Blindsided

By Nikki Jackson

Blinded in a freak night club pyrotechnic accident, Reese believes its penitence for an unforgivable decision he made years ago.  The one that ultimately resulted in him being disowned by his father and abandoned by his brothers. 

 

New York city bakery owner Delilah is still smarting from the break up with her cheating fiancé.  What better way to soothe her hurt feelings than to take a job as a personal chef to a recently blinded architect.

 

The more time Reese and Delilah spend together, the more their feelings grow, yet something more than Reese's blindness is holding them back from moving on together - both need forgiveness in their lives; one must offer it and the other must accept it.

 

Blindsided is a sweet, wholesome contemporary small town stand-alone with a guaranteed HEA

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nikki Jackson
• Release date: Dec 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215799796

Nikki Jackson

When she’s not cutting up with her sisters you can find Nikki hovering over her keyboard imagining the next book, series, great American novel, and fantasying what it would all look like on the big screen.  Nikki’s favorite adage - “Why just shoot for the moon when you can dream to the universe and beyond.”

Book preview

Chapter One

Nouveau Prime, the hot new nightclub in Atlanta, was packed; pulsing with blaring music and energy powered 20-somethings crowding the massive dance floor.  The DJ played an eclectic array of loud dance, hip-hop, K-pop, Regional Mexican, Top 40 and old school disco music, all from a raised platform where he controlled the sound, laser lights and the pyrotechnic show – while the music pulsated to a wild beat amidst a dizzyingly colorful light display. 

Reese Parnell looked at his watch, it was past midnight.  He yawned and looked around for Pete Lancaster, the club’s owner.  He’d come by to pick up his check and he let Pete talk him into hanging around to help him christen the club’s premier opening. Pete was schmoozing and welcoming guests and Reese was sitting in Pete’s cushy private VIP booth working on his third cup of coffee.

Reese told himself he really couldn’t complain.  When Pete decided to build his new club from the ground up, he remembered his old college buddy Reese was an architect, and he gave him a call.  Though Reese’s architecture firm, Parnell Architects, specialized in the design of commercial and industrial buildings, Reese himself looked for unusual projects that challenged his creative juices, large or small, in this case an old college buddy’s nightclub.

Pete finally untangled himself from a high-profile guest and slid into the plush booth, sitting across from Reese.  Sorry guy, he said.

No worries. Reese smiled.  Though he and Pete were the same age – 36, they were worlds apart different. Pete was dressed in black leather pants, a tuxedo shirt, bow tie and a blue and white vest that illumined with flashing lights.  He had blond dreadlocks that hung down his back, quarter-sized holes in his ears and colorful tattoos that peeked out from the neck and sleeves of his shirt.  Reese was the polar opposite – dressed in a chestnut brown western suit and cowboy boots. His black Stetson cowboy hat sat brim up, on the table. 

You’re an old man Hoss. Pete said handing Reese the check for his services.  Reese double-checked the hefty figure, folded the check in half and slid it into his inside pocket. 

You might be right there son. He said scoping the room with a frown.  I feel like I’m the one from another planet.

Pete laughed.  Yea, I can see how you might feel that way, but I love the place man.  You hit what I wanted right on the head.  The three-story nightclub was a slanted pentagon shape, made up of shiny brass lines, concrete, and kaleidoscope reflective glass that changed colors to reflect the music that was being played inside. The project was different and challenging enough to interest Reese, and he had to admit he enjoyed designing it.

Well son, I’ve got an early flight out. Reese said pushing the table out a bit and standing up his 6’2 frame. 

Pete stood too.  Let me walk you out.  The place is so packed we can go out the back way, off the kitchen.

Lead the way, Reese said planting the Stetson on his head. 

The pair were winding their way through the packed dance floor when an explosion rocked the place.

The screams and shouts were almost immediate, as was the pandemonium in the nearly darkened room.  People were pushing and shoving as they tried to get to one of the three exits as fire from the pyrotechnics on the stage worked loose and started coursing around the walls.  Reese had the presence of mind to jump over the bar behind Pete, and head in the direction of the rear exit.  He would have made it too had not a set of pyrotechnics near the DJ booth exploded, knocking him off his feet.

***

Reese woke up slowly, in hazy stages.  He first recognized the tale-tale sterile hospital smell; the stiffness of the hospital bed beneath him, tubes protruding from his body and the soft hum of machines.  It was pitch dark. 

He dared to move and his body immediately rebelled; sending shards of pain coursing across his body.  Reese groaned and immediately heard the rustle of someone standing up from a nearby chair.

Reese...?

Betty. He said, his voice low and raspy.

I oughta slap you silly! 

Reese chuckled then winced at the tug along his ribcage.  Well I must not be dying if you’re threatening me with bodily harm. 

She placed her hand on his shoulder.  You’re just fine.

Beatrice ‘Betty’ O’Hara, was Reese’s personal assistant extraordinaire, or so he often termed her.  She was a tough mixture of office keeper, drill instructor and wise old sage.  At 50-something she wore her shoulder length black hair in a 60s era bouffant, a style she fell in love with when she saw it on Jackie Kennedy and refused to let it go.  Her brown eyes as well as her voice could go from soft to stone hard depending on her temperament and though she was barely five feet tall she could be as intimidating as a giant. 

What happened?  What day is it?  How’d I get here? the questions rushed out of his mouth as he tried to reign in his foggy thoughts.

Fire at the club. Tuesday.  Ambulance.  Betty returned to her chair then gently placed her hand on his shoulder.

Fire at the club? he whispered,  That’s right, something happened.

Something about unsafe pyrotechnics and a handful of other safety violations.  It’s only by an act of God that anyone survived this mess at all.  They say there were more than a hundred people there.

What about Pete? Reese asked anxiously.  He’d been only a few feet ahead of Reese when he went down.

Alive and in a boat-load of trouble.

Reese let go of a long sigh.  He had offered to connect Pete with a group of contractors he regularly used.  They were honest, hardworking and fair, but Pete assured him he had his own contractors already lined up. Now Reese could only imagine what cost cutting shabby work they’d done.  Shaking the thoughts from his head he squinted against the darkness then closed his eyes.  How long have I been here?

Two weeks.

Two weeks! he tried to move but Betty’s hand on his shoulder and the pain shooting through his body forced him back onto the bed. How could I have been here two weeks?  Where am I?!

Reese you have to lie still.  Calm down.  I’ll tell you everything you want to know. 

Reese laid back, confused and breathing hard.  How could I have been here two whole weeks? he mumbled.

Calm down and listen.  You were hurt in one of the explosions.  You’ve been in and out of consciousness for two weeks.  Everything’s okay now and you’re going to be fine.  Believe me Reese, you’re going to be fine.  She said the last sentence slowly and very deliberately.  The care of her words wasn’t lost on him.

What’s wrong? Reese asked, a cold shiver running through him.  Betty squeezed his shoulder.  Tell me, what is it?  She took a deep breath.  Blast it Betts!  Turn on the lights and talk to me!

"The lights are on."

Chapter Two

Flash blindness: a state of visual impairment cause by exposure to an extremely high intensity of light.  In Reese’s case, pyrotechnics practically blowing up in his face. He suffered no serious burns, nor did he sustain any cuts or broken bones.  He was simply blind.

Betty had gone for the doctor and together they explained to him his condition.  He’d been lucky.  The full-face explosion of pyrotechnics had done no permanent damage to his eyes, the doctor said, however, he’d sustained a trauma injury to the optic nerves when he was blown off his feet and his head struck the bar.  Both injuries, together, resulted in his blindness.  Though the doctor assured him his condition was temporary, he couldn’t predict when Reese would regain his sight.

Reese told Betty he was tired and wanted to rest.  In reality, he wanted to be alone.  He’d only heard a portion of the conversation the doctor and Betty were trying to have with him.  What he zeroed in on was that he was blind and no one could tell him when his sight would return.  His medical file had already been viewed by the top eye specialists in the country and a few specialists outside the United States, thanks to Betty.  Though the specialists at the hospital came highly recommended she would not rest until every expert in the field had viewed Reese’s file.  He was more than an employer to her.  He was the closest she’d ever come to having a child and her commitment and loyalty to him was akin to that of a mama bear with her only cub; ferociously protective, stanchly devoted, and full of unconditional love. 

Reese chuckled bitterly at the thought of his family; his father Reese Sr. and his brothers – Clayton, Malcolm, Lucas and Ashton.  When he’d asked Betty if anyone had come to the hospital at all during the two weeks he struggled in and out of consciousness she neither hemmed nor hawed but told him the truth.  No.  She didn’t bother giving him their excuses and he didn’t asked.  She merely told him that she’d updated them when they thought to call and promised them she was watching over Reese.  He really wasn’t surprised.  He hadn’t laid eyes on his father since his mother’s funeral and he’d only seen his brothers a time or two after that, mostly in passing. 

Reese raised his hand, gingerly touching his face. Everything felt in place – his forehead, nose, cheeks and chin.  He fingered his closed eyelids applying just the slightest pressure and he was surprised there was no pain at all. Then he opened his eyes, holding his hand mere inches from his face.  Nothing but darkness.  He let his hand drop to his side.

Well Lord. he whispered.  I guess you finally came to collect. 

***

Delilah stood in front of the stainless-steel commercial bakery oven.  Her arms were crossed over her chest and she was tapping her foot.  Her good friend and employee Gwyn sat at the small round bistro table that was situated in the little nook area just to the inside of the shop’s kitchen.  She was sipping a cup of freshly brewed Jamaica Blue Mountain coffee and watching her friend with amusement.

How about a cup of... Delilah raised a finger silencing her friend.  Gwyn smiled taking a sip from the steaming cup.  She’d known Delilah since college and she knew it was fruitless attempting to talk to her while she was engaged in a staring contest with the bakery oven. 

Gwyn couldn’t help but admire her good friend.  At nearly 5’8 her body was curvy yet toned from indoor cycling, rock climbing and yoga.  Her rich dark maple colored hair was captured in a messy bun and she was dressed in her favorite baking outfit; floral leggings and an ocean blue tailored chef’s coat.

They’d met in New York when they were both 18 years old - Gwyn was studying business at New York University and Delilah was attending the Culinary Institute of America just up the street.  While Gwyn had the shelter and security of a warm and loving family Delilah hadn’t been so fortunate.  There were no parents, no siblings, and no real family to speak of.  She was all but alone in the world.

Delilah shifted from one foot to the other. She had a hyper energy that had her tapping her foot or drumming her fingers, yet she really was patient which showed itself in her intricate culinary creations.

The oven sounded a melodious alarm and Delilah pulled open the door, sliding the trays of cookies out one by one, and setting them on the counter behind her to cool.  There were two china saucers on the edge of the counter and Delilah placed a cookie on each – chocolate chip macadamia nut for Gwyn and a decadent triple chocolate cookie for herself.  She poured herself a cup of coffee, topped it with cream, then she took the cookies and coffee and sat across from Gwyn at the table.

My gosh this is good, Gwyn hummed, the cookie all but melting in her mouth.  You could get rich off these. 

Delilah looked at Gwyn with a smile.  You’re my bookie so you should know.

Your bookkeeper. Gwyn clarified.  And for the record you’re not doing too bad.  Delilah was the sole owner of Delilah’s Gourmet Cookies & Cream located in downtown Floral Park, in Long Island New York. The shop specialized in gourmet cookies, ice cream and popcorn, and it was doing quite well.  The shop was her baby, a place where she could relax and unwind from the responsibilities of her real job which was head chef at an upscale restaurant located in Midtown New York.  She loved her job.  She worked hard and found herself rising through the ranks quickly - her reputation as a master chef having garnered her a few culinary awards and some measure of local acclaim.  Yet now? A soft boredom had started to set in and she was looking for a change.

My cousin Reggie called, Gwyn said.

Huh?  Delilah glanced up from the cup she’d been staring into.

Delilah, Gwyn sighed.  Reggie, his wife Lucy?  You’re looking for someone to run the shop while you’re taking the summer off.

Oh yea, right. She smiled absently.

They’ll be in town the end of the week and they’re excited to meet you.

I’m excited to meet them too, She’d done a bit of research and learned the pair were in their early forties, childless and had run a bakery shop in their hometown of Ann Arbor Michigan for almost ten years.  They too were looking for a change and a quaint bakery shop in small town Floral Park seemed to fit their bill. As far as Delilah was concerned the matter was a done deal.  She trusted Gwyn and if she was comfortable with the pair, then they were hired. 

So what are your plans for the summer? Gwyn asked getting up to grab another cookie for herself and Delilah.  Are you going to take a class? Or travel a bit?

Neither, Delilah said lifting the carafe from the warmer and topping off her coffee.  I’ve got a job as a personal chef. 

Gwyn sat back in the chair, surprised.  What?  Delilah smiled, her honey-brown eyes twinkled.  A personal what?

Chef. 

Gwyn waved her hands, clearly flustered.  Where did this come from all of a sudden?  Are you staying in New York?

No, the position’s in a small town in Montana.

Montana?  Okay, Gwyn said holding up her hands.  I need to hear all of this.

Well, you know I’ve been getting...restless.  I love doing what I do but lately it seems like there’s something missing.

Is this about Ben? 

Delilah rolled her eyes.  It’s about me, she said tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ear.

Dellie, Gwyn said reaching across the table to take her friend’s hand. 

Ben was more than a year ago. She reminded Gwyn.

Discovering that your fiancé is having an affair with Lily the sous chef doesn’t necessarily get shook off in a year sweets.  Delilah patted Gwyn’s hand and then pulled away.  She and Ben worked at the same restaurant and had dated for nearly two years when he proposed.  It had been a beautiful surprise, involving the restaurant staff and patrons.  Marcello the pastry chef created a stunning flaming desert with the engagement ring floating on top.  The server set the glass down in front of Delilah, then spread a crisp white linen napkin on the floor and stepped back while Ben knelt there and proposed.  The restaurant erupted in applause when Delilah accepted through joyful tears.  Three months of engagement bliss later the wedding was off.  Telling herself she’d been through worst she refused to leave the job she worked so hard to get and loved.  She showed up every day – her chin held high, despite the abject humiliation, and she cried herself to sleep every night.  Lily, embarrassed, was the first to leave the restaurant, with Ben not far behind her a few weeks later. 

From that moment forward Delilah vowed to never put herself in that position again – she would never so gullibly give her entire heart to any man.

Montana? Gwyn repeated, lifting Delilah out of her thoughts.  How’d this come about?

You remember that nightclub fire that happened in Atlanta a few weeks ago? 

I saw it on the news, it looked horrible.  Nearly forty or so people injured, the place gutted by fire, only by the grace of God no one died.  It was a mess.

Well I got a call from the personal assistant of a gentleman who’d been hurt in the fire.  Apparently, his eyes were injured and now he’s blind.

Oh my, Gwyn gasped placing her hand on her cheek.

She’s looking for a personal chef.  Three meals, five days a week, with weekends off.

Is this live-in? Gwyn asked, her brown eyes large with concern.

There’s a guest house on the property that I’ll be sharing with his personal assistant – his female personal assistant.  The first floor’s her space, the second floor will be mine.  We share the living room and kitchen.  As far as weekends are concerned, I can take off on Friday night just so long as I’m back by Monday morning to prepare breakfast.  I’ll have use of a car and I get a hefty salary.

Dellie, did you pray about this? Gwyn asked, the concern still on her face.

Gwynie, this is summer vacation, do you pray over every little trip you and Rob take? Gwyn gave her a raised eyebrow.  Okay, maybe you do, but this isn’t a permanent change type thing, it’s more like a summer vacation where I’ll just happen to be cooking, and getting paid to do it.  Gwyn gave her a stern look then reached both hands across the table.  Delilah rolled her eyes and took Gwyn’s hands in hers.

Lord, though Delilah has chosen to take this position with nary a prayer to you I ask that you watch over her and keep her.  I pray that at the slightest hint this is not what you would have her to do or where you want her to be please speak to her Lord and send her home. Amen.

Amen.  Delilah echoed with a smile.  "I told them I was available for the summer – four months, through the end of September, after that I’d want to head back