Always on His Mind Excerpt
Outside, the morning sun blinded her. No cars, so she could jaywalk without being mowed down by a crazed cabbie. She didn’t see the strip of tar in the street until her shoe was sucked into stubborn softness. Mercedes was stuck.
“Oh, my Louboutins!” Six hundred dollars down the drain. And that wasn’t the only problem. One wrong step and she could break her ankle. Cissy Grantham ended up on crutches after snagging her heel in a grate on Fifth Avenue. Mercedes couldn’t afford to be laid up.
That did it. She lurched out of the shoe.
The road blistered the bottom of her foot while she struggled to keep her balance. When she threw her hands out, the box sailed through the air. The tearing sound of her kick pleat was the last straw.
She would not cry. She just would not.
Behind her, the doors of Rosie’s Breakfast Club burst open. Guys laughed, promising to “hit the links together.” To top it off, dogs yipped with excitement. She had to get out of here. If she could just reach that shoe.
No luck. She couldn’t snag the shoe and her kick pleat tore higher. A breeze tickled the backs of her legs. Damn. She was blinking back frustrated tears when muscled arms closed around her and she fell onto a chest smelling of bacon and hash browns. Two small brown and white dogs barked at her heels. A wet tongue licked her leg.
“Looks like you need some help, pretty lady.”
She was unceremoniously swept up. The smiling grey eyes reminded Mercedes of her favorite winter jacket. “Th-Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Shouldn’t jaywalk, you know.”
The dogs wouldn’t quit.
“Quiet, Elvis. Wiggy, no.” He gave them a stern look.
“Elvis?”
When he shrugged, she felt the ripple of a muscled chest. Blessed silence fell. “The crews don’t tar near the crossing so you’re safe there. Always cross at the light.” He sounded like a boy scout but looked like Super Man.
“Why didn’t they just resurface the whole street?” She spread her fingers flat on his muscled chest.
“No budget for it.” That smile could sell toothpaste. “Mercedes? Finn Wheeler. Remember me?”
Heat shot up her cheeks. This was a man she should remember.
“High school.” His arms cinched tighter. Like they had a right. “Chemistry class?”
Her mind bounced back through the years like a beach ball. “Sure. Right. Finn.” Only the gawky teenager with that name had worn dark-rimmed glasses, framed by huge ears. He’d been skinny as a golf tee.
Finn set her down, where she wobbled on one foot. Her whole world felt lopsided. The dog gave her another lick.
“How’re you doing...Finn?”
“Terrific, except an old friend is in trouble.”
You have no idea. She sniffled.
“I can take care of that.”
Her heart stopped when he wrenched the shoe from the tar and handed it over. “Red soles, huh?”
“Yes. Thank you.” She closed her fingers around the gooey mess.
The dogs were nuzzling the pastries scattered on the ground. Finn snapped his fingers. “Sit.” They obeyed.
Mercedes watched him tuck the cheese crowns into the box. She’d always had a thing about a man’s eyes and hands. They said it all. Was he kind? Callous? Finn knew how to treat a cheese crown with respect. Elvis and Wiggy panted but they stayed put.
Mercedes wanted to pant too, but she was losing her balance and reached for his back. Very slowly Finn straightened, a steadying hand on her arm. “You need more help?”
“I think I can stand on my own two feet.”
“You always could, Mercedes.”
“Right.” She planted her bare foot on the blazing hot street.
“Where you headed?”
Gritting her teeth, she pointed to Michiana Thyme.
Handing her the box, Finn Wheeler swept her back into his arms. “Just a stone’s throw. Elvis, Wiggy? Come.” The dogs clicking along behind him, Finn marched down Whittaker Street. Mercedes hooked one arm around his broad shoulders, enjoying the view. At the stoplight, he pressed a button and she swallowed a chuckle while they waited. After all, not a car was in sight. When the light changed green, he took off toward Michiana Thyme. Kate would never believe this.
“So, you in town for long, Mercedes?”
“I don’t really know. Could you take me to the back door?”
“No problem.” His strides lengthened. The dogs picked up their pace, little tails waving briskly.
“So, you don’t believe in a leash for your dogs?”
“No need. They obey me.” Finn grinned. “So, you don’t believe in stoplights?”
Point taken. She’d forgotten the dry humor shot from the corner of his mouth. This was the boy who coached her through chemistry. Now Finn’s chest felt comforting, as if she hadn’t slept in months and he was a soft bed. Her head jerked up. But her wandering right hand crept back to his chest, tucked under the box so he wouldn’t see. Apparently he could feel. His eyes slid to hers with a naughty crinkle. A chill skittered down her spine.
“When did you get back?”
“Last week.” Since when did she have a breathy voice?
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Outside, the morning sun blinded her. No cars, so she could jaywalk without being mowed down by a crazed cabbie. She didn’t see the strip of tar in the street until her shoe was sucked into stubborn softness. Mercedes was stuck.
“Oh, my Louboutins!” Six hundred dollars down the drain. And that wasn’t the only problem. One wrong step and she could break her ankle. Cissy Grantham ended up on crutches after snagging her heel in a grate on Fifth Avenue. Mercedes couldn’t afford to be laid up.
That did it. She lurched out of the shoe.
The road blistered the bottom of her foot while she struggled to keep her balance. When she threw her hands out, the box sailed through the air. The tearing sound of her kick pleat was the last straw.
She would not cry. She just would not.
Behind her, the doors of Rosie’s Breakfast Club burst open. Guys laughed, promising to “hit the links together.” To top it off, dogs yipped with excitement. She had to get out of here. If she could just reach that shoe.
No luck. She couldn’t snag the shoe and her kick pleat tore higher. A breeze tickled the backs of her legs. Damn. She was blinking back frustrated tears when muscled arms closed around her and she fell onto a chest smelling of bacon and hash browns. Two small brown and white dogs barked at her heels. A wet tongue licked her leg.
“Looks like you need some help, pretty lady.”
She was unceremoniously swept up. The smiling grey eyes reminded Mercedes of her favorite winter jacket. “Th-Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Shouldn’t jaywalk, you know.”
The dogs wouldn’t quit.
“Quiet, Elvis. Wiggy, no.” He gave them a stern look.
“Elvis?”
When he shrugged, she felt the ripple of a muscled chest. Blessed silence fell. “The crews don’t tar near the crossing so you’re safe there. Always cross at the light.” He sounded like a boy scout but looked like Super Man.
“Why didn’t they just resurface the whole street?” She spread her fingers flat on his muscled chest.
“No budget for it.” That smile could sell toothpaste. “Mercedes? Finn Wheeler. Remember me?”
Heat shot up her cheeks. This was a man she should remember.
“High school.” His arms cinched tighter. Like they had a right. “Chemistry class?”
Her mind bounced back through the years like a beach ball. “Sure. Right. Finn.” Only the gawky teenager with that name had worn dark-rimmed glasses, framed by huge ears. He’d been skinny as a golf tee.
Finn set her down, where she wobbled on one foot. Her whole world felt lopsided. The dog gave her another lick.
“How’re you doing...Finn?”
“Terrific, except an old friend is in trouble.”
You have no idea. She sniffled.
“I can take care of that.”
Her heart stopped when he wrenched the shoe from the tar and handed it over. “Red soles, huh?”
“Yes. Thank you.” She closed her fingers around the gooey mess.
The dogs were nuzzling the pastries scattered on the ground. Finn snapped his fingers. “Sit.” They obeyed.
Mercedes watched him tuck the cheese crowns into the box. She’d always had a thing about a man’s eyes and hands. They said it all. Was he kind? Callous? Finn knew how to treat a cheese crown with respect. Elvis and Wiggy panted but they stayed put.
Mercedes wanted to pant too, but she was losing her balance and reached for his back. Very slowly Finn straightened, a steadying hand on her arm. “You need more help?”
“I think I can stand on my own two feet.”
“You always could, Mercedes.”
“Right.” She planted her bare foot on the blazing hot street.
“Where you headed?”
Gritting her teeth, she pointed to Michiana Thyme.
Handing her the box, Finn Wheeler swept her back into his arms. “Just a stone’s throw. Elvis, Wiggy? Come.” The dogs clicking along behind him, Finn marched down Whittaker Street. Mercedes hooked one arm around his broad shoulders, enjoying the view. At the stoplight, he pressed a button and she swallowed a chuckle while they waited. After all, not a car was in sight. When the light changed green, he took off toward Michiana Thyme. Kate would never believe this.
“So, you in town for long, Mercedes?”
“I don’t really know. Could you take me to the back door?”
“No problem.” His strides lengthened. The dogs picked up their pace, little tails waving briskly.
“So, you don’t believe in a leash for your dogs?”
“No need. They obey me.” Finn grinned. “So, you don’t believe in stoplights?”
Point taken. She’d forgotten the dry humor shot from the corner of his mouth. This was the boy who coached her through chemistry. Now Finn’s chest felt comforting, as if she hadn’t slept in months and he was a soft bed. Her head jerked up. But her wandering right hand crept back to his chest, tucked under the box so he wouldn’t see. Apparently he could feel. His eyes slid to hers with a naughty crinkle. A chill skittered down her spine.
“When did you get back?”
“Last week.” Since when did she have a breathy voice?
Read more of Always on His Mind at the following stores:
Amazon
Apple
Barnes & Noble
Kobo