17. In Which Aiden’s Heart Does Inconvenient Things
IN WHICH AIDEN’S HEART DOES INCONVENIENT THINGS
“ A ll right,” Juniper says the next day, fixing me with a steely gaze. “I have a cover story. But you’re not going to like it.”
Something about the look in those blue eyes has me on instant alert.
“I reserve the right to veto any and all proposed cover stories,” I say.
Then I turn my attention back to my book.
Today was a half day due to a teacher development meeting we had earlier, so now I’m home, seated in my favorite wingback chair, next to my shelf of classics and the bust of Shakespeare.
Normally when Juniper interrupts me here, she crouches down by me, but today she just stands there, hovering from above.
“You could ,” she says, drawing the word out slowly, “except…”
This solidifies my attention. I close my book with a snap, my eyes flying up to find hers again. “What did you do?” I say. “I’m getting the kind of ominous feeling that never bodes well, especially when you’re the cause.”
Juniper clears her throat, looking uncomfortable. And I can tell that she’s right: I’m really not going to like this.
“I’ll fill you in on the little details tomorrow,” she says instead of answering my question. “What I’m asking is just that you keep an open mind.”
“Why tomorrow?”
“Because I need to pick something up from your sister first?—”
“Nope,” I say immediately. “If Caroline is involved, I’m already out.”
“You absolutely are not out, ” she says, putting her hands on her hips. “I need your help. This is important. Are you going to abandon me and make me talk to Tonya von Meller all on my own? You don’t even know what my plan is yet.”
“I know you don’t want to tell me, which means that it’s nothing good.”
She ignores this very well-reasoned point. “I need to borrow an outfit from Caroline. That’s the only involvement she has.”
“Nothing of Caroline’s is going to fit you,” I say, returning lazily to my book.
“You don’t know that,” Juniper says, and even though I’m trying not to pay attention, I can practically hear her rolling her eyes. “You don’t know our sizes?—”
“Caroline is probably a ten or a twelve,” I say. Then I let my eyes trail over Juniper, taking in the shape of her, displayed fairly well in tight jeans and a time-worn t-shirt. “While I would guess you’re somewhere around a size…four? Six?”
She gasps, looking scandalized and also thoroughly impressed.
I smirk.
“Keep your lecherous eyes to yourself,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest like a shield.
I laugh at this, throwing my head back and letting my book drop to my lap. “If either of us is lecherous, it’s definitely you,” I say. “Your eyes bugged out of your head when I showed you my tattoo.”
“Hey,” she says, stepping closer as her eyes flash with interest. “Speaking of that?—”
Oh no.
“What’s in the fourth drawer?” she says, her voice eager.
“I’m not answering that,” I say. She’s been asking me this question at random intervals ever since last night, springing it on me when I least expect it. I think she thinks I’ll answer if I’m caught off guard. “And we aren’t talking about me. We’re talking about you.”
“Meh,” she says. “Fine. But just wait until you see me in one of your sister’s fancy-pants outfits.” She grins. “You’ll be drooling at how wildly attractive I am, and then we’ll see who’s the lecher.”
“My sister wears yoga pants and mom jeans,” I say, trying to ignore the effect that grin is having on my pulse. “Nothing about her is fancy.”
Juniper holds up one finger. “Maybe not now,” she says, “but I called her this morning and asked if she had any clothes that would make me look rich, and she said she had some outfits from back before she got married and had kids.”
I shake my head, rubbing my hand over my scruff and trying to hide my smile.
“Ah,” Juniper says, quiet enough that it almost sounds like she’s talking to herself. When I look at her, her eyes are fixed on me, her gaze soft, a little smile dancing over her lips. “That’s my favorite.”
I swallow as my heart gives a few extra thuds somewhere in my chest cavity.
That keeps happening—I keep catching my body responding to this woman in ways it shouldn’t.
And I know it’s because I keep discovering new facets of her mind and her personality that fascinate me.
“What’s your favorite?” I say. I keep my voice steady, casual.
“That smile,” she says, pointing to my mouth. “It’s one of my favorite expressions of yours. When you smile at me even though you’re trying not to.”
My heart gives another unnecessary thud, and I swallow. This is not a conversation we need to be having.
“All right,” I say, apparently shocking her completely—she startles, her eyes widening and losing that dreamy quality. “I’ll bite. But if we get to Tonya von Meller’s house and I don’t like the plan, I’m throwing you under the bus.”
She recovers quickly from her surprise, batting her eyelashes and giving me a cheeky grin. “I’m too pretty to throw under a bus?—”
“Hardly,” I cut her off with a snort of laughter. “I assume, if you’re telling me I can’t veto your cover story, that you’ve already set up a meeting of some sort? How did you do that?”
“I reached out to Tonya and asked if…”
Actually, she doesn’t trail off; she finishes her sentence, but I can’t quite tell what she says, because she’s mumbling, ducking her head.
“Sorry?” I say, frowning.
More mumbling, more bowed head, more shifty gaze dancing away from my suspicious look. “I just…” Something something, mumble mumble.
I roll my eyes, even as that feeling of foreboding returns twice as strong. “Juniper.”
She throws her hands up in the air, energy finally exploding from her. “I asked her if my husband and I could come meet with her, okay ?” she says. “We’re married now, okay? Happy? That is the cover story. We’re married and we want her advice on starting our baby girl in the pageant life.”
I gape at her, completely lost for words.
“I know,” she says, waving her hand at me.
“I know. You would never marry me. You don’t even like me.
But this is the best I could do. She’s not going to just randomly meet two people she’s never even heard of for no reason.
We needed an in , Aiden.” Then her eyes jump to my phone, which is resting on the bookshelf next to the bust of Shakespeare. “Are you gonna answer that?”
“Huh?” I say. My brain is still processing the fact that I’m going to have to pretend to be married to this woman.
“Your phone,” she says, nodding. “It’s ringing.” Then she begins backing away. “Tomorrow,” she says. “We’re meeting with Tonya tomorrow, okay? And we’re going to be married. Can you get off work?”
“Meh. Maybe.” Probably; I only teach one class tomorrow. I watch her go, picking my phone up only when she’s out of my sight. “Hello?”
“Hey,” Caroline says. “You’re going to be at dinner later, right? Mom keeps bugging me about making sure you come.”
“Yeah,” I say, pushing aside the little stab of guilt that hits somewhere around my navel. “I’ll be there.”
“She says you haven’t been to see them in like a month.”
I rub the back of my neck, feeling even more uncomfortable than I did when Juniper was informing me about my upcoming nuptials. “I don’t know if it’s been that long,” I say.
“Well, whatever,” Caroline says dismissively. “Just come tonight. Jeff and the girls will be there; you can see everyone. You shouldn’t be such a recluse when we live so close.”
“Yeah,” I say with a sigh. “I’ll be there. Six?”
“Six,” she says. Then she hangs up.
I put my phone back on the bookshelf, picking up my book once more and doing my best not to think about what tomorrow might involve. But no matter how hard I concentrate on the words, the only picture that forms in my mind is one of me and my pink-haired roommate.
My mother is not particularly impressed by my living situation—or more specifically, that my new roommate is a woman.
“So…you’re living together?” she says, peering at me with troubled eyes.
“Yes,” I say, rubbing my temples. I came to dinner this evening because I was feeling guilty about not visiting more often, but I think I’m already regretting it.
Caroline’s twin daughters are running amok out in the family room, their loud, high-pitched voices the perfect decibel for drilling a hole into my skull.
I love them, but they’re pure chaos. I don’t know how Caroline and Jeff keep up.
“We’re technically living together. But?—”
“She’s the new tenant, Mom,” Caroline says, plunking a large head of lettuce down on the counter. “It’s not like they’re cohabitating in the traditional sense.”
“Still,” my mom says, wiping her hands on her apron and looking fretful. “I think I preferred it when you had that boy you never saw.”
“You and me both,” I mutter. Lorenzo was certainly easier to share the house with. He didn’t take up much physical space, and he took up even less mental space. He kept to himself.
Juniper does no such thing.
My mom pulls two knives from the knife block on the counter and passes one to Caroline, who takes it without speaking.
She cuts the lettuce with deft hands, while my mom gets to work on several bell peppers that seem to have materialized out of nowhere.
She speaks over her shoulder as she chops, though.
“Well, at least tell me about her,” she says. “Tell me about this new roommate.”
“They have history, ” Caroline says before I can answer my mother’s request. “She was the high school student he tutored when he was doing his undergrad.”
“Oh, my,” my mother says, her hand freezing halfway through dicing a vibrant red pepper. She sets the knife down and spins to face me, her eyes wide. “She’s that young?”
“I mean, she’s five years younger than me,” I say. I rub the back of my neck, threatening Caroline with my gaze at the same time. “She’s obviously not in high school anymore.”