Authors: Dara Girard
“Anger is a nice shield.”
She turned to glare up at him, but he met her with such an amused, gentle gaze she just stared. The expression in his eyes didn’t fit the man she had imagined him to be. For a moment she wanted to ask:
Who are you?
Instead she turned away, gathering jumbled emotions, wondering who was holding her in his arms—a man full of arrogance or someone else. She pointed to the discarded prizes. “Amanda is getting ruined.”
He picked up her cane, his other arm dipped to her waist. “This is useless.”
Her eyes widened at the disgust in his tone. “It’s one of yours. A Randolph brand.”
“I know. It’s standard and it sells well, but it doesn’t offer you the support you need.”
“The cramp was my fault. I haven’t exercised my leg as I should and my leg was beginning to ache, but I ignored it.”
“You could have told me.”
“I know, but I was getting greedy.” Brenna managed a small smile. “I wanted you to win lots of prizes for me.”
“You could have asked.” He shook his head annoyed. “How like a woman.”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought you were more forthcoming.”
“I am.”
“Then don’t do this again.” He dusted off the prizes and placed them back in the bag.
Brenna gathered her temper, annoyed by his scolding. “I don’t plan to.”
“You have to take care of yourself.”
She adjusted her blouse. “I won’t do this at the banquet so you don’t have to worry.”
He sent her an odd glance. “I wasn’t worried about that.”
“Well, just so you know you don’t have to be.”
He folded his arms and stared at her intrigued. “Wow. I didn’t realize that.”
“What?”
“You’re an idiot.”
She opened her mouth; no words came out.
He pulled her lips together. “You’ll invite flies.”
She pushed his hand away. “What do you mean, I’m an idiot?”
“It surprises me just as much as you. I think you’re smart then you say something stupid.”
“I do not.”
“Do you think I’m worried about your leg?”
“You could be.”
“Answer the question. Do you think I’m worried about your leg?”
“No.”
He nodded pleased. “Good. Now you won’t have to explain how your cane won’t make too much noise in the banquet hall or how you may be awkward dancing or that you won’t limp too much coming down the stairs.”
Her lips thinned. “You are the most—”
He held out his hand. “Do you need help up?”
“Go to—”
Hunter pulled her to her feet. “That’s better.”
Brenna pushed him away, but it was like pushing against a tree. He didn’t move. She lost her balance and fell backwards.
The corner of his lips twitched. “Shall we try this again?”
She dusted her hands off. “No.”
He held out his hand. “Come on.”
“No.”
He gave a low whistle. “You are one stubborn woman.”
“I can get up myself, just give me my cane.”
“You have to be nice to me if you want something. Ask nicely.”
She grabbed his ankle and jerked. She coughed delicately at the cloud of dust. “Will you please get my cane?”
Hunter didn’t move, he just lay there staring up at the sky. “Now I know how Annie Sullivan felt.” He rolled away before she could catch him. “You’ve been spoiled.” He jumped to his feet and handed her the cane. “I suggest you use that cane to stand up if you don’t want to end today sore and limp.”
“You’d hurt me?”
His eyes twinkled. “There are other ways to make a woman limp.”
***
Stephen glanced around the fairgrounds hoping to catch sight of Brenna and Hunter again. He’d seen them under one of the tents and couldn’t help smiling. Hunter seemed the perfect match for Brenna. He hoped they would both eventually see they weren’t acting as much as they thought.
“You look lost,” a smooth feminine voice said behind him.
He felt the hairs rise on his arms. He glanced at a concession stand. “I’m not.”
Tima stood beside him and pulled a piece of her blue cotton candy. “I may be able to help you find whoever you’re looking for.” She popped the candy in her mouth. “Is it Brenna?”
He turned and stared at the orange peasant blouse and denim skirt falling to a pair of red sneakers. Did she dress in the dark? “You saw her?”
“Yes, she ducked behind the juggling stage. Hunter followed.” Tima winked. “I hope they’re having fun.”
He nodded and looked away.
“Have you seen the fun house exhibit? The lighting illusions are incredible.”
“No.”
“I could show you and Fiona—”
“No, thanks.”
She held out her cotton candy. “Want some?”
He rested his hands on his hips wishing Fiona would return from the bathroom. Why wouldn’t this woman just go away and leave him alone?
“I see her. She looks like your type.”
He spun around. “What is that suppose to mean?”
Tima made a tut tut noise then put another piece of candy in her mouth. “A little touchy, aren’t you?”
“Do you have something to say about her? That she’s too sweet, too fragile, too cute? I know women like you—” He stopped.
She began to grin. “Women like me what?”
“Don’t like women like Fiona.”
“Come on.” Tima playfully nudged him with her elbow. “Don’t back down now. Say what you mean. You obviously have a theory about women like me. Exactly what kind of woman am I?”
“I’m not interested in this conversation.”
She ignored him. “Women like me are bossy, controlling and demanding among other things. We’re the unfortunate result of the women’s movement. We set men on edge. And since I am likely all these things to you and I’m not really interested in changing your mind let me say one thing. What anyone else thinks about you doesn’t matter as long as you’re happy.”
“I am happy.”
Tima patted him on the back as though he were a good little boy. “I’m glad.” She walked away leaving him feeling restless. A restlessness he’d promised himself never to feel again. His mind filled with questions he didn’t want answers to.
“I hate that woman,” he muttered.
Fiona took his hand and looked up at him. “That’s not a nice thing to say.”
No, it wasn’t nice, but it was exactly how he felt.
***
At home, Brenna stood by her window, but didn’t see anything. Her mind still lingering at the fair, riding the carousel, enjoying the sweet taste of funnel cake and having Hunter hold her in his arms. His arms. She could still feel their strength, their tenderness. A melancholy descended as the night made its claim. She knew as the days passed they were getting closer to their final goodbye. It was a necessary conclusion, but it still saddened her a bit. Brenna turned from the window. That evening she soaked her aching side in a hot shower then made an appointment with her doctor for another set of injections, which she hated. After showering, she changed into a shirt and skirt.
The doorbell rang just as she began washing up her dinner dishes. She dried her hands on a dish towel, suppressing a sigh. No doubt her mother had stopped by for a full report on her new man.
She opened the door and stared.
“Have you eaten dinner?” Hunter asked, entering without an invitation.
“Yes,” she stammered. She’d just relegated him to memory. It was a shock to see him live, real and very male with that magnetic, overwhelming energy in her apartment.
“Good, because I want to show you something.” He held up a metal rod that bent like an old branch. It had an orange handle and flattened bottom like a duck’s foot. “I’ve been thinking about your cane for hours.”
Brenna closed the door, her mouth kicking up in a quick grin. “How romantic. Make sure to bring her back by eleven.”
He blinked. “That’s not funny.”
She sighed with mock dismay. “This is why I never fulfilled my dream of being a comedienne.” She turned. “Come into the living room.” Brenna could feel his presence, as though he were a north wind. It was only in small spaces that she noticed he didn’t just walk, he moved. He didn’t just sit down he commanded the chair to seat him.
She sat on the loveseat, hoping he would take the couch in front of her. Instead, he sat beside her, crowding her into the corner.
Hunter placed the cane in front of them. “What I noticed with your cane was that it didn’t give you effective support. The way your leg is angled—” He drew up her skirt.
She slapped his hand away appalled. “What are you doing?!”
“I need to demonstrate a point.” He lifted her skirt again.
She snatched it away. “Then draw a picture.”
He paused then slowly said, “It’s easier to explain if I’m able to show you. The way your leg is—”
“I’ve seen my leg before. I know what it looks like.”
“Yes, and I saw it at the fair.”
She drummed her fingers on the arm of the seat unmoved.
“Brenna, it’s just a leg.”
“Is that the excuse you use to look up women’s skirts?”
He raised a brow. “I just want to
see
your leg. Looking up your skirt would be a completely different—” He faltered.
“Goal?”
“Agenda. But goal works just as well.” He shrugged. “Fine. Let me explain it this way. The way your leg is shaped creates a different walking pattern.”
He dragged his finger along her knee down to her ankle, his touch causing heat to shimmer and shift like rippling waves. Somehow the way he touched her leg made it okay. Not strange or weird, just there. However, his gesture also felt oddly seductive, the slow trail of his finger, the way it lingered. He cupped her calf. “This leg’s shorter. Did you stretch the bone?”
“Yes.”
“Painful.”
“Yes.” Brenna remembered the braces and screws, the hospital visits and feeling as though she were made more of steel than flesh. It had been worth it. She looked down at the scar some parts still looked rubbery and disfigured like melted Play-Do instead of skin, but at least her leg functioned.
Hunter was quiet a moment then said, “Because your leg is structured this way it forces you to put pressure on the outside area of the foot. The cane is supposed to help you stabilize, but puts pressure on this muscle here.” He gently squeezed.
She moved away uncertain she could tolerate the rest of his ‘demonstration’. “Yes, yes,” she said quickly. “I understand.”
“My new design won’t do that. Try it.”
Brenna tentatively took the cane Hunter held out to her. She walked the length of the living room surprised that she instantly felt lighter. “Oh, it works well.”
He nodded, pleased.
“But there’s just one problem.”
“What?”
She grimaced. “It’s ugly.”
Resignation replaced a look of hurt. “Yes, that’s why it hasn’t sold.”
“It’s bad enough having to use a cane,” she explained, trying to soften her criticism. “You don’t want to draw even more attention to it.”
“You’re right.” He reached for the cane.
She moved it away. “Perhaps if you worked more on its aesthetics it would be more appealing. The color’s all wrong. You realize that, don’t you?”
“Yes, but the material—”
“I’m sure the material is very suitable for the structure, but it has to look attractive.”
He sat forward. “My priority is function. I’m not good with aesthetics.”
“Try another color and is this necessary?” She pointed to the large bolts.
“Yes, it—”
“Perhaps you could accomplish the same goal in a different way.”
Hunter sighed. If only he had the time. He had reports to finish. “I’ll see what I can do, but if I’m promoted I’ll be moving to the Director of Research and Development and Marketing.”
“Why?”
Her question gave him pause. “Because it’s the next logical step in my Plan.”
She sat. “Oh yes, your plan. I’d almost forgotten about that. So your
Plan
no longer allows you to develop new ideas?” She tilted her head to one side and studied him. “You don’t seem the marketing type.”
“I’ve created reports on our competitors and gathered and analyzed data, studied buyer demographics and—”
“I’m not suggesting you can’t do your job, just that you could use your skills elsewhere.”
“I won’t be stuck in one area while others pass me by. I constantly strive to improve myself. As Director of these two divisions, I’ll be expanding and refining myself.”
“I can understand R&D, but why marketing?”
“Marketing is critical to moving up the ladder. My grandfather believes potential CEOs should understand every division if they plan to run the company.”
She nodded. “Do you want to head the company?”
“Yes. I want to see Randolph Medical Supply Company become one of the most exemplary in the industry. I’d also like to segue into other markets. We’ve been a little closed in our thinking which has served us well in terms of stability, but may hurt us in the long run. There is a need for expansion. The company can handle a slow growth and is strong enough for some trial and error approaches to marketing and product development. It’s falling a little behind the current technological advances available to companies like ours. I want to get it up to certain standards and beyond.”
He spoke with such passionate conviction Brenna smiled. “I’m surprised you’re not CEO yet.”
“My Uncle holds the position. I have a while yet.” He grabbed the cane and stood.
“Would you like anything to drink?” The question came without thought.
He hesitated. “Sure.”
They went into the kitchen, but didn’t know how to act cordial around each other without an audience. They weren’t friends after all, just performers who were part of the same show.
But Hunter didn’t want it that way anymore. Brenna was becoming dearer to him than he wanted to admit. He’d been intrigued by her at their first meeting, but now he could no longer deny his attraction. Hunter watched her, but not as a casual observer. He noticed her every movement his mind trying to capture every gesture so that when she was not with him he could conjure her up in his memory. He liked the way her hands worked. They weren’t gentle, but swift and efficient. He liked the way she held her head—cocky almost defiant. He turned away annoyed. He was being irrational. Sure he was attracted to her, but watching her like this was not logical. He steeled himself against his emotions. He would not lose his heart again. “I’ve changed my mind.”