Chapter 8
chapter
eight
Cruz
The last hour of the car ride was tense.
For me. I don’t think Buttercup noticed.
It started after we finished playing her last game. She put a playlist on. It was all stuff I like, stuff I listen to. Which, I knew, obviously from the first time I saw her at the garage singing Drift Away.
But this particular playlist was more specific than that. It was at least eighty percent Fleetwood Mac.
They were a very successful, very popular band. But she knew every word to every one of their songs.
Just like FleetwdLvr05.
Coincidence? Maybe.
But there was more. She’s meeting a friend tonight.
That could be a coincidence, sure.
On more than one occasion, she typed something on her phone, and my phone—hidden in my jeans pocket—would vibrate with an alert.
All of it could mean nothing. Or maybe it means everything.
We’ve checked into the hotel for the night.
One room. One bed. Because, of course, that’s how this would all go.
It makes sense. All the hotels in the area are packed with people who’ve been displaced by the recent storm.
We’re lucky that Liam called ahead and reserved a room for me when we knew I’d have to make this trip.
I don’t know whether to hope I’m wrong or be grateful I’m right.
She is currently in the bathroom getting ready. Ready to meet her friend.
It’s time to bring in reinforcements. I don’t want to air all of this to the entire team, so I create a new text between me, Liam, and Flynn.
Me: SOS!
Liam: What’s up, brother?
Me: First… Juliette is with me.
Me: In Houston.
Liam: Jude is gonna kick your ass.
Me: Probably. But she hid in the van and didn’t tell me she was with me until more than halfway into the drive.
Flynn: I’m here. What did I miss?
Flynn: Oh damn!
Me: Yeah. I haven’t gotten to the problem portion of my SOS.
Flynn: I can’t tell if I’m nervous or excited on your behalf.
Me: You know that chick I’ve been chatting with on the dating app?
Liam: You’ve mentioned her a couple of times.
Me: I think she might be Juliette.
Flynn: Wait, what?
Liam: He thinks his online girlfriend IS Juliette.
Flynn: No shit? Really?
Me: There are just a lot of coincidences.
Liam: This is good news, though. Right?
Liam: Both of the women you’re interested in are the same person.
Flynn: Does seem pretty damn perfect.
Me: But is it?
Liam: Tell me this… what is it about the woman online that caught your attention?
Me: She’s very easy to talk to.
Me: Obviously intelligent because she’s witty.
Me: I feel a connection that I can’t even explain.
Me: Which sounds stupid, I know.
Flynn: Not stupid at all.
Flynn: That’s how it always felt with Temple.
Liam: Wren too.
Me: Yeah, but y’all already knew those women.
Me: I barely know Juliette.
Me: And let’s not forget that she’s too young for me.
Liam: You’re both adults.
Flynn: Yep. Seems like if they are the same woman, you’ve got your answer right there.
Then she comes out of the bathroom looking so damn sexy. Her hair is down, falling around her shoulders in a blonde waterfall of glossy waves. She’s got make-up on. Nothing particularly bold, but her eyes look more intense, her irises bluer, her lashes darker.
Rather than coveralls or blue jeans, she’s wearing a dress. One that accents every one of her thick curves. I swallow hard. I know I’m staring, cataloging every part of her, but I can’t help it. Can’t look away.
“You look gorgeous,” I blurt.
She smiles. “Thank you, Cruz. That means a lot. Truly.”
Her eyes lock and a moment passes between us where everything feels heavy and… expectant? As if she’s wanting me to say something else, but I don’t know what it is.
“I’ll walk you down,” I tell her.
“You don’t have to,” she says.
“A man’s gotta eat.”
“True.”
“So what time is your friend supposed to meet you?” I ask.
She folds her lips in. “I have a confession.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you think you can call someone you’ve never met in person a friend?”
“Yeah, I don’t see why not. That’s how lots of people used to meet. Pen pals and letters and whatever. Now, things are just more immediate.”
She smiles. “Yes, like a pen pal.”
“That who you’re meeting?” I ask. Though this conversation feels wrong, like I’m lying to her. But I still don’t know for sure that she’s my Fleetwood.
“I guess you could say that. We met on a dating app. Is that weird?”
“Plenty of people meet that way now. It might have been weird many years ago, but it’s a viable way to meet people these days.”
“Oh. I guess that’s true.” She bites down on her lip. “Have you ever done it? Online dating?”
I nod. “Once or twice.”
We walk to the elevator and then ride down to the lobby. The restaurant and bar combo isn’t big, but it beats going out after you’ve been on the road all day. It occurs to me that aside from the quick shower I took when we arrived, I didn’t get ready like I’m going on a date.
She will probably be disappointed that it’s me. Once she knows, she can move on to someone else. No doubt, she’s been chatting with other guys on there. Men closer to her age with two perfectly functioning knees that don’t ache when the wind changes directions.
I leave her with the hostess, telling her to text me if she needs something, then I walk away.
I need a moment to think through what I’m about to do. I’m not exactly worried about ruining our friendship. Aside from this trip, we’ve not been alone together except, on occasion, in the garage. But I do know I don’t want to fuck this up.
In all my years, I’ve never felt like this about another woman. Juliette hits all of my targets, rings all of my bells, or whatever the fuck a proper metaphor is. I just know that she’s not only physically attractive, she’s smart, funny, talented, and kind—the whole damn package.
I make my way to the concierge desk and ask if there is any way I can get some emergency flowers. The woman laughs, but makes a call.
“You’re in luck,” she says. “We had a wedding that was supposed to happen here last night, but the groom’s parents lost their house in the storm, so they’ve postponed the ceremony.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound very lucky,” I say.
“No. They’ve had terrible luck, poor kids. But the flowers for the wedding were already delivered and are sitting in a fridge. I don’t think they’ll miss one of the table centerpieces. They’re just long-stem red roses.”
About this time, a guy comes around the corner carrying a couple of vases. “I didn’t know if you wanted options,” he tells the concierge.
“Perfect. Thanks,” she tells the guy. Then she looks at me. “Pick your poison, darlin.”
I take the roses out of both vases and retie the bow so they make one bouquet. “This will work perfectly.” I pull a couple of bills out of my wallet and pass them to her. “Thank you.”
She smiles. “Good luck.”
“Yeah, I might need it.” Then I make my way back to the restaurant. Juliette is still sitting at the table, but her smile isn’t as bright. She probably thinks she’s being stood up.
My legs eat up the distance to her table and then I slide into the booth across from her.
Her eyes widen, then she frowns.
“FleetwdLvr05?” I ask.
Her lips part.
I set the roses down on the table and hold my hand out to her. “I’m Mustang_Ranger.”