Can't Buy Your Love

Can’t Buy Your Love

By

Tressie Lockwood

Copyright © December 2012, Tressie Lockwood

Cover art designed by Mina Carter © December 2012

Formatting by Bob Houston eBook Formatting

ISBN 978-1-937394-68-4

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious or used fictitiously. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

Amira Press

Charlotte, NC

www.amirapress.com

Chapter One

Vanity tapped the page in front of her and sipped her coffee. She’d been about to pen a quick note of thanks to her aunt like she did every year around the holidays, but for some reason, this time she hesitated. Aunt Ella had come through knee replacement surgery just a few months ago, but what about the next issue? Did she really want to put off seeing her again until January or sometime later? Maybe she should break her own tradition of making excuses around November and December about being busy with work and just visit the woman.

Before she changed her mind, she logged onto her computer and checked flights out of Baltimore. Then she scavenged her closet to see what clothes she would take with her. At least there were no boyfriends or close girlfriends to miss while she was gone, and she had already put in for the time off from work. While she convinced herself this was what living happy and free without obligations meant, she stuffed down the sense of loneliness. If nothing else, Aunt Ella with her eccentric ways would keep her entertained, and the woman could cook her butt off. Vanity had no worries. She would get in and get out, assuaging any guilty feelings regarding her few and far between visits.

After scouring her clothing choices, Vanity decided she had nothing acceptable to wear to Charlotte, North Carolina, so she hit the mall. New thigh-high boots, new jeans, and a lighter coat added to her overstuffed wardrobe, but she packed them in her bright pink flowered suitcase. Rather than book a flight as she had first intended, she rented a car to drive down to her aunt. The trip would take seven or eight hours, but it would give her time to think. She had several creative projects that needed working through, but the February deadlines gave her plenty of time.

Hours later, pulling into Charlotte, Vanity noticed she’d had to lower the level on her heater. Winter had set in, but the Southern state didn’t compare to the chill in Baltimore. Vanity unbuttoned her jacket and eased from the car. She clicked the locking mechanism while strolling up the walkway to Aunt Ella’s rancher. Her aunt’s old clunker met her gaze, and she wondered if the stubborn woman would allow her to buy her a new car this year. Probably not. Until it broke down on the side of the road, Aunt Ella refused to give it up.

Vanity sighed and opened the screen door to the house. She tried the knob and found it unlocked as usual. Vanity would never leave her door unlocked at home, even if she was there. “Aunt Ella?” she called out as she entered.

Voices reached her from the back of the house. She crossed the small living room to reach the doorway to the kitchen and paused taking in the scene. Muscular legs stuck out from beneath the sink, encased in old, torn jeans, a small dark-headed boy with pink cheeks sat at the table stuffing cookies into his mouth, and Aunt Ella posed near the refrigerator modeling a dress that surely couldn’t fit another dangle on its overcrowded design.
Where does she think she’s wearing that thing?

“Aunt Ella, I’m here,” she repeated in a low tone.

“Vanity!” Aunt Ella chirped. “You came. Come and give Auntie a hug.” The excitable woman didn’t wait for Vanity to move. She rushed on unsteady legs toward Vanity and threw her arms around her.

“Careful, Aunt,” Vanity warned.

Aunt Ella clucked and spun away, taking Vanity’s hand. “Owen and Jamie, meet my niece, Vanity.”

The little boy uttered a muffled “hi” around a mouthful of cookies, but Vanity found her attention captured by the man bending out from under the sink. Goodness, did a plumber really need to be as hot as he was? His dirty blond hair tumbled about his head a complete mess, but it added to the sexiness of his stocky build, friendly blue eyes, and easy smile.

“Good to meet you, Vanity. I’m Owen.” His deep voice complete with country twang sent chills over her skin. She cleared her throat, forcing her gaze away from him.

“Uh, you too. Sorry, I don’t know why Aunt Ella felt it necessary to introduce us when you’re just doing your job.”

His grin broadened, and her idiot heart did a flip-flop. “Oh, I’m not the hired help.” He chuckled. “Just a neighbor helping out. And that hungry tike over there is my son, Jamie. That’s enough, Jamie. Save some for Vanity.”

“Aw, Daddy.”

Vanity tried not to melt into a puddle at the cute interchange between father and son. As cute as the boy was, he didn’t resemble his daddy much, maybe around the nose, but that was reaching. He probably had a wife at home waiting for him to come back, which was good because she could stick to her plan of a brief visit without complications. Developing a crush on a neighbor would be off program.

Owen stood and accepted the handwipe that Aunt Ella gave him. “I think that about does it, Ella. It’s fixed for now, but you should call a real plumber.”

“Pish.” Aunt Ella slapped his arm. “You’re the best, Owen, and you always come when I call you. Now, I will make all of us dinner to thank you for your help.” She swung away humming as she removed covered dishes from the refrigerator. Owen gazed at Vanity and shrugged. No doubt he knew like she had learned over the years, convincing Aunt Ella to let go of an idea was an exercise in futility. One went along for the ride and waited for a chance to escape the roller coaster.

Vanity stepped toward the doorway to the living room. Her kitchen in her apartment dwarfed Aunt Ella’s own, but this one grew smaller still with Owen in it. She started out of the room. “I will get my luggage from the car.”

“I’ll help you.” Owen followed, and she clenched her hands in front of her as she hurried toward the exit.

After unlocking the trunk and raising the lid, she caught her breath when his arm muscle flexed as he boosted the biggest case followed by the little one. She licked her lips. ‘Thanks. I can take that.”

He ignored her outstretched hand. “I feel like I know you since Ella talks about you all the time, but I’m still surprised at how quiet and shy you are.”

Vanity’s eyebrows went up, but she smiled. “Oh I’m neither of those. I just don’t shine as brightly as Aunt Ella. I think a more accurate description would be I’m reserved.”

The stark curiosity in his eyes made her shift from one foot to the other. “Interesting.”

“I should get inside. Thank you for helping me.” She jogged ahead of him and held the screen door open. While he passed by, a whiff of his aftershave reached her nose, tempting her in all kinds of wrong ways. His arm brushed across her nipples, bringing the little buds to tight peaks, and she flushed. “Crap, sorry about that.”

He paused just in front of her, and she took in his incredible height, at least a foot beyond her five foot eight inches. “No, you did nothing wrong. I apologize.”

Vanity stared up at him. He didn’t appear sorry, but she didn’t think he’d done it on purpose. The man’s shoulders filled the entrance. When he passed into the house, she followed, hanging back a step.

“Everyone, dinner will be ready in a jiffy,” Aunt Ella chirped.

“I think maybe Owen’s wife will be upset if he eats over here rather than at home.” Vanity cut off a moan. Did she really have to fish for info on whether he was single?

“You’re in luck, sweetie.” Her aunt waggled a finger at her. “Owen is single.”

“Aunt Ella!”

The two of them laughed, and Jamie appeared to join in just for the fun of it. Vanity rolled her eyes and almost ran down the hall to her assigned room for when she came into town. She resisted slamming the door behind her and slung her smallest bag on the bed. If she knew Aunt Ella, the woman probably sabotaged her own sink to get Owen over there. She had phoned Vanity several times to confirm when she would arrive. Aunt Ella needed to learn to butt out of her love life. Vanity took a lover when the need arose, but she would not get into anything serious, period.

Vanity showered and resisted the urge to slip into a cute dress that showed off her curves. She opted instead for a pair of jeans and a pullover sweater. The neckline of the top hung low enough to show off her cleavage, but she argued with herself that her pleasure in it had nothing to do with the neighbor.

Aunt Ella served dinner an hour or so later, and rather than sit at the kitchen table, which would be cramped, they opted for the living room. Vanity chose to sit in the massage chair she had shipped down as a present for her aunt a couple years ago. The piece had cost a pretty penny but looked like it hadn’t been used, not like her aunt’s more lived-in couch.

“Looks like you didn’t ruin your dinner, Jamie,” Aunt Ella commented. The small boy who appeared to be no older than five nodded his head while shoveling food into his mouth. A pang stirred in Vanity’s stomach watching him. Jamie’s thin wrists stuck out from his shirtsleeves, and she couldn’t help wondering just how much Owen fed the boy.

She peered up between her lashes at the man in question. Owen’s plate had also been piled with food. While he ate with enthusiasm, he displayed greater manners than his son. She didn’t realize she wore a frown until he commented on it.

“I promise I’m not starving him to death if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She jumped at his words. “I wouldn’t dare…”

Her aunt leaned over and patted Jamie’s head. “This one here sucks it in like a vacuum, and his little body burns it up fast.” She laughed and shook her head. “And I’ve seen pictures of Owen when he was no bigger—scrawny.”

Vanity kicked herself for jumping to conclusions. Everyone didn’t have the background she had. “Of course,” she muttered and tucked into her own food.

“Miss Vanity, what are you asking Santa for?”

She blinked in surprise at the question and looked down at Jamie. His expression held an earnest light as if it was important to know. She didn’t blame him for getting the wrong idea about her since every available wall space in Aunt Ella’s home displayed some type of holiday decoration. From Christmas cards to wreaths, to snowmen and Santas, the woman went all out. A small tree with an overkill of winking colored lights was situated near the fireplace. More lights twinkled in the front windows and in each bedroom. Aunt Ella loved Christmas, but by the time Vanity had gone to live with her at fourteen, it was too late to feel the same.

“I-I don’t really celebrate it,” she stuttered, not wanting to disappoint the boy.

“Aww,” Jamie whined, and then he perked up. “I’m getting a truck and a new bike and a paint set and…”

“Hey, you,” his father warned, “that’s not the reason for the season. Eat your food.” Yet, Vanity saw the light in Owen’s gaze. He loved it too. All of them did. She’d chosen the worst time to come to Charlotte.

“Vanity’s a bit of a scrooge,” her aunt put in unhelpfully, “but maybe you can get her to change her mind about Christmas, Owen.”

“Aunt Ella,” she groaned. “I exchange gifts. It’s just not that big a deal to me.”

He considered her in silence a moment, making her fidget. “So you will accept a gift from me?”

“Um, thanks, but that’s not necessary. We don’t know each other like that.”

He tsked as if correcting a child. “This is a season of sharing, and I enjoy learning about those closest to me in order to pick the perfect gift. Maybe we can get to know each other better.”

Her mouth fell open. The man had no shame about coming onto her in front of her aunt and his son. Vanity glanced at Aunt Ella, and the grin stretching from ear to ear said she was all for it. Vanity sighed. “I don’t think—”

“That would be perfect, Vanity,” her aunt cut in. “With my bum knees, I can’t get around as much as I like, and with these holiday crowds… You can go with Owen to finish my shopping for me.”