Chapter 3 #2
Someone tugs at my arm, grounding me back in the present—warm room, soft lighting, my father making out with Mrs. Applebaum, and a hand on my arm.
Nora’s hand.
I meet her dark brown eyes beneath those sharp, slanted brows. “Are you actually enjoying this, Cormac? I worry about you.”
I glance around, realizing that people have steadily been drifting out of the room.
The officiant is gone, as well as Hannah, the other groomsman, my bandmates, and the bread-boule-hair ladies.
Most of the wooden folding chairs, decorated with strands of miniature roses woven over the tops, are now empty.
Don’t need to tell me twice.
“Let’s go,” I say, prompting an eye roll from Nora.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for at least thirty seconds. But you were staring off as if you were seeing your life flash before your eyes.”
“Maybe I was,” I mutter as I head for the door. “Seems like this is how it’s going to be from now on. Our parents making out and you getting on my case.”
Kneeling in front of me.
We exit through the door, a few people filtering out after us, and to my surprise, Nora yanks me down the hall, away from the tasting room, where everyone else is headed for the reception. Seconds later, we’re standing in front of the closed door to her office again.
My heart starts beating faster as I glance down at her, waiting for an explanation. “Are you going to get down on your knees again?”
My voice sounds deeper than it should. Strange. But she doesn’t seem to notice.
She rolls her eyes again and opens the door. “No, but I need to have a private word with you.”
“Didn’t we just do that?” I scratch my chin as I stare at the open door—feeling like I’ll be eaten alive if I step inside.
It’s a small room, with a desk, an office chair, two visitor chairs, and an aggressive overhead light.
Its only real sin is that it still smells like the pink dress woman’s sickly sweet vanilla perfume.
But if I walk in there, I know I’ll be portalled right back into a better memory—Nora on her knees, smiling up at me.
I swallow against my dry throat. “I have to meet up with the band.”
Not really. We’re not playing until after dinner, since my dad didn’t want me to “have to miss out” on the speech portion of the evening. (Ha.)
“This’ll just take a second,” Nora says, sounding almost…nervous?
“The vanilla scent in here is a little much.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty gross, isn’t it?”
She’s smiling. I know I’ve pleased her, but I don’t have the faintest idea why.
“Please, Cormac,” she says, and I nearly groan. This again. I can deal with angry or annoyed Nora, not the Nora who begs.
I step into the vanilla stench, feeling like I’m stepping into hell itself, and she follows me inside, closing the door behind us. My body takes notice of everything, including the whisper of a breeze as she turns to face me again.
I swallow dryly again. “It’s a little too late to put a halt to the wedding. They’re probably consummating it as we speak. That little old woman seemed to think so.”
Her brow furrows. “Are you talking about Dottie? She’s not a little old woman.”
The officiant was both short, stature-wise, and elderly, but I know Nora too well to point that out. “If you say so.”
“She’s a very successful businesswoman.”
“That doesn’t make her any less little or old.”
“Haven’t you met her before? Dottie’s one of your dad’s best friends. She owns that tea shop downtown. She’s part of that group they’re in. You know, the Wise Elders.”
“I don’t make a point of hanging out with my father’s friends, do you?”
She snorts. “Fine. Point taken. My dad’s nearest and dearest are probably a study group of strippers.”
“Did you bring me in here to talk about Dottie or…strippers?”
“No.”
She walks over to the desk and opens a bottom drawer, pulling out a flask. After taking a swig, she offers it to me.
The thought of putting my mouth where hers has been stirs something inside of me, but that’s exactly the way I shouldn’t be feeling, so I shake my head. “You can keep your saliva to yourself.”
She rolls her eyes again and sets the flask on top of the desk. “I’m just going to come out and say it.”
“That would be for the best.”
“Pansy—”
“Who’s Pansy?”
“The vanilla woman.”
I nod.
Nora taps her lips, obviously hesitating.
“Nora?”
She takes a deep breath, then blurts, “She thinks you and I are in a secret relationship.”
Laughter spills out of me. “Why would she think that?”
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was blushing. “Because she walked in on…you know.”
It’s my turn to blush, but I don’t understand why this is an issue, or a problem she deems worthy of discussion.
“So tell your friend we’re not dating. You can explain you were just messing with me.”
At least I’m reasonably sure that’s what she was doing. It makes the memory no less alluring, unfortunately.
Nora’s face pinches, as if she’s smelled something unsavory. Maybe it’s that vanilla perfume seeping into our pores. “She’s not my friend.”
“Probably for the best, if she wears that scent everywhere.”
She laughs, but her cheeks are still flushed pink, and there’s an unsettled air about her. Nora, who’s usually never uncertain, is uncertain about this. “I need her to keep thinking we’re dating, Cormac.”
“Why?”
She explains what’s going on with The Ginger Station, while I listen in stupefied disbelief. I’ve been around Nora at least a dozen times over the past year, and she’s never mentioned any of this. Not to me, and not even in front of me.
“This is a bad idea,” I finally say. “Maybe the worst idea anyone has ever had. What if our parents find out?”
She starts pacing the tiny space. “They’re not going to find out. Why would they? Pansy assumes it’s this big secret, and as long as she thinks she can hold it over my head, she will.”
“Why would you let her do that?” I ask, at a loss. The Nora I know wouldn’t give anyone that kind of power over her.
“Because of José,” she says at once. “I can’t let her pressure him into quitting.”
That’s when it clicks into place. Nora must be in love with her business partner. According to what I’ve reluctantly heard from my dad, they dated briefly a while back. She’s the one who broke it off, but she may have changed her mind.
“I’m not a good liar. Why don’t you tell this woman you’re in a secret relationship with someone else?”
She clenches her jaw before admitting, “I already told her you and I are together.”
I stride over to the desk and snatch up the flask, opening it and taking a deep pull on it. Whiskey. Good whiskey. I screw the cap back on and set it down. “I’m not just bad at lying. I don’t like it.”
“Don’t think of it as lying. Think of it as playing a part.”
My scowl deepens. I do that often enough. I’m always playing a part, wearing other people’s gestures and expressions so they’ll assume I’m one of them. “I like that even less.”
She huffs in frustration. “Come on. The worst she’ll do is wink and nod. And maybe we can pretend to be holding hands while she’s looking.”
“You can’t pretend to hold hands. Either you are or you’re not.”
She takes a step toward me. Alarm thrums through me, and I raise my hand. “For the love of God. Please don’t get down on your knees again.”
A crease forms between her eyebrows. “I wasn’t going to. I was going to ask you what I can do for you. As a favor. You know…to make up for being a pain in the ass. Isn’t there something you need? Something I can do for you?”
“No,” I say, mostly because my mind is dangerously close to forming images of Nora getting on her knees in front of me for a different reason.
Her lips firm into a displeased line.
“I’m not saying that to be an asshole,” I say, suddenly desperate to leave the room. It feels like it’s getting a millimeter smaller every second we’re trapped in here together.
“So it comes naturally?”
“I suppose.”
She watches me as if she’ll find the key to her problem hanging off my face, and then her eyes brighten. “Hazel. You were watching her during the ceremony.”
“Who’s Hazel?”
“My cousin. The pretty woman who was standing next to me.”
“Oh. She seemed fine.” I should pat myself on the back for not reporting that I only looked at her once, to check out her bread-boule hair.
“Fine?” Nora scoffs. “She’s gorgeous. Everyone knows she’s gorgeous.”
“She’s not prettier than you.”
Nora’s lips part. She looks surprised, maybe even a little pleased.
“I’m not trying to hit on you or anything,” I say quickly. “It’s just true. I don’t mind telling you what you already know.”
She nods slowly. “Well, what if I can get you a shot with Hazel?”
“Let me get this straight. You want me to pretend to be your secret boyfriend, and in exchange, you’ll set me up with your cousin?” Whom I couldn’t pick out of a lineup.
“Sure!” she says quickly, her tone overly bright. “Let’s go with that. It sounds like an even exchange.”
“That’s an even worse idea than your original one.”
“Don’t you want to meet someone nice?” she asks, her tone wheedling. “Your father told my mom you haven’t been on a date in, like, six months.”
Ouch.
“I’m sure it hasn’t been that long.”
She studies me, her gaze unwavering.
“I got wrapped up in the band thing,” I admit. “And I’ve had a career shift. I haven’t had time for anything else.”
“I’ll bet a lot of women hit on you after concerts.”
I shrug. “Maybe. I’ve never been very good at figuring out what women want.”
“I believe that.”
I’m annoyed and tempted to say something hurtful like, My father tells me you haven’t been in a serious relationship for years, so I’m guessing you’re no expert either.
Instead, I settle for “Nice talk,” and turn toward the door.
Her hand wraps around my arm, but when I swivel back toward her, she pulls it away.
“You’ve been working out.”
“You’re really desperate, aren’t you?” I ask, laughing. Maybe because high school me would get a kick out of Nora Leigh being desperate for anyone to think we were dating.
A familiar displeasure spills into her expression. “There must be something else you want. Something I can do for you…”
My mind flashes, again, to the memory of her on her knees.
Dammit, testosterone is not my friend today. I’d prefer to remember all the times Nora has been aggravating. There have been plenty, starting over a decade ago, and I don’t feel guilty for thinking so. I’m certain she’d say the same about me.
“I’ll do anything,” she says, which seriously is not helping.
Then again…there is something I need help with. Something I’ve been worrying about.
“Can you dog-sit next weekend? The band has a couple of shows in Atlanta. I’d need you to stay in my house, though. My dog’s a little…particular.”
She brightens, her whole face lighting up with hope, and of course she’s even more beautiful like this. Looking at me like I could be the solution to all of her problems rather than the cause of them. “Of course! I told you. I’d be a great pet owner.”
“All right.”
“I’m sure your dog and I will get along great,” she gushes.
I’m less sure, but I’ll give Nora this. She’s good at getting what she wants from people.
Just like she’s about to get what she wants from me.
Maybe this isn’t such a bad thing, though. My father asked me to be nice to her, and I’d do anything to get out of this room…
“Okay,” I tell Nora, holding out my hand for a shake. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
The wattage of her face somehow increases further, and I’m surprised by how much it lightens my own mood to see her happy like this, knowing I played a part in it. Even if it was by agreeing to a ridiculous lie.
“You’ll pretend you’re my secret boyfriend in exchange for dog-sitting? Hell, yes.” She slips her small hand in mine. Her middle finger is slightly crooked, arcing to the right by a few millimeters, and I crush the urge to trace it as I give her hand a firm shake.
“So this is what it feels like to make a deal with the devil,” I say.
She just smiles at me—a softer smile than usual—and before I leave her office, I smile back like the idiot I am.