Cutting Loose (3 page)

“You should go with the Rosé.”

She jumped a little and turned in the
direction of the stranger’s voice, ready to tell him off for scaring her half
to death. Heat rushed to her cheeks at the first sight of him. He was a few
inches taller than her with broad shoulders, tanned skin. He was wearing a taught
T-shirt to show off his rock-hard biceps with the words “Bite Me” scribbled in
bold red letters, a pair of dark jeans.

“Excuse me?” she heard herself say,
grasping the bottle of wine she was holding with a much tighter grip as the
handsome stranger slowly began to advance towards her.

“Rosé,” he repeated. “It’s pretty good;
one of my favorites actually.” By now he had pushed his shopping cart to the
side and grabbed a bottle of red wine from the shelf. “If you don’t mind my
asking, are you going to be cooking with it or just mellowing out?”

“I-I, um,” she stuttered on as she found
herself caught up in his green-eyed gaze. Her eyes fell down to his lips—luscious
lips, that she wouldn’t mind sucking on any night. Damn. She couldn’t believe
she was getting this worked up over some stranger. She was about to say
something and saw his lips turn into a smile. Then he started laughing…at her?

Instantly she began to think he was
laughing at her, but hell, what did she do that was so funny? Maybe it was the
fact she forgot how to talk for a moment or so. She put the wine back on the
shelf, grabbed her cart and hauled off, not giving a damn about him murmuring
something like, “Hey, wait. Aren’t you forgetting something?”

She disregarded it and kept on walking.

That was it. She was done shopping. She
didn’t even care about the old lady whom she accidentally hit in the ankle with
her cart as she jumped in line for the next available cashier. What was her
issue? Did she really think it was time for her to be dating? Not really. There
was so much to do at work and there was no way she would have an ounce of time
to spare for a relationship, no matter how much she missed the feeling naked
flesh pressed next to hers…or the scent of man after making passionate love
and--

“I see somebody’s a little impatient.”

She snapped out of her thoughts to see
him
again. He had a smirk on his face that made him look sexy as hell but infuriating
at the same time. “Oh, it’s you again,” she said flatly. “What do you want?”

He reached into his cart and handed her
a bottle of pink rosé wine. “You left this back there and thought I’d track you
down.”

She reluctantly took the bottle and
placed it in her cart. “Happy now?” she asked sarcastically, cocking her head
to the side.

His chest rumbled with a laugh. “Sure.”

She rolled her eyes and turned her
attention back to the line in front of her where a woman old enough to be her
great grandmother was taking her sweet time counting a bunch of pennies from
her purse and handing them to a young, young-looking cashier.

Eventually Sabrina pushed her cart
forward once the old woman departed and the line moved up. “Hi. Long day?” the
cashier asked Sabrina, noticing the strained look on her face.

“Yes. I hate coming to the grocery store.
Way too many people in one place.”

“Don’t we all?” she said as she began
scanning some items and bagging them. “I swear it’s the worst part of being
single. I wish I had a man to do all my cooking and shopping for me.” She
laughed at the ridiculous request.

“I second that,” added the guy from
behind her.

Sabrina and the cashier both exchanged
empty looks before looking in his direction to see him looking confused yet
amused. She didn’t pay him any mind and turned back to the cashier, who was
looking at her pleasantly.

“That’ll be forty-eleven,” the cashier
announced, looking at Sabrina expectantly.

Sabrina dug into her purse for her
wallet and was about to lose her mind when she couldn’t find it. Where the hell
did I put that thing? She asked herself curiously. This could not be happening.

“Funny thing. I accidentally left my
wallet in the car. I could have sworn I brought it with me.” Great. Now
everybody behind her was looking at her as if she became the old lady who was
there a while ago taking too long. “Can I leave my stuff here and run to my car
really quick?”

The cashier frowned and said, “Ma’am, as
much as I’d like to do that, I can’t hold up the line.”

“It’s only going to take me like five
minutes. I parked right in the front.”

The cashier shook her head from side to
side. “I’m so sorry.”

“Damn it!” she shouted, slamming her
purse into the shopping cart. She could feel the blood began to boil under her
skin. She looked really ridiculous standing in line trying to argue with a
cashier when all she wanted to do was run to her car and get her damn wallet.

Just when she thought things were going
to go from bad to worse, the guy who had been bothering her spoke up yet again.

 “I have an idea: I’ll lend you the
money and you can pay me back later. No big deal.” He produced a crisp hundred
dollar bill and handed it to the cashier.

Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. Or
maybe he was a serial killer pretending to be nice guy so he could lure her to
her car, drug her, and do God knows what else.

Sleep deprivation had her mind reeling.

“Thank you,” she grumbled, doing
everything in her power not to look the stranger in his eyes. She didn’t need
to fall in love in a damn grocery store. How pathetic? Disaster averted, she
rushed to the parking lot to find her car and ironically lost control of the
cart. She tried to grab it, but it sped away from her and crashed into the side
of a silver Audi that was parked close to her Benz. She didn’t realize the
damage until she pulled the cart away from the car and saw a white nick about
three inches long. It was pretty damn noticeable.

“Are you fucking serious?” she said
aloud, slamming her hand against her forehead. Her day was turning into a damn
disaster! Why of all days did this have to happen to her today of all times?
She inspected the nick on the car and tried to come up with a quick estimate as
to how much she was going to have to come out of her pockets to get it fixed.
She thought about running away and doing what a part of her was telling her to
do and be done with it. But she was too damn nice and was always thinking about
stupid stuff like what if it was her car that got nicked ant the idiot who was
responsible ran off like a coward? She would really be pissed.

It was times like these she wished she
could be like Larissa and her fuck-the-world attitude. If it was Larissa, she
would just walk to her car and drive home and pretend nothing ever happened.
But she wasn’t like Larissa; they were total opposites like salt and pepper;
while Sabrina was always quick to apologize when she was in the wrong, Larissa
would just say “Fuck it” and move on. She was almost emotionless, never the
type to wear her emotions on her sleeve. Some would call her a bitch, but she
didn’t give a damn about anyone but herself. There was nothing wrong with that.

She hurried to her car and put away her
groceries. She scrounged around for her notepad and miraculously found her
wallet in the console. Luckily she had her checkbook in there as well and
grabbed it.

She walked back to the car and stood
there for a quarter of a second and found herself seeing the same guy who paid
for her groceries walking towards her with his shopping cart. He caught her
gaze and just as she thought he was going to keep walking, he heart leapt into
her throat when he parked his cart a few inches from where she stood.

“Okay, this is weird,” he said, an
amused expression playing on his handsome features. “Don’t tell me you’re a
psychic. Are you?”

“You’re kidding, right?” This was not
the time to be playing games. All she wanted was to go home and relax—maybe
even cry some more.

“Not at all. I was just saying because,
there was no way you could know this is my car.”

Sabrina cut straight to the chase. “The
damn cart got away from me and this just happened to be your car.”

He waited a beat. “So, you hit my car
with your cart?”

For a quick second she thought about
trying to flirt her way out of it and see how far she would get. She did it before.
She said to him, “Yeah, basically.” She opened her checkbook. “How much do I
owe you on top of the forty?”

“I don’t know,” he said moving closer to
get a better look at the damage. “I guess three hundred ought to do it I’d hate
to get my insurance company involved.”

“Okay. And who do I make this check out
to?”

“Brett Deltour.”

She filled out a check and handed it to
him. “Well, um, Brett, I hope you have a good one.” She turned to walk away and
heard what sounded like paper being ripped into pieces. She turned around to
see the idiot doing just that to the check. “Why the hell did you do that?”

He boldly stepped closer to her. “I
don’t want your money.” He paused and added, “I just want a minute of your
time.”

“Why is that?”

“Maybe I think you’re cute and I would like
to take you to dinner sometime.”

She couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
After a minute or so of the giggles, she said, “I’m sorry for laughing. But, I
hardly know you.”

Brett reached into his pocket and pulled
out a business card. He held it towards her and said, “If you ever change your
mind, give me a call.”

She reluctantly took the card, just to
make him feel like he actually had a chance. “Yeah, maybe.”

He smiled and said, “Hope to see you
again soon, Sabrina.” He smiled and as he began to leave, Sabrina pretended she
didn’t feel a tingle in her spine all the way to her toes. She hadn’t felt such
a sensation since…

As quick as she could, she walked to her
car as if she hadn’t heard a single word he said or took a mental snapshot of
his dazzling smile. If only that were true.

Chapter Four:

‘Cause I’m a
B-O-S-S

Good morning, Ms. Evans!” her perky
secretary Raquel greeted the moment she stepped off the elevator, wearing a big
smile on her face as usual. “Today is going to be brutal.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Well, you have a ton of messages on
your voicemail, I left some memos on your desk, um, Camille is calling a
meeting to discuss the cover of the next issue and I think that’s it.” She
handed her a folder and asked, “Would you like some coffee?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“No problem, Ms. Evans. I’ll be right
back.”

She walked to her spacious office;
everything was so bright with the ceiling-to-floor windows and a gigantic view
of downtown Miami, the white furnishings like her chase and her wingback chair
stood out amongst the splash of red and black décor that was arranged around
the place.

 She sat behind her oval-shaped desk
cluttered with a pile of paperwork in her box labeled in/out, next to that was
her seventeen-inch flat panel LCD computer monitor, a keyboard and a phone. She
also had a couple of framed pictures scattered over the desk, which now had
some freed up space now since she tossed away ones that had pictures of her and
Carl together.

She didn’t have a chance for him to
evade her memories when her phone starting ringing off the hook. “Sabrina
Evan’s office,” she answered in her most professional voice.

“Hello, Sabrina. I assume you got the
memo about the eight-thirty meeting?” It was her co-worker/half-sister from
hell Camille, and she didn’t sound mad or angry as usual.

She opened the folder her assistant
Raquel handed to her and found the memo staring her dead in the face.
“Actually, I was just getting around to it. I’m heading to the conference room
now.”

“Great. Oh, and Sabrina, make sure you
bring your A-game. We really need this account. See you in a few.”

She took a moment to collect her
thoughts. She had completely forgotten about the cosmetic company that was
doing and ad in their magazine and it was up to Sabrina to put together an
appealing pitch that would make them want to use their magazine at an
affordable and reasonable price and if not, they were going to take their
millions to some other magazine. And since
Fabulous
was amongst the
top-selling fashion magazines in the world, there was a lot riding on her
shoulders.

But that was the price she paid as being
co-editor-in-chief ever since her mother retired and made her half-sister the
new editor-in-chief and bumped Sabrina up from creative director.

The job wasn’t too bad except it consumed
the majority of her time and she always found herself going home with a big
headache at the end of the day. She honestly couldn’t believe how her mother
put up with twenty-three years of this madness; dealing with hundreds of
clients, some worth millions of dollars, some worth billions. Sabrina didn’t
dream of working for a billion-dollar magazine company when she was younger.
She always wanted to be a journalist or something close to it. And then there
was her love of fashion ever since she laid eyes on the way her mother used to
dress back in her younger days and how her stepfather even dressed like a
well-put together guy thanks to her mother.