10. Jeanie
10 /
jeanie
Dirty Hot Viking God
Nathan Wolf must be the most morally gray, wanna-be life coach on the planet. I’ve never heard of one who’s down for busting up a wedding. Not that I have a lot of time for browsing the internet these days. Maybe it’s some new thing I haven’t heard about.
Doesn’t matter. I’m desperate, and Nathan is hot enough to set off Roman’s alarm bells. If I’m being truthful, he’s setting off mine in more ways than one.
When he stepped into the elevator in a trim ocean-blue suit with his crisp white shirt unbuttoned, revealing a portion of a tattoo on his tanned chest, my mouth turned bone dry.
Even though I don’t consider myself short, he towers over me when he steps close, like some sort of hot Viking god. His newly shaped scruff suggests he made an effort, while his mussed dark hair does whatever it wants and still looks amazing.
Is it wrong I wanted to run my fingers through it?
And don’t get me started on his cologne. It’s a mix of ocean and coconuts. No man should look or smell this good. It’s a mortal sin.
I’m not sure how we travel from the elevator, across the lobby, and to the pool deck, because the only thing I’m aware of is his large warm fingers engulfing mine. I can’t remember anyone ever holding my hand so possessively, so confidently, like I belonged to them. Like they would kill anyone who dared look at me. I don’t want to enjoy it, but I do.
Outside, we step behind a grouping of palm trees with white lights woven through them. Nathan shifts a palm frond to reveal a view of the event, which is a cocktail party, not a sit-down dinner like I imagined. I’m undecided if this is a good development.
True to form, Roman has made the event into a marketing blitz for the sandwich shop. Models strut around dressed in Italian Beef sandwiches and Chicago hotdog costumes while handing out hors d’oeuvres and drinks. Inner tubes shaped like vegetables float on the surface of the pool. Vinyl company logos are plastered on every surface. Professional cameras flash as a group poses in front of the Beefmobile, which is now parked within the party boundaries.
“Your Roman is Roman’s Italian Beef?” Nathan asks, sounding shocked. But then, most people are when they find out.
“We started the business in college.” I clutch my handbag, still focused on searching for allies in the faces of the party.
“I worked there in college. Roman looks different.”
I slowly turn to Nathan. I’m more surprised to hear he’s from or lived in the Midwest. I detect no accent. The bigger problem is this info makes me focus on our age gap. Most of our employees are younger.
Who am I kidding? No one will ever believe this guy is dating me. I shake my head, already talking myself out of this ridiculous plan.
“You’re not making me feel better, Coach,” I say, scanning him.
“You keep insinuating you’re old, but you’re not. What are you, like, eighty?” He smirks.
“Ha-ha.” I give him a sour expression. “Thirty-five.”
He faces me and grabs both my hands. “You’re a beautiful woman. Tonight, I want you to use it, flaunt it, enjoy it. Not to make an ex jealous, but for yourself. Understand?”
Nathan is staring into my eyes like he’s reaching into my soul. I can’t decide if I’m uncomfortable or moved. No one has ever talked to me like this.
My lips wobble. Should I frown or laugh? Is he being serious, or is this part of his coaching methods? Or maybe I was right about him the first time we met. Perhaps he really is motivational. Mr. Motivational.
“I feel very motivated. Thank you,” I say.
“It’s my cake-moist lips, isn’t it?” He points to his face and puckers.
“Clearly.” My smile wins, tipping on one side.
“Now, give me the rundown on what we’re dealing with here.” He claps his hands like he’s digging deep into this wedding-wrecking, partners-in-crime job.
We glance toward the party.
“Two years ago, Roman moved out, leaving me and my teenage son, Dex. We were on the verge of reconciling, or so I thought until the divorce papers arrived. Eventually, because Dex wanted me to, I signed them. Then I found out Roman is getting married to Sophia. I don’t even know how they met. Until yesterday, I hadn’t seen her since we were kids.”
“He’s an idiot. And if I remember correctly, he was a shitty boss too. Why do you want him back, exactly?” Nathan gives me a questioning look.
“He has a reputation for being hotheaded, as I’m sure you’ve experienced. I’m sorry about that, and I’m sorry I don’t remember you.” I touch Nathan’s arm.
“Go on,” he says.
“I know I sound crazy, and I’ve asked myself the same question, but I decided I can forgive Roman if it means we can have our family back. I want Dex to have the structure I didn’t.”
I don’t need to go into details about my broken childhood. That’s an entirely different conversation.
Nathan’s jaw tightens when my eyes turn glassy. Something I’ve said appears to hit home for him. At least, he seems more convinced than a few seconds ago.
He presents his arm. “Well then, let’s go steal ourselves a groom.”