Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Cash
After a week of mostly restless nights, I give in to the impulse to visit Nori at work. Maybe seeing her in real life this morning will help me stop thinking about her all day long.
Yeah, right. Good luck with that .
Either way, I figure I’ll grab a bunch of croissants and scones and stuff to bring with me to the hospital. Bribe the staff with sugar. See Nori.
Everyone benefits.
As I enter the shop, the bell above the door jingles, announcing my arrival. Nori’s behind the counter, stationed between a blonde at the register and a tall, lanky kid handing to-go drinks to customers. She flashes me a crooked smile, and my heart answers with an extra thud. I wait in line, trying to keep my excitement at bay. When I finally reach the front, Nori faces me at the counter.
“Fancy meeting you here.” Her lip curves up and a wave of warmth moves through me. “No cases today?”
“No.” I wince, immediately wishing I’d offered to drive her to work. “I guess I could’ve given you a ride instead of you having to bike in.”
“Nah. Red and I had a great morning. I like her. And my cardiovascular health thanks you.”
The girl at the register clears her throat. “Can I help you?” Her name tag reads Yvette.
“I’ve got a pretty big order,” I say, hoping my smile is appropriately apologetic.
“We can handle it,” Nori says.
“In that case, I’ll take a dozen cheese croissants, a dozen chocolate chip scones, and a dozen blueberry muffins. And also a box of those cookies from Serendipitous Sweets. A variety’s good. To go, please.”
“Got it,” the kid at the to-go counter calls out.
“Thanks, Ben,” Yvette says, entering the order into the register. Meanwhile, the kid named Ben slips three pink cardboard boxes off the shelf.
Nori puffs out a laugh. “Carbo loading for a big race?”
“No, just treating the hospital staff.” I slip a credit card from my wallet, tap the reader, and drop a twenty in the tip jar.
Flex.
But also, everyone at Springs Memorial works hard, and I can afford the twenty bucks. Unfortunately, this gets me wondering how many of Nori’s Swipe Rite dates are good tippers.
She nods at the tip jar. “That was awfully nice of you.”
“I’m nice. Remember?”
“I do.” She tips her chin. “Can I at least offer you a free coffee?”
“Coffee’s not really my thing.”
“You haven’t tried my lavender latte.” She inclines her head to indicate an empty stretch of counter. “Slide over there out of Yvette’s way, and I’ll change your mind. ”
“I don’t think?—”
“Are you afraid I might make you love coffee?” Without waiting for a reply, she grabs a stainless steel pitcher and a carafe of something white. “I hope oat milk’s okay.”
“I have no idea.”
“Hmm. I think you’ll like it.” She pours a healthy amount into the pitcher, then does something at the espresso machine that makes it hiss and spit.
“I actually do like the smell of coffee,” I admit. “I just don’t drink it. Kind of like gasoline.”
Nori sends me a smirk over her shoulder. “I’d bottle this scent and sell it if I could. Then I’d never have money problems again.”
My chest goes tight. Man, I wish I could help her more. Loaning Nori my bike was one thing. But she needs cash for her car repairs.
Heh.
Cash .
“As you can see, I’m tamping the grounds,” Nori narrates. “Then I’ll lock the portafilter into place.” She touches a button, and dark, velvety liquid streams out. “Black gold,” she announces.
I chuckle. “You are still talking about coffee, right?”
“Wait until I add the syrup.” She pumps two shots into the cup and tops it with the espresso. “We’ll also need milk.” As the steaming liquid froths up like a creamy cloud, she gives the pitcher a little swirl. “Gotta break up the bubbles.”
“Naturally.”
“Now for the moment of truth.” Her mouth quirks. “A steady hand is key. So pay attention.” She pours the milk in a slow stream, maneuvering the cup underneath it at the same time. When she finishes, she tops the drink off with some kind of dried herb. “A pinch of lavender,” she explains. Then she places the cup on the counter and slides it toward me. “ One lavender latte. My specialty. I dare you to tell me it’s not delicious.”
I’ve seen countless pictures of coffee drinks with hearts in the middle, but Nori’s has a smiley face perfectly centered. Just like the one on her welcome mat. I look up at her and fake a cringe. “You won’t hate me if I don’t like it?”
“I won’t hate you.” She shrugs. “But I might just crash your bike.”
“Noted.” As I take a slow sip, Nori’s eyes do a little happy dance. That makes me happy too. I swallow. Bob my head. “Not bad.”
“Not bad?” She pretends to scoff.
“That’s a long way from how I felt about coffee five minutes ago.” I cock a brow. “And your smiley face is amazing.”
A grin breaks across her face. “I’ve only made about a million of these over the years.”
“How long have you worked here, exactly?”
“Feels like forever.” She flicks her gaze over to Yvette, who’s busy at the register. “I started back in high school,” she says. “Then, after college, I tried my hand as a marketing manager for a small chain of bookstores. Book Smart. Have you heard of them?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“Anyway, that didn’t work out.”
“I’m sorry.” I study her face, looking for clues. I know all about careers that don’t turn out the way you expect. And I’m tempted to ask if her situation was difficult. Or disappointing. Or even heartbreaking. But I don’t.
Mostly because I’m not prepared to tell her about mine.
“Anyway,” she chirps, “I’m back here for good now.”
I take another sip of latte, trying to talk myself out of asking further questions, but I can’t help myself. I want to know more about her .
“Do you mean you’re back here in town for good? Or here at Serendipi-Tea specifically?”
“Both.” She leans over the counter and drops her voice. “I’m planning to buy this place.”
My eyes go wide, as I struggle to compute this new information. Nori Sinclair—who can barely afford car repairs—wants to buy an entire shop? “That’s … ambitious.”
“I’ve already got loan approval, there’s just a bit of a difference I have to make up. The bank calls it a shortfall.”
“How much of a difference?”
“Ten thousand dollars.” She wrinkles her nose. “I found out the day Dorothy decided to die on me, so that’s been a lot. With the shop and the car and the whole dating app thing.”
“Right.” My jaw shifts. As if I’d forgotten about Swipe Rite. “Your roommate roped you into joining, didn’t she?”
“Hayden got the ball rolling,” Nori confirms. “But ultimately, I agreed.”
My chest goes tight. “Can’t go wrong with Swipe Rite, huh?”
“To be honest, I never would’ve said yes …” She glances around again like she’s making sure we’re still out of earshot. “But they’re paying me to be their featured single for their new Spring Into Love campaign.”
I blink. “Their what?”
“Their featured single.”
“Whoa.” I run a hand over my scalp, stunned. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“I’m really not supposed to tell anyone.” Nori turns her volume down even lower. “Hayden knows because she submitted my name for the promo. And you were in the courtyard with us when we talked about it, so.” She hitches her shoulders. “You’ve got to keep this a secret, okay? ”
“Sure thing.” I bob my head, acting casual, even as alarm bells sound in my brain. “How does that even work?”
Nori wipes her hands down the front of her apron. “In a nutshell, Swipe Right’s matching me with ten men to take me on ten sponsored dates. And they’re tracking everything on social media as advertising.” She grimaces. “It’s kind of weird, but I need the money.”
Now my gut’s officially churning. On the one hand, I’m glad Nori’s not actually interested in a dating app. On the other hand, I shouldn’t care about who or how she’s dating. And on the third hand … “How many dates have you gone on?”
No, I don’t have three hands.
But I do have a little too much interest in Nori.
“Four so far,” she says. “My fifth one’s tonight.”
I gulp down the bile in my throat. “Met anyone promising yet?” I ask this like any answer she gives is going to make me feel better.
Spoiler alert: It’s not.
“No one special, but they’ve all been nice.” She sighs. “They do background checks on everyone, so at least I’m safe. Although Jemma—she’s the promo coordinator—did mention they may have to throw in a not-so-great match for me soon.”
“Like tonight?” My insides coil tighter. “What does that mean?”
“The marketing team just wants to make sure the promotion reflects reality. Not every match from a dating app is going to be a home run.”
Home run . I flinch at the word. For so many reasons. “Yeah, I guess not.”
“They think sharing footage of at least one dud date will keep their members’ expectations managed. ”
Concern pinches my forehead. “In other words, you have to be miserable on purpose?”
“It won’t be that bad,” she says. “I just have to survive one awkward dinner. And those posts will probably get more traction than the good dates. The internet loves that kind of thing.” Nori presses out a chuckle, but I stay quiet long enough that she ends up frowning. “Something wrong?”
“Nah.” I shake my head. “I was just wondering if it bothers you.”
“Does what bother me?”
“Being on display like that during your dates. Seeing what people say about you online afterward.”
“Honestly? I don’t look. It’s not part of my contract, so I mostly avoid engagement.”
My stomach hollows out as I think about all the articles and posts about me four years ago. “I wish I’d been better at that.”
“Better at what?”
“Not engaging.”
Nori lets out a tiny snort. “Is there a bunch of social media revolving around surgical sales I don’t know about?”
Good point. And I can’t clarify what I meant without dredging up my past. So I turn my attention to Ben, who’s coming over with a couple of bags full of bakery boxes. Perfect timing. “Thanks, man.” I force my face into a smile. “I’d better get this stuff to the hospital.”
“Hold on.” Nori takes what’s left of the latte she made me and pours it into a to-go cup. Then she draws a smiley face on it. “Here.” She hands the cup back over. “Hope you have a good day.”
“I’ll try. Thanks.”
I’d like to tell her I hope she has a good date.
But I can’t.
Twelve hours later, I’m too amped to sleep, which is the last thing I need after a long work week. So I head to the courtyard, hoping the cool air will help me unwind.
Don’t be jealous of my wild Saturday night.
A lounge chair in the darkest corner has my name written all over it. I’m not looking to socialize. I’d probably be out of sight either way, but luckily, the place is deserted. An almost-full moon hangs like the world’s largest baseball in the sky. I release a long breath, preparing to relax. But despite the hot shower I took and the sweats I slipped on, my body’s tense. Throat tight. Shoulders stiff. I’m in fight-or-flight mode.
And I only have myself to blame.
Why? Because I spent all day on Swipe Rite’s various social media platforms poring over every post featuring Nori. They’ve had someone planted everywhere she’s gone, getting shots, taking footage, then uploading everything with catchy captions. I don’t know much about marketing or promotions, but the number of comments and shares this stuff gets seems … high.
Man, I wish I didn’t care.
But I absolutely cannot look away. Whoever chose Nori for this campaign was brilliant. There’s just something about her that draws you in, makes you want to know her, tempts you into thinking you already do. For one thing, she’s undeniably beautiful. But she’s also silly sometimes. Fun. Willing to try anything. Nori Sinclair is the girl next door you believe you could totally date.
And yeah.
The irony isn’t lost on me that she practically does live next door to me.
I scrutinized all the posts multiple times, searching for the moments when her true feelings sneak through. I tried catching something in each picture. Every video. A flash behind her eyes. A dip in her smile. And whenever I failed to find a clue right away, my gut tightened. To be clear, I’m in no position to be in a relationship with Nori. I just don’t want her to be in a relationship with anyone else.
Does that make me selfish?
I’m sure it does.
But I can’t help thinking these guys aren’t good enough for her. Nori deserves a man who wants to be there for her fully, not someone randomly matched with her by a dating app.
Too bad you’ve got no right to an opinion about that . You’ve got one foot out the door. Your sights are set on Los Angeles. You’re not good enough for Nori either.
My jaw clenches.
I need to stop arguing with myself.
This has been happening a lot. Ever since Nori showed me her vulnerable side. Not the part of her that tries not to need anyone. The side where she actually lets me help. She also makes me smile. And laugh. I feel warm and safe around her. I just want her to feel warm and safe too. So I hate the thought that Swipe Rite’s planning a not-so-great date for her soon.
I’ve got no reason to think they won’t take care of her. Nori says they vet all the men they match her with. Still. They won’t be matching her with me.
And that puts a twist in my gut I just can’t shake.
I blow out a long breath, and—against my better judgment—I check Instagram one more time. I need to see if Swipe Rite’s uploaded any new posts for the night.
What can I say? I’m a glutton for punishment. And apparently Nori’s being punished too.
Because from the looks of the latest video, her not-so-great date is Warren Snuze.