Breaking Josephine (5 page)

“Um, yes. Thank
you,” I replied, looking down in an effort not to be recognized.

He reached his
right hand out to mine and said, “I’m Dex Hartley. I don’t believe we’ve had
the pleasure of being formally introduced.”

“Jo … Jo Sinclair,”
I stammered while I placed my hand in his. Despite the chill in the air, his
hand was warm, surprisingly smooth, and not letting go of mine. I tugged
slightly and he released me with a dazzling smile that set his eyes aflame with
their blue light I remembered all too well. Why wasn’t he glowering at me like
he did last week? And why was he smiling at me like he was genuinely glad to
see me? I put my hands on my thighs and pushed myself upward. “Okay, well,
thank you again,” I managed to say in a relatively calm voice. I went on, in an
attempt to stop the awkwardness and just get out of there, “I’m sure you’re
busy and I don’t want to keep you.”

Dex pushed himself
up as well, his flexed arms stretching his already tight t-shirt. I struggled
to pull my eyes off his arms and make eye contact. “How about I at least get
you a new grocery bag so you don’t have to juggle oranges and lettuce all the
way to your car?” he asked.

I nervously
shifted my weight on my feet and bit my lip. “Um, okay” I answered, “but I
don’t have a car, so could you get two bags so I don’t have to do this again
halfway home?”

“You’re going to
walk home with all those groceries? Nonsense. Hold on.” And with that he loped
into the grocery store and disappeared. I stood there awkwardly, my groceries
piled in a ripped, soggy paper bag on the ground, the runaway orange still in
my hand.

“Great, first I’m
stealing from him and now I’m a charity case,” I muttered to myself. “This is
surreal. If I wasn’t standing with all this soggy, bruised fruit and
vegetables, I would just run home.” Part of me was tempted, even if it did mean
losing all my groceries for the week. But before I could make up my mind, Dex
reappeared, dry grocery bag in hand. I dumped the mess into the new bag and reached
out to take it from him, but he just shifted it to his left side, firmly
grasped my upper arm, and steered me to a nearby Range Rover.

“Let me go and
give me my groceries,” I said, attempting to conjure up my sternest voice.

“Don’t be
ridiculous. It’s about to start raining again, you have more than an armful of
groceries for someone your size, and I have a dry car right here. Get in and
let me drive you home,” he said, opening the car door. I hesitated for a
moment, with Dex holding the door open for me as I looked at him. Part of me
still wanted to run away, do my usual disappearing act, and pretend he didn’t
exist. But another part of me felt alive and on fire, and wanted nothing more
than an excuse to get into Dex Hartley’s car.

I
shoved my nervousness to the back of my mind and climbed into the passenger
side of the SUV as Dex put my groceries in the back. It was lovely, nicer than any
car I’d ever been in before, but strangely impersonal. Not a single thing in
the car identified the owner—not an empty coffee cup, no air freshener,
no scrap of paper, nothing. I’d always thought if I had a car it would be
littered in debris from my life almost immediately. Dex climbed in the driver
seat and shut the door, sealing off the outside world. As I looked over at him,
I thought maybe his gallantry was all a ruse so he could take me to the police
station and have me arrested for burglarizing his house. I looked over at him
with fear and apprehension in my eyes as he started the engine.

“Hey, what’s
wrong? Did I do something?” Dex said as he looked over at me, his hand still on
the keys in the ignition.

He seemed
genuinely surprised by my stare so I tried to cover my emotions, shaking my
head. “No, I’m sorry. I was just thinking that you really don’t have to do
this. I can walk. How about I just get out and you can get on with your day?” I
said, hoping I managed to cover up the fear in my voice.

“Don’t be ridiculous.
Look…” Dex paused and stared at me for what seemed like ages. I felt a heady
combination of fear and desire course through me as I stared back. A stray lock
of my hair fell in my face and Dex reached out, almost automatically, and
tucked it behind my ear, caressing my earlobe with his fingers, exactly like the
week before. His hand stayed there, ever so slightly resting on my cheek and I
had to catch myself before I leaned into him. I suddenly wanted more than
anything else for him to grab my head with that hand, pull me to him, and kiss
me, right there in front of Jack’s on the main street of town. I looked down to
keep from revealing my naked desire and lust. “You should really think about
investing in some better hair ties, or else I’m probably going to just keep
doing that,” he said, finally.

I looked up at
him. Was he trying to tell me he knew I broke into his house or was I reading
too much into some innocent flirting? Confusion washed over me. Dex’s eyes were
locked on mine with an intensity that was hard to gauge. And his hand was still
resting on my cheek, lingering, as if waiting for something more. My cheek felt
as if it were on fire, his fingers metal brands searing my skin. I wanted to be
consumed by it, to feel his burning touch on my face, my neck, my body. I
clenched my stomach and crossed my legs in an effort to gain some composure and
self-control. At last he pulled his fingers away, the searing heat leaving my
cheek and leaving me wanting more. I shifted my body to look out the window and
he placed his hand on the back of my seat, turning to look behind us as he
backed out of the parking space and onto the road.

“So where am I
taking you and your groceries, exactly?” Dex asked as he pulled onto the road.
Groceries, right. Get a hold of yourself Jo, I thought to myself.

“1283 Brighton
Street, the yellow house on the corner with the wrap-around porch.” I said as I
looked out the windshield and tried to moderate my voice.

“Eileen’s house? Are
you her house guest?” Dex asked, curiosity peaking in his voice.

“She’s my
landlady. I live in her basement apartment in back of the house. Do you know
Eileen?” I asked, surprised.

“She helped take
care of me when I was little … when my mom and I lived out here and then when I
came home from school in the summers,” Dex said, in quiet, far-away voice.

I looked at him
and could see that he was in pain, still grieving for the mother he lost all
those years ago. Maybe my instincts were right and we weren’t that dissimilar
after all. We were quiet the rest of the drive, each of us introspective and
thinking of childhoods long past.

“We’re here,” Dex
said, neutrally, his eyes veiled and far away. I opened my mouth to invite him
in, but I saw Eileen sitting on the front porch and I thought better of it, sensing
that seeing Eileen would be hard for him.

“Well, thank you
for the ride, and for helping me collect all my groceries. And … thank you …
for…” I wanted to thank him for not wanting to turn me in to the police, for
not shoving the burglary in my face, for looking at me with those eyes like no
one ever had before. But my words failed me and he was far away, lost in his
thoughts. I hopped out of the Range Rover, went around to the back and pulled
my groceries out. I shut the back door, walked toward the cobblestone path
leading to my apartment, and looked behind me to wave goodbye, but an empty
street greeted me instead. Dex and the Range Rover were already gone.

“Hello, my dear. A
friend dropping you off today?” Eileen called to me from the porch.

“No, not really. Just
a kind man who gave me a ride home,” I answered.

“Well, you should
hang onto him sweetie, there aren’t too many like that around these days,”
Eileen said with a gentle smile. I nodded and headed around to my apartment to
put my groceries and my thoughts away for the afternoon.

Tuesday was my day off, and I planned on sleeping in, reading a
book, and generally just lounging about and enjoying the day. When the phone
rang early that morning I groaned, found my pillow and pulled it over my head,
trying to drown it out. After four rings, I dragged myself out of bed, trudged
over to the phone on the wall and picked it up.

“Hello?” I managed
to say.

“Hello to you
too!” Macy quipped in response.

“Macy, hey, it’s
my day off, remember? I was planning on sleeping and being a total bum today,
so whatever you’ve got planned can wait, right?”

“Wrong!” Macy
answered. “Make yourself some coffee and perk up, I’m coming to pick you up in
an hour and we’re going into the city to go shopping!”

“Portland? What on
earth for?” I whined in protest.

“For dresses of
course, silly! Did you forget about the Memorial Day social this weekend?” Macy
asked.

The Memorial Day
social was Macy’s mom’s social event of the year; an event I did indeed forget
about, and really, really did not want to attend. Covering for my complete lack
of memory, I replied, “No of course I didn’t forget, I just didn’t realize
Memorial Day was already here. I’ll be ready when you get here. See you soon.” I
hung up the phone and sat down at the kitchen table. I needed to mentally
prepare myself for a day of trying on dresses I couldn’t afford. After thinking
it over, I decided I would just refuse to find anything I liked. That way, I
wouldn’t have to admit to Macy I couldn’t afford to buy a dress, and I could
maybe manage to get out of attending the party altogether.

Macy arrived as I
finished my second cup of coffee and shooed me out the door before I could give
voice to my reservations about shopping in the city. We drove the hour and a half
to town, with Macy chatting idly the whole way about William and how the party
was her chance to wow him with a dress, and make him fall in love with her, and
on and on. She needled me about seeing Colin as well and how I should give him
a chance since he was good looking and single. I nodded and hmm-mmed as much as
I could without really listening. Although I wasn’t adverse to finding the
right man and having a boyfriend and all that, Colin definitely wasn’t it. Besides,
no one had ever really caught my eye, no one until Dex Hartley at least. But he
was out of the question—rich, handsome, and so far out of my league it
wasn’t even amusing.

We stopped at a
small dress boutique in an upscale area in Portland. Macy’s mother and the
owner, Jeanine, were good friends, having gone to the same boarding school as
children. “Miss Jeanine!” Macy exclaimed as she ran up to the owner, giving her
a big hug. “I hope you put a few things aside for me! And I hope you’re coming
to the social this weekend. You are, right?”

“Of course, honey.
You know I wouldn’t miss it. And you know I always remember you—come on
back and I’ll have the girls pull everything out for you,” Jeanine said,
escorting us to the back of the shop where lovely, floral-print couches and
glass side tables sat in a semi-circle around a large platform flanked by
mirrors. Jeanine left us in the hands of two employees who brought out what
seemed like an endless supply of dresses to try on. I sat down, trying to get
comfortable to watch Macy try on dress after dress this afternoon.

“Oh no, come on,”
Macy said, pulling me onto my feet. “Don’t think all these are for me. Half are
for you, and you’re trying them on, no complaining!” Macy practically pushed me
into a dressing room busting to the seams with evening gowns. “I want to see
every one, so get started trying them on!”

I grimaced. I
liked being feminine and I liked dressing up, but I did not enjoy explaining to
Macy that I couldn’t afford even a pair of gloves sold at this store, let alone
a floor-length fancy gown. I shut the dressing room door and turned to face the
dresses. I ran my hands through the silk, feeling the softness and the give of
the fabric under my fingers. Most of the dresses reminded me of spring with
their buttery fabric dyed pale green, yellow, or various shades of pink. I
picked up each one, holding it up to me in the mirror and discarding it easily
without trying it on—either the color made me look sickly or the cut
looked ridiculous on my athletic and fit, not model-skinny, frame.

I placed a
one-shoulder, mint-green dress on my “definitely not” rack and turned around. There
in front of me hung an exquisite combination of ice blue chiffon and delicate
pearl beading. It was strapless, ending in soft layers at the knee, and dusting
the floor in the back. It was beautiful. And it was the exact same color as
Dex’s eyes. Dex, who I had been trying quite hard to forget, but couldn’t get
out of my head. I couldn’t stop thinking about his sparkling eyes and his rugged
face, and how my skin felt when he touched it, and how I wanted to feel that
way all the time. Wearing the dress would be like wearing Dex, every time I
looked down at it, I’d think of him and how I felt when he touched me. I
couldn’t stop staring at it, and I couldn’t help but try it on. As I slipped it
on and zipped up the back, Macy knocked on my door.

“Okay, I’ve given
you more than enough time, come out of there already,” she said. I opened the
door without even looking in the mirror. “Oh my god, Jo, that’s stunning. You
have to have it,” Macy said, looking at me, her jaw agape.

I turned around
and looked at myself in the mirror for the first time. She was right. The dress
was beautiful. I was beautiful. The color made my pale skin glow and my dark
hair and eyes shine. It fit perfectly and I wouldn’t even need alterations. Before
I could stop myself, my eyes welled up and I had to fight back tears. I half
choked back a sob and turned away so Macy wouldn’t see my face.