Clementine
In between holidays, I hated my job. No one seemed to shop for cards just because. It was always for a holiday or special occasion, and even those special occasions like weddings and birthdays seemed to all happen right at the same time. Occasionally, we would get customers stopping in for a trinket or a postcard for a visiting relative or to send to family at home, letting them know they’d been here.
I leaned on the sales counter on my elbows and yawned. Some days it would get so slow I wished we could just shut it down and go home, but that wasn’t how it worked. We had to stay open on the off chance that someone would need a card they couldn’t find at the mall or in one of the big box stores.
“This can’t be all there is,” I said to myself, resting my chin on the palms of my hands. I looked around the empty store and dreamed of the day when I would open my own print shop. I told myself the reason I kept to myself was so I could work and save my money. I needed to stay focused on the goal here, which was earning enough startup money so I didn’t have to take out a giant loan to get off the ground.
I was lying to myself, though. The real reason I kept to myself was because I didn’t know anyone, and I didn’t know how to meet anyone. In high school, we had all been forced to know each other. We all came from a pretty small town. Everyone knew everyone from day one.
Then, in college, we all lived together on campus, so we got to know each other that way. I had made some friends, but for the most part, friendships ended at graduation when we packed up and moved away. I hadn’t moved away. I went to the university in the same city where my big brother lived and ran his successful consulting firm, so I stayed after graduation and let him help me find a nice apartment.
Leo was helping me out so I didn’t have to rush into anything just to make ends meet, and I appreciated that, but I felt like he would have helped me out a lot more by just loaning me the money to get my own business started. I also figured he would have helped me meet more people than he had, but he kept to himself a lot.
Oh well, I laughed to myself. It seems to run in the family.
“Could be worse,” I said, standing back up from the counter.
The bell on the door startled me in the silence of the shop. I turned to see who was coming in. My stomach immediately knotted up when I saw the man who was entering the store. I had to force a smile when he looked at me.
My new customer had closely cropped brown waves and dark sunglasses hid his eyes. His face could have been chiseled from a piece of stone. He wore a black leather motorcycle vest with several patches on it. I couldn’t tell one from the other because there were too many. Underneath the vest, he wore a plain black t-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and firm chest muscles. He wore nice jeans, not an old ragged pair like I would have expected, and black boots.
I set myself to committing his appearance to memory, just in case things went wrong. Sure, it was possible that bikers needed greeting cards, too, but so many of them in and around the city were violent thugs.
This man didn’t look like a violent street thug, but I didn’t want to take any chances with him. I wanted to be able to identify him if he decided he didn’t want to play nice while he was in the store. While he looked dangerous, he also looked very clean cut. He didn’t look like he was coming in to start any trouble, but I figured they never did.
“Welcome to The Greeting Place,” I called out to him. “If there’s anything I can do for you, just let me know,” I added.
He turned to face me with his warm smile and bulging muscles. He walked up to the counter and took off his shades, revealing the most beautiful green eyes I’d ever seen. He leaned over and looked down at my shirt. I felt my skin flush under his gaze as I realized my shirt was open and he could probably see straight down it.
“There is something you can do for me, Clementine,” he said with a gleam in his eye. He wasn’t thinking about cards, and my body responded to his suggestion in kind. The delicate place between my thighs knew exactly what he meant, and it was obviously on the same page.
This man was dangerously seductive, and I had the sneaking suspicion that he was fully aware of that fact. In fact, I was pretty sure he was the kind the man who would use it to his advantage.
“Well, now I’m at a disadvantage,” I told him, deciding to play along to see if he actually needed anything from the store or if he was just another man coming in here to flirt with the girl behind the counter.
“How is that?” he asked.
“You know my name, but I don’t know yours.” I cocked an eyebrow.
“Jackson,” he said, extending a hand across the counter, “but my friends call me Falcon.”
“Nice to meet you, Falcon,” I said playfully as I shook his hand. His grip was firm but gentle. I couldn’t help but wonder if he always touched like that. His skin was soft and smooth, but it couldn’t hide the strength underneath, the raw power that was surely just beneath the surface of his smooth exterior.
Our eyes locked together while we shook hands. His eyes seemed to be asking me something, seemed to be luring me over the counter. I had to tear my gaze away from the emeralds set in his face to break the spell. Then, I realized we weren’t shaking hands anymore. Instead, we were simply holding hands over the counter. I slowly pulled my hand back from his, and I could feel his fingers reluctantly letting my hand slide away.
“So, Falcon, what can I do for you today?” I asked, mustering up the most professional customer service tone I could manage.
“I’m really just here for information,” he said, and my heart sank.
My stomach turned to ice. Though his tone was still flirtatious, I knew enough about the streets to know it was never good when a member of a biker gang started talking about information. Someone was in trouble, and if I didn’t know what he needed from me, I was probably going to join them. “What kind of information?” I asked slowly, nervously.
“Well, I was wondering what a guy needed to do to get a date with a beautiful young woman like yourself,” he said, keeping his dreamy green eyes on me.
“Well, um, I’m not really s-sure if we have anything here that will help,” I stammered. I blushed. There was nothing I could do about it. I felt my face light up bright red.
“I didn’t know if cards, flowers, or chocolates were appropriate for introducing myself and trying to score a date, so I figured I’d come to the source to see what I needed to do,” he added.
“I think your technique definitely has its place,” I told him, trying to regain my composure to answer his question with some sort of professionalism. “You know, a card or flowers, or anything like that might seem like a bit much to someone the first time you meet them. I definitely recommend introducing yourself first,” I continued.
“So I did all right, then?” he asked me.
I blushed again. I had never been put in the awkward position of having to evaluate the way someone introduced himself to me. Falcon was definitely different from anyone else I’d ever met before him. “Yes, I think you made the right decision,” I admitted. He certainly had me talking to him, so who was to say it wouldn’t work with someone else?
“Good. So, when should I pick you up?” he asked me.
“I’m sorry, what?” His blunt question floored me.
“Well, if I did a good job introducing myself the way you said I did, we should be at the point where I ask you out, right?” he reasoned with me.
“Right, but I didn’t know you were talking about me,” I told him. I should have been put off by how forward he was being. I should have asked him to leave the store. Instead, I found myself fascinated by his confidence. It was as if he just knew I was going to accept his invitation. But I didn’t know if I was really going to decline or just make him work harder for it.
“Ah, okay. That whole bit about asking out someone as beautiful as you is a little misleading. See, there’s no one as beautiful as you. I should have been more to the point about that part of it. I’m sorry. What I meant to say was that I needed to know what I needed to do to get someone so beautiful to accompany me to dinner on her next night off,” he explained, deepening my blush.
“I’m flattered, but I think you still need to work on it a little bit,” I said, toying with him a bit. I wanted him to work for it.
“Why don’t you come out with me for dinner on your next night off, and you can help me,” he insisted.
“You’re certainly persistent, aren’t you?” I tried to keep a straight face, but I couldn’t fight back the cheesy grin spreading ear to ear across my face.
“I’m not used to being told no, I guess.” He gave me a grin of his own, except his was full of suggestion. He was saying all the wrong things, but it was working. He wore a smug little smile on his face, too. He knew I was close to giving in. Hell, he probably knew what I was going to do better than I did.
“So, is there anything in the store that you need?” I asked him, changing the subject. “Or did you just come in here to harass me?”
He looked around the store for a moment before looking back at me and shaking his head. “I just came in for you,” he said. “I’ve been looking for someone with a nice figure, blonde hair, blue eyes, and a genuine smile like yours.”
Oh, he was putting it on thick! He wasn’t going to stop until I said yes and agreed to a date. “There are plenty of blondes out there,” I teased him. “Maybe even a few who are more your speed.” I raised my eyebrows and stepped back from the counter. I folded my arms under my breasts and watched. His eyes didn’t move down to check them out. I didn’t know whether to be insulted or impressed. Then again, when he checked out my nametag, he had probably taken a good look at them.
“I’m not looking for all of that,” he said. “Those women usually come with a lot of baggage, and not the good kind. I’m looking for something new, something pure.”
I had heard a lot of guys say it was pretty obvious when they met a virgin for the first time. They could usually tell right away. I supposed Falcon had just pegged me. But it wasn’t entirely my fault that I’d kept my guard up against boys and men who just wanted one thing from me. Virgins were like trophies.
I suspected he wanted the same thing they all did, but there was something about him I found utterly disarming. I grabbed a sheet of paper from the notepad we kept at the counter. I wrote down my phone number and address. Then, I slid the paper across the counter. “Pick me up there Friday night at eight,” I told him. “I’ll be downstairs waiting for you.” I could be mysterious and alluring, too.
“I’ll be there,” he said, giving my paper a hungry look before he folded it and stuffed it into his pocket. “It’s been a pleasure, Clementine, but I’ll let you get back to work,” he said as he backed away from the counter towards the door.
“You, too, Falcon. Now, you better show Friday night,” I said.
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world, baby girl,” he said as he pushed his way through the door and back onto the downtown sidewalk. A minute or two later, I heard his motorcycle roar to life as he pulled away from the curb and rode into view past the front windows of the card shop.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked myself as I watched him ride by.