Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CORMAC
José really surprised me earlier, when we went inside the restaurant to get drinks. He actually apologized for Pansy’s poor behavior.
His apology was appropriate for two reasons: the first for Pansy’s poor treatment of Nora, and the second for everything related to Pads by Pansy. So I nodded, because I didn’t want to say no apology had been needed.
He then offered to buy the round of drinks, and since it seemed important to him, I allowed it.
We settled into an awkward silence while we waited for the drinks. I was content to keep it that way, but José seemed antsy, tapping the bartop as if nervous. Finally, he looked over at me and said, “When Nora told me you were dating, I thought she was bullshitting me.”
“Oh.”
He shrugged. “You’re not her type.”
“Apparently I am,” I responded, even though he had a point.
“Maybe.”
“Definitely. I have it on good authority.”
He lifted a hand. “No need to get heated about it. Look, she came in the other day wanting to make a pear and wildflower ginger beer. I haven’t seen her on fire like that in a while. She’s been in a slump. That mean anything to you?”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. Here I’d been telling myself there was no chance Nora might reciprocate my feelings, but I’d inspired her to create something.
Maybe I had a shot after all.
A shot at what, I had no idea. Our parents were still married, and it would be ill-advised for us to try actually dating. But I didn’t care about that as much as I should.
“I can see that it does,” he mused, the look on his face not exactly pleased. “Nora’s a special person. Good for you.”
“Of course she’s special, but you don’t sound pleased about us being together.”
He resumed tapping the bar. “Take the compliment, man.”
It wasn’t a compliment, but I saw no point in saying so. Maybe I should have responded by saying something pleasant about Pansy. I honestly couldn’t think of anything to say, though, other than that she seemed very enthusiastic about her business.
So I excused myself to the restroom.
As soon as I closed the stall door, I texted the not-so-little-and-old ladies.
Me: José says Nora made a new ginger beer inspired by me.
I felt a little stupid immediately after sending the message. What was I doing anyway? Bragging?
Three dots appeared, followed by Dottie’s response:
Dottie: Excellent news!
Dottie: It’s time for you to take a leap of faith, my dear.
She followed up by sending a bat emoji.
Maybe she thought it was a bird? Same wings, seen through tired eyes.
Then Ann’s reply came through.
Ann: It’s those forearms. Good going, son. Now, if you really want to seal the deal, play the guitar for her.
Me: I play the bass. It doesn’t sound the same when it’s by itself.
Ann: You might want to consider changing instruments.
Me: How do I know she’s not interested in José anymore?
Dottie: Ask her.
I couldn’t deny she had a point. It was a question I didn’t want Nora to answer, in some ways. But I needed the answer.
Maybe I could ask the question as my prize for our contest the other day.
I headed back to the bar, where the drinks were waiting in front of José. He patted me on the back—a little overly hard—and we headed back outside together.
Within minutes it became clear that Pansy was under the delusion that because I now had money I would want to spend it on foolish things.
I desperately wanted to end our dinner date, but Nora thought we’d be doing José a great favor if we broke up his relationship. While I didn’t care about doing him any favors, I couldn’t deny she had a point. He would certainly be better off alone than with this woman.
Which was why I cornered Pansy into lying about her dating history.
Perhaps we could have accomplished more this evening if we’d continued the date, but the idea of going bowling with them had sparked the opposite of joy.
Now, as Nora and I walk away from the restaurant, I lean in and say, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t possibly go bowling with them. But the situation might work itself out. They didn’t seem to be on the same page about her attempts to blackmail us into bankrolling her business.”
She laughs in my face, which feels very natural for us. Then she wraps her hand around my arm and draws in closer, which does not. “I couldn’t go bowling with them either. God, could you imagine?”
I laugh with her, grateful to have escaped the restaurant.
It’s no less overwhelmingly hot out here, but there’s a gentle breeze, and right now it’s scented with ginger.
I take a step to the side to allow a couple to pass us.
They’re carrying heaping bags of apples, which surely must be out of season.
Do apple orchards import apples when it’s the wrong time of year?
Or is there an indoor orchard somewhere, the trees reaching up toward the sunlight?
I feel like an indoor tree sometimes—unnatural and out of place. But right now, I’m grateful to be myself. Because that’s what got me here in this moment and place, with Nora.
“Nora?” a familiar voice calls from behind us.
Pansy’s voice. I’d know it anywhere. I’ll probably hear it in my nightmares.
I swear under my breath, staring at Nora in alarm. “She’s not done with us.”
Mischief lights her eyes.
“Like hell.” She yanks my arm and starts running.
I run with her, a stupid grin forming on my face as we wind down the next alleyway, away from the car. We race past a couple of obvious tourists wearing An Apple a Day hats, jog a couple of blocks, and turn onto another street, popping out in front of a bookstore called Little Apple Books.
There’s a bench on the corner of the block, situated next to an enormous mosaic apple sculpture, and I lead her over to it, both of us panting slightly. I should probably let go of her hand now, but I don’t.
Maybe they’ll still see us, I tell myself.
We sit down on the bench, too close to each other, and Nora starts laughing, her whole body shaking with mirth. “You think she knows we heard her?”
“You can tell her we’re into couples jogging,” I say with a grin, adjusting my glasses. “Or parkour. I’ve always wanted to tell someone I’m into parkour so I could see the expression on their face.”
She laughs, but once her laughter fades, her dark brows cinch together. “You did all of this for me. No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”
“You practically wrestled a raccoon for Cookie. It was the least I could do.”
She studies me seriously. “Nathaniel told me you’re the only one who went to his Earth Day party, and that you always buy his sun tea when he sells it at the farmer’s market.”
“It’s not bad.”
“It’s horrible.”
“I give it to my dad. He likes it.” I rub my forehead. “And yeah, I like Nathaniel. He talks too much, but he seems lonely.”
She nods as if what I said proves her point. “You rigged up your whole house with inventions to make Cookie happy.”
“Are you going to continue telling me things I already know about myself?”
“Maybe.” Her expression is impossible for me to read. She’s leaning closer to me, though, and my heart is beating fast.
Her red lips remind me of a beacon, when they should be a stop sign. I know better than to kiss her. There’s no way she likes me as much as I like her, and there are our parents to consider. If I tried to kiss her, and she pulled away, I’d have to face that awkwardness for the rest of my life.
But I lean in just a little, drawn in by her. I hesitate, our faces tipped close, enough that I can see the barely there freckles dusting the bridge of her nose.
“Am I supposed to tell you facts about you too?” I ask, letting myself brush a strand of hair out of her face. A boyfriend would do that.
“If you feel like boring both of us.”
My fingers linger on her chin, lifting it up to me. “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”
She shakes her head, because of course she does. Nora has never not argued with anyone. I don’t know what it says about me that I like that about her.
“I’m afraid all the time,” she confesses.
“Doesn’t matter. You never let it hold you back. You never let anything hold you back.”
She huffs. “You heard what they said. Most of my relationships have only lasted a month.”
“I’m not surprised.”
She laughs and dips her chin down. I tip it up again, cupping the soft side of her face. When she meets my eyes, I say, “It wouldn’t be easy for you to find someone who can keep up with you. José’s fine, but you’re you.”
She draws closer, impossibly closer. “Could you keep up with me?”
“Absolutely not,” I say, my heart hammering. Here it is, just like Dottie said—the moment to take a leap. “But I know I’d enjoy trying.”
Her lips part, and in the distance, I hear someone shouting Nora’s name again.
She doesn’t look away from me. “That’s Pansy. There’s only one excuse she’ll accept for us running out on her like that.”
“Oh?”
A challenge glitters in her eyes. “It wouldn’t be unusual for a new couple to want to steal some alone time together.”
“No, it wouldn’t be unusual at all.”
Again, in the distance—“Nora!”
Her gaze holds mine, and I know I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t kiss her, not if it’s all part of a game for her, another episode of Nora Takes Things Too Far, because this is more for me.
But she leans up and presses those lips to mine, and she tastes like ginger.
I’m not a man who likes making a display of himself.
Most of the time, I’d prefer for people not to notice me at all.
But right now, I don’t care about anyone or anything other than my ginger woman.
I reach around to the back of her head, weaving my fingers into her hair and pulling her closer, my mouth moving easily with hers—as if all that practice I’ve been having in my dreams has taught me something.
It feels exquisite. I flex my hand in her soft hair, enjoying the feeling of it. She’s practically on my lap, and the only thing that would make me happier right now would be if she were actually on my lap.
Someone nearby says something, but I don’t care. I’m completely unhinged with need, my mouth moving over hers, then tracing her jawline and the soft spot beneath her ear before finding her mouth again.
I wouldn’t care if Pansy were standing over us with a camera, ready to deliver the footage to my father, because Nora’s actually kissing me.
Nora wants me, at least for the moment, and that’s enough.
She edges closer, nuzzling me as our mouths move together, my glasses edged out of alignment so part of her face is blurry.
I register a shuffling sound in front of us only moments before water splashes onto our faces.
I gasp, finally breaking away from her, and when I look up, a silver-haired man in a newsboy cap is shaking his cane at us, gripping a water bottle in the other hand. “This is a decent place. Now get out of here before I call the cops.”
“Yes, sir.” My face is hot even though it’s drenched with water.
Nora laughs, her hand pressed to her slightly wet chest, and honestly, of course she’s laughing.
I’m fighting a smile myself as I help her up from the bench, her fingers squeezing mine conspiratorially.
“Sorry, sir,” I tell the man in the hat, who’s still glaring at us as if we’re teenage delinquents. He waits until we’re on our way before he finally turns, muttering under his breath, and ducks into Little Apple Books.
“So much for stopping in the bookstore,” I mutter to Nora. “Am I allowed to call him a little old man?”
She laughs again, her eyes bright with mischief. Her fingers are still linked with mine, and I lift them and place her palm against my chest.
God, she’s beautiful, and for a second I simply soak her in.
“You kissed me,” I say, expecting her to tell me it was just a joke, or a cover story for Pansy.
Pansy hasn’t called out Nora’s name for a while now, so hopefully she’s in a car on her way back to Asheville. Or, better yet, the nearest airport.
“I’m glad you noticed,” Nora replies, a hint of teasing in her voice. “You kissed me back.”
“Of course I did.”
She searches me with her gaze and then lifts up on her toes, angling her head toward my ear, and whispers, “I think I’d like to take things too far tonight, Cormac.”
I look down, meeting her gaze, my dick suddenly uncomfortably hard. Because it seems like…
“Are you saying we’re not leaving Apple Ridge yet?”
“Follow me.”
Anywhere.
She pulls back, the front of her dress spattered with water, her lips a little slick with it. Then, giving me the kind of enigmatic smile tailor-made to drive a man insane, she takes a few backward steps before turning and striding down the road.
I don’t even hesitate.
I follow her.