Courted by Karma (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod) (27 page)

Mike held out a
peremptory hand, “I’ll eat your pickle, since I know you don’t like them.”

“Sorry, but I
do like pickles now. Want some kettle chips instead?”

His
smile got an edge when I denied him my pickle, but he only shook his head no at the offer of chips. Shrugging, I took a big bite from the corner of the toasted sandwich. Closing my eyes at the taste of the salty bacon exploding in my mouth, I moaned a little in contentment.

My eyes snapped open when
he ruined my moment by asking, “Have you changed so much, Bel, since we were together?”

Mike’s voice sounded
sadly serious, but I saw there was a confident, playful gleam in the eyes that met mine. Chewing thoughtfully, I realized that Mike thought this couldn’t possibly be true. In his mind, I may have grown up some, but I was still the girl who was once in love with him.

Mike’s eyes ha
ve drifted downward and were currently on my breasts. A girl could usually tell when a man was secretly checking out her body, and if he had any panache, it could feel like a silent compliment. There was nothing subtle or hidden about Mike’s appraisal while he awaited my response.

S
prawled on the couch like a potentate observing his personal harem girl, his eyes were almost leering as he evaluated my body from my head to toe. I didn’t know if this move of openly evaluating a woman’s finer points like he owned her usually worked for him, but I thought it was kind of skeevy.

I
found it hard not to giggle and say, “Eww, icky!” when he slowly licked his lips and flared his nostrils like a stallion scenting a mare. I was vaguely surprised Mike was acting this way since I thought he had more charm and technique. I didn’t recall the nostril thing as being part of his repertoire when he was my boyfriend. It would have grossed me out, and Mike didn’t gross me out ten years ago like he was doing today. Not that it mattered to me now. I knew for sure after his kiss last night any feelings, sexual or romantic, that I once had for Mike were a thing of the past.

Am I wrong to believe
that you can’t force the love?

See,
I don’t think you can, either.

It’s true I d
idn’t believe in the traditional idea of romantic love, anyway, but I did believe in being smart. Smart girls know that if you try to force feelings that aren’t there, nowhere was the only place you’ll end up.

I munched a
couple more of the sea salt and vinegar chips, and delicately licked off my fingers while waiting for him to meet my eyes. When he finally did, I replied dryly, “Gee, why don’t you tell me if I’ve changed.”

Mike grinned
easily, not put off in the least by my snarkiness. He knows down to the last ounce how attractive most women find him, although he’s usually at his charming best and not conceited. Mike’s got it all happening; brains, a nice body, good looks, and a healthy bank account.

His relationship with me
was probably the only thing in Mike’s life that hasn’t gone exactly the way he’d carefully planned. Since that was through no fault of our own, Mike could be excused for thinking I might be ready to jump back into a romantic relationship with him. I thought leaving him at my apartment last night and going to Luke’s farm would send a clear enough message. After that, I didn’t think he’d still pursue me. I had forgotten how deep down his streak of competitiveness runs.

Mike sat up straight
on the loveseat and rolled his shoulders. He pinned me with his sincerest, warm-eyed smile. “You look hotter than ever, Bel. That hasn’t changed.”

Smiling slightly at his flattery,
I shook my head in mild exasperation and took a bite of the zesty pickle spear. Also popping a chip into my mouth, I crunched noisily while enjoying the flavor combo.

Mike observed me
with some exasperation of his own before his face got serious again. “Bel, it’s been ten years, but we’ve always got along so well, don’t you think?”

I nodded immediately. This
was true. Mike and I rarely argued when we were together. I’d be happy to have him as a friend. Gulping down some water thirstily, I set the bottle down and took up the club sandwich again.

Taking a daintier bite this time, I mumbled,
“Mmm, Rueb’s makes the best club sandwiches. I don’t know how they keep their bacon crisp, yet not hard and chewy. It’s really good. Do you remember how we used to always order their cheese curds?” I sighed, thinking about those greasy little morsels of deep-fried, bad dairy love. “I can still smell them sometimes in my dreams. Can you, too?”

Mike
gave me a strange look, but agreed with an impatient flick of his hand, “Ah yeah, I liked their cheese curds. I don’t dream about them, but I still get curds every once in a while at an art festival.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I remember we had fun, too. Our interests were so similar. Do you remember how many times we golfed at Southern Hills that last summer?” His eyes crinkled and he chuckled. “How you wouldn’t give up trying to beat me, and from the men’s tee no less! That was so cute.”

Munching on another handful of chips I
agreed, “We did golf a whole lot back then. I wonder why? It seems like we should have had better things to do.” I shrugged one shoulder. “Oh well. I don’t golf much these days. I prefer spending my rare time off at a yoga class or at the gun range.” I snickered. “Now that you bring it up, I do remember how you sulked like a brat when I did beat you.”

“One time you beat me, and
only when I had a torn rotator cuff,” he protested, putting aside his water bottle and flushing at my less than flattering description of his sportsmanship.

Now I really do remember
golfing. Mike was so competitive; it got to be no fun fast if he wasn’t winning. I just rarely saw him not winning, so it was easy to overlook that side of him when I was eighteen.

I shook my head emphatically. “Three times,
and you
said
you had a torn rotator cuff, Dr. Convenient, but it ended up healing miraculously after we were done golfing.” I laughed and taunted, “Ha! You should have tried being me golfing against you every time! I’m eleven inches shorter, weighed a hundred pounds of muscle less, and have breasts that got in the way of my swing. Did I complain? No, I did not. So you call me in the morning about your poor torn shoulder and be patronizing, you big baby!”

Mike
’s easy smile appeared a tad forced, but still resolute. He reached over and captured my hand that was en route towards my mouth with the pickle spear. I tugged insistently to free my hand, but he frowned and held on determinedly.

“
Jesus, forget the pickle, Bel,” He scowled, but then his face softened and he murmured in a persuasive voice, “I think you and I should be together again. We’d be married now, if it wasn’t for what your cousin did. I want to tell you all about my plans for us.”

“I don’t want to forget the pickle
, I told you I’m starving,” I retorted indignantly, trying to shake my hand loose again.

When Mike ignored me, I grabbed the pickle with my free hand and shoved it in my mouth
before he could stop me. I stated, “Mike, listen, this is not going to work…”

Mike interrupted
me without listening. Loudly and enthusiastically, he rushed over my protests and painted his rosy picture of our life together. Basically ignored, I huffed out an aggravated laugh. I decided that maybe if I let him say his piece I could escape quicker. I’d let him down gently and we could move on as friends. But soon my mouth moved slower and slower, until I forgot to keep chewing the big pickle at all. I stared at Mike in stupefaction while he revealed his masterpiece. His very detailed, paint by number, don’t go out of the lines masterpiece.

“
This is the life that could be ours, Bel!” He promised warmly, squeezing my corralled hand between his larger ones. “With my partner position at the new firm, you can pick out the perfect house. I envision us in South Minneapolis.” He shook his head in admonition like I had argued and said, “No, Tangletown is too close to the freeway, and a house on Lake Harriet or Isles, while arguably prestigious, lacks any real privacy. That goes for the Parkway, as well. Minnetonka would be ideal, but with the commute and traffic these days, it’s just not worth it for the kind of long hours I put in at the office.” His finger teasingly stroked my palm and he raised his brows with a grin. “I’ll want to be able to get home to you, as fast as possible.” I pulled at my hand in his grasp again and tried to speak, but he said quickly, “I’m thinking more on the Southwest side of the lakes, but certainly not Edina.”

He chuckled
derisively, and it was plain what he thought of being so obvious a social climber as to buy a house in Edina. I was happy to see evidence of some sort of coherent thinking still happening in his brain, but I was getting truly annoyed that he wouldn’t let me talk.

“Geez, will you let go of my hand? Listen Mike, I…”

I could feel my cheeks getting warm and my eyes narrowing when he rolled right over my protests yet again, and kept my hand imprisoned. “I have clients everywhere, so we’ll travel the country together. We can play golf year round, and you can shop while I’m working. You’ll be my hostess when we’re in town. I know how much you like to entertain. We’re talking serious money and social connections that will help my career.”

He grinned
broadly at me after dangling these so-called treats beneath my nose. I stared at him, aghast. I was hoping for the punch line, so that I could have a little faith he still has a brain.

H
e moved closer and said, “Don’t worry; you’ll soon get the hang of mingling with top-notch people. You’ll be awesome, Bel, and in no time become my greatest asset. I’ve thought about this issue and weighed the pros and cons.” Growing more provoked at his self-deluded monologue with every self-absorbed word, I watched his smile turn into a musing frown. “It’s a pity you never went to college, and you’ll remember I wasn’t happy back then with your decision. Fortunately, you have so much natural charm and native intelligence that my clients and their wives will love you, despite your lack of formal education. I don’t think we have to be ashamed about that issue.” He chuckled and shook my hand playfully. “What was your grandmother thinking, anyway, encouraging you to work here and not go to school? I suppose she didn’t want to lose her favorite little worker, right?”

Now my cheeks were hot and my eyes were cold
. I didn’t bother with speaking, but listened to the sex kitten voice yowling,
‘Now! Do it, Girl!’

I dug my long nails into Mike’s hand until he released mine with a startled exclamation
and a pained, hurt expression on his face. “Ouch! Dammit Bel, what did you do that for?”

“I
asked you nicely to let go of my hand, Mike, and you wouldn’t listen! Just like you won’t listen to…”

Mike
raised his voice and overrode me, “Okay, Bel, I’m sorry. Jesus, I didn’t hear you!” He shook his wounded hand and then inspected the scratches. He motioned to me. “Go ahead and eat, then, if you’re that hungry.” He looked at his hand again and pouted, “So sue a guy, why don’t you? I thought you might like to hold hands while I tell you about the dream life we’ll have together.” He shot me an accusing glare, “The life we would have together if we’d been married years ago, instead of being split apart against our wills!”

I
smiled grimly and interjected firmly, “I’m not the same girl you went out with back then, Mike.” Either Mike’s watched the remake of The Stepford Wives too many times, or he’s lost his ever-loving’ mind. “In fact, I never would have willingly done half of the stuff you just outlined, even back then. I own a store, remember? I can’t go buying houses in Minneapolis or go traveling at the drop of a hat. Thanks, but no thanks.”

In frustration that Mike
could be so stupid and because I’m still starving, I took an enormously huge bite of my sandwich and stuffed in some chips, too.

Against anything resembling logic,
my words had the reverse effect on Mike. He relaxed and smiled affectionately. “Of course we’ve both had ten years of growing up and maturing,’ I snorted with my mouth full at that, “but Bel, I’m the man that knows you, remember? You can keep Bel’s Books if you want, honey. I know how you love this place. We’ll arrange for Billy, or another more qualified store manager, to watch over Bel’s Books. You can pop in when you have the time.” Mike chuckled and lifted both hands, “I mean, how hard is it to run a used bookstore, once you show them the ropes?”

It probably wasn’t the most
polite sight to see me with a dropped open mouth of partially masticated turkey, lettuce, tomato, bacon, and chips, but I was appalled at Mike’s arrogance.

‘Did this asswipe not understand the long hours it took to run my little empire? The dedication, sweat, and tears
I’ve put into these four walls for years? Did he think I’d have an unqualified store manager on my staff that couldn’t take over and run this kingdom like clockwork, if I so chose?’

“…and a
fter we dated for a few months, we could have the big wedding we were cheated from having.” Mike grinned and ran his fingers along the top of my leg. I hurriedly moved it out of his range, turning almost sideways while I frantically chewed. It was simply amazing how this evasion didn’t faze him for a second. He instead stroked my forearm that was still within his reach. “You’ve had it all planned out in your head for years, haven’t you, Bel? I know how women love all that wedding mumbo-jumbo.”