Free Shy Charlotte’s Brand New Juju (Romantic Comedy) by Bethany Bloom Page A

just was.
    ***
    Caleb was reconsidering. He had planned to drive straight to
Fiona’s house. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that
perhaps he needed to take more time to determine the course of action that
would give him the best chance of success. Fools rush in and all of that. So he
decided to get settled in first. To get some flowers and maybe some chocolates
for Charlotte and a shower for himself.  
    Rachael Whitmore was kind enough to meet him when he first
arrived and to show him the place she had arranged for him to stay. She had
instructed him to call her just as he was passing a particular gas station,
five minutes outside of town. Then she would meet him in the parking lot of the
college, and they would go from there.
    He thought he might remember her after seeing her again, but
he didn’t. She was wee. Her hair, almost purple in color, was cut sharp against
her jaw line. Her lips were matte and mulberry, as though she had been binging
on pomegranates. Everything about her was tight and coiled—even her voice,
which burst and cracked out of her tiny frame.  
     From there, Rachael had shown him the home she had rented
on his behalf, within walking distance of the college. It was grandly appointed
with plenty of rustic and glazed logs, imposing furniture, plush rugs, and
massive fireplaces, one in the great room and another in the master bedroom.
She led him around, standing for perhaps too long in the master bath, presenting
the jetted tub and the perfectly transparent glass shower doors. Caleb caught
her eyes once, and then made his way down the hall toward the kitchen.  
    “I have taken the liberty of stocking the Subzero with a
selection of the finest microbrews from the area’s award-winning brewpubs, as
well as an assortment of cheeses, gourmet mustards, meats, fruits, and
vegetables,” Rachael said. When Caleb crossed his arms in response, she
continued, “I have a particularly light class-load this summer. Two afternoons
a week, in which I will teach painting to students who have no interest in art.
You will soon discover that the only activities our students truly care much
about are skiing and smoking weed. I do try to scare the shit out of them on
the first day, and this usually helps.” She raised her hands to her hips. “Don’t
you despise it when students fail to take your class seriously?”
    Caleb gave a little grunt. This was one intense chick. She
held his gaze and beat her eyelashes. Were those lashes real? They couldn’t
possibly be. And who wore false eyelashes to meet someone in a parking lot?
    “And that means I can show you around. At your will,” she
continued. “What would you like to do now?” She rubbed one of her calves
against the other. Was she wearing hosiery? And were those boobs real? They
were like torpedoes, and her waist so tiny. He recoiled inside. This place was
just as he imagined Hollywood to be: Everyone weighed forty-eight pounds and
had twenty-six-pound tits. He shook his head.
     “I need some time to get settled,” Caleb said, “To call my
wife, who is in town, too, visiting her sister.”
    “Oh.” She looked away for a moment, then set her jaw and
squinted. “Her sister. Who might that be?”
    His mind went blank for a moment. “Amari.” It finally came
to him. “Fiona Amari.”  
    “Amari as in Kamal Amari?” she asked.
    “Yeah, I think that’s it. Do you know him?”
    “He owns half the damn town.” A weird expression came over
her face. Spite, anger, vengefulness.
    Wow. Where had he landed, exactly? He rubbed his palms on
his thighs. “Well, thanks for helping me get set up here.”
    She sighed, examined his face, and then whipped a business
card from the pocket of her skirt. “If you need anything, here’s my card. My
home number is on there, too. And my Skype. And my cell.”
    “Okay,” he chuckled. “Well. I guess I’m in good hands.”
    “You could be.”
    He lowered his eyes then, to study his