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“What is that delicious smell?”I ask myself sitting up in the bed … remembering my nightly interruption. I look at my clock, it’s still early. She said breakfast is served between eight and ten. I pull on my running shorts and tank top. I run my fingers through my hair. I practically run down the stairs.
I hear music coming from the kitchen. It’s the same dance tunes that I have in my club. I smile as I follow it, as well as the aroma of her kitchen. I lean against the door jamb grinning as I watch her, unbeknown to her. She’s swinging her hips, dancing against nothing to the beat of the music. She’s cooking and singing the words quietly. She’s beautiful.
I can only imagine what she would look like in a tight club dress, grinding against me. I start to get hard. I hear footsteps stomping in our direction. I move rather quickly into the kitchen, startling her. She gasps, as our eyes meet. She knows I was watching, my smile is a clear give away. The moment is cut short as a man storms in.
“I’ve told you a hundred times to turn this shit off. It is annoying,” he cuts her music off and barks at her before he realizes I was standing in the kitchen. “Sorry about that music.” He looks at his wife. “I hope it didn’t wake you.” He’s sickeningly polite to me.
“Nope, not at all.” I look at Amelia. Her eyes aren’t bright and sparkling anymore as she looks at her husband. She’s miserable. “I was about to go for a run and wanted to see what you had on the menu this morning.”
“Oh.” She looks at her husband before giving me a smile. There’s that sparkle in those beautiful eyes. “An oven-baked vegetable omelet, homemade cheese Danish, bacon, sausage, fresh strawberries with cream, coffee, and juice.”
“Make me a cheese omelet without the vegetables,” he squawks at her. I cut him a disapproving look. And I don’t give a shit if it is noticed.
“That all sounds delicious.” She smiles shyly as she turns around and starts preparing that fucktard’s special request. “Quinton Starks,” I introduce myself, purposely squeezing his hand hard. I will have the firmest handshake in the room.
I can see it didn’t go unnoticed in his face as he introduces himself. “Eric Johansson.” He breaks his hand away and continues to mosey around the kitchen. “What brings you to Amelia?” he asks, calmly popping a soda.Soda for breakfast … really?
“I’m looking at buying some commercial space, ocean front.” I notice Amelia look up, but she doesn’t speak.
“Oh!” He’s interested now. “I’m an architect.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls his card out, handing it to me. “What are you looking into doing?”
“Thanks.” I look at it before I stick it in my pocket. “Oh maybe an ocean front bar, food and dancing.” I look back at Amelia who is grinning as she’s focusing on what she’s making. She’s listening though. “My assistant visited your establishment and mentioned the area could use a little something more. So I thought I would check out the location.”
“Yeah, Amelia doesn’t offer much of anything as far as a nightlife. I mean there are some bars, but they’re small. I don’t know of anything other than a biker joint, ocean front. Well, that’s not tied in with the resorts.” Eric likes the idea of a bar, surprisingly.
“Eric likes waterfront dining,” Amelia chimes in. “You probably had him interested as soon as you said ocean front and food.” She can read my mind as well.
“Right, well, let me get on with my run.” I watch as Amelia slides his plate across the bar. He doesn’t show any appreciation to her, just grabs it and plops down on the bar stool.
“Yeah let me know if I can help with anything, if you find something.” He starts eating his food.
“Yeah, thanks.” I watch her watch me. Her eyes are looking at my body. She’s subtle to not be noticed. Not that she has to really worry about that, because he doesn’t notice her at all. He takes her completely for granted. I smile as I turn to leave. I hate him.
AMELIA
Ilove the Saturday mornings at the farmers’ market. I stroll down the street looking at all the vendors. I pick up some fresh veggies. I can come up with some sort of dish. I need to pick up something special for the lucky couple. I smile as I grab some fresh cut flowers—they smell beautiful. My eyes are closed as I appreciate the memories that flood over me. My grandmother was more of a mom to me than my actual mother; she always loved her flowers. I can almost feel her presence as I run my fingertips over the irises.
“Amelia?”
I turn towards my name. Quinton Starks is here. I smile as he walks towards me.
“I thought that was you.” He grins at me.God he’s so sexy.
“Mr. Starks, how did your property searching go this morning?” I ask as I pay the lady for the flowers.
“Call me Quinton. I think I’ve found a place.” He smiles as he walks casually with me. “Eric around?”Oh I should have figured he wanted to talk business with him.I hope my disappointment isn’t apparent.
I look up at him as he’s casually looking at the vendor tables. “No. Sorry he’s gone … somewhere.”
“It’s quite all right.” He grins, looking back at me.
“You see anything of interest?”
“Yes, very much!” He’s watching me. Am I reading something into his words?God, Amelia you have to get out of your own fucked up, romanced starved head.“Only it’s not available for me.” I don’t say anything, just continue looking at the ground walking. “Do you mind if I walk with you?” he asks me.
“No, not at all.” I stop at a vendor selling homemade wedding cookies. I pick up a package of cookies, handing the lady the money.
“Here, let me help carry something.” He takes the veggies and flowers. I don’t have time to argue.
