Author's note: Thank you for all of your lovely reviews; they keep me writing! Also, TigerArrowgirl, I'm honored that you're rereading my work, and I happily will write more from the world featured in Chapter 31: Give the Devil His Dewar's, once my muse cooperates. Thanks for the ask!
This was written for Klarosummer Bingo and is the sequel to Chapter 116 in my series, A Beautiful Symmetry. Mob boss Klaus didn't do crushes. The fact that Caroline hadn't responded to his dinner invitation didn't bother him in the slightest. But perhaps he should stop by...since he happened to be in the neighborhood.
Prompt: Jimmy Buffett songs
"He'd always been a man who followed his head and not his heart. The heart was just a bloody motor. The head was meant to drive."
― Mario Puzo
It was ludicrous how it started. Through a combination of misspelled key word searches in his browser and a bit too much 25-year-old scotch, Klaus accidentally stumbled upon Caroline's positivity blog. He immediately was intrigued by the stunning blonde and clicked on her videos, finding her optimistic messaging oddly enlightening. Perhaps even violent mob bosses needed positive affirmations. His current favorites that he often repeated to himself whenever business meetings became a bit...touchy were:
I matter and what I have to offer this world also matters.
I refuse to give up because I haven't tried all possible ways.
This day brings me nothing but joy.
Subscribing to Caroline's daily assurances emails had been a most satisfying (and somewhat foolish) decision. Every time his phone chimed with a notification, he fought to keep his expression impassive. But there were countless times Enzo nearly saw the affirmations, and while his right hand could be trusted for his discretion, Enzo's puckish side could not be denied and Klaus had no interest in trying to explain why the bubbly blonde had ensnared him.
Not that he understood it himself.
The fact that these rubbish feelings happened before he unexpectedly met Caroline only compounded the issue. Klaus was intrigued by how her bold impertinence dueled with an endearing nervous energy that day she asked for his assistance in retrieving her mother's ring. Her surprisingly sharp tongue teased him despite her wariness, and he very nearly asked her out in that moment, but instead he thought it prudent not to take advantage of her vulnerable state. Besides, a lady enjoyed being wooed.
At least that had been Klaus' experience — until Caroline. He'd gallantly dispatched his ungrateful employee, procuring not only Caroline's heirloom ring but also a souvenir from her attacker. He even had her ring polished. And yet, she hadn't responded to his generosity. Well, she'd sent a "thank you" note along with a cactus. But she hadn't addressed his dinner invitation — not a single word. It was bloody ungrateful.
The miniature cactus seemed to regard him smugly from the corner of his desk, driving him to distraction. Why did she send him a cactus? Her decidedly bland "thank you" message offered no insight. Klaus was passingly familiar with flower language; red roses symbolized romantic love and yellow roses meant friendship, but the cactus was a mystery.
Bollocks. He didn't have time for this nonsense. With an angry harrumph, Klaus returned to his laptop, analyzing the doctored warehouse bills of lading with a critical eye. His people were forgetting to properly note the shipment weight at both pickup and delivery. The least little mistake could alert the authorities to his organization's more unsavory activities. The first thing he needed to do was —
Maybe Caroline was sending the message that he was prickly? Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the tiny gray fuzz of the cactus, and snatched up the care instructions from the florist's shop. It indicated that the cactus needed bright sunlight and that it eventually would bloom yellow. Perhaps Caroline sent it to remind him of her? After all, she exuded a sunshine energy that he couldn't deny...
No. Focus. He was the most feared criminal mastermind in the south — possibly the nation — depending on which inept FBI agent currently was tasked with attempting to make charges stick. He refused to behave as a besotted schoolboy.
So, this bill of lading foolishness could be resolved if he put pressure on Councilwoman Parker since the docks were in her district and he was kind enough to quietly resolve that unsavory matter with her twin brother. He'd need to arrange a meeting out of the way of prying eyes and —
It was called a silver ball cactus — perhaps Caroline meant it as a cheeky innuendo? Rubbing a hand over the scruff of his unshaven cheeks, Klaus irritably typed on his laptop, doing a quick search for flower language related to a cactus. The cactus means tenacity, strength and endurance. A true survivor against adversity. He couldn't help the little purr of satisfaction at the idea that Caroline was fixated on his strength. Not to mention his endurance...
He slammed his laptop shut with a grumble and barked into his phone, "Enzo! Bring the car around — I've urgent business to attend to."
His hands were sweating. He commanded a legion of ruthless soldiers willing to burn the city to ash at his word. And his hands were sweating. Bollocks.
"You know, mate, at some point, sitting outside a girl's house crosses the line into lurking and possibly venturing into some light stalking," Enzo lazily observed with a sly grin.
Klaus huffed irritably, "I had business in the area and Caroline's house is on the way back to the Quarter."
"Right. We fought tourist-choked traffic to drive all the way across the bridge to bloody Algiers to confront Marcel about the cocked-up warehouse records."
Gritting his teeth, Klaus replied, "He required a strong reminder."
Enzo's grin widened as he cheekily reminded him, "You know damn well with one call that rat would've scurried across the river to beg your forgiveness in person."
Muttering under his breath, Klaus stormed out of the car, Enzo's amused chuckles following him to Caroline's porch. The quaint Victorian cottage was painted a bold purple with cheerful pink shutters, exuding all the bubbly personality of its owner. His scowl immediately melted when he heard her singing a medley of Jimmy Buffett songs through her open windows. In between delightful giggles, she waxed poetic about a cheeseburger in paradise, and enjoying a piña colada in the rain while looking for Margaritaville. Even after he rang the doorbell, she continued to hum those happy tunes as she answered the door.
A rosy blush immediately stained her cheeks as she stared, mouth adorably agape. She uncertainly gestured for him to come inside as she said, "Klaus! You're um...here?"
"I happened to be in the neighborhood," he replied, doing his best to adopt a casual tone. He noticed a mess of colorful braided strings in her fist and wryly asked, "but it seems I've interrupted arts and crafts?"
He observed how she twitched as she poured them both iced tea, as though she wasn't quite comfortable in her skin. He made her nervous. He took a certain amount of pleasure in this knowledge considering how the memory of their first meeting had driven him to distraction. It had been the briefest of moments, and yet he already had memorized the curve of her smile and the scent of her shampoo. Positively maddening.
"Oh! Um, I'm making friendship bracelets as a segment for my blog," she explained, "my friend Bonnie volunteers at this retirement home and we're going to do a fun workshop." Her lips twitched as she mumbled, "And...you heard me singing Jimmy Buffett songs..."
With a dimpled smirk, he teased, "I'm sure that's an integral part of your process, love."
"You'll just have to find out on my blog." Suddenly, her blue eyes widened and she blurted out, "Oh my god, that's right — you follow my blog! You're one of my followers! How did that even happen?!"
Klaus' voice went up an octave as he hurriedly replied, "Uh, blog? What blog?"
She pointed at him accusingly, "Seriously?! You knew my catchphrase! And don't you basically lie for a living — shouldn't you be better at it?"
He couldn't help but chuckle. Adorable yet defiant — was it any wonder he fancied her? Stop mucking about and ask her to dinner. You once overtook a rival crew with a near-empty Glock and the Feds shooting out the skylight. You can do this.
And then Klaus proceeded to sit quietly and drink his iced tea.
Caroline suddenly burst out, "So, is there like an app that's a mix of Facebook and LinkedIn for mob types? You know, something that draws boundary lines for territories and helps with networking?"
"Actually, my sister created the framework one time, but then our younger brother turned it into an app for nose fetishists. At the time, she was dating someone we nicknamed Pinocchio."
Her giggles were infectious, and they laughed together until Klaus realized he'd gotten caught staring too long. Again. Bloody hell — just ask her to dinner. But instead he blurted out, "Why did you send me a cactus?"
Caroline rolled her eyes, clearly taken by surprise as she rambled, "Well, it's not like there's etiquette rules just lying around for an appropriate gift to send a mob guy who returned my mother's ring and sent me my attacker's ring as a creepy souvenir —trust me, I checked! And if you Google 'mob guy gift', you get some freaky results. Did you know you guys are a fetish?! Seriously, there's a mob guy fetish!"
"I had an inkling," he teased with an impish wink. From the rosy shade of her cheeks, it seemed that Caroline might know a bit about that herself. "You eat dinner." Bollocks. He actually said that out loud. Wincing, he hastily added, "I mean, you could eat dinner. With me." Bloody brilliant. He can articulate his organization's entire power structure, precise firepower, safe houses, and even potential threats years in advance — but he can't string together a coherent thought around this woman.
She gaped at him, ice cubes clinking against her glass as her hand shook. "You — you were serious about that," she asked incredulously. "I thought you were just being flirty." At his amused huff, she shyly tucked a blonde curl behind her ear as she muttered, "You know, like hot mob guys probably do."
Klaus couldn't help the elated grin on his face at Caroline's words. "I'm most curious to hear what else you know about these 'hot mob guys', sweetheart."
Rolling her eyes, Caroline ignored Klaus' comment and instead retorted, "Yes, I like to eat dinner. Maybe even with you."
He finally understood the flower language of a cactus.
