Billionaire Mountain Man

“It's the only way to have coffee,” I replied. “None of this milk and sugar crap... that's for amateurs!”

She laughed: an even better sign. Maybe I did have a decent chance of sorting all of this out.

“Go on and have a seat over on the sofa,” she said. “I just want to put these flowers in a vase, and then I'll join you with the coffee.”

“Sure thing,” I said.

She walked off into the kitchen, and I couldn't help but stare at the seductive sway of her hips as she walked. She looked unbelievably good in those short shorts and that t-shirt. I wanted to tell her such, although, considering what I'd done the night before, I didn't think now was at all the appropriate time to compliment her on such things. Instead, I simply sat on the sofa and gently rubbed my still-aching gunshot wound. I was definitely going to leave that part out of the story, though. I didn't want her to freak out.

She came into the living room a few minutes later with a steaming hot cup of coffee, which she handed to me.

“Thanks, this smells great,” I remarked.

“It's good coffee – I’m a bit of a coffee snob. Life is too short to drink cheap coffee.”

I chuckled. “I agree fully.”

She sat down in an easy chair across from me and stared at me intently with those beautiful eyes of hers.

“So, Mr. James,” she said. “Are you going to tell me why you stood me up last night?”

I breathed in deeply before I began. I obviously didn't want to just unload all of the details of what had transpired on her. All morning I had been thinking of a condensed version of events to tell her. One that would let her know that I was involved with some serious stuff, but not give too much away, and also not make her to

o worried about the prospect of going out with me again…for the first time.

“Alright, well, let me start with a bit of background information.”

“Sure, background info is good.”

“As you know, I've just started as principal of JFK High. And at the school, there's a pretty serious drug problem. Have you heard of this new drug called Rocket?”

She nodded. “I heard about it on the radio the other day. It sounds like scary stuff.”

“It is scary stuff, and it's getting into JFK in a pretty bad way. Myself and the deputy principal, we're on a mission to get Rocket out of the school. Targeting the kids who use it, however, doesn't fix the problem, it only treats the symptoms. We want to go after the root – the guys who distribute it and sell it at high schools.”

“A noble endeavor, but isn't that something the cops should be doing?” she asked.

“They're on it, but they're not making any headway. That's why the deputy principal and myself have taken matters into our own hands. Anyway, we managed to get an inside source, someone who is working for these scumbag drug dealers. And last night, at 7:15, just as I was getting ready to come over and pick you up, I got a call from this source, an urgent call. He said I needed to be at a certain place in less than 10 minutes to catch one of the major kingpin dealers. Of course, I raced off to do this, figuring I'd call you on my way to meet him to let you know I'd be late. However, in my haste – and I fully acknowledge that this is my fault and that I should have known better – I left my phone on my dresser. So, I got halfway to the apartment building where the dealers were meeting, looked for my phone to call you, and found that I had left it at home. That's why when you tried to call me, I didn't answer. And then, by the time it was all over, I got back and tried to call you, but your phone was off.”

“Did you at least catch the guys?” she asked.

I sighed heavily and slumped back into the cushion of the sofa. “No... they got away.”

“That's a pity.”

“Yeah, it is, it really is. But there's more. Jane came down with a bad stomach infection and was running a high fever last night. I had to rush her to the hospital at two o' clock in the morning.”

Vivienne’s face changed completely. I could see that she had been a little skeptical about my drug bust story, but when she heard this, a look of genuine concern came across her face.

“Oh no! Is she alright?”

I sighed and looked away.

“I don't know, Vivienne, I don't know. I stayed by her side all night. She was crying a lot, in and out with the meds, sweating like crazy. They managed to finally bring the fever down a little this morning, but she's still not doing so great. She’s sleeping right now and the babysitter is sitting with her at the hospital in case she wakes up before I get back.”

“I'm so, so sorry to hear that,” she said softly. “And... I'm sorry that I totally misjudged you, and thought you stood me up for no good reason. One question though: I went out to meet a friend last night, and on the way out, I saw a man driving you back to your place. You looked kind of... well, you looked like you'd had a few beers. Would you mind putting my mind at ease and explaining that?”

Shit. I hadn't counted on her seeing that. I literally had three seconds to decide on the best course of action to take here. Should I come clean and show her the gunshot wound?