Pink Shades of Words: Walk 2016 Read online

  I often wondered if the Blackstone family who’d employed my nan, bore any kind of conscience at all to dismiss a loyal servant after more than three decades with hardly a thank you and goodbye. No pension or departure compensation—nothing at all. “Deplorable” came to mind. “Selfish arseholes” did as well. There was no defense for their behavior. None at all.

  Blackstone Island was primarily a place where a few very rich people, with ocean-front vacation homes worth millions of dollars, came to play at summer holidays. Unfortunately, it was also a place where a great many poor people worked very hard to serve those same rich people, and had little to nothing to show for it.

  FOUR

  ~CALEB~

  The last thing I wanted to do at the end of my day-of-shit was go to a client appreciation reception for cocktails and hors d'oeuvres with my face looking like it did from being smacked by Janice’s Valentino. All day long I’d fielded the concerned inquiries from people who weren’t assholes, along with the jokes and harassment from the people who were most definitely assholes. I don’t think many of them bought my lie about slipping in the shower and colliding with the marble soap dish. What they didn’t know was I couldn’t care less what they thought of me in my personal life. As long as they respected me in business, I was good. I could make money grow from just about anything. So what if I had terrible emotional skills when it came to relationships with women. I just didn’t feel anything for those women like I probably should if I really cared about them for more than sex. But I’d never felt anything beyond an admiration for their beauty, along with the desire for some shared pleasure if they were interested in the same. I wasn’t stingy either. Before we were done I made sure they were well satisfied. I didn’t know how to operate any differently, and until I figured my shit out, I should just stay away from women altogether. It made the most sense.

  The fact it was my father’s law firm hosting this gathering was the only reason I’d stepped foot inside the door. There was a part of me that still wanted to make him proud even though I’d made my own successful career apart from his. Now he was gone, I’d taken on his business as well, and I knew his peers were watching closely to see how I would do. My brothers had their own interests and money, as well as a share in Dad’s holdings, but they weren’t involved in the day-to-day management like I was. Lucas lived like a hermit on the island designing gaming systems, and Wyatt was in New York doing his thing, which nobody seemed to know much about. Being the oldest child, followed by identical twin brothers, and then five years later by another set of twins, but this time girls and fraternal, I was the odd man out. Willow was engaged to her ivy-league professor, and Winter was in grad school, so everyone was focused on their own goals as they should be.

  My mother was very proud of the fact she’d given my father five children and only suffered through three pregnancies. And Mom made sure we all knew it was suffering of the worst kind to give birth to every one of us. Maybe that was why she resented me. All that effort only produced one baby—me.

  My relationship with my mother was just the start of my women troubles. I’d had a not-so-pleasant conversation with her on the phone earlier today. Janice had gotten to Mom quickly, crying out a sad tale of disrespect and broken promises on my part. I didn’t tell her that within five minutes of leaving me, she was deep-throating James Blakney. Thinking my mother didn’t need that visual, I didn’t say much in response except that Janice wasn’t the girl we all thought she was, and she definitely wasn’t going to be anything more than a friend of the family to me from here on out. Mom then took the opportunity to tell me I’d made things very difficult for her friendship with Janice’s mother. I offered her the advice a generous donation to their non-profit would probably smooth things over. I suppose she didn’t care for my suggestion because she ended our call quickly after.

  I would give this thing two drinks max before I was outie.

  Nodding and saying the right things, I shook hands with the colleagues who’d known my father, and accepted condolences from others. I made a mental note of the people who’d made the effort to mention his name to me, and I would write them down with the event and date as soon as I got home.

  I’d worked my way through the room, as I had been taught by my dad—by the best to ever work a roomful of potential deals—when I decided I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do tonight. It was time for me to go. After setting my glass down on an empty table, I started for the door...until I saw her.

  Just like that. She appeared in my line of sight and I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  The beautiful girl from this morning at the Starbucks on Hereford Street.

  I knew it was her because how could anyone forget those sexy boots? Her blonde hair wasn’t down like it had been this morning though. She’d pulled it back into a sleek ponytail...but she was serving at this event? I’d seen her go into that design studio next to Starbucks. She probably had two jobs. Industrious...beautiful...sexy.

  I quickly returned for my half-empty glass and snatched it up from the table. I suddenly felt like an appetizer or two.

  She saw me approaching and moved closer with her tray. “What are these called?” I asked without sparing her tray a second glance. Bad move on my part, but I was too busy taking in her golden eyes and hair, and everything else I could now see up close. Perfect skin, dark lashes that framed spectacular eyes, and a scar along the hairline of the right side of her face. Something had hurt her at some point in the past, and I found it utterly insane that I was disturbed by it.

  She rolled her pink lips together as if she was trying to suppress laughter. “Well, they’ve told me it’s something called a...meatball. Very unusual gourmet creation. You should try one. They’re said to be quite delicious.”

  That voice of hers was...fucking beautiful.

  “Okay.” I picked up a meatball and popped it in my mouth. Didn’t taste a thing. I could have been chewing slaughterhouse by-products and I wouldn’t have known. My brain had shut off everything except her beautiful voice.

  “You are either messing with me or that blow to your head must have been devastating. I would wager you’ve had a meatball before.”

  “I am.”

  She lost her smile. “You are messing with me?”

  “No, I am devastating—I mean devastated—by the blow to my head.” What in the mother fuck was I even saying to this girl? I sounded like Rain Man minus the IQ. I needed to stop talking.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. It looks painful.”

  “It doesn’t hurt me now.” I think I smiled and shook my head but couldn’t be sure. Just call me the village idiot because I knew I was acting like one. I did love the sound of her voice though.

  “Another rare and precious meatball?” She offered her tray and studied me this time. She had to be disgusted by my appearance and turned off by my behavior, but she didn’t show it if she was.

  “Yes, please.” I took another meatball but I didn’t eat it. “You are British.”

  “You are American,” she said with a fast wink, before turning away to serve other guests.

  I watched her walk away from me and felt the pounding of my heart vibrating throughout my entire body.

  Something had just happened to me.

  I wasn’t completely sure what exactly, but I was crystal clear on the reason.

  Her.

  * * *

  I did not leave as I’d planned to do.

  I stayed in that ridiculous meet-n-greet so I could stalk a girl I did not know.

  I, Caleb Blackstone, became a stalker in that moment, and was not in the least apologetic about it, either.

  Oh, for the next hour or so I put on a good show and kept schmoozing with people I hardly paid attention to, so I could watch her walk around the room serving meatballs in her tight skirt and fuck-me boots. I even managed to paint an image of her wearing nothing but those boots in my head. My thoughts were downright filthy, to the point my cock wanted in on the acti
on.

  Badly.

  This wasn’t happening to me in a roomful of business associates. My dick was not getting hard from watching a pretty girl offer up food.

  Yes, it was.

  I also figured out I wasn’t the only one looking at her, and those boots weren’t exactly helping her fade into the background at an event like this one, made up of mostly men thinking about sex once every fifty-two seconds. Seeing her, it was impossible to think about much of anything else.

  “I’d take my time tapping that tight ass nice and slow—with the fucking boots on.”

  Kevin Aldrich was a dipshit investment banker with a receding hairline, an expanding waistline, and a big trust fund inherited from his old-money grandfather. He also had a wife, two or three teenage kids, and a drinking problem. The sad truth was he probably did get beautiful women like her to fuck him because he had the money to help them get over the fact he was a complete and total douchebag.

  I said nothing, but I felt my blood start to boil. In that instant I truly understood the meaning behind the expression “it made my blood boil.” Mine was going nuclear.

  Aldrich lifted his drink and all but drooled in her direction to call her over. She noticed him and came forward with her tray of what I knew were individual shrimp cocktails. I’d not make the same mistake again.

  “Shrimp cocktail strike your fancy, gentlemen?” she asked pleasantly.

  “You strike my fancy, Sexy Boots,” Aldrich said with an obvious leer. Okay, the guy was worse than a disgusting douche. He was a moron with the social skills of a cockroach.

  “Clever. I’ve only heard that fourteen other times in the last hour and a half,” she said smoothly. “Can I offer you a shrimp cocktail?” she repeated, clearly not amused and her golden eyes showed it.

  Aldrich was either too drunk or too stupid to catch the clues, however. “How about your number instead? I’ll take you somewhere where we can eat all the shrimp we want.” He flicked his tongue at her and I just about lost my shit. Forget my boiling blood, I wanted to kill him.

  “No fucking way, Aldrich, you did not just do that!”

  He did two more really stupid things nearly simultaneously. He reached his arm around to drag her body against his, and said to me, “Don’t cock-block me and Sexy Boots here. We’re just getting acquainted and she looks like she can use a long slow ride in those b—”

  Aldrich didn’t finish his sentence however, because he received an immediate and skilled defense move of an elbow to the front of the nose. Her elbow. His nose. Too bad I tried to get in there first and push him off her. The back of his bulbous head caught me on the chin to the effect he went down hard, taking me with him, along with tiny glasses of cocktail sauce and airborne pink shrimp that sprayed out in an arc catching anyone within a ten-foot radius.

  Silence ensued as all conversations ceased and focused their attentions on us.

  “You fucking cunt! You broke my nose,” Aldrich bellowed from behind the hand trying to stem the gushing blood pouring from his mean little face.

  “You put your hands on me. Nobody does that and gets away with it anymore,” she told him in a steely voice before bolting off in the direction of the kitchen.

  “Get the fuck off me, Aldrich!” I shoved him away and got to my feet. “Stupid goddamn shit you just pulled, man. Very goddamn stupid,” I said as I removed a lone shrimp stuck to my jacket by its tail.

  “But she assaulted me. You saw it happen, Blackstone,” he yelled. “I will sue that bitch for damages, the fucking whore!”

  I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him right up to my face. “You will do nothing of the kind or you’ll live to regret it. Go home to your wife and family if they’ll even have you at this point.”

  “Fuck you, Blackstone.” But it came out sounding more like “fung gew, Blaxsdone” on account of his broken nose. Lost a lot of its impact that way, too. Arrogant asshole.

  “And make sure you take a cab to protect the populous of the city from yourself,” I added. “You’re too fucking drunk to stand right now, let alone drive anywhere.” Then I let go of him and watched as he fell back down to sprawl on the floor, soaked in his own blood and a shitload of shrimp cocktail.

  I found her having it out with her boss in the kitchen.

  “Why in the hell did you hit him?”

  “Sexual assault is against the law, you idiot. Why in the hell did you put me in this situation tonight, Martin, and then abandon me to that pack of dogs out there? Hmm? Do you have any idea what I’ve had to put up with tonight?”

  Ouch. I dearly hoped she didn’t lump me in the same category as the rest of the dogs in the room tonight.

  She reached into the front pocket of the red apron wrapped around her hips and pulled out a handful of business cards and tossed them at her boss. “That’s how many of the dogs want to get to know me better and show me a banging good time, emphasis on the bang! I shouldn’t have to deal with that sort of thing when I am trying to do a job.” Jesus Christ, she’s right.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Brooke, it wasn’t that bad out there. You totally overreacted.”

  She really didn’t. “He put his hands all over my arse and flicked his tongue at me, and you think I overreacted?”

  Her boss had the brains to keep quiet about her last comment at least, I’d give him that. “Go back out there and get names and numbers, apologize, and clean up the mess. We’ll have to cover the dry cleaning at least. Do that, and you can keep your job.” I don’t think you know your employee very well. She’s done with you, asshole.

  She gaped at him in shock for a moment, then put her hands down and began untying her apron. It took a few seconds for her to get the crisscrossed ties free, but the passage of time only seemed to increase the anger coming off her in waves. Her idiot boss just stood there watching her, waiting for her to drop the apron.

  Which she did. Right at his feet to lay with the scattered business cards the dogs had given to her. Good girl.

  “No, thank you, Martin. I quit this hideous job, and don’t you ever try to contact me again.” Smart girl.

  “Brooke,” he yelled after her, “who is going to pay for all of this?” I think that would be you, Martin.

  But Brooke had already grabbed her things and was at the door when she turned back one last time, her long blonde ponytail whipping around her neck from the force. She was so very angry, but her composure was a thing of magnificence—and her words spoken in that accent of hers—awe inspiring. I couldn’t take my eyes away for anything.

  “Take it out of my final pay. And then you can fuck off.” My dick is so hard for this girl right now.

  Then Brooke was really gone.

  “I’ll cover any damages, but I sincerely doubt there will be any. The guy who grabbed her was way out of line and I witnessed the whole thing. I’ll cover the dry-cleaning bills too.” I handed the fool my card and left him standing there in the kitchen with his mouth hanging open like a goldfish gasping its last breaths.

  I caught up to her out on the street where she was in line for a cab. She looked me over as I walked up but she didn’t say a word.

  “Hey, those were some impressive self-defense moves you’ve got,” I said.

  “Sorry you were in the line of fire in there.” She indicated her head toward my suit which was pretty much trashed with shrimp cocktail sauce.

  I shrugged. “It’ll clean. How about you? Are you all right after that disaster in there?”

  “I’ll be fine as soon as I can get home.” Her voice didn’t sound as strong as before and I sensed the adrenaline was wearing off. She was upset, and rightly so.

  “Can I give you a lift? My car can be here in five minutes and I’d be happy to take you wherever you need to go.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not possible unless your car can float on water.” She checked her watch. “Besides, I don’t know you and I would never get into a car with a man I don’t know.”

  “Fair enough,�
�� I said. Although I was disappointed she wouldn’t take me up on my offer, I had to agree with her superior logic. A girl who looked like her definitely shouldn’t go with any man she didn’t know. It would be dangerous. For some reason I hated the idea of her in any kind of danger. “I’m really sorry you had to endure that crowd tonight. I hope I didn’t do anything to offend you—”

  “I saw you stand up to him, and I thank you for that. And no, you didn’t offend me with your ignorance of meatballs. I’m happy to have helped sort out that little problem for you. Now you are an informed connoisseur of the rare delicacy called a meatball, and you owe it all to me,” she replied with a hint of a smile.

  She was so awesome trying to joke around with me when it was apparent she was still upset about the clusterfuck that had happened to her inside that reception tonight. She looked beautiful, but very...sad. If I had to choose a word to describe how she appeared to me it would have to be sad. And that bothered me greatly.

  “Thank you for the meatball tutorial. I enjoyed it very much. I’m Caleb by the way. Caleb Black—”

  I was interrupted by her phone chiming out the unusual but unmistakable ring tone of Ricky Martin’s, Shake Your Bon-Bon. Interesting choice I thought, as she turned away to take the call.

  “Fucking hell, I’m so glad you called me back.” The word fuck in that accent—damn...

  “I can still catch the eight-thirty ferry if I hurry so I’m going home after all. I won’t be staying over.” Ah. That’s not possible unless your car can float on water. Got it.

  “Long dreadful story. Suffice to say I’m looking for a new second job.” She needed a second job?