Lost in You. Sommer Marsden
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dry clothes so you didn’t get sick. Now that you’re … dressed, we can do whatever it is you need to do.’
‘Surely you have to call home too.’
He chuckled. ‘Not really. My mother is in Mexico. My siblings are God knows where. There’s no one for me to call home to. Unless you count Kimmie and Tyler.’
‘Kimmie and Tyler?’
‘The house staff. They are like family,’ he said, smiling. ‘So probably later I will call and check on them. But I have a feeling they’re OK.’
‘My grandmother’s eighty-two,’ I said quickly. ‘Lives alone. I help … I help her,’ I finished feebly. It always seemed so insulting to my one and only beloved grandparent to say, ‘I help care for her.’ I did but, truth be told, she helped care for me too.
‘Why am I not surprised by that information? You seem to be a phenomenon at caring for people. Your grandmother, your workers … your boss.’
His smile was friendly but it was mixed with something else. Something I’d seen before but usually ignored. Interest.
I cleared my throat, stepped totally free of the dressing room and held his sweater up just enough that he could see the jeans. ‘See? Just right.’
He took way longer to look than I’d anticipated. His eyes worked slowly from the top of me to the bottom and I felt my body wanting to shift and move because it was like being touched. Every moment his gaze was on me felt like he was sliding his hands along my body. I clenched my thighs where I stood and immediately regretted it. It did nothing but send a rush of blood between my legs, and extra sensation there was the last thing I needed.
At least without a participating partner.
‘They are just right.’ His voice remained the same volume but something in it had changed. It was a palpable sensation, the shift in the mood between us.
‘I should get a sweater or something. And give yours back –’
Dorian held up a hand. ‘I like it on you. It suits you, Clover.’
‘Socks,’ I said softly.
‘Socks,’ he grinned. He waved a hand at a whole wall of froofy hosiery and then bins of socks. ‘I think you have a few choices.’
He’d think me silly. All this luscious hosiery to choose from and I was going to go right for the bins of tall striped socks. I had a bit of an obsession. When I wasn’t dressed for work I wore the tallest, wildest, most colourful socks imaginable. And if I was going to stumble around inside a shopping structure during a big storm, I was going to be comfortable. Even if Dorian Martin thought I was silly.
‘I want these,’ I said, softly, grabbing a pair of knee socks with purple and red rugby stripes.
‘And these and these and these …,’ he said slowly, pulling a pair of polka-dotted ones out of a bin and following swiftly with another striped pair, yellow and cobalt, and a final one, black and white hound’s-tooth. When I glanced at him curiously, he shrugged. ‘Hey, you’re walking around in just socks until we rob – I mean visit – the shoe store. Your feet could get wet.’
I turned the socks over in his palm, the slight brush of my hand over his freezing me for a second. ‘Fifty dollars,’ I said. I gasped, and he chuckled. ‘For socks! Mr – Dorian. I cannot take two hundred dollars’ worth of socks. I don’t even know what the jeans cost but I can’t – I mean I have no complaints about my salary, mind you.’ I was babbling and couldn’t make myself stop. ‘But that is too much. Too too much.’
‘It’s on me, Clover,’ he said. His eyes were serious. No room for argument. We were barely inches apart and I became very aware of the heat radiating off him. Even in just a T-shirt and jeans he was giving off enough to bake a cake.
Or maybe that was just my perception.
Outside something boomed and I jumped. The lights flickered and when they stabilised I found I’d moved closer to Dorian without realising it. He tucked a wayward curl behind my ear and leaned in so we were barely an inch apart.
I held my breath. Would he kiss me? Did I want him to? Yes, I found, yes, I did. Very much.
But he simply said, ‘Take the socks, Clover. Employee bonus. I promise you, every vendor we heist will receive compensation.’ Then he kissed my forehead and I thought I’d die.
Why not my lips?
* * *
‘How you doing, baby?’
‘I’m fine, Grandmaw, but how are you?’
She laughed and my heart soared. My grandmother never failed to make me happy. For someone with a laundry list of ailments she rarely complained, and usually saw the bright side in almost everything. A skill I wish I could master.
‘Brani and I are playing gin rummy. That’s after a good forty minutes of arguing about how to play.’
I could picture the scene very well and it made me smile. ‘So you agreed?’
‘Yes, we did, but I told her we should just pull out the penny jars and play blackjack. Sounds like it’s going to be a long, long night.’
I held my breath before releasing a big gust of air. It helped stabilise my runaway heart and the urgent feeling of anxiety. ‘I’m worried about you. Maybe you and Brani should go and –’
‘If you tell me to call that seniors’ babysitting service, I’m going to smack your behind.’
I snorted. I was about two feet taller than my grandmother. However, I believed her. ‘No, ma’am. I won’t. But you and Brani take care of each other.’
‘Oh, we will. We have our cards and lots of candles and flashlights. We even have a nice bottle of that Christmas wine I keep on hand.’
‘Don’t go getting drunk now,’ I teased.
Dorian laughed softly from where he leaned against the wall just beyond the automatic doors. Outside the storm raged on. A bubble of worry clogged my throat as I watched a flag on a pole go sailing past. At least my grandmother was in a development with a lot of other people. She wasn’t in a single house all by herself.
‘What else is there to do, Clover?’ I could sense her smiling and I could hear Aunt Brani laughing in the background. ‘What about you? We want to know if you’re safe. You’re not wandering around in that huge place all by yourself are you?
‘No … my boss is here.’
‘Oh, that one, what’s-his-name?’ She meant Bradley, Dorian’s assistant.
‘No, this is Dorian. Dorian Martin, the owner.’
The phone was suddenly transferred. I knew it, Brani had been listening in. She had big ears (to match her big heart) and she loved to gossip. ‘Dorian Martin the rich boy?’
I put my head down and tried not to laugh. ‘Yes, him.’
‘Oh, my goodness, Clover Brite! He is rich-rich-rich. And not too hard on the eyes if you ask me.’
‘I didn’t,’ I sighed.
Brani cackled into the phone so loudly I had to hold it away from my ear. Dorian glanced back at me, smiling. He raised an eyebrow and I rolled my eyes. I pulled the sleeves of his sweater down to cover my cold fingers. Brani sounded tinny through the landline phone but cell service had been non-existent.
She was rattling on and I finally managed to cut in. ‘I agree with all that, but he’s also a busy man trapped here with me. Super nice. Very accommodating and I have to go. Now give Gram a kiss for me, please, Brani. Kiss yourself too. Call this line if you need to. Is it showing up on the readout?’
‘You betcha,’ she said and rattled the number off to me. ‘But I’m writing it down in case we lose power and have to call on an old-fashioned