Saint & Sinner: A Second Chance Romance Read online

  “Make something that you’d like,” he murmured. “And that will be just fine.”

  10

  Caleb

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y2zeudxXjuU

  All my life, I’d never considered myself a coward, but right then, I felt like the worst coward who ever walked this earth. For whatever reason the words I had practiced all night long, the words I wanted to ask her like forever, were smooth stones lodged in my throat, and no matter how hard I tried to get them out I couldn’t expel them.

  Furious with myself, I kept my trembling hands in the pockets of my trousers, and watched as she opened her arms and released the stalks of flowers she had gathered from around the store onto the surface of her worktable. With a pair of shears in hand, she began to cut the stems and trim away the excess leaves on them.

  We were both silent, the only sounds between us was the faint sound of our breathing and the sharp sound of her shears. I’d never been much of a talker, not even when we were kids. Whenever we would meet, all I wanted to do was to simply look at her or listen to her sweet voice. Back then she talked enough for both of us.

  Now I needed to stop being such a yellow wuzz and ask her out.

  I searched my head for something to say as I watched her add orange flowers to the bouquet she was building, then small yellow ones, before pausing to peruse the arrangement she had put together so far.

  Obviously, she was not the hot mess I was, because she spoke … and sounded sickeningly normal too. “Did the flowers you ordered yesterday arrive safely?”

  I cleared my throat and swallowed the smooth stones in my throat. “They did.”

  “Was everything to your liking?”

  "Yes.” Even as the empty word left my lips, I knew my brief sentences would make her uncomfortable, but I couldn’t help myself. My mind had gone blank. She had reduced a big, grown man like me into a dome of shaking jelly.

  “How’s it looking?” she asked, lifting those pools of warm chocolate towards me.

  God. I wanted to touch her. How I wanted to. At that moment, it felt as though I would lose my mind if I couldn’t at least place my hand on hers.

  “Good,” I replied, awkward as hell. I kicked myself hard mentally. Fuck it, Caleb. You’re going to blow it. I took my hand out of my pocket and pointed at one of the flowers in the bouquet. “What flower is that?”

  “This one?” she pointed at one of the orange flowers.

  It wasn’t the one I had referred to, but I nodded mutely.

  “It’s a Marigold.”

  “Can I take a look?” I asked, even my voice sounded shaky.

  Immediately, she picked it out of the bouquet and held it out to me. All I wanted to do was accidentally touch her hand, but the moment my hand came near the stem, she let it go as though even the possibility of contact with me would harm her.

  I pretended not to be fast enough to catch the stem. It fell through my fingers and landed soundlessly on the wooden table.

  She went to pick it up, so did I.

  I was a whole lot quicker this time. My hand touched hers, lingered. The contact instantly froze her to the spot. She raised her head, our faces were mere inches apart. Her warm breath tickled my face, and my eyes roved greedily around her beautiful face. The words came out then, in a rush and straight from the heart.

  “Will you have dinner with me?”

  Her eyes slightly widened.

  The fear that she would reject me gripped me so hard, I couldn’t move. The moments began to tick by. It seemed as if an eternity passed, but surely it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. Before she could answer, the other girl working at the store returned. Willow jerked away.

  “I’m done repotting your cactus,” the girl announced, a bite in her voice.

  “Thank you,” I replied, turning towards her, trying to keep my attention on the white ceramic pot she’d transferred the plant into. I remembered Marie’s other requests. “I’ll need pebbles and pompoms to go with those.” Hopefully, searching out those things would take her away for a little while more.

  “Come over here to the counter and you can choose your own,” she said instead.

  Before I could even respond, Willow spoke up. “Please … go ahead. I’m nearly done here. I’ll finish it and bring your arrangement over to the counter.”

  Foiled again.

  Frustrated, but unable to do anything else, I followed the girl. I glanced back at Willow and she had her head bent towards her work. Another man would have thought her preference was to remain as acquaintances and walked away.

  Not me. I could never accept that. It only meant my next round of effort would be aggressive enough to convince her to see me as something more.

  I chose the pebbles and pompoms without too much thought, and by the time I was done, Willow was walking over with the finished bouquet.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said with genuine appreciation.

  She placed it on the counter, and for a heart-stopping moment she tilted her head and looked at me … as if she recognized me, but then she shook her head, gave me a polite nod, and went on her way. I watched with longing as she walked towards the back of the shop.

  The other girl’s voice brought me back to the reality. I dragged my eyes away from Willow, and refocused on the transaction at hand.

  11

  Willow

  The pot slid out of my hand and dropped to the floor. I stared at the mess on the tiles.

  I had taken over repotting plants for the afternoon, because I needed to have my hands and mind completely occupied, but thus far it had been disastrous.

  Sandra looked up from the packets of flower food that she had been taping onto a bouquet, and yelled at me. “Another one? What’s going on with you?”

  “I was trying to put it on the table,” I said, wrinkling my nose at the broken pieces on the floor.

  “And you missed? Ten minutes ago you tripped over that massive fertilizer bag and almost broke your neck. Where is your mind?”

  “I’ll clean it up,” I muttered.

  I had just bent down to pick up the shards of broken ceramic when a pair of feet encased in leather flats stopped in front of me. I looked up to see Sandra standing in front of me.

  “Where’s your phone?” she asked.

  “Why?”

  “Just give it to me,” she groaned, and bending down proceeded to search in the pockets of my apron.

  “Hey!” I protested.

  But she took no notice. She pulled it out with a triumphant smile. Moments later however, she had gained access and was punching in something that was written on a small piece of paper.

  My forehead furrowed. “How do you know my password?”

  “Oh, please,” she mocked. “How long have we been friends?”

  She handed the phone back to me, and I looked at what she had done. She had added a contact, and when I saw the name I felt my heart start to pound.

  “Caleb?”

  I jumped to my feet. “You asked him for his number?”

  “You left him hanging, Willow.”

  I was perplexed. “Wait, did you ask him for it or he gave it to you?”

  “I asked him for it,” she answered.

  I was horrified. “Why would you do that?”

  “It’s a small store, Willow, and I could see the both of you clearly. It was almost uncomfortable to watch.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Her chin jutted forward. “Are you trying to play dumb? I’ll be offended if you are.”

  “Why?”

  “I told you I was attracted to him from the beginning, but you acted as though you weren’t.”

  “Well I wasn’t. I mean I’m not. I mean, I don’t know.”

  “Okay. If that’s true then contact him, and go on a date. You’ll get a great meal out of it, perhaps some good conversation, and then you can decide never to see him again. I don’t know what's holding you back, but I feel like I have to remind you of this; a da
te is not a marriage proposal. You can still come right back and forget it ever happened.”

  I sighed, because with him it felt like it would be a marriage proposal. There was something so absolute and life-and-death about him in my mind, but I just couldn’t place my finger on what it was.

  “Did you really want him, Sandra?”

  She shrugged. “Who wouldn’t? But he’s very clearly not into me. He’s into you. In a big way.”

  I frowned. “What makes you say that? We were just talking normally. Actually, we didn’t even speak to each other that much. I was busy with the arrangement and he just watched me.”

  “Watched?” she scoffed. “Are you kidding me? He devoured you with his eyes.”

  “He did not,” I breathed.

  “Hell, the way he looked at you, I thought he was going to pounce on you and do the deed right there on the table. And you, you couldn’t even look him in the eye. I’ve never seen you like that. You always look everyone in the eye. Plus, the proximity? It was like you were old lovers or something.” She paused. “There was so much sexual tension between you two that I could have sliced through it with a knife.”

  “Now, you’re just being dramatic. If he was that interested, why didn’t he give me his number? A guy like that, living at the address he lives at, is definitely not shy.” I took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. My assessment of him was correct and what Sandra must have picked up on was the sexual tension I was putting out, not him.

  “So,” I carried on, “there’s no way I’m calling him. In fact, I’m going to delete his number.”

  “He knows you have it,” she said, folding her arms. “So not contacting him will just be rude. The message he’s going to receive is you can’t even be bothered to be civil. He’ll never be able to come back here with his head held high, and we will lose an obviously wealthy customer. That’s not very smart, is it? And if my aunt asks how the shop is going after she approved your bank loan, I’m not lying for you. I’ll let her know, and that’s not a threat, it is a fucking promise.”

  I tried to laugh at the Mafia talk, but the laughter died in my throat at the expression in her eyes. She turned around haughtily and returned to her desk. The phone in my hand suddenly seemed to weigh a ton. I put it down and began to clear the table. It was a slow day and I let Sandra leave early.

  I stayed alone in the shop with my flowers. They had always given me great joy. Just being around them made my heart glad. I went over to the bucket of daylilies. “What do you think? Should I call him?” The flowers remained silent. “Easy for you,” I muttered and continued to pace the shop floor. By the end of the work day, I was exhausted with thinking about the new number stored in my phone.

  I’d thought to call, but my throat had tightened with so much anxiety that I was scared that when the time came to speak, my mouth would stop working. When I got home, I made myself a quick pasta, but had no appetite to eat it. I switched on the TV and stared at it blankly. I scolded myself for being such a little coward.

  Finally, I picked up my phone and typed out a message to him. Deleted it, and retyped it again. Took a deep breath and deleted that. Thought about it. Wrote another couple of lines. Nope, that would be forward. Tried again, from another angle. Nope, too pathetic. Went for something simple. Delete. Too simple. After countless efforts, I went back to the original message. And before I could think anymore about it, I hit send.

  Then I buried my face in my pillow. My heart was beating so fast I could hear it.

  12

  Caleb

  I was going through the Annual Reports of the company I was interested in acquiring, when the message arrived on my phone. I knew instantly it was her. I snatched up my phone and stared at the words half in shock, half in disbelief.

  Hello. This is Willow … from the flower shop.

  My heart slammed against my chest with the surge of intense joy. I had made contact. I had finally cut a direct path through a forest of thorns to her. I read the message over and over again. As I stared at the sweet words, another text came in from her.

  I’m sorry I didn’t give you a response to your question back at the shop. I was a bit taken aback. If the offer is still valid, I would like to take you up on it. Dinner sounds awesome. Again, I apologize for not responding immediately. I tend to be shy sometimes. Have a great night.

  I launched myself into the air. It felt as though my chest was on fire and fiery currents of wild excitement were buzzing through my veins. I gave a whoop of joy and punched the air.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” I shouted into my silent house.

  All the pain, all the disappointment, all the frustration, the endless waiting fell away. I’d been so worried I’d come and find she’d given her heart to another man. That I would be too late. That the magic would not be there for her.

  But the world had spun around once again and this time it seemed to be working in my favor.

  I felt as if I had grown wings. I laughed like a mad man as I paced the floor. If my prison mates could see me now. They would never believe it. Back there, I never cracked a smile. I hardly spoke. Not even in the Chow Hall. My look was one of cool intimidation. Grown men trembled when I looked at them. I was utterly, totally and completely left alone.

  I took a couple of deep breaths, then seated myself back on my chair. Don’t fuck this up, Caleb. I cradled the phone and brought my thumbs to the keypad to begin typing out my response.

  But just as I did, my phone vibrated at an incoming call. At first, I thought she was calling. Then I saw the number and my eyes narrowed. This was a relationship I'd thought had been completely severed in prison, but it seemed that it wasn’t going to be the case. It felt like a cold claw from the past had come to take back my joy, my excitement.

  Yet, I couldn’t reject the call. I was never one to run away from my enemies. I always took them on head-on. I hit the accept button and lifted the phone to my ear.

  “Caleb?” the familiar voice came through the receiver.

  “Frank,” I answered, and the other Caleb, the cold, hard man came back.

  “Hey! Wow. This is truly your phone number. I was wondering when you left how and if I was ever going to be in contact with you again.”

  “How did you get this number?”

  “Yikes,” he said. “Look, I know I’m reneging on our agreement. No contact beyond the wall, but we’re old friends, right?”

  I walked over to the massive windows that overlooked the outdoor pool and garden beyond. “We’re not friends,” I corrected. “I protected you and in exchange you taught me, but even that was over a long time ago. We haven’t spoken in two years, or have you forgotten?”

  Fraudster Frank’s laugh was forced and fake. “Man, I will never understand how you could hold a grudge for that long. Our cells were just across the corridor and yet you acted like I was dead to you.”

  Frank was a textbook psychopath. A man devoid of morals. You couldn’t trust him as far as you could spit. “You sent someone to shank me in the boiler room, Frank.”

  “I was jealous, man. C’mon, you’re human too… aren’t you?”

  I almost laughed. See what I meant about him being a psychopath. They always accuse you of being or doing the things they are guilty of. It was him who needed some lessons on how to be a human being.

  “C’mon man, how would you feel if you were in my shoes? I taught you everything about trading and you go and outperform me a hundred times over. Jenkins was going to completely shut me out... take away my privileges and crown you king. I didn’t even mind that... all I wanted was the crumbs from your table, but he wouldn’t even agree to it, the selfish bastard.”

  I didn’t care to listen to his whiny bullshit any longer. “How the hell did you get this number?”

  “Caleb, it doesn’t matter how I got it,” he said, his voice low and urgent. "What matters is I did.”

  My brows furrowed. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  There was the soun
d of a man’s voice in the background and Frank saying, “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” before he returned his attention back to me. “Fucking assholes. I just got on the call and already they’re telling me that I’ve got to finish up so I’ll have to make this quick. Remember Trilium?”

  “Sure. You scammed them.”

  “Whoa, that’s harsh. It was a misdemeanor. I just exaggerated the percentage of returns.”

  “And they lost a hundred million.”

  “Yeah, I paid for it. I’m here, incarcerated, locked up like a fucking animal, ain’t I?”

  “Your time is running out, Frank,” I reminded.

  “Okay, okay. Anyway, as you know, it was Mafia money, so I’ve been paying back over the years, but Jenkins shut down the trading hole here the moment you were released, so there’s no way I can try to pay them back from in here anymore. I need some help, man. I got some information. I can get it out to you.”

  “I’m not front running, Frank,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “I know,” he said. “I fucking know.”

  “I just got out of prison, I have no intention of ever going back.”

  He moved away from the receiver then, and roared at someone who was speaking to him. “For fuck’s sake. I’m almost done! Fuck.”

  Then he returned to me. “Caleb, listen to me. I’m running out of time. They don’t want you to front run. They want a product. They’re not looking for unrealistic numbers, but just one with low volatility. Something that will earn unspectacular returns regularly. They want to market this to a couple of big shots and create a fund for it. And they want you to create it.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, I mentioned you and your… idea. Remember the one you talked about four years ago.”

  The moment the words came out of his mouth, anger flooded through my entire system. “You told them about that?” I couldn’t believe it. “You fucking bastard!”