Breathless (The ABCs of Love Book 2) Read online

  Zach narrows his gaze at me through his glasses and puts down his bland veggie sandwich — and I should know because I ordered one, too. “Why would I thank you for that, Aaronson?”

  I lean back in my leather chair and rest my hands behind my head. “Because remember Linus Inouye back in the Bay Area? I told him about how Full Circle is the first big business to settle in Cherry Valley, and he wanted to be the first lucky bastard to get in on the ground floor of an emerging restaurant scene. I told him to think Austin or Asheville.”

  Zach closes his eyes and rubs his forehead. “Didn’t we have this talk already?”

  “What talk?”

  “The one about allowing little Cherry Valley to get used to us before we inundate them with what they consider to be a pretentious city lifestyle. And sushi would be filed under ‘pretentious.’ They think that only snooty fancy pantses like us eat food made with seaweed.”

  I point at our bleh sandwiches. “Oh, I see. They prefer this treat?”

  “Right now they do.”

  “This piece-of-shit sandwich would get run out of a New York deli in a hot second. Hell, even a San Francisco deli would use a diaper to wrap it up.”

  “You’re not in either place anymore. Damn, I long for the days when we were underclassmen. That was before your tastes went into high gear after graduation and a foodie monster was created.”

  I lean forward in my chair. “My expensive tastes never lie, and not only about the food here. Just take a look at what we’ve got in Cherry Valley.” I start counting off on my fingers. “Shit sandwiches, shit food scene, shit dating opportunities, shit for gyms, shit for public transportation. This town is a dump.”

  Zach runs his fingers through his sandy hair, which hasn’t seen nearly as much gel as it used to back in the good old days when we were developing FCT in the Bay Area. He’s always been a little bit country, born and raised in Montana, but not me. I’ve got too much city in me, and this small town is fucking killing me.

  “Barry,” he finally says. “You know how much I’ve sweated my balls off to get the people around here to accept us. You need to take things slower, buddy. You’re still on New York time, which is about fifty times faster than the clocks run in Cherry Valley.”

  Jesus.

  I ignore my shit sandwich and pick up my phone, automatically bringing up one of the dating apps I need in order to get any action around here. It’s one of Zach’s rules that I’m not allowed to bump booty with any of the women within Cherry Valley’s town limits, and that’s fine with me. I like a dazzling pair of high heels instead of the clunky boots the backwoods women seem to favor around here. Zach himself broke his own rule and got busy with one of the locals himself, and the fact that he gets to break rules and I don’t pisses me off, even though he was respectful about dating Mandy. That’s why folks around here just love him — because he’s so pleasant. As for me? Let’s just say that another of Zach’s rules is that I have to be less of an asshole whenever I’m outside the office.

  Truthfully, I’m baffled as to why I get no credit from the locals. I’m the money guy for FCT, while Zach’s the creative genius. I’m the one who approved the charitable donations we’ve made to the town’s infrastructure so far, but I might as well be Kylo-fucking-Ren in this scenario.

  I start tooling around with another dating app on my phone.

  “Barry,” Zach says even louder.

  “Give me a sec. I’m just seeing if there’re any hot girls on the menu. It’d be worth the drive all the way to damned Marloe to ease some of this tension Cherry Valley puts me through daily.”

  “If you’d change your attitude about the people here, you wouldn’t have as much tension, and you sure as hell wouldn’t have to date outside this town.” He stands to his full height. He’s wearing a Tom Ford plaid button-down over a tee with a graphic of da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man, along with a pair of rag & bone jeans that are starting to fade. “Get over the boots and Levi’s and expand your horizons, just like I did.”

  On my phone, I come across the profile of a blonde admin assistant who lives in Marloe. “You expanded more than your horizons here. Mr. Happy in your pants would agree with that.”

  Zach mutters something under his breath and starts clearing the table, making it nice and neat for the status meeting we’re about to get down to.

  “By the way,” he says, “Mandy texted to tell me that there’s a going away party for Penny Saturday night. While you’re on the phone, put that in your scheduling app.”

  I rifle through my mental address book for a Penny. I know I haven’t shtuped someone with that name, because she’s in Cherry Valley.

  Zach sits down. “Penny. Mandy’s sister?”

  “Oh, her.” It’s easy to forget that Mandy has a sister, because I’ve never officially met her. She’s always working at her shop or off with some guy Mandy hates. “She’s going away somewhere? I can’t blame her.”

  “Well, as much as I hate to introduce you, you’ll be at that party to tell her as much.”

  “The hell I will.” I launch a smug smile at him. “Jews don’t work on Saturdays.”

  “This is not actually work, and since when did you become so devout?”

  He’s right. My family is traditional, although I wasn’t raised to be terribly religious. Still, this sounds like as good an excuse as any. I shrug and continue scanning the dating app.

  “Barry, mingling is good for business. Besides, if you meet a nice girl there, you might be able to prove to me that you can be a gentleman. Then you can be let off your leash.”

  On the dating app, I’ve discovered that blondie likes pink roses, long walks on exotic beaches, and wants a commitment, so I swipe past her. “Whatever with the party.”

  “You’ll be there, period.”

  I look up at Zach, who definitely means business. I salute him with my middle finger to my forehead. But I smile, too.

  He rolls his eyes and, for a second, my smile disappears. Zach really thinks that I would put FCT’s reputation in the gutter with what he often calls my abrasive attitude.

  Fuck that.

  As Zach wakes up his computer, I mess around on the phone some more, finding a few girls in Marloe who look interesting, unlike the hoedown women who’ll no doubt be at that party. I’ll contact my prospects after this meeting, because if I don’t get off the phone now, Zach will blow a fuse. I’m only trying to rile him up anyway, because that’s often quite amusing. But it’s time for business, and I never mess around with that.

  Just before I put down my phone, it sounds off with the ringtone of doom. I hang my head. “I’ll silence it.”

  “Go ahead and answer.”

  “Nah. I’m with my business partner and we’re about to have a meeting. I do have some manners, you know.”

  “Thanks for the consideration, but if you don’t talk to your mom now, you’ll regret it.”

  Right.

  I excuse myself and walk out of the room so Zach won’t have to deal with this. I’m halfway down the brick-lined hallway when I answer. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Why, it’s my long-lost son! Imagine that!” It sounds like she pulls away from the phone as she yells, “Randall! It’s the son who never visits!”

  I go to my office, closing the door behind me, but it’s not like I can shut out this latest guilt trip I’m about to get.

  Mom’s already back on the line. “Your dad is going over a case in his study — big day in the operating room tomorrow, bypass surgery — but he says hi. Also, he wants to know how Peach Valley is.”

  “Cherry Valley. It’s great.”

  “You’re still doing that computer stuff there?”

  “Yes, Mom.” What, does she think I’ve suddenly decided to surrender to all the badgering from my perfect family over the years, only to decide to become a doctor or Wall Street banker like one of them? “And I know that when you say ‘computer stuff,’ you actually mean the important work we’re doing.”

 
“Barry, Barry … you’ve always been the brightest of my children. And this is where you end up? In some valley in the middle of nowhere spending all your money on video games? Do you know how much your brother made last year running that hedge fund?”

  Enough to buy several small villages in a third world nation, I assume. But I don’t talk back to Mom. Never have, never will. Yet that doesn’t stop me from trying to explain to her, once again, what FCT is doing and why it’s important.

  “It’s not about the money,” I say. “Although Zach and I plan to make a lot of it. We’re here in Cherry Valley to contribute to this town through mixed reality. It’s like virtual reality, but it doesn’t replicate an environment. Instead, we’re taking an environment that already exists and making it better by layering technology onto it. You’ll be able to use something as simple as a phone to mix that and tech for things like education, entertainment, and infrastructure rebuilding. It’s the wave of the future and …”

  I trail off when I realize that she’s talking to Dad in the background about what he wants for dinner tonight.

  I wait, once more feeling as if I’d have to put on a business suit and report to work with a briefcase filled with bored resignation in order to impress my parents. But I grew up fighting back in a lot of ways, a skinny little guy who was always on the defensive, constantly dodging insults from other kids and sometimes from other adults who called me Jew Boy and underestimated me. Then, my body and mind filled out and I stopped giving a shit.

  Now she’s done talking to Dad. “Mom?”

  “Yes, my sweetheart.”

  It’s as if ignoring my job is so ingrained in her that she doesn’t even realize she just did it in a most spectacular way. “Zach and I are meeting right now, so I’ll have to call you back later.”

  “Of course.” She doesn’t sound pleased.

  “Love you.”

  “I love you too, Barry. Say hi to Zach for me. I’m sending him some of those black-and-white cookies he loves.”

  I tell her that’s great, and after I hang up, I feel like some of the air has gone out of me. Once I return to the conference room, Zach even notices.

  “Mom guilt?” he asks.

  I nod, then sit down and grab my laptop. Zach doesn’t say anything more, because he obviously knows that at least my dad didn’t get on the phone to make my day even crappier with the way he slams my work at every opportunity. And people wonder why I don’t like to visit during the holidays.

  I’m the son who let down his family with my career. I might as well have slapped Dad in the face when I announced my intentions, because where I come from, tradition matters. The future — tech, a world of bits and bytes, a reality that you can’t really hold in your hands like money — is for losers.

  And I’m the son who got lost.

  I’m not in any mood to socialize, not even with a date tonight in Marloe. Zach senses my funk, and after our meeting he drags me out of the office for a walk around the snow-dusted downtown and some of that crisp, fresh country air he loves so much.

  I like to tell him that it smells like cow shit, just to mess with him, but I’m not even in the mood for that.

  Naturally, he has an ulterior motive with this “walk.” He’s hauling me down Main Street and into Screaming Beans, where his schmoopie girl Mandy works.

  As we walk in the door, I see that my regular table is occupied by some kids from the high school chess club. They smile at me as if they don’t know that the table is my territory, and if I could mark it with my piss, I would. I get good work energy from coffeehouses, and just because I didn’t show up today doesn’t mean I’m giving it up.

  Zach pulls on the sleeve of my Aurelien utility jacket, bringing me toward the counter where Mandy is serving coffee to Fergus Davidson, who owns the hardware store. Everyone greets Zach and gives me a wary look. Maybe it’s the tee I’m wearing under my open cotton poplin button-down — SpongeBob SquarePants holding a pair of pink panties with his eyes wide and gleeful. Or maybe it’s because I’ve got a reputation for being a dick.

  I mutter to Zach, “We’ve got a perfectly good espresso maker at the office.”

  Zach either doesn’t hear me, or he doesn’t care, because he’s in lurrrrv.

  When Mandy spies Zach, her eyes widen as big as SpongeBob’s. She finishes waiting on Mr. Davidson, then rushes over to her man. I sit down in an empty chair at the counter to wait this out and at least take the opportunity to order some cherry pie, which always improves my mood. It’s that fucking awesome.

  “Missed you,” Mandy says as she leans over the counter and wraps her arms around Zach’s neck.

  He kisses her and murmurs against her mouth. “Missed you, too.”

  Shit. I miss the days when they hurled insults at each other.

  On the other side of the bar, Abby Peters, the town’s budding journalist and go-getter blogger, is working on her computer with her earbuds in. I almost wander over to her, due to the fact that she’s interviewed Zach and me more than once about FCT. But if I go over there, Zach’s going to think I’m hitting on her. She’s twenty-one, which is eight big years younger than I am. I don’t think so.

  When the front door opens, I glance over. A woman walks in, and I scan her long, straight red hair and a pair of vivid, big blue eyes that you’d normally find on an anime character. Under her sleek fur-lined coat, she’s wearing a purple knit dress that’s slightly chic, but it looks like she’s trying her best to be a city girl instead of someone wearing a dress from a Marloe department store. Not that I mind, because the dress sure as hell seems to fit in all the right places. She’s got a slim body and long legs, plus great tits, but what kills it for me is the winter boots she’s got on. They’re not the dirt-scuffed, buckle-strapped redneck kind, but they’re still boots. Besides, I know that the minute she opens her mouth, my libido will crash.

  I look at her another moment, because she’s cute for a country girl. She’s also familiar somehow.

  When she heads across the shop to talk to Abby, I shrug her off. Hell, I really miss women in heels and little black dresses.

  I pull out my trusty phone to look at those dating apps again.

  Chapter 3

  Penny

  When I was at Screaming Beans earlier, I forgot to give Mandy a copy of a popular paperback I found at the secondhand bookstore yesterday. Since my sister is busy smooching it up with her lover boy at the counter, I head over to Abby to kill some time.

  Now, I’m what you’d call a redhead — brunette with lots of burnish — but she’s a red hot candy head, and I suppose that’s appropriate, seeing as the color reflects her young and sparky gumption. As usual, she’s working away on her laptop at the bar, but she takes out her earbuds and smiles at me.

  “I’ve been hearing some chatter about you,” she says. “Can we talk? I’ve got to get to class, but I want to ask you a question or two now, then follow up.”

  “Sure thing. I figured my new career opportunity in Chicago is the type of news that belongs in your ABCs of Cherry Valley blog.”

  “Local Girl Busts Her Way Out of Town. You sure kept your news under wraps.”

  “I didn’t want to make it a big deal.” And then Mandy decided to throw a party in a couple days.

  Abby types on her keyboard. “So is the sale of your business final?”

  “Just yesterday. I finished training the new owner, and she’s ready to fly solo.” I’m still waiting for Mandy to stop the kissy thing with Zach. “I sold the shop to a local retired woman. Remember Mrs. Baker from elementary school?”

  “I had her for third grade.”

  “Same here.”

  Abby turns to me, leaning forward as if she wants to say something on the down low. She’s wearing jeans, boots, and an oversized Cherry Valley Community College sweatshirt, and I feel so comfortable with her that I lean forward, too.

  “You know we’re going to miss you, Penny,” she says quietly. “There were so many times I thought that
one of your boyfriends would finally come through and appreciate what he had in you. I’ve been waiting for the day when I could finally write about you on my other blog.”

  The ABCs of Love. I’ve been reading it since Abby began with her post about Zach and Mandy. “Abby, believe me — I would love to have been the topic of that blog, but my own personal ABCs have never gotten past ‘B’ for ‘Bummer.’”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Abby leans back and raises her voice to regular volume so it mingles with the country music again. “Can I call you later about your new job, though?”

  “It’s a deal. You’re coming to the party on Saturday?”

  “Yes, and I’m buying you a drink. And congratulations!” She pats my arm, then packs up so she can scoot out of the shop.

  By now, Mandy has spotted me, and she and Zach have pulled away from each other, giving everyone a break from the romance porn. Mandy waves at me, then slides over to a guy sitting on the opposite side of the bar, waiting to order.

  As my sister boxes up a slice of pie for the city boy who’s swiping over his phone screen, my gaze lingers on him. He’s got dark hair that’s obviously grown out from an expensive cut, and even though it’s clearly meant to look a little careless, you can tell he puts a lot of effort and product into making it that way. He’s got dark blue eyes and strong features, and if you took those features into account one by one, they might be too strong or even off-kilter. But put together, it’s hard to look away from him. He’s tall, wide-shouldered, and I don’t know why, but kind of cute, especially with those eyes.

  When I see his t-shirt — SpongeBob gaping like a pervert at a pair of pink panties — I immediately know who he is. There’s allegedly only one person in Cherry Valley who uses t-shirts like cheese in a mousetrap, as if he’s just rubbing his hands together and waiting for someone to comment on his cheekiness.

  Zach’s business partner, the New York ass otherwise known as Barry.