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Monica sat frozen. “What are you doing?”
“I’ll get the door. You get something on.”
“Wait. I didn’t hear anything else. I might have imagined it.”
The person outside knocked harder.
He wished it was imagination but a glance out the window revealed a red van with black lettering and Rick knew what had to be done. If Monica found out he wasn’t the Fantasy Man, the shit would hit the fan. Why in hell did he let himself get into this mess? “We could ignore it and maybe whoever it is will go away.”
“What if it’s someone who got stuck in the snow and needs help?”
“If something like that ever happens and you’re back here in this godforsaken place alone, you shouldn’t answer. You know that don’t you?”
“I never thought about it, but I’m not alone now. You’re here with me.”
“Do I look like the kind of fool who’d take on a stranger who might be an escaped prisoner or a serial killer?” He was exactly that kind of fool but he had to frighten her out of opening the door even if it meant she’d think he was a chicken.
The spinning of tires in the snow told Rick the Fantasy Man was leaving and he breathed a sigh of relief, but Monica was running for the door. Peeking out, she stomped her foot. “Damn. I’m too late. It’s a red van but whoever-it-is drove away.”
“So they weren’t stuck and they must have decided they had the wrong house,” Rick said.
She eyed him up and down and he had the feeling she was ticked. The door was still open and he pointed to the snow blowing in on the floor.
“What is it with you?” Monica asked, slamming the door shut. “Were you trying to scare me out of living out here alone? Or do you really have such a vivid imagination? Prisoners? Serial Killers?” She rolled her eyes.
“I guess I might have overdone it a bit,” he said, dropping his chin and shifting his feet. A woman with a hot temper, she apparently lived life with passion … about everything. Now he really had cause to worry how she’d react when she found out what he’d done. “I just wanted to impress on you that you should be careful.”
“I took karate lessons and a self-defence class, so I think I can take care of myself.” She advanced on him shaking her finger.
Nick thought his life might be in danger if she learned the truth about what happened. Edging backward slowly and hoping she wouldn’t notice, he thought it was time for him to leave.
“And I didn’t take them because I moved out here in this godforsaken rural area. I took them in case I needed to defend myself in a parking garage or in the laundry room at my apartment building or on the city streets.” She took a deep breath. “So whatever you were trying to do just now, cut it the hell out, Saint Nick, because I feel safer here than anywhere I’ve lived.”
Chapter Four
Monica heated some homemade vegetable soup left over from the day before and sat down at the wooden table by the kitchen window. Staring out at the fine mist of falling snow, she wondered what Nick was doing now. Had AAA arrived yet? After her tirade, he’d pulled a cell phone out of his tool belt and called, then went to his car to wait. She’d felt bad when he walked out into the deepening snow and told him he was welcome to wait in the house, but he’d apologised for staying so long already and left, toting his toolbox and baskets.
She should have offered to drive him down the lane since he had so much to carry, and so she could see if his vehicle said ‘Fantasy’ on it. If so, she was glad she lived back here where no one could see the Fantasy-mobile pulling into her drive.
It seemed odd that he thought he’d stayed too long. He didn’t seem in a hurry before. Maybe he meant he should have left before she got angry. If he hadn’t used the word ‘godforsaken’ she might not have spouted off like that but she loved her house and was proud of owning it. More likely what set her off was that embarrassing question—a real putdown that he threw at her after she called him ‘Saint Nick’.
“If you’re so damne
d smart and so careful, why didn’t you ask for identification before letting me in?”
She should have asked even though the baskets and their contents told her she’d jumped to the right conclusion, that he was Nick, the Fantasy Man, and one glance at his exquisite looks told her Jules had made an excellent choice. Yes she knew his name was really Rick but like he said, it was her fantasy. Not only was he the most handsome man but also the best built in every way … Monica smiled, recalling the way he looked naked … and he definitely knew how to use what he had.
The phone rang and she closed her eyes momentarily, hoping that it was him calling to make up and say he’d like to see her again.
“Hello?” It wasn’t him. But he probably hadn’t gotten home yet. However he did have a cell. “Jules, thank you! What a gift you sent me! He was indeed any woman’s fantasy. And wow, did he know how to make a woman happy.”
Julie wanted all the details and Monica gave her a few, hugging the really intimate ones to herself.
“You certainly sound enthusiastic,” Jules responded when she finished. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, but you weren’t supposed to fall for this guy, and it sounds like you did.”
“I’ll never be the same,” Monica confessed. “No man will measure up.”
Jules groaned. “I didn’t expect that reaction. I hope there isn’t a rule against Fantasy Men seeing their clients again on their personal time or we’re both screwed. You lose a dream guy and I lose a best friend.”
