Struck by Lightning. Christa Maurice

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СКАЧАТЬ hello again.”

      The voice sizzled through every nerve ending in her body. The hero. As morose as she’d been lately it might be nice to have a distraction. She turned and smiled at him. “Hello, hero.” Her memory had not recast him in the least. The precise set and mold of his features had apparently been burnt into her mind by the lightning.

      “I thought maybe you had melted in the rain.” He leaned against the counter beside her.

      “No, I’m drip dry.” Had he intended to let her know that he’d been looking for her or had he slipped? He was making it far too easy again. Billy hurried up to the register with a bag.

      “Here it is, here it is.” He studied the register keypad for a moment before punching in the correct numbers. “It’s four dollars and eighteen cents.”

      “Did you add in my milk shake, Billy?”

      “Milk shake?”

      “You were going to make me a chocolate milk shake with peanut butter, remember?”

      “Oh yeah. I forgot. I’m sorry.”

      “It’s okay, Billy. You can still make it. Just make sure you charge me for it.”

      The hero seemed disconcerted by Billy. When Billy had brought her lunch, the other man had stood up as if he wanted to get distance between them. Billy never noticed when people did that, but Rebecca did. She waited until Billy had fixed her total and hurried back to the kitchen to make her milk shake before she spoke. “He’s a good guy.”

      “Who?” the hero asked.

      “His name is Billy. He’s just a little slow. It isn’t catching.”

      “I-I know,” he stammered. “I’ve talked to Billy before. I like him.”

      Rebecca bit her lip. Maybe she’d misjudged him. “He makes great milk shakes,” she offered.

      “I’ll have to try one next time.”

      Next time? So he planned to hang around Meechan’s more often. He was letting a lot slip here. She considered seizing the opening he’d given her, but Billy was running toward her holding her milk shake out in front of him.

      “Here it is, here it is. Walt said I could give you a big one because I forgot it first.”

      Rebecca smiled at Billy. “Thank you, Billy, and tell Walt I said thank you too.”

      “When are you going to come back and draw stories some more?”

      Rebecca stood stunned for a moment, staring at him. How had he even remembered that? For a while last year she’d come in with a sketch pad and told fairy tales while illustrating them for her audience. She’d often received enough in tips to cover her meal. That had been before she’d realized she could never make any money as an illustrator, before the gallery and the big sell out to fine art. She smiled, feeling sadness weight the corners of her mouth. “I’m surprised you remember, Billy. Maybe I will come draw stories for you some more.”

      “I hope you do. I liked the pictures you drew. Bye.” He turned away because he was finished with the conversation even if she wasn’t. Max called it hanging up in person.

      Rebecca gathered up her bag and shake and walked out.

      “So, are you an artist?”

      Rebecca looked up at the hero. He’d followed her out of the restaurant. No surprise if he’d been hunting her for a month. “After a fashion.”

      “I’d like to see some of your work.”

      She pressed the button for the walk signal and centered her attention on him. If he made this too easy, it wasn’t going to be any fun. “I think that can be arranged.” She sipped her milk shake, keeping her eyes focused on his. The light changed and she started across the street with the hero at her heels.

      “I didn’t catch your name last time. I’m Dan.”

      “Hmm. A pleasure, Dan.” She didn’t look at him because she didn’t want to see his reaction, or lack of one, to her sarcastic tone. He really was making this too easy. “My name is Rebecca.”

      “Rebecca,” he repeated like he was testing it. She wondered if it rang true for him. “So do you work around here, Rebecca?”

      She stopped at the door and inserted the key in the lock. Behind her she heard his soft “oh.” The door swung open and she stepped inside. It felt cooler now, but that probably had more to do with the temperature on the street than the temperature in the building. She set her lunch bag on the desk, trying to close her sketchbook without alerting him to it. Wouldn’t do to have him learn she’d become obsessed with him. She turned around, expecting him to be right behind her.

      But he wasn’t. He was standing on the step, staring at the window.

      “Hey hero, are you coming in?” She walked around the desk and settled into the chair to eat. The food, even the coveted milk shake, didn’t have the same appeal anymore. Had to be the heat. Couldn’t be the guy. Guys never made her go all simpery and unable to eat.

      The hero stepped through the door. His eyes were scanning the walls, so she took the opportunity to study him. No, her memory hadn’t changed his features in the least. He had an almost cartoon-like perfection. Like he’d just stumbled out of a Disney movie. Rebecca looked down, forcing herself to focus on spreading out her lunch. Billy’s comment about her drawing stories was throwing her, making her all mushy-headed. This guy was just entertainment. She’d also better stop thinking about Disney movies while she was at it because all that brought to mind was Princess Jasmine’s squeaky voice saying, “I choose you!” at the end of Aladdin.

      “So what do you think?” she asked just before biting into her burger.

      He nodded at one of Bess’s landscapes. “Nice.”

      “That one’s not mine.” She pointed at the latest Broken Home. “That one’s mine.”

      Had he winced as he turned to the piece? If he was slavishly obsessed with her, he would tell her how brilliant she was. Then she’d really be able to relegate him to toy status. She couldn’t enter a relationship with a dimwit who didn’t know bad art when it was hanging right in front of his face. And why was she thinking about a relationship anyway? She had a career to promote. No time for relationships.

      “It’s interesting,” he finally said, turning away from the piece. “Billy said you drew.”

      “I do.” She picked up a jojo and shoved it in her mouth, burning the roof for her trouble. She didn’t want to slip and let him know she held her own crap in contempt. She slurped milk shake to cool off her mouth and created a decidedly nasty flavor. She hoped Billy didn’t drink milk with jojos.

      “Are any of these drawings yours?”

      She shook her head and swallowed. “No, the landscapes are all Bess’s. I only do high art.”

      “Is that what it’s called?” He sauntered over to the desk and leaned his hip against it, obviously trying to overwhelm СКАЧАТЬ