Let Me Call You Sweetheart: Come Rain or Come Shine (4 page)

“Thank you for coming by. You’re being very nice to me tonight. I’m a little worried that the four horsemen are riding down the street you’re being so pleasant.”

She sat back. The fire was warm, and the whiskey was warmer. They listened to the snaps and crackles and deep snorts for a few minutes. “Jeeves, can I ask you something?”

“Welsh and German. No Greek that I know of.”

She laughed. “Why did you move to Port Grable?”

“If I tell you, will you tell me why you didn’t want me to move to Port Grable?”

The hair on her arms rose. It was a fair trade, so she nodded, but she didn’t like it.
 

“I hate Los Angeles. I mean
hate
it. As soon as we got word my last series was cancelled, I started looking for a town that was the exact opposite of Hollywood. No more traffic, no more plastic smiles and plastic money.”

“Plastic breasts,” Charlie offered.

“I’ve seen one plastic pair in this town.”

“Really? Who?”

He shook his head. “I’m not telling. You have to have a practiced eye to spot them. Anyway I stumbled on Port Grable, Oregon.”

“Because you hate L.A.?” She heard the doubt threaded in her own voice. He didn’t look as if he’d hated it in the pictures she’d seen on TMZ. Not that she was seeking him out on the internet. Not very often.

Jeeves exhaled sharply. “I hate who I am in L.A.,” he conceded. “I felt like I never got out of high school, like I was always going along with what everyone else did so I could be cool. I’m forty-two years old. I came here to grow the hell up.”

“Are you through acting?”

He examined the amber liquid in his glass. “I don’t know. I’m done with television and movies. I might do some theater. I’d like to write a screenplay. Your turn. Why the big hate on me?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to bring Hollywood here.”

“I’m not.” His voice soothed her.

“I don’t like change, Jeeves. I’ve carved out a really good existence here. I don’t want it to change.”

It occurred to her, belatedly, how close their faces were. His eyes looked mossy in the firelight, so deep a green that she thought of rainforests. He had tiny wrinkles in the skin around his lids and she wanted to brush a feather-light kiss on them, and the thought jolted her back into herself. Maybe it wasn’t Jeeves who was losing his grip on reality. It was her.

She turned her head back to the fire, but he cupped her chin and brought her face back to him. “What just happened there?”

“I have to go,” she whispered.

He nodded, not letting go of her chin. “Okay.”

She gulped on her own breath, greedy for oxygen because there didn’t seem to be enough of it.

“Thanks for coming by,” he whispered.
 

“You’re welcome,” she responded and then pulled him to her, whimpering when his lips touched hers.

Even though she technically started it, she opened her eyes in surprise at the contact. She held her mouth in a rigid line, but his lips were soft as they brushed over hers in a slow, sinuous glide. Charlie closed her eyes and let herself relax.
Just for a minute
, she chided herself.

The hand under her chin flexed and he tunneled his fingers into her hair. He stretched the rest of his body away for a moment, still kissing her, and she heard his glass thunk on the coffee table. She still clutched hers in both hands when he reached his other hand into her hair.
 

Part of Charlie tried to rationalize with herself, but she shut that bitch up pretty quickly. Jeeves smelled too good and his hands held her firmly while he fed her kiss after intoxicating kiss. He pulled her hair gently and the zing bounced to her toes and back. She squeezed the glass so hard, she wondered why it hadn’t cracked in her hands yet.

Something nagged at her, but she couldn’t figure it out when Jeeves sucked her lower lip gently. Then his mouth kept roving…her jaw, her cheek, her temple, and then, oh God, her ear. He did things to her earlobe that made her crazy, but that was when they noticed the noise from the other side of the room. That was what had been nagging her. What the hell was that noise? It sounded like a propeller-powered vacuum cleaner.

They sat up and looked at the source of the racket and found Medusa snorkeling in one of her kibble bowls. As soon as she noticed they had stopped kissing, she stopped eating and stared back at them. This went on for a long minute until Jeeves experimentally kissed Charlie again while surreptitiously watching Medusa. As soon as his lips were busy, the dog began eating again.
 

“Well, I guess this means there will be lots of kissing,” Jeeves said into her cheek. “Or my dog will starve.”

“I am not going to make out with you every time your dog needs to eat. You might need to advertise for extra help.”

She tried to draw away from him, but he pulled her back. “Medusa is very discerning. I’m not sure she’d accept a substitute.”

Charlie pulled away again. “She will if she gets hungry enough. I really have to go.”

Jeeves walked her to the door. “You’re a chicken. We just made out on my couch and you’re going to pretend it’s no big deal.”

The phrase “made out on my couch” sort of made stars swirl in her eyes. She had to get out of here. “It’s not a big deal. You’re making it one, but it doesn’t have to be. We’re neighbors. We might even be friends. We’re not going to be more than that. Why are you following me?”

“I’m walking you home.”

“No, you’re not. I live right there.” It wasn’t worth arguing about, she could tell by the look in his eye. “Fine.”

She didn’t wait for him or talk to him. She knew he was behind her and she stormed across the grass, up the stairs of her porch, and slammed the door behind her. That damned dog would learn to eat on her own or she was going to lose a lot of weight.

Chapter Four

The next morning at ten, Jeeves knocked on Charlie’s back door.

“Twice a day,” he said when she opened it, looking first at him and then the dog bowl in his hands and dog on the leash. “Ten and six. We can try hugging. She might go for that.”

He pushed past her and set the bowl on the floor, dropped the leash, and pulled Charlie into his arms. “You’re wearing pajamas.” They were flannel with daisies and her hair was in a lopsided pony tail thing.
 

“It’s one of the perks of working at home.” She rested her chin on his shoulder in a resigned huff. “I can’t believe I’m going along with this. This is ridiculous.”

“Mmmm. Yeah.” Ridiculously nice. She was soft and warm and smelled like apples. “Why do you smell like apples?” he asked.

“It’s my lotion. Look, she’s eating.”

Jeeves was holding a woman dressed in daisies who smelled like apples, and his dog was eating. He did, in fact, want to start every day the same way. There must be some way to slow this down. He reminded himself that he didn’t want to be in a relationship with this woman as he smoothed a palm down her back.

“I mean it. You need to hire someone else to come over and kiss you twice a day. I’m not doing this forever,” she said.

“I know, sweetheart.” She wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Don’t call me that.”

Medusa finished her breakfast, so Charlie extricated herself from his arms and got the dog a bowl of water. She’d been right, last month at the tavern. She wasn’t like the women he dated in L.A. He couldn’t imagine any of them wearing flannel pajamas. If he saw them in the morning, it was all lace scraps or sheer robes. Of course, they maybe wore more comfortable clothes when he wasn’t around, but they never let people see them like that.

She was curvier, too. She rode that bicycle everywhere, but she was a round woman. Did that bother him? No, he didn’t think it did. Remembering the silhouette of her behind the shade, he amended that to no, it definitely did not. He’d never dated a woman who wasn’t a size six, or maybe two, before. It wasn’t as if he knew what size they wore anyway—but Charlie was heavier. That was likely going to be a problem. For her.
 

He didn’t care.
 

How refreshing to find out he wasn’t nearly as shallow as he thought he was. The media had painted him so cavalier about women and life because that was the image he projected on purpose. After a while, he’d begun to believe it himself. So, after years of fake boobs and women with no hips, he was attracted to a woman who was all real and had…a lot of hip. This was good news. He wasn’t a total ass. Who knew? Maybe he even had layers.

Jeeves realized he had a long road ahead in convincing Cleaver he was as deep as space, but he wasn’t concerned. Not overly. She’d come around.
 

He decided to peruse the rest of the house while she was cooing at Medusa. It was a mirror image of his own. The kitchen had been painted a cheery yellow, and the main living room was the color of lilacs in May. Her furniture wasn’t antique, but it wasn’t new either. Unless the 50s and 60s were considered antique now. He guessed the retro look went better with her dresses.
 

Medusa clopped in looking for attention, her nails hopefully not scratching the polished pine floors. There were so many things not right about the dog that it was hard to know where to start. Once you got past the hair and the odd horse face, a person still had to wrap their mind around that under bite. “Hey, gorgeous,” he said, stroking her ears.

Cleaver snorted at the endearment from the kitchen doorway. “So, I guess I’ll see you at six then?”

There was an Olympic sized pool of water between them. They both circled around it, trying to work up the nerve to dive in. She kept dipping her toes, but wouldn’t commit to getting wet. He kept waiting for her to jump in first.
 

“Can I see where you work?”
 

She directed him to the door behind him. Inside, the walls were shocking red. She had a drafting table in the middle of the room and on the walls hung oversized corkboards full of sketches.

“I Googled you the other day,” he said, inspecting the works-in-progress. “I wasn’t sure what a graphic novelist was to tell you the truth.”

Charlie exhaled loudly. “Okay, honestly, I only call myself that when I’m being pretentious. I’m a comic book writer. My books just get a better binding.”

“You do good work. You’re very popular.”

She shrugged and leaned on the doorjamb. “I love my work. Blaze, my main character, gets all the credit. She’s the real star.”
 

Blaze was the redheaded teen character Charlie had created who traveled space in her own rocket ship, solving crimes and saving the world.
 

Nice work if you could get it.

“Your Wikipedia page says you are a recluse.”
 

Charlie stiffened and then tried to make with the casual. “I’m not a recluse. You’ve seen me out. I just don’t like to do appearances for work.”

There was a story there, but Jeeves knew better than to push it right now. “Tell me how this works. You do both the writing and the illustrating?”

She nodded. “I write a script first, usually. Unless I’m stuck, then I’ll draw the picture and try and ferret out the words from that. I block the whole thing out on a storyboard and then I pencil sketch.” She showed him a draft. She called it rough, but he thought it was pretty intricate. “I transfer it to this cardstock, I usually add more details, and then ink it. Then I scan it into my computer.” She jiggled the mouse to wake up her screen. “I use a software program to color the image. Mine are mostly black and white though. Except for a few touches of color. Blaze’s hair mostly.”

“Wow, I didn’t even know a computer could do that.” He leaned on the desk, folding his arms across his chest. “What made you decide to draw comics?”

“You’ll think it’s dumb.” Doubt shadowed her face, and he hated that.
 

“No, I promise, I won’t.”

“Remember the A-Ha video from the 80s? ‘Take On Me’?”

“You’re too young to remember the 80s.” She looked so fresh with her jammies and the smattering of freckles on her face.

“Ha!” She cocked her head with a saucy little jerk. “If you read my Wiki page, then you are well aware that I am about to turn forty.”

“I remember the video. It was pretty big doings then. MTV was new.”

“Well, it inspired me. I wanted to live in the comic book pages. And now I do.”
 

“You’re just begging me to answer with something about living in the funny pages now, you know that, don’t you?”

She ignored the comment. “What made you decide to be an actor?”

“Molly Ringwald.”

Charlie looked perplexed. “You knew Molly Ringwald?”

Jeeves shook his head. “No. I wanted to. Very badly.”

Charlie laughed and then she pulled him off the desk edge. “I have a deadline and need to get back to work. I’ll see you at six.”

“Tell me again why you don’t want to date the movie star?” Myrtle asked.
 

Charlie groaned into her mug. “He’s not a movie star. He’s a television…no he’s not a TV star either. I think he’s more famous for dating than anything else, which, by the way, is exactly why I don’t want to date him.” Not that it stopped him from asking.
 

“Okay,” Myrtle countered. “So rich, talented, handsome actor moves to town, finds you attractive despite your efforts to be otherwise to him, and wants to date you. You
will
make out with him twice a day, but won’t go to dinner with him. Explain this to me.”

“We don’t always make out. Sometimes we just hold hands. And it’s for Medusa.”

Though Myrtle had no children, she threw a mean mom-stare. Charlie rankled from the scrutiny and stared into the mug to avoid any more direct eye contact. Myrtle didn’t let her off that easy, though. “Nobody, including you, believes you need to tongue tango with Jeeves Allencaster in order to keep his dog alive. Why won’t you date him? Everyone in town talks about nothing else.”

“Well, there’s another good reason not to. Imagine how bad they would be if I said yes. You know he told everyone at Mel’s he was
courting
me? Courting.”