I’ve Got You

Chapter 4

Quiet chatter filled the establishment. Quaint, decorated with a rustic, driftwood air, and owned by what sounded like a British couple, the Wayward Boot hosted Cameron and Aleshia as they went through drinks.

The homely atmosphere appealed to the freelancer. It reminded her more of the woodlands nearby where she once lived, of the cabins she lived in during family camping trips in the summer. Fitting in theme with the bar’s name, or as the British couple referred to it as, their “lovely little pub,” boots littered the mantelpieces, were strung on the walls, or painted into pictures. Varying from bronze and iron worked ornaments to actual boots, which also doubled as flowerpots in cases, Aleshia thought the scheme of it was fantastic. Cameron sat opposite her, smug in private triumph as he saw her surveillance of the bar. One group of friends sat around a table, playing with cards.

“The modern style isn’t for you at all, is it?” Cameron said, as he drank their way through a Leffe – a Belgian blond beer. “You prefer something more traditional.”

“I think so.” Aleshia drummed her nails on the table. She had painted them with a light pink varnish, not wanting to go overboard or make it seem like she was trying to lure Cameron into her bed. Her outfit of choice was a spaghetti string sundress, with dark blue prints on it. A hint of cleavage revealed itself, but not enough to have men throwing their eyeballs her way. She bared a fair amount of leg as well, and one small cut on her knee from a shaving mishap. She also wore a sapphire necklace, a gift from her mother for her thirteenth birthday. It twinkled in the soft lighting. “I mean, I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but this place is fantastic. I really like it. I would live somewhere like here.”

“Even with all the boots?” He said, picking up a beermat with a picture of laced together army boots. Graffiti on the mat displayed the engraved words, Ben, from Spain. A ceiling fan above them spun, delivering a gentle breeze in the warm evening.

“Especially with all the boots. They have a theme, they’re sticking with it. It’s not boring. It makes you look and pay attention. Because who would think of decorating a bar with random boots? It’s brilliant.”

“If you say so.” Cameron Lovell still wore the smug expression. “I suspected you might like something like this. You get modern bars, rustic bars, and then you get the quirky ones. This one even serves food. You can get Mexican chili or burritos here, or you can go for traditional oven dishes. They have something here called shepard’s or cottage pie. Delicious.”

“What’s that?” Aleshia asked, delving once more into the easy rapport they shared with each other. She found herself liking Cameron more and more when they talked. Vaneese, when hearing about the proposed meeting for drinks, was beside herself in excitement, insisting that Aleshia got everything waxed and wore her special perfume which was apparently guaranteed to immobilize a man with lust.

Any protests of “We’re not going on a date, we’re just meeting up to discuss more about what kind of properties I might like,” fell on deaf ears. Aleshia barely managed to convince herself. She couldn’t deny the possibility, either, that Cameron gave her looks suggesting more than a passing interest, or that part of her had accepted the invitation, because of how close it would be to a real date, if not being one in disguise. She also couldn’t stop that peculiar craving to continue indulging his attention. She liked it. She liked that she could receive such open admiration for her body, without Peter growling in the background, delivering some kind of cutting remark that brought her down to the mud.

“It’s an English dish, last time I checked. A meat pie with either lamb or beef, topped with mashed potatoes and sometimes, if you’re feeling adventurous, cheddar cheese. If you’re hungry shortly we can order some. I’ll pay. Because I’m a gentleman like that.”

“Thank you.” She flashed him a beatific smile, taking the liberty to stretch her arms. “Though that does make this sound more like a date than a social outing.”

“Well. I’m happy to see where it goes,” Cameron replied. He gave a roguish wink, a mischievous smirk curling up his lips. Tiny moths fluttered deep in Aleshia. “But first. Properties. Would you want to buy a place, rather than rent? Or do you not care or do you want to focus on renting?”

Aleshia stared at her foaming beer, it had been sitting there full the entire night.

“I’m leaning more towards buying something. I’ve done nothing but scrimp and scrape from my years freelancing. I did it all the way through my former jobs, trying to net myself a career in marketing and editing and writing. Succeeded. I’m not on the big bucks but I have enough to call a place my own. I think.” She played with her empty bottle, under the watchful fascination of Cameron Lovell, sitting there in his immaculate pants and cream shirt, the hint of a beard showing upon his sharp features. The first button of his shirt lay unbuttoned, and she saw no chest hair poking up from it, making her wonder if he shaved there or not.

“Could you afford twenty percent deposit on a five hundred thousand dollar property?”

Aleshia paused. “Set it on four hundred. That would be my bar. I can also bully my sister to help out, though I’ll be in debt for the rest of my life. And if we’re looking for properties, I’d like something that has a similar feel to this place. Not fancy and modern. Cozy and snug.”

Cameron Lovell gulped down the rest of his beer, before calling a server over to ask for another round, he hadn’t noticed Aleshia’s untouched beer. He also asked if they could try out the cottage pie the bar cooked. The server agreed, and scurried away to get things sorted out. “I can work with that. Though don’t expect any penthouses in your future. Those tend to sell for way too much.”

“I can live without,” Aleshia said with a faint smile. “Thank you for your help on this. I would be completely lost without some sort of guidance. Or shacking up in some other crummy apartment.”

“No problem. I’ll check my clients. I’ll make sure to find you the dream property that’ll make your eyes pop out in amazement. You’ll be falling all over my feet thanking me in how amazing and helpful I’ve been.” His voice dipped, turning noticeably seductive. More of the fluttering gave way in Aleshia’s stomach. She struggled to hold his lingering dark eyes with hers, without flushing in return.

“I sincerely hope so,” she said. She felt wretched, all of a sudden, realizing she liked Cameron. A lot.

Forks and knives were placed on their table, wrapped in a serviette. Food followed shortly afterward on white porcelain plates. Aleshia eyed the cottage pie segment, noted the creamy, buttery richness of the mashed potato hidden under the brown speckled cheese, and the way the meat sauce dripped enticingly, with small chunks of vegetable trapped between the mixture. It also came with a side helping of peas.

“Since we’re getting on so fine, let’s swap a few questions around. If you’re up for it.” The cheeky grin made Aleshia’s heart melt and thud painfully at the same time.

 “Ah,” she sighed. “I might be able to answer you some of those. But I want to start.” She wanted to lead him away from the inevitable questions for as long as possible. She wanted to preserve the moment they shared together now, as it made her feel happier and more purposeful than she remembered feeling since Peter. Peter crept into her head like a poison, reminding her starkly, of his number still preserved on her phone, sitting in the memory like a cancer.

“Go for it.”

“Have you ever felt like your life has been without purpose?” Aleshia was not sure what made her say the words. She originally planned on asking something more innocuous, less personal. However, her mouth ran separate from her brain – digging straight into a topic that had sunk itself into her consciousness. This was a question she often asked herself.

Cameron seemed momentarily surprised by the question, but quickly recovered. “That’s one way to go out swinging.”