18. Hugo
Chapter 18
Hugo
"What do you think about what he said?" Mallory asks when we're a few miles outside of Sugar Creek.
It's really not what David Boylan said that was impactful, it's more the experience of putting my eyes on him that affected me. "It's not all that different from everything my mom told me. But hearing it from him felt better somehow. I don't know why."
"Now you have certainty. It's always better to hear it directly from the source." Mallory smoothes out her dress. "Thank you for driving me today. I planned on going alone."
Fat chance in hell I'd let her go alone. "There's no way I would let you go by yourself."
Her eyebrows raise, her lips making a sassy little sound. "Let me?"
I shrug, liking the way she punches back. "I said what I said. "
She's shaking her head, but she can't hide the faint smile tugging at her mouth. "So we're like a team, huh?"
"Just call us Bonnie and Clyde."
She blows out a breath, lips vibrating. "You can do better than that."
"Gumshoe and Swordsman?" The nicknames aren't particularly romantic, but they're flirtatious. I'll admit to liking it.
Her lips curl into that full smile she was fighting. "Give me some time. I'll come up with a better nickname for us."
"I don't know." I tap the steering wheel. "I'm growing fond of Gumshoe and Swordsman."
She regards me with a quizzical look. As if she can't figure me out. Welcome to the club, Mallory. I can't figure me out either. What is it about this woman that makes me like her so much? I know what it is, but at the same time, I can't figure it out.
"What do you have going on tomorrow?" she asks.
I almost tell her she can do better than that, but rein it in and respond instead. "I have my second meeting with the olive oil sommelier." Her eyebrows raise dubiously. "That's a thing?"
Laughter from me. "I promise it's a thing."
She shrugs like she doesn't believe me. "If you say so."
"I know so." I reach over, give her a little pinch on the arm. She squeals and bats me away.
"Tell me about fencing," she says, digging into that box of pastries I picked up this morning at Sweet Nothings .
"What about it?" I ask, plucking the corner off a strawberry pop tart. I swear I can never get enough of these things.
"It's not your typical sport. Tell me how you got involved."
"It was after my dad died. I needed something to do. Anything, really. I needed to feel like?—"
"You were in control of something."
"Exactly."
Mallory takes another bite. "Pardon the interruption. Continue."
"I welcome all interruptions from you," I say, stealing another piece of Mallory's pastry. She tears off half, and hands it over. There's some construction starting, reducing the two-lane highway down to one for a half mile. We slow to a stop. I look over to say something else, but spot a speck of strawberry jam at the corner of Mallory's mouth.
All I want to do is reach for the back of her neck, pull her in close, kiss the jam off her mouth.
Would she be receptive? Allow it?
This isn't the time, or place, but I can't help the way my eyes linger there. Mallory would taste like the most decadent treat. I can tell.
She must see the way my eyes look at her mouth, because she reaches up, thumbing away the jam. "Tell a girl instead of staring at it." And then she sticks out her tongue at me.
And I laugh .
Funny, that's what this woman is.
The traffic lets up, and I ease off the brake.
"Keep talking," Mallory instructs.
"There happened to be a man in Olive Township who owned a gym, and he'd studied fencing. Ambrose was just becoming serious about football. We were only ten, but he had laser focus even then. So we started going to the gym."
"What was the name of the man who owned the gym?"
I like the way Mallory is curious, the way she asks questions, puts together a puzzle in her mind.
"Aaron."
"Got it." Mallory nods once. "Continue."
"Aaron taught Ambrose proper form for lifting weights. Looking back, we must have given all the other gymgoers a laugh. Two skinny pre-pubescent boys lifting weights."
"Or maybe you inspired them."
"Huh. I haven't thought of it that way."
"You're welcome," Mallory says loftily, digging in her purse and coming away with lip balm.
"So, we're going to the gym regularly. And I show an interest in the sword Aaron has in his office. I mean, it's a sword . Not exactly a normal item to have in an office. So Aaron tells me about fencing, asks me if I want to hold the sword. Turns out it's called a saber, by the way. Not a sword. Really, it's called a weapon, but that word is better used in the right context. "
"Because anything can be a weapon," Mallory interjects. Her hands curl into fists, and she punches the air. "Including these bad bitches."
"Careful where you're swinging those," I joke, and Mallory laughs.
"So, Aaron starts teaching me everything he knows. Coaching me. I had a natural aptitude for it. The rest is history."
"Where is Aaron now?"
"Sante Fe. He met a woman online and followed his heart. It was ok, though. It was around the time I was heading to college. I was fencing in college and couldn't have outside training anyway. He recommended the man who I trained with for the Olympics."
"What was it like to win a gold medal?"
"An out-of-body experience. Years and years of training, and then it all came down to one summer."
"Two medals, right? One in teams, the other individual."
I dip my chin, confirming. "Stalker."
"Professionally curious."
"I like it."
"And now Ambrose is in the NFL?"
"Yep. Linebacker. The guy is just a smidge below a giant. He dwarfs me and Penn, and Duke."
"The day of the Olive Festival, I was doing my best to keep up with the dynamics of your friends. Daisy and Duke were engaged?"
"Yeah," I answer. That was some drama I didn't need, or want. I hated lying to Daisy. It was like denying a kitten milk. "Duke and Daisy's families have been associated for generations, and Duke and Daisy decided to get married to please everyone. It was a big mess, honestly. And then Penn came back to Olive Township after being gone since he was thirteen, and he made things worse by hiding his true identity. He thought it was kinder to Daisy if he didn't interrupt her life. Only, he didn't know she and Duke weren't really in love." Just saying it all out loud makes me roll my eyes. You can't make this shit up.
Mallory smirks. "Is this where you came in and told him to break up their wedding?"
"I did all those assholes a favor," I insist, defending my choice.
"It looks like you did. Doesn't seem like Vivi and Duke get along."
"If push came to shove, they'd throw down for one another. They have really different personalities, though, so for the most part they stay out of each other's way."
"Does Vivi get along with Ambrose?"
I palm the scruff on my face, thinking of the last time they saw one another. To my knowledge, it's been a long time. "They get along great. He's always been like a brother to me, and that makes him a brother to her."
"Olive Township is a cute place, you know? The names of the stores are eccentric and memorable, the vibe is desert chic. It's like you drive into a magical portal on your way in."
"That's what the reporter who wrote about Sagewood Spa said. People have been infiltrating our special bubble ever since."
"Well, then, I guess I'll go back home to Phoenix," she says tartly.
My chest constricts at the mere thought of being apart from her sass, her smile, her sense of humor. I glare at her. "Don't you dare."
Smirking, she says, "I have to at some point, you know." She grabs her phone, looks at her calendar. "Oh," she says softly, like she's just had a realization.
"What is it?"
She pinches her lower lip between two fingers. A sure sign something has affected her, and now she's thinking of it. I've noticed her doing this before. "Mallory?" I urge when she doesn't respond.
"Just some appointments I need to reschedule."
She forces a smile, but I know a brave face when I see one. With only ten minutes left of our drive, I maintain conversation, but it's not like it was before. Whatever she saw on her calendar, it has upset her.
"Here you go," I say, pulling up to the curb at Olive Inn. As pledged, I hop from the car to get Mallory's door.
She turns to face me. "Today was good, right? You're happy you went?"
The care and concern in Mallory's gaze plucks at my heartstrings. She hardly knows me compared to some, but her awareness of how I'm feeling makes it seem like we've been friends for years.
"Today was important for various reasons. Thank you, and that inquisitive mind of yours, for making it happen."
Mallory smiles, but it doesn't quite reach high enough on her face to be genuine.
She walks up to Olive Inn, disappearing into the front door, and leaves me wondering what the hell she saw on her calendar.