go forward. So I stood, firmly planted. The automatic glass doors opened and shut on me. The handsome stranger proceeded inside as if unaware of my stance.
When someone rushed by, they bumped me forward. My feet finally moved. Unfortunately they took me inside. I rushed to catch up with my tall stranger halfway down the canned food aisle. I tried to ignore the gasps and finger pointing. After all, who could blame them? Two people soaked, covered in colored glop, I’d stare too. Could this day get any worse?
“Let me guess, a girl?” The stranger didn’t seem fazed by the stares. Of course, on him frosting looked good.
I took two steps to his one as I followed. “How’d you know?”
“I can’t imagine those roses would be for a boy.” He took a sharp right at the meat counter. “From what I know, teenagers are a rowdy bunch when there’s not a lot of sugar around.”
“They’re even worse when there is.”
“The name’s Brandon Nash.” He stopped at the bakery and extended his hand to me. Sugar grit crossed between our fingers.
“Deborah Zimmerman. My friends call me Deb.” My body melted at his touch. It had been way too long without a man.
The aroma of fresh bread rose into my nostrils. My stomach growled, reminding me I’d neglected to eat breakfast. I prayed he didn’t hear it.
I focused my attention on the different pastries under the glass enclosure. If I could find an inexpensive dessert, and if one of the ladies worked the register, I might be able to write a check. Unfortunately, I had only $9.96 left in my bank account, enough for another small cake. A $35.00 overdraft fee would be the last thing I needed.
“How many people are you having at this party?” Brandon asked, interrupting my thoughts.
“About eleven or twelve.”
“All teenagers?”
“Mostly.”
“May I help you?” The woman behind the glass shield swiped a floured hand across her cheek.
“Hi, remember me?” I said. “I fell outside and need to replace the cake I just bought.”
“I’m sorry. Do you want the same thing?” She slid the window open.
“Yes, please.”
“You’ll need something bigger.” Brandon leaned on the display case. “I don’t know much about teenagers, but I understand they eat quite a bit. Even girls.” He tapped his finger on the display case. “Here, this one. It should do.”
Anxiety rose in my stomach when he pointed to a fifteen-inch sheet cake, almost twice the cost of the first one. My mind yelled for the clerk to stop. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
Well if I’m going to do something illegal like write a bad check, I might as well go all the way with it.
The woman pulled the rectangular pastry from the display and walked to the back. My mind raced for ways to get the money in the bank before anything bounced. I knew the bank would cash the check for the store, but they’d still hit me with the large fee.
How much do they pay for plasma?
“Here you go.” The baker finished the decorations and slanted the cake up to show us. Beautiful. Much better than the earlier one. Each girl could now have her own yellow rose. The words “Good Luck” stood out in blue color on the white cake.
Brandon nodded his approval and carried it to the checkout counter as I followed. I was on a locomotive about to crash. Maybe Rachel would loan me the money. Thank you God for giving me rich friends.
When we got to the counter to pay, Mr. Mason still guarded the only register available. Fat chance on my luck changing now. Brandon slid the box on the conveyor belt, grabbed a candy bar from his right, and allowed me to go ahead of him. Mr. Mason looked at the cake, then me. His eyes rolled into the back of his head.
I prayed they’d stay there then someone else would have to take over the register.
“You could barely afford the last one. How do you expect to pay for this one?” He looked at me over the rim of his wire-framed glasses. “And no, I don’t plan on letting you write a check.”
Why couldn’t God just strike me down right here? The heat in my face burned all the way down to my neck. From now on, I will drive the extra thirty minutes to shop somewhere else.
As if he hadn’t been mean enough already, the manager then added, “I also won’t wait while you count out all those pennies at the bottom of your purse.”
“The lady’s not paying for it.” Brandon pulled out his wallet.
“I can’t let you pay for this.” I wiped at a tear straggling down my cheek. “It’s for my children. Also, if I recall we determined I bumped into you.”
“Let it be my gift to the next generation of high school kids. Besides, where I come from, if you fall in a store’s parking lot, they replace any broken items for free.” Brandon glared down at Mr. Mason whose mouth fell open.
“I… she didn’t say anything about falling.” Mr. Mason sputtered as he tugged the receipt from the register.
“Is your back still sore?” Brandon winked at me before lifting the cake. He shoved the candy bar into his pocket, and we walked out of the store. “I’ll get this out to your car. Once you get home, you’re on your own.”
“You’re ornery, you know that?” I couldn’t help but smile.
“Guy’s got to have fun where he can find it. Besides, I didn’t care for the manager’s attitude. Maybe if he thinks you’re about to sue, he’ll treat you better next time.”
“Thank you for paying.” I was more grateful he’d told off Mr. Mason than for buying the cake.
“My pleasure.” Brandon placed the box on the front seat. “You have a good party. And watch any sharp corners. I have a feeling it’s more difficult to get icing out of upholstery than it is your hair.” He pulled the candy bar from his jacket and handed it to me. “Here. You might want to eat this before you devour some cake on the way home.”
My knees weakened when he gave me another wink. I tore into the wrapper as I watched my hero walk off. What a magnificent view, and not because the word Wranglers sat sewn into his jeans. I glanced down at my sweat pants. I ran a hand through my hair. My fingers caught halfway through the sticky mess.
Why do I always look terrible when I meet a nice man? Even if I’d been dressed appropriately, the frosting covering me wouldn’t have done me any favors. As I climbed into the driver’s seat, I imagined Brandon with his friends, laughing as he described the crazy lady covered in cake whose stomach growled loud enough for everyone to hear.
With a breath of relief, I finished the candy bar, convinced I’d never have to see him again.

Order Now!

<< Go Back