The Break-Up Psychic (20 page)

“Alright, maybe you want to grab lunch later? I can meet you at the diner whenever you’re available.”

“Yeah, um, maybe. I’ll call you, okay?” I shove my feet into the green booties and look up at him, trying to plaster a nonchalant smile on my face. He’s not buying it.

“Ellie,” he says, placing his hand, warm from the shower, against my cheek, “what’s going on? You seem upset about something.”

You’re hiding the fact that you keep your ex-fiancé’s engagement ring in your bedroom. So, yeah, I guess I’m upset. Of course, I can’t explain how I know about any of that. “What? No, I’m totally fine. Couldn’t be better. Had a super time so…thank you, for everything. I mean for the dinner last night and the sex and…everything. Really it was, awesome. Really fun.” I need to get out of there before I totally fucking lose it.

I plant a quick kiss on Sam’s bewildered face and give him a tight-lipped smile before scooting out of the bedroom and the house. Thank goodness I followed him back there in my car last night. I jump into the driver’s seat, turn the ignition, and throw the car into gear. Any impression I may’ve left about wanting to get away from him is now a foregone conclusion. The tires squeal as I peel out of the driveway and onto the street.

At the stop sign I dig through my purse and unearth my cell phone. I take a deep breath and dial Luanne’s number, trying to calm down. She may be a bit of a wild-child with a penchant for dumb, rough men, but she sure gives great advice.

Her cheery voice answers on the second ring. “Hey, doll.”

“Lu? I did it again.”

“Brook, your cousin Peg’s on the phone. She wants to know if you want to come to the toe-sucker’s birthday dinner Friday night,” Amber yells at Brook, not bothering to cover the phone’s mouthpiece.

“Stop that right this instant!” I hiss, trying to snatch the phone from her.

Amber pushes my hand away and rolls charcoal eyes at me, bringing the phone back to her ear. “Sorry, Peg, but Brook’s restocking our foot creams right now. She says she’ll call you back later.”

Amber drops the phone onto the counter as Brook swaggers toward us, her long red fingernails digging into her hip. “That is not funny, missy. I’ve only just convinced Ellery to not press assault charges against Ellie, and I don’t need you stirring the pot.”

“Assault charges? I’m the one who should be thinking of pressing charges against him. I’m the unwitting victim of a toe molestation!” I squeal.

Brook brings her talons up, waving her hands in front of her face to ward off further discussion. “Now I’ve heard enough. I don’t want to hear the words Ellery or feet ever again. Lord help him if Peg finds out her kid’s a sex-fiend. The woman would feed him to that snake of his before she’d let the preacher get wind of it.”

I nod solemnly at Brook and we both look at Amber who couldn’t look less interested in our conversation. “Whatever.”

“Good,” says Brook. “Now I’ve got to run and meet a guy about our booth at the Corn Festival this weekend. You two play nice and try to move some more of the body powders. Our booth is going to be the biggest success out there this year, and I want everyone talking about what’s
goin
’ on at Brook’s Bath and Body Shop.” Brook toddles out the front door on her canary-yellow heels, scrunching up her hair to stave off any flatness in the summer heat.

Considering that the uniforms stashed under the counter appear to be made for the stripper pole, I’m sure Brook will get her wish. Amber, clearly having this same thought, eyes the bag holding our uniforms with a lethal expression. She reaches down, yanks it out from beneath the counter and violently shakes the contents onto the floor. The hot-pink hot-pants float to the ground, the lightness of the fabric practically laughing in Amber’s face.

“We could burn them,” she says, prodding the t-shirts with one pointy black boot.

“She would never forgive us.”

“We could band together, refuse to wear them.”

“She would fire us.”

“We could switch out the shorts with a pair that are a couple of inches longer.”

“She would murder us in our sleep.”

I reach down, scoop up the uniforms, and toss them onto the counter. There’s hardly enough fabric to fold them. I run my hand over the gold-outlined letters stamped across the front of a t-shirt and cringe when I remember Tim will be at the fair. How on earth am I going to avoid him if I look like a back-up dancer for Lady Marmalade? I shove the uniforms into their bag and place it back under the counter, out of sight.

“I’m never going to forgive her for this,” says Amber, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“I know,” I say, placing a cautious hand on her shoulder, “but look on the bright side. There’s bound to be a ton of new people at the fair you can practice your new curse on.”

“Don’t try to cheer me up.” Amber turns and stalks to the back of the shop.

As much as I want to avoid seeing Tim while wearing that ridiculous uniform, the idea of Sam stopping by the booth for a taste test puts butterflies in my stomach. I fell apart this morning, unable to trust him like I promised. Not that it matters much. After this morning’s exit, he probably thinks I’m certifiable.

The door chime brings me out of my thoughts and I look up to see ‘America’s Next Top Model’ examining our bath-salts display. She’s gorgeous with long chestnut hair, luminescent olive skin, and cheekbones that could cut through steel. I tuck a section of hair behind my ear and flatten the front of my plain black skirt with my hands, embarrassed by the wrinkles I didn’t have time to iron out this morning.

“Hi, can I help you?” I ask, giving the beauty a nervous wave from my position near the counter. The smile she throws back at me has me reaching for my Ray Bans.

“I’m just sort of browsing right now.”

“No problem. Let me know if you need any help.”

“Actually,” she says, smelling the top of a perfume tester, “maybe you can help me. I’m looking for a perfume or maybe a lotion that’ll drive a man crazy. Really bring him to his knees. Do you have anything like that?”

I walk over to her, giving my hair another tuck for good measure. “I’m sure we’ve got something around here that’ll do the trick. What sort of fragrance do you normally go for?”

“Something a little spicy, a little exotic,” she says, winking one brilliantly green eye at me.

“Alright… I think we’ve got something that might do the trick over here.” I lead her to a narrow cabinet near the register where Brook’s stocked a variety of imported oils and perfumes. “I’m Ellie, by the way.”

“Hi, I’m Roxy.” She extends a petite hand to me and I feel like a clumsy oaf when I sort of half pull, half push her arm with my jerky handshake. I’m not prone to a lack of self-confidence, but there’s something about being around a gorgeous woman that makes you want to spend your life-savings on a whole new wardrobe. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“So, do you like working here?” she asks.

“Yeah, I do. It’s fun, and I can’t really complain about the discount.”

“I bet. You must walk out of here smelling like a flower shop.”

“That’s what my ex always said,” I say wryly.

“Ex, huh? I’ve got a few of those myself,” says Roxy, nodding her head in camaraderie and biting on her bottom lip.

“Yeah, well, I guess I haven’t figured out how to make a boyfriend a more permanent fixture in my life. Actually, I sort of made a resolution recently to stop dating my ‘type.’”

“Really? And how’s that working out for you so far?”

“Let’s just say that the first step is admitting I have a problem.”

“You and me both, sister.” She laughs. “I’m hoping the perfume will help me undo one of my bigger mistakes.”

“Do tell,” I say, leaning toward her.

“Let’s just say my ex has been a little reluctant to kiss and make up. We’re still crazy in love with each other but I bruised his ego, and he’s as stubborn as they come. Right now he’s hovering between licking his wounds and,” she whispers, “wanting to lick me.”

“Well then, we better find you a good one,” I conspire, attempting my own sexy wink. “What about something like this?” I spray a test stick with a French perfume called ‘Fresh’ and hand it to Roxy.

“
Mmm
, smells like a vineyard. Sort of earthy and robust,” she says, closing her eyes as she inhales the fresh scent. “But not exactly what I’m looking for.”

“Okay, let’s try something else...” I consider the contents of the cabinet and think of Sam James. What would bring a man like that to his knees? Something sweet that’s also a little naughty. A perfume that lingers on bed sheets and makes your stomach growl when you catch its scent in the air. My hand falls on a bottle of ‘Havana
Vanille
,’ a Cuban perfume that’s one of my personal favorites. I’ve got no idea how Brook managed to smuggle it into the country, but I suspect it had something to do with her new boobs and a pair of eager hands.

I spray the perfume onto a test stick and hold it out to Roxy. She inhales deeply, arching her neck back as she releases an
‘ah’
sound. Now, I’m strictly a lover of the fellas, but Roxy’s sex appeal breaks down barriers. I wonder what I’d look like, arching my neck back in that way? Probably like I pulled a shoulder muscle.

“Yes, this is the one,” she says, smiling shrewdly at me as she arches a perfectly waxed eyebrow.

“It’s one of my favorites,” I say, grabbing a new box from the cabinet drawer, “and as I recall, it’s a big success with the men. Something about the memory of their mother’s baking.”

Roxy nods her head in agreement. “The best of them always like to be reminded of their sainted mommies.”

Tim hated his mother, further proof I need to stay as far away from him as humanly possible. Roxy follows me to the counter where I ring her up and place the sweet perfume into one of the Bath Shop’s cute canvas totes. I’m only supposed to give them out when someone spends more than seventy dollars, but I like Roxy. She’s that perfect combination of sexy and sweet all girls wish they were.

“Here you go,” I say, handing her the bag, a genuine smile on my lips. “It was such a pleasure meeting you.”

“Yeah, you too. Maybe I’ll stop back by if the perfume does the trick, fill you in on all the delicious details.”

“I’d love that. And don’t worry. The combination of you and the perfume will be deadly. The guy’s a total goner.”

“Let’s hope so.” Roxy saunters out of the shop, her beautiful hair unflinching against the stagnant humidity outside.

What would it be like to be that cool? I move back to the cabinet containing the Havana
Vanille
and spray some in the air, walking through its mist. I inhale deeply and envision myself wrapped up in Sam James’ blue sheets. That man’s bed should come with a warning label.

I walk my fingers across the counter and touch the cordless phone. I shouldn’t have freaked out at his place this morning. Luanne told me to just bite the bullet and ask him about his ex. In a perfect scenario, he would tell me about her himself, but perfect and I rarely go hand-in-hand. I pick up the phone and enter the auto shop’s number on the keypad. I’m ashamed to admit I’ve looked at his business card so many times now, I’ve got it memorized. I press
Send
and hold my breath. Fingers crossed for voicemail.

“SJ Auto Body.” Crap, that never works with him.

“Sam? It’s Ellie,” I say, in case he’s in any danger of not recognizing the voice of the woman he’s had in his bed three times in the past twenty-four hours.

Sam laughs deeply into the phone. “Sure, I remember you. Black hair, full lips, left tire marks across my driveway when you sped away from me this morning.”

“Right, actually, I was just calling to say, sorry for this morning. I’m sure you thought I was a complete lunatic.”

“I wouldn’t say lunatic,” he teases, “more like a rabbit caught in a lion’s cage.”

Point well taken. “Yeah, I sort of freaked out a little. I’m sorry. I guess I’m still getting used to this whole dating thing again.”

“So, we’re dating?”

I silently curse myself for implying that we’re an item and open my mouth to deny, deny, deny, but he cuts in.

“I like the sound of that.”

I fan myself with his business card, the temperature in the shop suddenly heating up. “You do?”

“Ellie, if you haven’t figured out by now that I’m crazy about you, please put me out of my misery and tell me what I need to do.”

I bite my lip, unable to stop the smile from splitting my face. Sam James is crazy about me. “I guess I’m a little crazy about you too.”

“Seems like we’re headed in the right direction, then.”

I rub my fingers over my lips, tracing the smile I can’t seem to get rid of. “What would you say to dinner? Maybe you can continue to fill me in on the history of Sam James.”

Sam pauses before answering and my heart skips a beat, waiting for his response. “I might be tied-up for a while after work. How about tomorrow night around seven? I’ll pick you up at Luanne’s and we’ll have a real date.”

“You mean one that doesn’t involve us drinking magic whiskey or making out in the back of old Chevys?” I ask, grinning madly.

“Well, I don’t want to rule out anything at this stage, but we could start with a meal first and take it from there.”