Chapter 24
Lior
We met the following morning at our previously designated corner, Graham looking sexy in a pair of charcoal gray joggers and a white t-shirt, Bronte looking more chipper than I’d expected, her tail wagging, her face staring up at me as she waited for me to acknowledge her.
“Good morning, sweet girl,” I said, kneeling and taking her face in my hands, staring into her clouded brown eyes and then whispering to her and kissing her nose. When I stood back up, she leaned her whole body against my legs.
“And good morning to you,” I said to Graham.
He grinned “I see what the hierarchy here is. Good morning to you too. Ready?”
“Let’s do it.”
We ambled slowly, Bronte setting the pace, Graham immediately looking apologetic.
“It’s not exactly a vigorous walk,” he said.
“Good. I like a nice morning meander. Gives one time to take it all in rather than speeding by and missing out on the scenery.”
He smiled, his chest expanding with a long, slow breath, and then exhaled, his entire demeanor relaxing.
It wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to figure out who had made him feel he needed to explain and apologize for things out of his control.
Nadia had clearly done a number on him and, as his new friend, I decided then and there to make it my mission to be the anti-Nadia.
I had a feeling Bronte needed some of that energy too, so every so often I reached down to give her a scratch behind her ears, a pet on her head, or say some words of encouragement.
“You’re looking spry today, girl,” I said as we stepped off the curb to cross the street.
“She actually does,” Graham said. “It’s weird. Like she knew before we left this morning that we were going to have company joining us and mustered up a bit of excitement.”
“I’m flattered.”
“I think I’m a little jealous.”
“How come?”
“The leaning… the tail wagging. She normally only does that for me and Marley.”
“Uh oh,” I said, raising an eyebrow at B. “Are you flirting with me, Bronte?”
“Can’t blame her,” Graham said, his cheeks immediately taking on a pink hue. “I mean, who wouldn’t flirt with someone who’s being so nice?”
“That reminds me,” I said, letting him off the hook as I dug into my pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “These are some supplements Addie suggested.”
“Supplements?”
“Yeah. She has a holistic side to her clinic, which people, and animals, love her for.”
He looked over the list and then met my eyes with a smile. “Thank you. I’ll buy every one of these.”
I laughed. “I mean, don’t go overboard. You don’t want her to get an upset stomach. Addie suggested adding one to her diet at a time. The starred ones are what you should start with.”
“Thank you, Lior. That was very kind of you to ask her.”
I shrugged. “She loves her job. And she happens to be a fan of yours.”
“We are very appreciative.”
“You are both very welcome. Addie is a genius. It’s why I keep her around. And she keeps me around for the free clothes I send her.”
“I doubt it’s just that.”
“I do offer other benefits.”
“Like?”
“Constant entertainment. You should’ve heard her howl with laughter when she realized that I, in her words, was the ‘Meet-Poop Girl’. For fuck’s sake, Graham… I will never live that down for the rest of my life.”
I laughed as he once again blushed.
“I will forever try and make that up to you,” he said.
“As well you should,” I said, lightly smacking him on the arm. “My ego has been bruised.”
“You mean shat upon?”
“Tis in the shitter.”
We tossed puns back and forth for the next block until he stopped and checked his watch.
“You up for a coffee break?” he asked. “Bronte and I have a regular spot we like to go, just up the road.”
“And I’m invited?” I looked down at Bronte who had taken to leaning against me again as we’d paused.
“I mean, where will she lean if you’re not there to support her?” Graham asked.
I grinned. Being chosen by someone else’s dog was the highest honor, and I was not about to say no to a little more hang time with the old girl.
“Well, I certainly can’t let her fall, so the answer is yes.”
A few minutes later we pulled up to a cute café with a sign that read Mornin’ Joe’s above the door. Bronte planted herself next to one of two bistro tables set out in front of a large picture window. She wore an expectant look.
“I think B is ready for her cup of joe,” I said, looking through the window at the interior. “I’ve seen this place but have never been in.”
“You’re kidding,” Graham said, waving at an older gentleman through the window. “This is our spot. We come here nearly every day.” He pulled out a chair and motioned for me to sit. “Since this is your first time, and is my and B’s place, we’d like to treat you. Drink of choice?”
“Oatmilk cappuccino, please.”
He nodded, handed me Bronte’s leash, and went inside.
He returned a few minutes later with the gentleman I’d seen him wave to. The older man was carrying a tray with a small vase holding a single daisy in it, two steaming mugs of coffee, and a plate of pastries.
“Lior, please meet Joe. Joe, this is my friend Lior,” Graham said.
“It’s nice to meet you, Joe,” I said, smiling at the leaf designs drawn in the foam of both drinks. “This looks amazing. I can see why Graham loves it here. Thank you.”
“I never get a daisy though,” Graham said, playfully glaring at Joe who then winked at me. “Joe owns the shop and employs the most amazing baker.”
“How long have you been here?” I asked as Joe pulled up a chair from the table beside ours.
While we chatted, Graham sat and sipped his coffee, smiling as he looked back-and-forth between us, clearly pleased by the connection he’d forged.
I noticed with amusement that Joe kept glancing his way, an obvious glint in his eyes.
I could just imagine that the older man had thoughts about his friend Graham bringing a lady around.
After a while, Joe went back inside to help out the staff and the ever-growing morning line-up waiting for food and coffee.
“He’s fantastic,” I said, taking a sip of my cappuccino. “And he clearly keeps an eye on the two of you.”
“This place became my little haven when the shit hit the fan last year. He knows when to talk and when to just sit in companionable silence. And he’s got life lessons for days. The guy has seen a lot.”
When we finished our food and drinks, Graham offered to walk me home.
“Bronte will be okay?” I asked.
“I think so. She’s had a rest and a treat so she should be able to handle a couple more blocks.”
“So, what’s the rest of your day look like?” I asked as we walked.
“Still just trying to finish up this new book. I’ll probably do a couple of sprints on that and then call it a day. I need to write my article for Around the Neighborhood, and I have some emails to respond to. How about you?”
We had reached my front stoop and I gestured toward the house.
“Do you want to come in for a bit? I don’t have a pebble lawn, but B is welcome to lie down in the grass if she wants.”
“Ha ha. Very funny.” He looked down at Bronte who had taken to standing beside me again. “You sure we won’t be interrupting anything?”
“All I’ve got planned is some research and I can do that later.”
“Well then, we’d love to see where world famous fashion model Lior Flynn hangs her designer hats.” He looked up at the faded baseball cap on my head. “Or… whatever.”
I smacked him on the arm and then led the way up the front steps.
“This is… stunning,” he said, stepping into the living room and taking in the tall ceilings, layers of patterns, artwork on the walls, my furniture that was both stylish and cozy, and the floor-to-ceiling bookcases. “It’s not at all what—”
He stopped when he noticed I was smirking at him.
“Tell me, Graham Forrester,” I said. “What exactly were you expecting my house to look like? Yours?”
His face turned red. “Maybe. My apologies.”
“You should be.” I grinned. “Though I did bring in a decorator once and she wanted to do exactly what Nadia did to your house. I didn’t call her back.”
“It’s really lovely and warm.”
“Well,” I said, kneeling to give Bronte some ear scratches. “I have to admit that for the most part it came to me like this. My dad had fantastic style. It was our haven in the city when I was a kid. He left it to me when he died.”
“But you were so young.”
“Yeah. It sat empty for years. When I was scouted and realized it wasn’t a fluke and I was actually going to do this thing, I moved to New York and opened the house back up.
As soon as I had some real money coming in, I did a little remodeling and bought some furniture.
It was a labor of love at a time when I felt pretty lonely. ”
“I’ll bet it was cathartic too. Breathing life back into a place you had lived with someone you loved.”
“It was.” I stood and headed for the kitchen, patting my leg for Bronte to follow. “Come on girl, I have a yard for you to christen.”
We stood on the patio and watched the old girl wander and sniff half-heartedly at the new surroundings, and then we went back inside, leaving the door open in case she wanted to rejoin us.
Graham went directly to the bookshelves and pointed.
“May I?” he asked.
“Have at it,” I said. “Can I get you a glass of water or something? Juice?”
“I recall you mentioning something about homemade cookies last night… Tell me the truth. Are they really store-bought?”
My jaw dropped in faux outrage.
“I feel like you think I only know how to pose and smile.”
“I know you can also do a sexy sort of death glare thing too.”
I gave him the glare.
“I don’t know if I should be turned on or scared.”
“Shit, I must be doing it wrong again.”
He laughed, asked for a glass of water and a cookie, and then laughed harder when I flipped my hair over my shoulder and did my famous runway walk in my baggy sweats all the way to the living room.
He was perusing my selection of books, pulling out classics, current titles, books in Italian and French, atlases, and a vintage guide for being a proper hostess.
He ran a finger over a hand-sized globe, a small vase with a dried bouquet, a framed picture of me and Addie, and a miniature metal Space Needle statue, before moving on to the shelf dedicated to books on writing, and above it…
his books, beside which sat the framed poem he’d written for me after he’d cleaned my shoe.
He pulled one of the copies of his books from the shelf and flipped it open. It was signed to “Elle”.
“Uh oh,” I said. “You’ve found out my secret.”
“That you know how to be a proper hostess?” He pointed to the vintage book he’d noticed a minute ago.
I raised the plate of cookies in my hand. “I mean, that’s a no-brainer. But no. I meant my secret about being a fangirl.”
“You’re a fangirl? Of me?”
“I am. Well, I was. Until—”
“The Meet-Poop,” we both said and then laughed.
“Snickerdoodle?” I said, holding the plate out to me.
“Thank you,” he said, taking one and then holding up the book. “How come you had me sign it to Elle? And when did I sign this?”
I blushed.
“It was a few years ago. I came to the event in disguise.” I pointed to my baseball hat, then the pair of glasses on my coffee table. “And I didn’t want to say Lior, just in case.”
“So you said L, like the letter, and didn’t correct me when I spelled it out.”
I nodded.
“I owe you a new copy.”
“I like my copy,” I said, taking it from him and hugging it to my chest.
“Are any of the others signed?” he asked.
“Just one. I didn’t want to come off as a complete stalker.”
“Are you a stalker?”
“Nah. But I am a fan. Have been for years. Which was why I was extra mortified by that article.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s funny now. Addie nearly bust her stitches laughing when she realized I was the Meet-Poop Girl. She will never let that go. And for that reason alone, you shall remain my mortal enemy.”
“And here I thought we were getting along so well.” He looked down at the cookie that was nearly gone. “Wait, is this poisoned?”
I took a large bite of the cookie in my own hand.
“Nope,” I said with my mouth full.
He pointed at the shelf filled with books on writing.
“Are these yours?”
“The books on my bookshelf in my house?”
He laughed. “Sorry. You said the house used to belong to your dad so I thought maybe they had been his.”
“That’s the second time you’ve insulted me since coming inside my house,” I said, glaring playfully at him. “Who’s stepping in it this time?”
He dropped his head comically and then reached for one of the books.
“I love this one,” he said, flipping through the pages that were heavily marked up by a highlighter. "I see you do too."
"It’s my favorite.”
“So… you write then?”
I chewed my lip, wondering how much I wanted to divulge to this man that not so long ago I’d thought was my enemy. I couldn’t imagine he was like the users of my past. He certainly didn’t have Jared-level vibes. But with my track record, that didn’t mean much of anything.
But despite the warning bells going off in my head – Don’t trust! Turn back! – I found myself reaching for the three-ring binder he’d yet to set his sights on, cursing myself as I handed it over, and wondering what the hell I was doing, because none of this was like me.
Lior Flynn never asked a guy into her house.
Lior Flynn definitely didn’t share her desserts – and certainly not the fresh-baked cookies she only made a dozen of at a time, because at some point her metabolism was going to fail her.
More importantly, Lior Flynn didn’t talk to herself in the third person.
But Lior Flynn was freaking out right now because she’d just handed Graham Forrester a binder of articles she’d written herself.
His eyes widened when he opened it, and as my heart thudded in my chest, a light sheen of sweat rising on my upper lip, he took a seat and started to read.