Seeing Trouble (4 page)

Nearly Departed in Deadwood – Final Cover

Candy Lover

A Very Short Story from the Ann Charles’ Vault

“I want a lover,” Candy announced.

Larry nearly choked on his corndog.

Candy pushed a strand of ash-blonde hair out of her face and tipped her head to the side, her expression thoughtful. “Someone who will accept me for who I am.”

She stared across the midway at an old man leading his wife toward the grand stand and sighed. The hot afternoon sunlight reflected off the pool half-f of floating rubber ducks next to her balloon-dart carnival booth, the rays shimmering on her smooth, tan cheeks.

Larry wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and frowned at Candy. “You’re pregnant.”

Candy grinned at him. “Only seven months.”

Adjusting the straps of her dark pink sundress, she focused on the two teenagers who’d stepped up to her counter. Their fingers were entwined, their gazes starry, as if cupid had just knocked their heads together. Candy handed the boy three darts.

A drop of sweat rolled down the middle of Larry’s back as he watched the kid throw the first dart. Moving up next to Candy, Larry reached for her as she wavered on her feet. He needed to buy a couple of fans for her. The summer heat roiling off the blacktop couldn’t be good for her or the baby.

He helped her sit on the stool next to the helium tank. “Sweetheart, you’re so pregnant you can’t even see your own shoelaces,” he said for her ears only.

Pop! Pop! Pop!
The kid nailed three balloons.

“Winner winner, chicken dinner!” Candy called out.

The kid’s girlfriend squealed and clapped, pointing at the green stuffed frog hanging on the wall.

Candy used Larry’s shoulder to push herself up on her feet again. “Yeah, but some men find pregnant women attractive, don’t they?” she asked, grabbing a broom handle with a hook at the end. The frog fell after two nudges. Larry bent down and picked up the frog for her. She took it and handed it to the young girl, watching with an almost wistful smile as the kids walked away, arms around each other, hands in each other’s back pockets.

When Larry moved to her side, she looked up at him and asked again, “Don’t they, Larry?”

Larry shifted under the weight of her gaze. The gold flecks circling her brown irises seemed to sparkle in the sunlight, mesmerizing him. The heat roiling from the blacktop in front of her booth knocked him back a step. He pulled a rag from his pants pocket and wiped the sweat off his neck.

Across the way, a group of young boys eyed his fake rifles. Maybe it was time to return to his shooting range booth. “I s’pose some do, Candy.”

“Then how hard can it be for me to find a lover?”

Grimacing, Larry said, “Why now? Why can’t you wait for a couple of more months?”

“Months?” Candy laughed and nudged him with her hip. The smell of her raspberry-scented shampoo mixed with the sweet aroma of Candy made him gulp.

“Come on, Larry,” she said, rubbing her hand over her round stomach. Her eyelashes looked white-blonde in the sunlight. “Do you think that just because I’m pregnant I don’t want to have sex? That I don’t miss being in a man’s arms, waking up next to someone, being touched and stroked until I howl at the moon? I may be pregnant, but I’m not dead.”

Touched and stroked
… Damn, he didn’t want to think about Candy and sex in the same sentence—not about kissing the smooth, silky skin stretched across her swollen stomach; and definitely not about touching her full, round breasts that were cresting the top of her sundress. He needed to get away from her before he did something stupid that fucked up their friendship.

“Listen, Candy, your sex life is none of my business, but I don’t think it would be good for your bab—”

“Never mind, Larry,” Candy cut him off and turned her back on him. She waddled over to the helium tank and pulled a balloon out of her pocket.

Larry shrugged, hopped over her counter, and cut through the crowd to his booth.

“Damned woman,” he muttered and hurdled his own counter.

He’d known Candy for four months now. He’d watched her blossom from a slender, cute girl into a lush, curvy woman. The asshole who’d knocked her up had been a carnie, too, but he’d left the company before Larry had signed on. What kind of a piece of shit would leave Candy and their baby all alone and never even look back?

Larry had kept to himself the first few weeks on the job, pretending not to notice Candy’s tears that fell only when she thought nobody was watching. But then one evening the soft tinkling sound of her laugh had drawn him across the walkway to see what had her so tickled. Later that evening, long after he’d felt the baby moving under her skin, she’d asked him to sit with her outside of her camper and watch the meteor shower. He’d surprised himself by agreeing.

The next week, she’d come over to his counter carrying an elephant ear and split it with him, wiping the powdered sugar off his beard stubble when they finished.

The week after that, he’d offered to drive her to her doctor’s appointments. She’d insisted on cooking him breakfast in return as payment. No mortal man could resist her homemade blueberry pancakes, especially when served with her double dimpled-smile.

The sun slipped behind a cloud and Larry glanced over at Candy’s booth. His gaze locked on a slick-dressed, leather vested hotshot with greased-back hair leaning on Candy’s counter. Whatever the shithead was saying had those dimples showing.

Bile burned his throat. What was wrong with her, flirting so obviously, so wantonly? Where was her pride? He kicked at the shotgun closest to him and knocked it off its holder.

Larry turned away from the two of them. Like he’d said before, Candy’s sex life wasn’t his business, nor did he have time to watch out for her if she was going to pursue this finding-a-lover bullshit. Besides, he had a booth to run for the next few months until the season ended. After that, he had to fly home to reality, where the day-to-day stress of running his family’s construction company made him pop antacids like Tic-Tacs.

Why should he care who she screws?

He pulled his emergency half-empty pack of cigarettes from the shelf under the counter and tapped one into his hand. He’d quit smoking when he’d tagged his brother to take his place running the family business and signed on as a traveling carnie. Until today, he hadn’t felt the need to light up. He wasn’t even sure where he’d left his lighter.

Candy giggled again, the soft sound enticing his glance her way. His gut twisted. The son of a bitch had his lips on her wrist.

Dragging his eyes away, he stared down at the cigarette in his hand. Why did he care so much about who she had sex with? His mind drifted, imagining what it would be like to peel off her sundress one strap at a time, to see the sweat glistening on her ripe body, to touch…

Oh, God, he had to think of something else, like the subcontractors who always came in twenty percent over estimate, or delivery trucks that never showed up on time, and inspectors who wanted something under the table before they’d give their approval.

He paced across his booth and back. The damned woman had to be ten years his junior. He had no business thinking of her as more than the friend she’d become, more than a woman about to bring a child into this world on her own with no man to help.

His gaze snuck back across to where she stood, fanning herself under the sun’s rays.

The memory of sitting next to her on her counter weeks ago while sharing a bag of doughnut holes played through his thoughts. She’d smelled like the vanilla milkshake she’d spilled down her mini-dress, her laughter infectious. When she leaned back on her palms and her dress inched up her legs, he’d noticed how the freckles on her thigh formed a “C.” The urge to trace the letter and then explore what else she was hiding under her dress had sucked all of his breath from his lungs. He’d launched himself off the counter so fast, he’d practically fallen on his ass at her feet.

Across the way, the asshole tugged Candy down to whisper in her ear, her breasts threatening to fall out of her dress. Her sweet giggle scraped over Larry’s nerves.

“No fucking way is this going to happen,” he said and threw the cigarette down. Vaulting over his counter, he plowed through the crowd and yanked Candy’s arm away from the asshole’s grip.

He climbed over her counter and stood in front of her, the rapid rise and fall of his chest had nothing to do with the afternoon heat.

Candy looked up at him, her eyes narrowing. “What are you doing, Larry?”

“You’ve found him,” he said and pulled her close. Her hard stomach rubbed against his, her shoulders soft and smooth under his palms. Cupping her face, he lowered his mouth to hers, starting off slow, gentle, afraid of hurting her.

But then she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, frenzied and hard, moaning his name against his lips.

“Candy,” he groaned and fed the need that had grown with each passing day he’d watched her blossom, each shared laugh, each brush of her skin against his. Jesus, she tasted so damned sweet.

When he lifted his lips and looked into those golden-lashed eyes, Candy grinned up at him. “What took you so damned long?”

Boney Wild Bill for
Ann’s Deadwood webpage

About the Author

Ann Charles is an award-winning author who writes romantic mysteries that are splashed with humor and whatever else she feels like throwing into the mix. When she is not dabbling in fiction, arm-wrestling with her children, attempting to seduce her husband, or arguing with her sassy cat, she is daydreaming of lounging poolside at a fancy resort with a blended margarita in one hand and a great book in the other.

Connect with Me Online:

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Twitter (as Ann W. Charles):
http://twitter.com/AnnWCharles

Twitter (as Deadwood Violet):
http://twitter.com/DeadwoodViolet

My Main Website:
http://www.anncharles.com

My Deadwood Website:
http://www.anncharles.com/deadwood

The Hessler House - for
Ann’s Deadwood webpage