Chapter 2
Brittany
I stood with my parents on the front steps of the swanky apartment complex where I would be living, patiently listening to the extended list of warnings, explanations, and demands my father was reciting. Mother stood gazing at him, mouth slightly agape and patient as ever.
The movers had relocated everything efficiently that very morning from the spacious estate to the apartment. I was ready to enjoy my first night completely on my own for the first time ever, in a place that hadn’t been decorated by my father. Maybe I would watch a sitcom, read a book, or take a bath with a glass of wine.
My father had impressed studying, socializing to make the right connections, and attending the best society functions throughout my life. Television, art, and just about everything else I secretly enjoyed appalled him. After twenty-five years of being the good, dutiful golden girl in the family, I was ready to spread my wings and try new things on my own terms. Not that it meant I needed to do all of that on my own yet, without help on at least a financial level.
I am smart enough to understand that I was not meant to live as a struggling college student while finishing my MBA. My father had long ago pinned his hopes on me following in his footsteps and becoming a doctor, joining his practice, and finding another similarly gifted professional to wed me off to before the two children arrived. After a college experience that had been lacking the grades to make medical school, my father had pulled a few strings to have me admitted to an MBA program at the prestigious Ivy League school the city boasted. I could almost recite by heart the list of well-to-do accountants, business people, and other notable alumni, due to the amount of name-dropping my father had done to explain his decision on my schooling. My opinion had not been appreciated or heard during this gap period in education. Telling him I would rather paint and explore the creative arts would probably cause him to have a heart attack, and he’d possibly lock me up in that big ivory tower he had constructed in his mind for his princess.
A deep voice sounded from behind me. “Mr. and Mrs. Wellington.”
Turning, I recognized the man my father had been talking with in passing that morning when he had gathered the keys to my apartment. I bet my first full year’s salary that my father had also been drafting the man into spy service so he would keep my parents apprised of my comings and goings.
As I took in the dark features, fit frame, and baby blue eyes, I found my heart doing a tiny flip-flop. The man was more than passably attractive, but his working man hands, worn jeans, and white t-shirt would never fly in any of the restaurants I was known to frequent. He would prefer football to art I bet, and he’d likely never seen the inside of a college.
While my mind continued to add to the list of reasons he would never be date material, my heart and libido were doing a happy dance that this hunk of man lived nearby.
“Isn’t that right?” My father said as my mother raised a questioning eyebrow at me in silent rebuke.
“Absolutely,” I automatically replied, hoping that was the correct answer to the question I had completely missed.
“So how are my parents doing these days?” The man asked, suddenly drawing my complete attention.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” I said without thinking about how offensive or snobbish the statement sounded.
“Dalton Jones the Third,” he replied and extended his hand with a slight twist of his lips that told me good manners were winning over his desire to throttle me.
“Jones? Like August and Mariah Jones?” I asked. The shock I felt was not easily filtered, and for the second time in less than a minute, Mother shot me a warning look.
“Yes, that would be dear old Mom and Dad,” Dalton said with an incomprehensible look on his face. “I’m sure they haven’t mentioned me. I’m sort of the black sheep of the family,” he whispered conspiratorially to Mother.
“That is the understatement,” my father groused out loud. “I do know your father said you had turned a corner and were doing a great job managing this building for him in recent years, however.”
“I do what I can,” Dalton said brightly as if the strange tension encasing them was not worrisome to him in the least.
I worried about how people perceived me every second of every day, and kept the peace with my father at all costs. Until I was able to pay all my own bills to keep myself in a lifestyle I enjoyed, it was how things had to be. Dalton on the other hand, did not appear to live by anyone’s expectations but his own, and he just shrugged off my father’s obvious disapproval. I hated to admit it, but his nonchalance and uncaring attitude about the approval others was a bonus in my mind.
“I just wanted to introduce myself to your wife and my new tenant, of course. Anything you require of me, please don’t hesitate to ask,” Dalton finished with a small nod to my mother and a glance my direction. Without a heartbeat of hesitation, he bounded up the stairs to the building again and was inside the doors before I could say it was nice meeting him also.
“Brittany, you stay clear of that man,” my father authoritatively said without any compunction or understanding that I was a grown woman and didn’t have to heed his advice.
No need stirring that pot, I decided. “Yes. I shall wait for you to find me a prince charming and force him to sweep me off my feet,” I said with a cheeky grin.
“Brittany, dear,” Mother reprimanded softly. “Your father only wants what is best for you.”
“I know, Mother,” I said, almost wishing my mother was the type to accept affection. I could really use a hug as I started on this new path.
It was big moments like these I missed my sister. Talia would be bouncing off walls and excitedly hugging me, I could just imagine it now. I sighed. Talia was never coming back, and my mother was never going to be warm and gooey. These were facts that no amount of wishful thinking was going to influence.
“I will see you next Sunday for dinner,” My father said with a slight nod before turning away from me and crooking his arm for my mother to take.
“Please be careful,” Mother added before placing her hand through her husband’s arm and walking back to their car with the driver standing upright waiting to take them home.
I waved lightly and turned toward the big building, a huge grin splitting my face. I could do this. I would find a way to follow my own path, and decide what I wanted to do with my life. Finishing the MBA was a dictate of my lease continuing to be paid by my father, so that would remain a necessity for now. Finding something to finally light my soul and bring some passion into this staid existence, was my life’s mission.
Climbing the three steps to the front of the building, I opened the ornate glass doors. Dalton stood just inside, replacing a light fixture that appeared to be freshly broken.
“Be careful,” he called out to me, causing me to freeze in place. “Glass on the floor.” He pointed to a spot mere inches from where my feet were planted.
“Shoes,” I responded with a little wiggle of my feet, and continued around the pile on to the apartment.
“Hey Princess, if you require me to come turn down your bedding tonight, put a mint on the pillow or anything else to make your stay better. Just let me know,” Dalton said with a sarcastic twinge to his voice.
I whirled around on my heels. “I’m pretty certain I will never be offering you an invitation into my apartment. For any reason,” I stated, trying to stave off the blush I felt climbing my cheeks.
He just looked at me with a pucker on his lips. “Want to bet?” he drawled in what I knew was a fake accent. “Unless you chase away critters, unclog your own drains and toilets, or are willing to break a nail checking fire alarms, I’ll be getting that invitation.”
“Ugh,” I retorted, half grimace and half sigh. “You are insufferable.”
“Hello pot, kettle here,” he replied.
“I’m not insufferable.”
“Just entitled. Thus, the princess moniker,” he volunteered in a cheery voice that was grating at my nerves.
“Did I do something to make you mad?”
“Nope, I just don’t necessarily enjoy those that live off Daddy’s money and can still look down their nose at those doing an honest day’s work for honest pay,” he snapped. He moved to within a foot of me, getting into my personal space.
His proximity and obvious passion for the subject at hand captured my attention, as I swallowed a nervous lump. I liked this mental jousting match and when I would have normally simply turned and vacated the hallway, I found myself continuing to bait him.
“Daddy got you your job and pays your bills, or did you forget that?” I replied sweetly, as I refused to let him know the impact he had on me.
“Trust me, my daddy pays me because I’m cheap labor he knows needs this shot at a second chance,” Dalton replied under his breath.
I stopped the verbal barbs, and cocked my head. It was impossible to figure him out. He obviously had revealed more than he had wished.
I watched him as he turned, grabbed a broom, and proceeded to sweep the glass on the floor into a dustpan. As I watched his retreating backside I found my libido whispering again about all the nice attributes I continued to catalog about him, and that view was definitely making the list. Dalton appeared to be a mystery with several layers. Obviously, he had been raised in money even older than mine and with family connections that would have allowed him any advantages he sought. His look, though, was street wise, and his job involved menial labor which didn’t compute with his background. Although the location was upscale enough in many regards, Dalton was just the help.
I always thought that my own tragic story was sad, but glancing back at Dalton as I headed to my apartment, my mind had to concede I had it better than he did. My father was harsh, judgmental, and overly involved in every decision I made. On the other hand, he took care of me, provided the best education, schools, and housing. In the world today, that amounted to a gold mine when so many others had it much worse.
Turning the key in the lock of my new apartment, I took one longer glance down the hallway. Dalton was dumping the dustpan. He looked up, directly into my eyes. The physical connection crackled across the distance between us. Startled, I flung myself into the apartment, and shut the door a bit more forcefully than was necessary.