Barefoot Heroine Page 2
My time in the shadow was over. I was walking arm in arm with the sun now. It was the happiest moment of my life. And if Ray and Lidia could be her guests, then so could I.
When we approached my surprised colleagues, Ellery tried to make the unwittingly unnecessary introductions.
“I found some corn-hole bags, and someone to help us play. Lidia and Ray Torrence, this is … my neighbor … whose name escapes me at the moment,” she said, smiling sheepishly.
We all laughed at her sweet and funny innocence. At last I could introduce myself to my soul-mate!
“I’m Ash Ryan,” I said to her alone.
At that moment the breeze pushed a wonderful smell from the grill in our direction. She looked alarmed as the scent registered with her.
“I have to check on dinner! I’ll be right back.”
She turned and darted toward the deck. A big cloud of smoke billowed out of the grill when she opened the lid. The three of us watched as our hostess fought her way through the smoke to rescue our meal. She finished quickly, though, and disappeared into the kitchen with the meat. Then Lidia turned on me.
“What the hell are you doing here? Sei matto?” she demanded, her anger punctuated by a slip into her native tongue to question my sanity.
I didn’t think it could be possible to feel any happier than I had just a few moments ago, but her irritation at my joy and victory made it all the more sweet. Plus Ray absolutely hated it when she spoke to me in Italian.
“She invited me. I didn’t want to risk disappointing her with a rejection. Do you think I made the wrong choice?” I asked with as much surprise and innocence as I could muster.
For once I had the upper hand with unassailable logic on my side.
I could tell she was about to unleash on me when Ray embraced her from behind, planting a well-placed and apparently very therapeutic kiss on the back of her neck. She paused long enough for him to redirect her with a suggestion.
“Do you think Ellery might need some help in the kitchen?”
I hated to admit it, but Lidia was driven by a similar compulsion to care for Ellery that possessed me, although it could never be as sincere or as far reaching as my own feelings. The effect of long term observation was that every member of our team cared deeply for our mark, each in his or her own way. How could we not?
Lidia shot me with her eyes, but broke off the attack and headed for the house. Ray was examining me as I turned away from watching Ellery in the kitchen and the retreat of my enemy in the same sightline. To my great relief he looked genuinely pleased instead of angry or disappointed in me. We never spoke of it, but I knew he was aware of my feelings. His special gift for reading people worked as well on me as it had on any of the subjects of our CIA surveillance operations. Ray was in a class by himself in regard to this particular talent. Of course every hero has their kryptonite. His was called Lidia.
I was about to attempt an explanation but he cut me off.
“Don’t worry about it, Ash. We’ll work through it,” he said with a reassuring pat on my back. “In fact, it’s probably a good thing for her to meet her neighbors,” he added with a knowing grin.
I exhaled in relief and smiled back at him.
“Thanks Ray. I just—”
He cut me off again with, “No. No need to explain. We’ll figure things out tomorrow. Tonight let’s just have fun.”
The girls were transferring the food to the table now, so Ray and I began to drift in that direction. Ellery indicated for us to sit down, although she remained standing so that she could lift the lids off the food once we were seated around the table.
If I hadn’t seen her working in the kitchen and over the grill, I would have sworn the food in front of us had come from a restaurant. It looked and smelled absolutely wonderful, like something a gourmet chef had prepared. The surprise I was feeling was mirrored two ways as we looked at the food and then at each other.
Although her only influence here had been facilitating Ellery’s ability to transport herself safely to and from the store, Lidia had a look of pride on her face. So did Ellery, but at least hers was justified. After a brief and quiet interlude Ellery asked nervously, “Is something wrong?”
She took her seat at the spot with no place setting, as though she would only be watching us eat.
Ray spoke up.
“So, I’m guessing you’re not that serial killer known as the Teen Gourmet, are you?”
I felt a flare of anger with Ray. He was being reckless in testing the strength of her temporary departure from extreme shyness, built like a bridge made of precisely positioned playing cards over a chasm of insecurities and fears of rejection. Where was his heart?
My sentiments were uncharacteristically aligned with Lidia’s as she shot her husband a deeply displeased warning glare. Ray sensed he’d crossed an illegal boundary line and backpedaled quickly. Chuckling nervously he explained, “Well, it looks like you’re not planning to eat, and I was just curious about that.”
Ellery’s countenance had fallen by a mile, and my heart felt like it had been stepped on in the process. But she surprised me.
“Oh. There are four of us now, aren’t there? I’ll be right back. Or would you feel better if I did a safety taste test first?”
Her tone was light and teasing, not defensive or sarcastic as it rightfully should have been. She seemed so young and innocent, but there was no deficiency when it came to patience and maturity.
The crisis averted, we all laughed in unified relief. Ray and Lidia began to serve themselves. Ellery caught me staring at her and asked, “What can I get you to drink? There’s wine, beer, soda … or you could help me finish off the Kool-aid.”
She was funny, too. We all laughed at her joke. She rose to get herself a plate and utensils and we split a bottle of Cherry Coke. It was silly, but I wished that she and I could share the actual bottle. Instead she poured out our portions into separate ice filled glasses. For now it would just have to be another entry on a wish list of things I hoped to share with Ellery Mayne.
I was very impressed and pleased with our hostess and the successful dinner she had orchestrated for our enjoyment. She wasn’t mine to feel pride over, but I did any way. She had made huge strides in the last several months. I could see glimpses of them in her daily life, and putting on this meal, working to keep us entertained and happy at her table was proof that she had turned a corner. And I couldn’t be happier for her … or me.
When she stood to begin clearing the table I copied her motions quickly before anyone else could steal my opportunity to get close to her at the sink. Then I remembered who I was with and that it wouldn’t be a cause for concern.
Ray and Lidia stayed outside, talking quietly at the table and finishing off the bottle of wine, while I accompanied Ellery to the dishwasher. It was a high-end appliance that didn’t require any pre-rinsing nonsense from the user, and I’m certain that Ellery was aware of that, but she let me take up time doing it anyway.
She was quiet but glued to my side taking the dishes from me as I rinsed them, and loading them neatly into the machine. From my peripheral vision I could see that she was poring over me with her eyes. It felt wonderful. I wanted to be doing the same to her, but I knew it would make her self-conscious, so I just pretended not to notice and let her look without the embarrassment of being caught. Besides, I’d spent months doing that to her and she deserved a chance to play catch-up.
She had said very little while we worked, but then she cleared her throat, as if she was going to make an announcement.
“So about the Kool-aid.,” she began.
There was a pause as she ordered her thoughts.
“Well, it’s just that … I don’t … I mean wouldn’t ever … be allowed to have Kool-aid.”
Be allowed? What did she mean by that?
“I mean, I wouldn’t want to anyway. I don’t drink that stuff.”
She had a strange look now in her eyes, almost like regret. I’d seen inside the refrigera
tor as she put the leftover food away. There was ‘organic’ this and ‘all natural’ that on every shelf. It would seem that her mother was very health-conscious. That was nothing to be embarrassed about. I tried to put her at ease.
“So your mother is concerned about the negative effects that artificial colors and flavors might have on you? That sounds reasonable to me. It makes me wonder about the presence of Cherry Coke in your house, though.”
I had a feeling that the shopping trip from earlier this afternoon had featured a bit of life-style rebellion. She laughed quietly.
“Yeah, that’s contra-band too. I bought that at the grocery today. I bought all kinds of stuff I’m not supposed to have. But I’ve got seven days to consume all the evidence.”
She laughed self-consciously but a there was a funny little half-smile to go with it.
What was she thinking about?
“Let me know if you need any help with that,” I suggested.
I couldn’t look at her as I tried to lay the groundwork for a return invitation to this fantastic new place to eat with an absolutely irresistible proprietor that I had discovered. She smiled when I said this, looking half pleased and half embarrassed.
When I couldn’t drag the dishwashing out any further we moved back outside and she suggested that we try our hand at the game of skill called “Corn-Hole.”
She explained the rules in concise terms. Contestants toss small bags of dried corn toward a wooden target with a hole cut out in the center. Points are awarded based on the accuracy of the toss. A bag through the hole is worth three points. A bag on the box is worth one. Matching efforts by competitors cancel each other out. Alternating turns, each player gets a total of four throws. The game is played to twenty-one.
She watched as we each took practice throws, getting used to the weight of the bags and adjusting our throws to compensate for distance, direction and slide on the wooden targets.
I hadn’t seen her engaging in this activity since last summer, almost a year ago. She didn’t take any practice throws; she didn’t need any. I smiled inwardly as I tried to predict what shape her sharking ability would take in our game. My hopes were tarnished slightly when Lidia suggested a “girls versus boys” match-up. I didn’t mind losing to Ellery, and unless she intentionally threw it, we boys certainly would lose, but I hated the unjustified pleasure it would give Lidia to be on the winning team.
Lining up across the yard, Ray and Ellery competed on one side, and as usual, Lidia and I found ourselves battling each other on the other side. As we played Ellery held back, matching Ray’s throws, but not giving away her true talent at this endeavor. Not surprisingly, Lidia had absolutely no talent for this game. The majority of her throws were either just short or wide of the target. One time she landed on the box about an inch past the hole, scoring a single point for her team. My follow-up throw shoved her bag off the box as it pushed through the hole for a three point score. She was livid and cursed a stream of Italian obscenities under her breath.
The game was reaching its climax. Ray had just thrown a bag straight into the hole and was extremely pleased with himself. It would have made the score twenty-one points for the boys to the girls’ sixteen points. But then Ellery deftly erased his effort with her throw and rearranged the score to nineteen all. Ray choked on his final throw and his bag slid off the box and into the grass. It was at this point that Ellery’s imaginary dorsal fin came out and she tossed her last bag mockingly high into the air—nearly twice as high as any other throw of the evening. It landed smoothly and soundlessly in the hole, winning the game for the girls.
Just as I predicted, Lidia showed disproportionate enthusiasm and team spirit, considering she hadn’t scored any points what-so-ever, as she announced, “Girls twenty-two! Boys nineteen!”
She hopped over to where Ray and Ellery were standing and wrapped herself around her talented team-mate, excitedly kissing both her cheeks and cheering “We won! We won!” over and over, in case we men might forget.
Even if I were an exuberant and expressive Italian, I wouldn’t be able to get away with such a thing. Lidia was very tactile by natural, as Italians all seem to be born without the “personal space” gene, but I caught her glancing my way in the middle of her affectionate victory celebration, having resumed the offensive she’d abandoned before dinner. Her mocking expression shot at me like a spray of burning arrows, expressing multiple combative sentiments: I won and you lost—again. Ellery is mine and not yours—loser.
Lidia had managed to capture the heart of the man I viewed as a father figure. Ever since then, I found myself in continuous competition for his approval. In any other situation Lidia’s capricious, spoiled and predictable nature would have made her an easy foe to best. But she had always held the high card in our secret struggles: Ray’s blind devotion. This time things were different and she had no trump to play.
I smiled back at Lidia, imagining all her missiles bouncing harmlessly away like Nerf darts. A strong force field surrounded me now, its power generating from inside my mind with the vision of Ellery suggesting I join her for the evening, and the resulting elation in her expression when I accepted her invitation. It was my impenetrable shield of hope and happiness, and Lidia couldn’t touch me now. She looked confused and then irritated by my pleasant unperturbed non-verbal response. My presence here this evening—along with Ellery’s obvious enthusiasm for it—was the real victory tonight and Lidia knew it.
I had been standing across the yard from Ellery while we played. This suited me because I could stare at her while she concentrated on the game. She had perfect form and made winning at this aggravating endeavor look completely effortless. Knowing what to expect made it even more fun watching her.
I didn’t like losing, of course, but Ray definitely had it coming. I walked over to take advantage of an opportunity to touch her and shook her hand in sportsman-like congratulation, stealing a glance to return fire at Lidia in the process.
Ellery blushed and seemed suddenly very embarrassed. It must have dawned on her that I was aware of her true talents garnered through endless hours of practice here in the yard. Perhaps she realized that as her neighbor I’d seen her honing her skills. I worked to ease her discomfort about sharking us by commending her.
“That was well done. I think I should start practicing with you.”
I meant to be kind but then I wondered if she’d feel chastised by that statement. Apparently she wasn’t, because she responded, “I’d love that! Mom and Hoyt won’t play with me.”
I would play any game she wanted, especially the game of love, but in my version there would be no losers, only exceedingly happy, love-sick winners.
An Author’s Request
Did you enjoy Barefoot Heroine? If so I would deeply appreciate your support by leaving a brief review on the site of your preference. Your e-reader may even have a rating link after this page. Ratings, reviews and comments mean so much to authors, and I would be thrilled to hear your feedback. I hope you are looking forward to reading a new perspective in this series’ next installment: Mayne Attraction: In The Smoke!
Ann Mauren
Feeling Attracted?
You’ve just read a short story excerpt from the upcoming novel Mayne Attraction: In The Shadow, book three of the Mayne Attraction series as told from the perspective of surveillance expert Ash Ryan . If you haven’t read it already, you may enjoy book one, Mayne Attraction: In The Spotlight, which is told from the perspective of the series’ heroine and namesake, Ellery Mayne. You can read a preview of Ellery’s story on the page to follow.
If you would like to be notified when the newest books in this series are released, please visit www.MayneAttraction.com to register for “Mayne Attraction Updates.” While you are there be sure to check out excerpts from all three novels, bonus materials, and experience the sights and sounds of Mayne Attraction.
www.MayneAttraction.com
Mayne Attraction: In The Spotlight
After a foiled abduction attempt, Ellery Mayne realizes that an entire security detail has been shadowing her every move, protecting her from danger she didn’t know she was in. Working to uncover the secrets behind her elusive watchers, she carefully conducts her own surveillance, testing the limits of professionals who think she is clueless about them. Though they are hard to spot, their loyalty and care for her is not. When she finds a way to declare her feelings for one of her guards, he is blindsided with joy but fearful that his team will lose its lucrative security contract because of his relationship with the mark they’ve all come to love.
As secrets to the identity and intentions of the team’s mysterious employer begin to unravel, Ellery’s deeply buried affections resurface and battle with the love and loyalty she feels for her security team and her new love. Searching for answers and conscious that her choices will impact loved ones and guardian angels alike, Ellery finds that her life is ‘In The Spotlight’ and she is the ‘Mayne Attraction.’
Get your copy here:
Mayne Attraction: In The Spotlight
Coming Soon
Book 2 of the Mayne Attraction Series:
In The Smoke
Book Two of the Mayne Attraction Series, “In The Smoke,” continues the story from Grayson Gregory’s point of view. Pushed by his father to pursue Dr. Mayne's very young granddaughter, he unwittingly breaks her heart, though all he meant to do was give her time to grow up. When the multi-million dollar company he’s poised to inherit is threatened with a hostile takeover, it becomes clear that his interest in Ellery runs deeper than purely romantic attraction, and he battles with himself and his father to balance the line between love, livelihood, family and fortune.
Read excerpts here: