A small dark-haired figure came around the corner of the aisle (one of four aisles total in the entire store), and I turned towards the woman whom I assumed would be Kate. But the person I was met with had an incredibly young face – not impossible, but improbable that she owned this little storefront. Her hair was back in a ponytail, and her eyes flashed bright green while she gave me her best, trained customer service smile.
“Are you Kate?” I asked amiably, not sure why that would make a difference or not. I was so used to making polite small talk with the vacationers at the ranch – it was second nature at this point to spout random, friendly inquiries.
The girl hesitated for a minute, her smile faltering almost unnoticeably (but I noticed), and then she seemed to recover. “No, no, I’m not Kate. She’s the owner. I just work for her. She’s in the back if you need me to go get –”
I shook my head, smiling. “No, no need. Just never been out this far. Nice to see new faces.” And it was. I didn’t know the first damn thing about Kate, but this girl – woman, I could tell she was at least twenty – was the prettiest face I had seen in a very long time. Possibly ever.
She grinned again, making me notice the giant dimple on her right cheek and inspiring a giddy roll inside of my stomach. “Okay then. Just let me know if you need anything, alright?” She was walking away then, her tiny butt swaying in beat with her steps.
“What’s your name?” I blurted out – unsure if I was being rude or not. It didn’t really seem to matter. I wanted to know who this woman was.
She stopped – this time seeming to hesitate for an oddly long amount of time – and asked without turning around, “Why?” She’d frozen, and I was reminded of how the horses would tense and sometimes stop on the trails if they sensed a bear or other predator nearby.
“Oh. Just being friendly. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy. I’m Penn. My family owns a ranch not too far from here. I, um. I’ll just shut up now,” I rambled, laughing a little as I did. I wasn’t sure if I was laughing out of embarrassment or from the heat that had seemingly spread throughout my entire body. I felt off balance... but in a way that I liked.
She turned then, the polite smile carefully back on the beautiful face. “Oh. No, I’m sorry. I was being rude. I’m Anne,” she told me, nodding her head once and then quickly retreating to the check-out counter.
Anne. Simple. Sweet.
It took a great deal of self-discipline to remember why I was there to begin with, but I managed. I made my way slowly down the aisle with two large boxes, nervous for no explicable reason. I met new people nearly every day. It was part of my job, and I enjoyed it. I didn’t get nervous in such encounters. Not ever. I’m Penn Hardick. I like people, and people generally like me. No need for nerves.
Anne was watching me alertly as I made my way to her. I plopped the nails down on the counter, and watched her slim fingers click across the pre-historic dinosaur of a cash register that graced Kate’s Supplies. More than once she peeked carefully up at me, always seeming to blush uncontrollably when she found me staring right back at her. I tried to smile, but I was stuck in some type of awe. I just wanted to look at her.
I could look at you all day long, Anne.
That seemed like the wrong thing to say, so I kept it to myself. I didn’t need to add “creepy” to my new resume of “awkward and overly curious”.
“Get a lot of traffic here these days?” I asked instead. The question was absolutely ridiculous, as any idiot with half a brain could see that traffic – of any type – did not exist in Corydon, Colorado.
Anne giggled (I was instantly rock hard at the sound), and shook her head. “Not a lot of traffic, no. Mostly just locals...” She was biting her lower lip, and her hands trembled while she sacked my items. It would have been flattering – the thought that I was making her just as nervous as she had made me – if it didn’t seem that there was a touch of actual fear in her movements.
What are you so scared of, Anne?
“Yeah. The damn interstate doesn’t do small towns a lot of favors. It’s like this place doesn’t even exist, according to the signs,” I offered, realizing that I didn’t want this conversation to end so quickly – or at all.
Anne’s head whipped up sharply when I said this. “I like it. It’s quiet.” It was a pleasant statement, but her face was grave.
“I like it too. I like it a lot more now,” I said, holding her gaze steadily and smiling. She seemed to thaw a little, and the grin came back.
That dimple. Jesus. Just look at it.
Her lips were full – a natural soft pink – and for the first time ever I was starting to believe that hypotonization was a very real thing. It was hard to say how long I could stand there, carefully taking in every delicate part of Anne’s face, but I had a feeling if I stood there too much longer, I’d grab those adorable cheeks and kiss the hell out of her. That long, silky ponytail hanging so lush... so seductive... I wanted to pull it. I wanted to pull it and attack her slender, porcelain neck. Kisses. Bites.
“Do you need anything else, Penn?” Anne asked suddenly, clearing her throat anxiously afterwards.
“Maybe,” I replied, still in a daze. Anne’s smile had disappeared again, and I realized that I was probably the creepiest human being she’d yet encountered in life. “I mean, no. Thanks. I’m good. I got the nails.” I held up the sack, bobbing my head enthusiastically and stepping away from the counter.
“Yep,” she agreed, nodding along with me. Silence – the two of us just surveying the other in the dusty daylight of Kate’s Supplies hardware store. “Well. You have a good day.”
That was my sign – my signal to go. She was letting me know as politely as possible that it was time for me to hit the road, and man oh man – I didn’t want to.
I walked towards the door anyway, no longer knowing how to stay without solidifying the concern that I was some type of psychopath. “You have a good day too, Anne,” I called out to her, backing out of the store with unwilling movements as tingling tidal waves swooshed over my body. She gave one last nod and one last grin, and I walked heavily to my truck, throwing the sacks in the passenger seat. I started the engine and leaned my head back against the headrest.
Don’t meet girls like that every day.
In the entire four years since I had left college, I couldn’t remember meeting a single woman that made any lasting impression on me whatsoever. Not at the ranch, not at the fancy auctions and benefits we were constantly forced to attend.
Shit.
One of those very events was coming up shortly. Saturday night – just three nights away – and I’d mentally been blocking it out. That was what I normally did right up until the moment I was begrudgingly putting a tux on.
This gathering was going to be worse than normal. It was a party being thrown for my father, in honor of his hundredth published novel hitting the shelves nationwide. He had told me that it was a milestone he wasn’t positive he’d live to see, and I knew it was incredibly important to him that I be there – that all of us brothers be there.
We would be. There wasn’t really any doubt about that. But so would throngs of fame worshipping fans who were wild at the idea of meeting Paul Lincoln Hardick in the flesh. Add in the money mongering publishers and producers, the wanna-be writers who attached to Dad’s success like suckerfish... The party had all the tell-tail signs of a nightmare weaving itself together with academy award winning horror.