Broken Girl(16)

“I was thinking some . . . other day?” His expression was pleading.

“Well, I’ll be busy.”

“Really? You already know you’re busy?”

“Yes.”

“Six months from now?”

I nodded my head. I didn’t know what I was doing every minute of the day, but I was pretty sure I was too busy to start something with him.

“How can you turn down eating dinner? The very act is essential to our human survival.”

“Oh, I survive quite well on my own, thank you.”

“Yeah, but why alone? Why not have dinner with someone . . . like me?”

“Look, Shane, Truthfully, I just can’t really see anyone right now. My life is a little . . . complicated.”

“Complicated? Everyone’s life is complicated, Rose.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have time to do complicated.”

“Complicated Rose. What if seeing wasn’t what I was thinking? I just thought we could have dinner, as friends?” he said, holding out a rainbow of suckers in front of his face. His eyes were saying something so much more than friends.

“Yeah, well it starts with suckers and ends with heartbreak,” I answered as I pulled the green sucker from the cluster of colors.

“You have us heartbroken over suckers and all I’m trying to do is go eat Cajun food and get to know my new friend, Complicated Rose.”

“Damn, you are persistent, Shane, and I can’t do dinner, anyway.”

“Ah, come on . . . fine, how about having lunch . . . just friends . . . I promise,” he said as he crossed his long fingers over his heart.

My body gave a little. It was almost unbearable staying strong, when all I wanted to do was throw myself at him and let him take me every which way to Sunday. A slight smirk filled my face.

“Thank you, Persistent Shane, for saving me from blasting headfirst into the washing machine the other day.” I pushed my hand out to him.

Please just take it, shake it, and make your way to the front door.

He grabbed my hand, pulled it up to his curvy lips and pressed. The energy which swirled against my flesh and shot straight between my legs was electrifying. It was like there was a power line that went straight from his lips to my sweet spot.

“Well, it’s always nice to save a beautiful woman who somehow agreed to have lunch with me tomorrow at Boxing Room. As friends of course, to avoid making it too complicated.”

“I, aahhh—”

“I promise it has actual food there and not just suckers.”

“Excuse me, you’re the manager, right?” A woman’s voice interrupted. I was thrown off when I realized she was asking Shane. I started to say something when he cleared his throat.

“What seems to be the problem?” He looked over at me for a moment, his eyes narrowed, concern threaded through his expression. He dropped his gaze before looking back at the woman.

“Well, I put my money in the slots and pushed . . .” Suddenly her words disappeared and became the background noise to the imagery of that fateful night when Shane barreled out of the laundromat and saved Crystal; hence, becoming the image that saved me from the grind of my business.

“Will you excuse me, Miss Complicated?” Shane’s voice danced against my ears as his hand caught my elbow and pulled my thoughts from that night.

“Sure, Mr. Persistent, I . . . ahhh, I’ll be right here; just . . . washing my clothes.” I dumped the laundry sack into the rolling cart next to me separating my colors from my whites, and I started thinking about having lunch with him tomorrow. Every couple of items I’d look over at him and watch him help the lady who had lost her quarters. Her arms swung as she talked to him, his head bobbed up and down as he listened, I wanted to hear his voice, but the sound of the washing machines whizzing on the spin cycle filled the room.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a handful of quarters and handed them to her. He cocked his head in a confident nod, smiled and started for the office. He disappeared behind the walnut-brown door. The quarter lady pulled her clothes out of the machine and put them in the next washer over. She mumbled curse words under her breath, well, at least that’s what it looked like as her lips moved. Shane came back out of the tiny office with a small beige canvas tool bag.

His pace was fast, determined and yet when he looked over at me, he slowed his stride. His eyes widened, as big as the smile that grew over his face. I smiled back before I turned to my clothes and realized I was holding up my slinky black see-through camisole. All the blood in my body was captured in my cheeks. I balled up my top and tossed it in the washing machine with my darks, closed the lid and reached into my purse for my roll of quarters.

Within several minutes I had two washers rumbling with full loads. It was the perfect time to take full advantage of my view and watch Shane wrench on the coin taker. He pulled back the front of the coin holder, his hands were large and strong. I found myself staring at him, and hardly blinking as his muscles tightened defined. But when he bit his lip with a focused scowl and his long fingers fiddled with the mechanism for the washer, I got all kinds of damp downstairs. It didn’t help the situation in the random instances the washers had the same cycle changes, and in that silent slip of a moment I could hear him huff and growl while he torqued on the coin return. Nice, manly sounds which made me wonder about him being so vocal during sex. I tightened my thighs together.