"Amelia Walker, to Mr. Clark's office," came the call over the P.A. system.
Lenny Clark—Amelia's boss—with the ideal Hero in mind. In other words, not her.
"I'd better bring my bulletproof vest," Amelia sighed and headed for what would probably be the gazillionth confrontation she would have with Lenny. It's not that she hated the guy. After all, he hired her when no one else would.
"Come in, " Lenny barked once Amelia stood before his office. "And close the damn door."
Uh-oh.
She closed the door as Lenny glared at her, his brown eyes menacing beneath bushy gray brows. "What is this?" he said, standing up to his full 5'5" height and looking somewhat intimidating, in spite of it.
Amelia turned to the plasma TV with the Hero ranks flashing on screen - she wasn't loved this season, apparently. Lenny was having none of it.
"How in God's name are you going to redeem yourself in this… this competition!"
"I suppose I could add a bit of a smile here and there…"
"A smile!" His normally composed features flushed red. "You can't smile naturally if your life depended on it!"
"I haven't tried…" She protested weakly.
He threw his hands in the air. "I'm beginning to think you have no idea what it takes to be a Hero!"
— — — — — —
"Can you believe he said that? Okay, maybe I'm not good at saving people and sucking up to the sponsors, sure… but I love this job!" She paced the living room, occasionally glancing over at her pet cat and making sure the white Persian was listening.
Kisses meowed with exaggeration several times trying to get it through Amelia's head that he's just a cat, for crying out loud.
"I shouldn't get so worked up. It's not like he'll actually fire me, right?" Amelia asked, biting relentlessly on her thumbnail. Kisses stared at his empty bowl, currently annoyed as hell.
"I can't handle this!"
She grabbed fistfuls of her own hair. A hot shower and a bowl of ice-cream sounded appealing right then, but before she could indulge herself, the phone rang.
"What is it," Amelia snapped without even checking the caller ID. Seeing her mother pop up on the screen with a disapproving frown was enough to make her feel like the insecure child she once was.
"Hi Mommy," she waved awkwardly. Kisses ran round and round in a circle, and pawed Amelia's feet and clawed the air for her attention. When his attempts turned to be futile, he pounced on the couch and coiled himself like a spring with a mean, throaty, uncomfortable sound, half purr, half meow.
"I expect you to show your face next Thursday. It's called a family get-together for a reason."
There was something cowardly—and probably even tacky—about ducking out every Thursday for the past six months, but if she gazed at Connor one more time as if he was the only man in the world, she might completely lose her the subject, Amelia asked: "How was dinner?"
"It was a disaster," her mother, Sophie, replied. "Honestly, I would have expected for those boys to grow up now that they have kids of their own," A soft smile of delight sparkled in her old eyes despite complaining, and she laughed. "I can't tell child and grandchild apart!"
With a smile, Amelia remembered that Drake, a lawyer, and Danny, a Police officer, had never let her off the hook. All or nothing—that was their motto.
"I really wish you could have come," Sophie added. Amelia would rather have a root canal than sit across the table from Connor whom she no doubt would fall in love with over and over again.
"I'm sorry Mom," she said, a hint of sadness evident in her voice.
Sophie understood why her daughter behaved this way. Benjamin, her late husband, was responsible for putting Amelia through a fairly miserable childhood. Connor healed her mental scars little by little. She depended on him like a lifeline, and it snapped before she could recover.
"I understand, sweetheart. Whenever you're ready, you can always come home."
"Thanks Mom."
"By the way… are you seeing anyone?"
"I'm not looking for a boyfriend right now," Amelia informed her mother with a roll of her eyes. The wise woman sighed.
"You should try harder. The clock is ticking, and I don't want to see you waste away at work for the remainder of your life." The redhead pinched the bridge of her nose, said her goodbyes and hung up the phone.
After a short trip to the mall, she kept thinking about how she just spent sixty bucks on a pair of cute boots to lift her spirits.
And Connor Reynolds.
He wouldn't leave her thoughts.
She hadn't planned for this, but she couldn't help herself. Didn't matter that she hates the new Connor for his dismissal of a weak, vulnerable girl. Her head understood why he'd dumped her, but her heart had never gotten that memo.
Still, the longing for him had never gone away.
Amelia was so deep in thoughts behind the steering wheel that she failed to notice the smoke pouring from beneath the hood of her car. "Great," she muttered, climbing out and giving the front tire a half-hearted kick. "You just had to make my day worse."
She popped the hood and fanned the smoke that poured out. Amelia got out her phone and took a deep breath. Maybe she'd call Connor and see if—
"Need some help?"
A sleek, red convertible pulled up. She caught sight of the driver—broad shoulders, wavy blonde hair and a pair of glasses. Her face paled and she nearly dropped her phone. "Today just got worse..."
She'd have thrown a party with balloons and confetti if it had been a deranged madman rather than Barnaby.
"Let's see what I can do."
Barnaby stopped beside her and peered at the hissing metal parts beneath the hood, giving her a whiff of his cologne. The smell reminded her of champagne and other rich people stuff.
"I'm pretty sure it's your radiator," he said.
"And I'm pretty sure I got a checkup on my car a week ago, so it's not that," she said smartly, stuffing her phone in her pocket.
Barnaby narrowed his eyes.
"I can just up and leave you with that foul attitude of yours."
Before she could put together a string of perfect curses, though, a familiar someone emerged from across the street.
"Amelia?" The voice sounded shocked. She turned to find Connor approaching her. He gave her a wobbly smile. "My God, it's been far too long since we last spoke. How are you?"
She didn't respond.
Barnaby noticed her discomfort but did nothing about it; she treats him no better than the dirt on the bottom of her shoe. She deserved this.
Amelia smiled carefully. Barnaby couldn't help but think: why is she smiling like a knife-wielding psycho?
"I'm doing great," she said as nonchalantly as she could manage, watching him as he laughed, and a familiar feeling stirred inside her—that old longing for the boy she'd pushed down the slide when they were both four years old, her grade school sweetheart, her high school boyfriend.
He was gorgeous, to his unruly black curls, to the banked fire of his cobalt gaze. He was the only guy she'd ever kissed, the only guy who has the power to make her entire disastrous day one hundred percent better.
Barnaby surveyed her through his glasses with a bored stare.
"Will you show up next week? For dinner? I'd hate to miss you."
Amelia laughed nervously. "Of course!" she said, with another uneasy twitter.
"Great! And if your friend can spare the time—"
"We'll be there!" she interrupted before Barnaby could possibly decline. Something inside of him snapped; he wanted to grab Amelia by the shoulders and shake her until her teeth rattled.
"She's not my friend," he managed to say without losing his temper.
"I see," Connor looked embarrassed. "You're quite the possessive boyfriend, aren't you?"
"See you at dinner!"
Connor nods and hurried down the street. The clacking of his shoes echoed the blood pulsing in Barnaby's ears. She stared at him, not moving a muscle and hearing his heavy breathing.
"I'll text you the info shortly," Amelia said, with a sigh. "Don't worry. It's gonna be fun."
"I won't be used as an accessory to make you look good in front of your family, your friends. All because you have an unhealthy infatuation with that man."
"It's not like that."
"No? Then help me understand why you would frame me like this."
"Okay, it's exactly like that," Amelia confessed. "Just please, do me this one favor and I'll stay out of your way. It's not like I want to be paired up with you, so this isn't exactly the ideal situation for me, either."
Barnaby squints his eyes. Well, then.
"Hey, can you give me a ride home?" she asked.
"You can walk."