Chapter 5: Butterflies Erupt
1063 Words
After all is said and done, more is said than done. -Aesop
Deep and robust voices boom. They bounce off the walls.
Cocking my head to the side, I stare across the room.
Two men argue. One - a blond businessman wearing a suit - is standing with a pinched scowl. The other - dark-headed in jeans and a maroon button-down shirt - is sitting at the table with his back to me. I can't hear what they're discussing, but at least they've lowered their voices.
Grabbing more files, I shove them into Stephen's briefcase. It's then I notice an odd-looking envelope marked JAH. My mother's name instantly comes to mind.
Perhaps it's information about her death. I have to know.
Clasping the file with a firm grip, I slide it out of the inner pocket of the case.
My heart starts a steady cadence, thumping in my chest
Grasping the orange-colored string, I unhinge the clasp.
My pulse quickens. This could be it. This document could contain everything I've ever wanted to know about my mother.
I peer into the opened pouch. There are various documents enclosed. If there's any information that can tell me about my mother, I want to know.
"Here, let me help you." A feminine voice breaks my concentration.
My head snaps up. The waitress picks up a handful of files. She sets them down inside the briefcase. Leaning over the round table, I wrap my fingers around the teacup, lifting it off the table. The waitress wipes down the wet surface.
"I'm sorry about the mess."
"It happens all the time. Don't worry about it." Her eyes widen, then she gasps. "Look out."
Footsteps echo behind me.
Spinning around, I come face to face with the blond-headed man. The forward motion of his body slams into me, knocking me to the floor.
The envelope flies from my hand, then sails across the smooth tile, and the teacup shatters into several pieces.
The businessman has a dazed and confused expression. I wonder if my face mirrors his.
Movement causes deep-seated pain to shoot up my leg, making me wince.
A pair of scuffed brown boots step into view.
Dark brown curls frame the owner of the boot's face. "I'm sorry." He extends a hand, helping me to my feet.
Bearing weight on my right foot causes another wave of pain at the base of my ankle, only this time, it's sharp. I utter a high-pitched groan, then stumble backward.
He wraps an arm around my waist, drawing me to his lean frame. "Are you hurt?" His gray eyes appraise me.
"I um . . ."
"What the hell are you doing?" The blond-headed man's voice contains an angry scruff to it. "This is a place of business. Not a f*****g free-for-all." He remains slumped on the floor.
"Aaron, I already told you, it's not for sale."
The deep, throaty rumble of his voice reverberates in his chest. It makes my stomach flip-flop.
"You are nothing but a worthless piece of s**t," says the dark-headed man. "If I ever catch you or any of your guys out on my property again trying that crap, or if I find out you had anything to do with the robbery, I'll shoot you myself for loitering."
"Anyone ever tell you, you're one crazy son of a b***h?" Aaron grinds his teeth.
I turn my head to get a better view.
The man must be at least six feet, and his eyes appear feral.
He releases me, and I take a few unsteady steps back and almost fall. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he guides me to a chair nearby.
"Are you okay?" His deep voice softens.
"I-I think so."
Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention.
Aaron lunges forward.
"No." I shift my body to the right, gritting my teeth.
"Looking for another round?" The grey-eyed man redirects Aaron's approach, sending him crashing to the floor once again. "We can take this outside if you prefer, but I meant what I said. Step foot on my property again with those papers, and I'll shoot you myself. And I won't think twice about it."
"You're an ass." Aaron storms out of the restaurant, blotting his bloody nose.
The waitress offers her hand; I take a step and grimace. Stabbing pain shoots up my leg.
Damn. My ankle is throbbing.
I reach down to touch the tender, puffy inner flesh of my skinned ankle and soon wish I hadn't because it sends another shock wave of pain up my leg.
"Are you okay, darling?" An elderly lady, sitting at a table nearby, turns her chair for a better view.
"Yes, I think so." I sit. "I just need a minute to regain my bearings. I'll be fine."
"Okay, but if you need something, you let me know."
The man kneels in front of me. I stare at his dark wavy hair and wonder what it would feel like to run my fingers through each cascading lock.
Wow, where did that thought come from? Get a grip and stop gawking.
"May I?" He lifts my leg. "I'm a doctor, well, a vet."
Slipping off my sandal, he takes my ankle in his hands, pressing on the sensitive skin. His touch is tender, and his warm fingers send an electrical charge up my leg.
"It doesn't appear broken. I think it's just a light sprain."
He glides his hand up my leg. Flexing my knee, he applies pressure. He's close enough I can smell his hair, and honestly, he smells as good as he looks.
Geez, what am I thinking? I don't even know this guy. I inhale.
Butterflies erupt in my stomach.
"Did I hurt you?" His hand trails up the back of my calf. "Does this hurt?"
Goose bumps wash up and down my leg under the warmth of his touch. I open my mouth, but I'm speechless.
Great, now I've lost the ability to speak.
"Put ice on it for a few days."
He rises. Our eyes remain locked. Soon, another man wearing boots, who murmurs something about time, joins him.
The gray-eyed man nods. He glances down at me one more time with a smile that brightens his eyes.
Walking with the waitress, he hands her a business card, glances at me once more, and then leaves.
- Writer
