CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER THREE
NOAH
Saturday morning and I wake up early to run in the park. My brother Blake is waiting for me in front of our building. We each occupy a floor with our own penthouse apartment.
“Thought you’d be too hungover to run,” I say, looking into his bloodshot eyes.
“You can’t imagine,” he says.
I take off jogging. “Let’s go.”
We don’t go as far as normal because Blake is having a hard time keeping up. Has to stop and heave into some bushes, but he soldiers on. And that’s Blake for you. Never quits.
Back at the building, I tell him he shouldn’t feel obligated to hit the weight room with me. But he won’t hear of it. “If you’re going to lift, then so am I.”
“All right.”
We spend twenty minutes pumping iron, and I decide that’s enough. Can’t put Blake through this anymore. His clothes are marinated in sweat, and his face is the color of vanilla ice cream.
“I’m calling it,” I tell him.
“You sure? ‘Cause I can go all day.”
I stop myself from laughing. “I’m sure.”
“All right.”
We stroll to the elevator and step in. I punch the button to go up because I don’t think Blake has the strength to raise his arm. I watch him as we climb. Poor bastard.
“You get Mom her present yet?” he asks me.
Her birthday is tomorrow, and I’ve been putting off the gift shopping. Been waiting for inspiration or an idea, but neither wants to come. I mean, what can you get a woman who lacks nothing? I’m asking.
“Not yet,” I answer. “You?”
“Of course.”
That figures. “What’d you get her?”
“Stationery set. You know how old-fashioned she is. Still sends handwritten notes, for crying out loud. Anyway, I thought she’d like it.”
She probably will.
“I’m having trouble thinking of something,” I say and allow my shoulders to slump. Why is this so hard?
The elevator stops at Blake’s floor. The door opens, and he steps out. “Go to Macy’s. You can find something there.
“You think?”
“Of course.”
Blake wishes me luck as the elevator closes.
I’m going to need it.
* * *
I quickly clean up and begin my search for the perfect present.
The first two stores don’t go well. The only things I leave with are phone numbers I won’t use. I travel to Bloomingdale’s and fail again. Why did I wait so long?
I decide to take Blake’s advice and check out Macy’s. If I find nothing there, I’m waving the white flag.
I look around as I walk through the doors. I’m not proud to say this, but I’m out of my element here.
Wandering aimlessly, I end up in the bags and accessories department. Find myself looking at scarves. What the hell am I doing? How have I sunk so low? Mom doesn’t wear scarves. She abhors them. Shoelaces would make a better gift.
“May I help you, sir?” a voice asks from behind me.
I slowly turn and face the sales associate. She’s smiling, and it’s not a calculating smile. This one is genuine. I like it.
She’s blonde and attractive, and her icy blue eyes have drawn me in. She’s a little leaner than I like and not as chesty as I’m used to. But damn. I’m feeling something here.
There’s another characteristic about her that I find intriguing. She’s not overly flirty. Not trying to touch me or rub up against me. She’s standing an appropriate distance away, waiting for an answer, which I don’t have.
“Sir? May I help you find something?”
“Trying to find a gift for my mother.”
“Okaaay. Have anything in mind?”
I shrug and shake my head.
“What does your mother like to do? Any hobbies?”
The girl is asking the right questions. She’s sincerely interested in helping me find something for my mom instead of hitting on me. How refreshing. And bothersome. I need her to show some interest. Anything. I flash her a golden smile. One guaranteed to make her melt. She doesn’t respond like she should. Seems unfazed. How can this be?
“Sir?” Her tone is calm and reassuring.
I swallow and gain my composure. “Cooking and gardening are what she enjoys most.”
“Excellent. That’s a start. I think I have an idea, so if you’ll follow me.”
She walks off, and I trail behind like an obedient puppy, fixating on her ass. Her swaying hips are intoxicating. This may be the ideal woman for me. Which means nothing because I’m not looking for a relationship. Who has time for that? And this girl… she’s the take-it-slow type. I’m not into that. But if I were…
She leads me to the kitchen department. Huh? I told her Mom loves to cook, but she has every appliance and gadget imaginable. She and Dad also have someone preparing meals for them during the week. I don’t know what this gal has to show me that Mother doesn’t already have.
She glimpses over her shoulder at me and smiles, nods, and treks along. We end up at the far end of the department, standing in front of a display.
My eyebrows scrunch when she hands me a box. I twirl it around, studying the sides and bottom.
“It’s a spice gardening kit you can grow in the kitchen,” she tells me. “Has every type of spice a gardener/cook would need.”
She shifts back and forth, waiting for my response. This is a terrific gift for my mother. The girl is a genius.
“This is perfect,” I tell her.
She gives me a grateful smile.
“I’m glad.” She points in the direction we came. “If you’d like, we can go back to my section, and I’ll ring this up. I can even gift wrap it for you.”
“That would be wonderful.” I give her the box, and somebody immediately snatches it from her hands.
“This is my department,” the girl snarls. “I’ll take care of him.”
I stand, dumbfounded. Me, Noah Dalton, a man who makes million-dollar deals and eats nails for breakfast, is at a loss. What the hell is happening?
“Yes, of course,” the girl who helped me says. “I hope your mother likes the gift.”
She shuffles away, and I continue standing.
Can’t begin to explain how disappointed I am when she walks away. I make a vow to find her later. If I can pull my head out of my ass, that is.