Crashing Into You Read online

  "Is something the matter?" Shelly asked, bringing her back in the moment.

  "Not at all," Denise said, forcing a smile.

  "Denise! You think I don't know your fake smile by now?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about," she insisted.

  "Spare me!" Shelly said, laughter in her voice. "I always know when something is up with you. You look positively flushed. Want me to come sit by you? I know you hate this, don't you? You hate it here."

  "No," Denise said, shaking her head. "I'm good, I promise. You stay where you are and I'll be right back." She got up before Shelly had time to argue and walked to the restroom she'd seen the sign for when they came in.

  Why did I agree to this? she wondered as she looked at herself in the mirror. Happy couples everywhere she turned! Couples dancing, couples flirting, couples staring into each other's eyes and seeing no one else. Happy, happy, happy! Denise barely remembered the feeling. "You can do this," she said to herself softly in the mirror.

  She shook herself and freshened her lips with the gloss Shelly had insisted she put in her little silver purse. As she rounded the corner outside the bathroom, she ran into the man she was staring at before. Oh! She hadn't been expecting him to be so tall! At least six-foot-three because he towered above her even though she wore heels. He was even more gorgeous up close and personal, his blue eyes soft, those shoulders as broad as ever.

  "Watch where you're going," he practically growled after a moment's pause, because he'd been staring at her just as hard. Before she could say anything back, he moved past her and walked in the men's room, leaving her shocked and confused. Wow! She should've known a man so attractive would be so rude!

  She walked back to the table, where the lemon chicken she ordered was waiting for her. "Thanks for waiting." She smiled at the newly engaged couple, although she wondered if they even knew their food arrived before she got there.

  "No problem at all," Kyle said, smiling warmly at her. "Let's dig in, everything smells great."

  While they ate their meal, Shelly talked of wedding plans, just as Denise had feared. She tried hard to stay in the conversation as best she could, even though she loathed weddings and everything they entailed. She couldn't help remembering one that felt like a million years ago. She loved Shelly more than anything, but she hoped desperately she didn't become a bride with nothing else to talk of aside from her future wedding.

  After they finished eating, Shelly got Kyle on the dance floor as she'd promised she would. While Denise watched them dance, she forced herself not to look at the table that held the attractive but rude man. She never felt so embarrassed in her life! Had she really been caught gaping at him? As if she never saw a cute guy before, as if she had no social graces whatsoever! Not that it excused him from being impolite to her when she bumped into him. It wasn't like she knew he would be there. She could even still remember his smell when her face had, for a brief instant, smacked into his chest. If he could be as nice in personality as the way he smelled, any woman's heart would be in serious danger. Of course, she knew if he was so rude to a complete stranger, he couldn't be a nice man at all. Her heart was as safe as it always was.

  Chapter Three

  Denise spent the weekend off cleaning her house and running errands. She would work every day at the bookstore if she could, pathetic as that might be. But the owners, Sandra and Dan Johnson, enjoyed working the weekends. Luckily, Shelly came by on Sunday evening with some bridal magazines and a bottle of wine, and Denise was grateful for it. She'd been feeling lonely and Shelly could always pull her out of her funks. Even if it was to talk about her upcoming wedding. Not that Denise blamed her friend for her happiness or even envied her for it. Shelly had every right to be happy, even if Denise had hardened her heart years before. She would never resent Shelly for falling in love with a great guy like Kyle. They were terrific together and Denise knew that.

  "Last night was crazy!" Shelly was saying as she uncorked the bottle of wine, bringing Denise back to the moment. They were sitting at Denise's kitchen table, flipping through magazines. "Three bar fights last night, and guess why?"

  "Over a woman?" Denise asked, smiling, already knowing the answer. Shelly was a waitress at Randy's, a popular bar in Rockford. She always loved hearing Shelly's stories about what went on there, even though she never went herself.

  "Yes, over a woman!" Shelly exclaimed, pouring their wine and taking a sip. "Love triangles and alcohol do not mix!"

  "They never do," Denise said, laughing. "I don't see how you work there. All smoky and dark, with drunks everywhere and loud music blaring."

  "First, you sound like an old lady. Second, don't judge what you do not know," Shelly said, smiling. "Most of the time, it's not so bad. Saturday nights are always going to be worse. The regulars are great, and I have my favorites. It's the young ones that drive me insane. They have the worst problems, don't they?"

  "I wouldn't remember, I'm an old maid."

  "Impossible! Besides, you're thirty-four, you have lots of good years left. So long as you don't waste them in this house. You wonder how I can stand the bar and its dark lighting but look at this place!" Shelly said, looking around as if for the first time. "Where's the light? You have a bay window right there, yet you curtain it up and don't use it. You need fresh flowers in here, some sunshine!"

  "There is no sunshine right now, Shelly."

  "Like it matters. When there is, what? I swear, I would think you were a vampire if I didn't know better. You never open your curtains or blinds. Look at this place, I can't believe I never noticed it before. It's not homey at all, is it?"

  "Thanks, Shelly!"

  "I'm serious. This is serious, Denise! Forget those magazines, this house needs a makeover. You don't even have pictures on your walls! How have I never noticed before?"

  "Aside from the fact that you're usually in your own world, most of the time you don't come here. We always meet at your place."

  "Now I know why."

  "Besides, I can't afford a home makeover, Shelly. I work at a bookstore, I have a budget."

  "You have money saved, and this little house can't be racking up that big a bill. Certainly not an electric bill."

  "I have a rainy-day fund, but it's set aside for an emergency, not for material items," Denise said in defense, trying not to feel hurt by Shelly's words.

  Shelly stood up to pace the small kitchen, as if in deep thought. When she came back to her seat, she looked intently in Denise's eyes. "We don't talk about it much, or ever. I respect your privacy, I always have. But you were married once, before I met you, before you moved here. Tell me about yourself then, Denise. I've always wanted to know! I've grown to love you like a sister and I think you're fantastic, even though you are shy and serious most of the time. How were you before I met you?"

  Denise looked away, embarrassed by the intensity of Shelly's gaze but unfazed by the question. It wasn't the first time Shelly asked, and it wouldn't be the last if she chose not to answer. It was only natural for Shelly to want to know.

  Denise always wondered why Shelly had taken a liking to her when they met a few weeks after she moved to Rockford. Shelly was a couple years younger than her and a regular customer at Sandra's Books, and one day she asked her to lunch. Denise reluctantly said yes but it ended up becoming a regular thing, eating lunch a few days out of the week. Eventually, Denise learned to laugh again, usually because of Shelly's various dramas. Gradually the lunches turned into them becoming shopping buddies and having family dinners with Kyle and Shelly's sisters if they were in town. Denise was thankful for Shelly, who helped her through a dark time in her life.

  "Sometimes I forget who I was then," she answered finally, smiling at Shelly. "It was only a few years ago, yet it seems like a lifetime. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I expect him to be beside me. Then I remember this wasn't even our house, that I'm not even in our bed. Crazy, right?"

  "I don't think so," Shelly said, her voi
ce soft.

  "If it's all the same," Denise said, shrugging as she flipped through a magazine. "This one here is pretty, and I think it would look great on you." She pointed at the picture, not paying attention to what the dress looked like.

  "It's beautiful, but remember I don't want to be too traditional," Shelly said, her voice feigning perkiness. Denise was glad her usually persistent friend wasn't going to be pushy about Benny. She didn't want to remember him anymore. He was gone and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

  Chapter Four

  Denise was glad to be back at the bookstore on Monday morning. The October air was crisp, but she loved nothing more. October was her favorite month of the year in Texas. The morning and evenings were cool, the days beautiful and sunny. She always kept the shop door open and loved to watch everyone going by, busy in the mornings. She would sit in her chair behind the cash register by the window, watching everyone on their way to work as they stopped at the bakery across the street to get their morning pastries and java. A few customers came into the store to buy a magazine or a book. The shop was busiest in the earliest part of the day and again around lunchtime. Denise always closed the shop for half an hour around two so she could get a bite to eat and sometimes browse the nearby souvenir shops. She was locking up for lunch when she heard a man's voice behind her.

  "Don't tell me you're closing?"

  "For half an hour," she said, turning to face him. She was shocked to see it was the rude man from Claudine's on Saturday night.

  "Oh," he said after a moment, obviously remembering her and taken aback himself. "It's you." He wore blue jeans and a white shirt that was just tight enough to show off his chest and toned stomach. He looked and smelled fantastic, but she wasn't about to give off the impression she thought so. As stunning as he was, he was rude and she had no intention of wasting her time on him.

  "Can I help you with something?" she asked hurriedly.

  "I hope so. My mother said there's a woman here that helped her find a book she bought for me. Denise, I think."

  Great, he's looking for me and he doesn't even know it, she thought. "That'd be me," she said, almost happy to disappoint him.

  "Do you remember selling someone this book?" he asked, holding up a novel she knew by heart.

  It couldn't be true, could it? That this was the son Ms. Evans always went on about? The man Denise didn't like before she met him and liked even less now that she had? Surely someone else bought the book and she didn't remember. She knew that wasn't possible, seeing how it was a favorite of hers. She had a vague realization the woman he sat with at the restaurant must've been Ms. Evans, though it didn't click at the time since she hadn't been wearing her customary bun. "Yes," Denise answered reluctantly. "I know the book. What about it?"

  "It was a great choice, but I've already read it. I don't read often these days, but there isn't much else to do here."

  Now he was going to insult her town? He really was something else! "There's plenty to do if you look in the right place," she said, keeping her tone even. "The shop will open again in thirty minutes, come back if you must. But, just so you know, that book can't be returned because it was at sale price," she added before walking away.

  As she finished her turkey sandwich and sipped on her sweet tea at the deli the next block over, Denise tried not to feel too guilty. She could've returned the book if she wanted, seeing as Ms. Evans was a regular customer and almost always there every week when new books arrived. She was a nice woman, and she would've done it for her alone. Denise recalled her saying that her son had come home broken hearted, but was that an excuse for him to have been so rude at the restaurant?

  She also remembered how Ms. Evans always complained that he never called her back and how he had a thing for dancers. He would! Denise thought, even though she never had a problem with dancers before. He seemed selfish and conceited, which was the real problem. Just because you were graced with good looks didn't mean you should go around being rude to people who accidentally get in your way! Also, when you have a mother like Ms. Evans, you should call her back even if you likely wouldn't get a word in edgewise.

  Walking back, she was surprised to see him standing in front of the bookstore. He waved at her, but she had no intention of waving back or even acknowledging him. She slowed her pace, looking inside the other shop windows as she passed them. She stopped once, seeing a new painting in the window of the art gallery next door, but eventually she found herself in front of him. He looked amused, and she noticed once again how tall he was.

  "You look different with your hair in that braid. I almost didn't recognize you," he said as she struggled to find the keys in her purse.

  "Mmm," she murmured. Did he mean to insult her? It hadn't sounded like a compliment.

  "Need some help?"

  "Yeah, maybe don't stand so close." She waved him away. Why he made her nervous, she had no idea. "Found them!" she said a little too excitedly, waving her keys in his face, and he chuckled. She felt her face flush.

  "I talked to my mom and she said if I explained who she was exactly, you might return the book," he said, following her into the store. He kept his distance while she flipped the sign on the door from closed to open. "I wouldn't mind keeping it because I do like it. It's just that I already own it and there's no sense in having two copies. If you knew my mom, you would see that she doesn't read anything other than romance, so I don't have much of a selection to choose from personally."

  Was he babbling? she wondered as she walked to her seat behind the counter. Whatever it was, he was giving her a headache. "I'll return it, for her. If you want to find another, the third row back you will find the mystery section," she said, mindlessly sorting through paperwork looking for a return form.

  "Listen," he said, and she looked up at him. "I'm sorry about the other night. I was in a bad mood, and I honestly didn't think I would ever see you again."

  "So, you think it's okay to be rude to people because you're never going to see them again?" she asked before she could stop herself.

  "Not at all. Usually I'm not like that. It happened to be a bad night after a lot of bad nights, and I was wrong for it. Obviously, you didn't mean to come crashing into me-"

  "Crashing into you?" she interrupted haughtily. "I bumped into you coming out of the restroom! There was no crashing into anyone!" Why that choice of words offended her, she would never know.

  "Okay," he said, holding his hands up. "I'm sorry. Like I said, it was stupid of me. Obviously, this is a place my mom frequents, and I don't want it to be weird for her to come here or anything like that. I don't want you to hold it against her because of something I did."

  Denise wouldn't let the concern for his mother melt her heart in the slightest. "You never actually told me who she is."

  "I have a feeling you know. My mom isn't the type to go unnoticed," he said with a sly smile and held up the book. "Even though I love this book, it's not like it was a best seller. There's nothing in the plot that hasn't been done before."

  "I agree," Denise said. "The characters, though-"

  "They're my favorite," he interrupted, excitement in his voice. "They're flawed, but very..."

  "Lovable," Denise finished for him. "It's a standard murder mystery, but the heart of it is always the characters and how they redeem themselves throughout the story. It has humor but at the end-"

  "Being torn up when Peter dies?" he finished, interrupting again but she didn't mind.

  "Yes. Sometimes I think I read it hoping it'll be different."

  "Me too." They stood staring at each other for a moment when an elderly couple walked in. She greeted them, thankful for the interruption. When she got the nerve to look over at him again, he was walking towards the mystery section.

  It was ten minutes before the couple left, having bought a book of assorted crossword puzzles, and another ten minutes before he walked back carrying two books.

  "I'm Alex, by the way. Alex Evans," he said with
an endearing smile.

  "Yes," she said, reaching for his books.

  "Yes, you knew that?"

  She looked at him, feeling nervous. Not for the first time in her life, she hated the shyness about her. "I knew it," she answered. "Although she only ever calls you Alexander."

  "True," he said, chuckling.

  "You want these two?" she asked, holding up the two books he'd brought.

  "I changed my mind, actually. I decided I'm going to keep the one my mom got me since my other copy is in Chicago. I don't know when I'll be back there…" His voice trailed off and he was out the door without saying another word, leaving Denise speechless but curious about him.

  ******

  Shelly's words were ringing in Denise's ears when she came home that evening. She looked around the house she bought four years earlier, after moving to Rockford. It was small but sufficient. The living room had dark wood floors and drab curtains, and she'd placed a plain rug under the coffee table. That was as decorative as it got. Walking through the house, she was surprised to realize she didn't have a single picture hung up, not one on any of her shelves, or even a vase or a plant in the whole house.

  She couldn't believe she never noticed her own decorating style, or lack thereof, until it was mentioned to her. The last few years, Denise felt lost and, other than a few people, she also felt friendless. She had been so wrapped up in being sad and lonely that she never thought about decorating. After work, she never did much other than run errands, only to come home and watch TV or read a book. Why should she care about her home feeling like a home when she was just trying to make it through another day?