Sommer Marsden - Lost in You

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 phone. Or, as old folks like me call it, a regular phone.’

I finally hung up and pulled my hair back, twisting it tight. I had no rubber band to hold it so the moment I let it go it sprang back, a mass of wild curls prompted by the rain.

‘Busy?’

I shrugged. ‘Aren’t you busy? You’re always in the papers.’ I toed the seam between the dark-red floor tiles.

‘I do a lot of charity work. To make good on my wild youth and …’ His eyes went back out to the storm. Always watching. Always aware. He was more than met the eye. ‘I do a lot of it to humour my mom since my dad passed.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I read about that.’

Dorian nodded once, a sharp gesture. ‘Thank you. I was a constant disappointment to my dad. I think I’m trying to make up for it now.’

‘I don’t know how – I mean, I can’t see you as disappointing.’ I looked away. ‘Not that it’s my place to say,’ I tailed off.

‘You’re a person, Clover. You don’t have a place . You can say whatever you like.’

I took a deep breath. ‘How about some shoes for me?’ I felt awkward saying it but I wanted to change the subject.

He nodded and reached out for my hand before catching himself. Then he shook his head and smiled, letting the hand drop to his side. ‘Sure thing. I bet you’d look stunning in some knee-high brown leather boots.’

‘I really don’t nee–’

‘Clover?’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m a very busy man trapped here with you.’ He grinned at me on the word ‘trapped’. ‘Let me get you some boots. It will amuse me. Keep me occupied.’

This time, I was the one to stick out my hand. My heart pounded when I did it. He looked surprised at the gesture but quickly recovered and took my hand in his.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘But only to keep you occupied.’

‘That didn’t take long,’ Dorian said with a laugh.

I gazed in the mirror at the tall, brown riding boots. ‘No. It didn’t. I adore boots. I have a bit of a …’ I let my words peter out, coughed to clear my throat.

‘A bit of a what?’ I could sense him smiling though I wasn’t looking at him.

‘A bit of a fetish,’ I said in a rush. ‘Not that I have to wear boots to have sex –’ I bit my tongue, cutting myself off before I could groan with embarrassment. ‘I mean … my God, why did I say that aloud?’

‘To make my day?’ He leaned against the wall and his eyes did another sweep of me. Head to toe, hovering right where one would expect a man’s gaze to hover. I was getting used to being assessed by Dorian Martin. Not only was I getting used to it, I was starting to appreciate it. The flex and tremble in my belly and the sudden need to shift my stance and squeeze my thighs together were clues.

‘I’m glad I can amuse you,’ I said.

‘Not just amuse. You intrigue me too. You care for your grandmother and run a tight ship and seem to take responsibility very seriously. Not to mention you seem uncomfortable being the centre of attention.’

I nodded, feeling quite uncomfortable just then. ‘True, true, true. Though taking care of my grandmother is no biggie because she watches out for me too. Since my mom –’ I shook my head at the mention of my gran and my mom. Tears were building in my eyes and I blinked hard to keep them down. The bizarre day was doing strange things to my emotions.

I rushed on, ‘As for taking my job and responsibility seriously, how could you not? I mean, who wouldn’t?’

He raised his hand. ‘Me for one. Why do you think I’m trying to redeem myself now?’

‘Oh – I’m –’

‘No need to be sorry. It’s a true story. I was a – what do they call it? – an incorrigible minor and now I’m not. Now I’m trying to be … a man.’ He waved a hand at me. He plucked a pair of buttery leather boots from a perch and idly turned them over. ‘What size do you wear?’

‘Eight and a half,’ I said, my tongue suddenly sticking to the roof of my mouth.

‘Will you try these on for me?’ He held them out.

‘I will, but you can’t buy them for me,’ I said. I had no idea why I said it.

He barked out a laugh and shook his head. ‘Not impressed by money. It’s my favourite thing about you. You wouldn’t let me buy them for you?’

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘I barely know you and you don’t owe me anything.’

‘It wouldn’t be because I owe you. It would be because it would make me happy. I have a lot of money. Which means I want for nothing. Buying stuff for yourself gets boring after a while. Buying things for people who think of others first and themselves last is wonderful. You think of everyone, Clover. How about you let me think of you today? Just this pair and the ones you have on. And I promise, Scout’s honour –’ he held up one hand in the Boy Scout sign ‘– no more.’

I sighed. They were spectacular and probably two months’ pay and … I took them. I liked the feel of the leather under my fingers, but it was the words he’d given me along with the boots that warmed my heart. A man appreciating me for who I was fascinated me. That was what impressed me about him, not his bank account.