36. Noelle
Chapter thirty-six
Noelle
“Is red too much?” I blurted out the minute Macy accepted my video chat.
“Red is never too much.” Her face contorted, then she sneezed three times in rapid succession. “Sorry, I think I’m allergic to Arkansas. The humidity is like a built-in moisturizer, but I haven’t stopped sneezing since I got here last week. But back to red, what’s the context here?”
I bit my lip, holding the dress to my chest. “Cal asked me on a date.”
“I knew it!” She shrieked. “Yes to the red. Wait, do you know where he’s taking you?”
“No. He just said to wear my favourite dress that made me confident but comfortable.”
“Classy. We love a king who promotes comfort.” Macy nodded in approval. “Are you comfortable in the red dress?”
I was. It was my favourite, and I owned it in multiple colours. Stretchy material and A-line silhouettes were the fastest way to my heart in the dress department. Slits and sheaths were just asking for trouble. “Yes, but I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.”
“Chica.” Macy frowned, trying to look stern. Hard to do with a pineapple-shaped smoothie cup in your hand, my friend. “Wear the red. You’re overthinking this.”
Right. Nothing new under the sun there. I hurried into the bathroom and changed, while Macy barked orders about my hair and makeup.
“Hair down. Men like that,” she said authoritatively.
“Have you seen my feral curls today?” The inability to tame them was the bane of my Type-A existence.
“You’re rocking them, Elle. I wish my hair curled like yours instead of demanding two bottles of hairspray to hold a curl for more than an hour. Oh, and do the smoky eye with that superb winged eyeliner. My makeup has been abysmal since you left. You’ve got a steadier hand than me.”
I laughed. That winged eyeliner technique had been all Melissa’s doing. Just remembering the countless times she’d helped me with my makeup before dates with Cal made my heart squeeze. “Let’s see if I can still do it.”
Macy regaled me with anecdotes of the life of a traveling hygienist. Most of them were horror stories, but they made me laugh. Thirty minutes later, I finished applying my final coat of mascara when someone knocked on the front door.
I bit my lip. “He’s here.”
“Eek! Okay. You got this. Lord, please settle Noelle’s nerves and let this be a beautiful evening for them both. Amen.”
“Love you, Mace.”
“Call me later! Byeee!”
Gripping my phone, I hurried to open the door.
Cal’s eyes widened in appreciation. “Whoa,” he murmured softly. Those four seconds of slack-jawed appraisal did wonders for my confidence.
“Whoa yourself,” I said shyly. The man knew how to wear a dress shirt—that blue was beautiful with his eye colour.
Smiling at me, starry-eyed like he promised, he handed me a bouquet of sunflowers. “For you.”
Happy butterflies soared in my stomach. I’d always said sunflowers were the happiest flowers in the world. He remembered. Clearing my throat, I whispered, “They’re beautiful.”
“Like you.”
Warmth flooded my cheeks. “Let me put these in water and then we can go.”
After the flowers were properly hydrated and smiling on my kitchen counter, Cal ushered me out to his truck with a hand on my lower back.
“Do I get to know where we’re going?” I teased, his hand resting on the headrest near my cheek as he backed out of the driveway. Competent driving was always insanely attractive. I’d dated a handful of guys who drove like we were constantly in a real-life Mario Kart race. Big red flag.
Cal grinned, dimple popping out. “Maybe. If you pay the toll fee.”
“Toll fee?”
“I get to ask two questions that you have to answer honestly.”
Oh boy. There was a vast array of questions he could demand honest answers to, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for all of them. But I did want to know where we were going. “All right.”
“We’ll start off easy. Which do you prefer—orcas or sea lions?”
“I . . . what?”
“Sea life, Elle, keep up. We went to the aquarium in Seattle that one time and you said you preferred the orcas, but I always wondered if that was because they were my favourite. So spill.”
I laughed, relief rolling over me at the unserious question. It was such a Cal thing to ask. “If you remember correctly, I said I liked orcas best and then you said you did, too.”
Cal hummed softly. “Ahh, yes.” He winked at me. “Truthfully, I liked the sea lions better. They’re chatty, friendly guys. Like myself.”
“So you were sucking up to me?”
“Always.” He smiled. “Next question: Where was our favourite date spot?”
“The taco truck and ice cream.”
“Bingo.”
“Wait, is that where we’re going?”
“Among other things, Holiday.” He chuckled, changing lanes as we pulled out of Serenity Springs and headed south. “And they have gluten-free. I checked.”
He checked? Without me reminding him or mentioning it? Time to add taking initiative to the list of most attractive qualities.
His dimple flashed. Seriously, it needed to come with a warning label. “Now tell me about your day. What was something that made you laugh?”
Conversation came easily. I told him about Macy’s newest work horror story (featuring a small child who turned vampire and bit her mid-cleaning—stitches were required) and then about my much less harrowing customers at the Bean.
Cal laughed until he had to wipe his watering eyes, then launched into a story about one of the pranks he and a couple of the guys on the team played on the rookies for initiation.
“What’s the deal with Max and Bells?” I asked, shifting to face him. “I saw them at Downto’n last night.”
Cal sighed. “That’s the golden question. We have an office pool going as to when they both admit they’re in love with each other. We’re at almost three years right now.”
“Can I get in on that?”
He barked a laugh as we pulled into the taco place.
I had no idea it was still in operation. It was one of those undiscovered gems that, for all the tourism in the area, the tourists never discovered. Locals hoarded the secret of the taco truck with all the reverence of Buckingham Palace guards, but it hummed with activity for a week night.
Tacos in hand—spicy shrimp and mango for Cal and the least spicy grilled pork for me—we headed for “our spot.” The Edison bulbs still hung overhead, and the picnic table closest to the lake had been repainted a fresh white, but it was the same.
Cal said grace, and we dove into the delicious food.
“Mmm,” I moaned around the first bite, shimmying my shoulders. “New York can’t compare to this.”
The corner of Cal’s mouth tipped up while he watched me. “That good, huh?”
I waved my taco in front of him. “Want to taste?”
His hand curled around my wrist, holding me steady as he took the offered bite. My pulse ticked like a metronome under his touch. His thumb gently brushed over the inside of my wrist, and I swallowed hard.
“Amazing,” he murmured, eyes locked on mine. He let me go, and unsure of what to say, I shoved another mouthful of taco into my mouth to avoid saying something ridiculous. Like I still like you. Tacos shouldn’t be so romantic. They were messy and juicy, but they sure tasted good.
“Want to try mine?” Cal gestured to his half-demolished plate of tacos.
I wrinkled my nose. “Yours are spicy.” And gluten-free because he was worried about cross contamination. Did the man’s thoughtfulness have no bounds?
He smirked. “So you still hate anything hotter than black pepper?”
I stuck out my tongue. “Not all of us were built for shoveling lava into our mouths and calling it dinner.”
“Hey, I saw the cayenne pepper in your spice drawer.”
“Those are for my ginger shots because they help my joints. Trust me, downing those things every morning isn’t a joyride. I swear my eustachian tubes are on fire every time.”
He leaned in. “Have I mentioned how much I love when you use big medical words?” he said huskily.
I arched an eyebrow. “I seem to recall you calling Myles a know-it-all every time he did it growing up.”
Cal laughed, and it echoed off the lake. “Yeah, and I still do. But you are much better looking than Myles and far less annoying.”
“Thank you, I think?”
“It was definitely a compliment.
We finished our tacos as the sun started to set. The golden light flung out its rays in a final farewell before sinking behind the mountains and evergreens, leaving the sky streaked in amber and fire.
After tossing our trash, Cal hugged me from behind, chin resting on my shoulder as we stood watching the colours dance across the sky.
Cal’s nose brushed my ear. “Another thing New York couldn’t do?”
“Yeah,” I whispered. Speaking too loud might shatter the spell, the magic holding us in this moment. Cal’s arms flexed around me, holding me tighter. Like he was afraid I was an illusion, a wonderful dream that ended at the stroke of midnight.
“Hey, mister?”
Cal and I jumped apart, turning to the small boy, no more than eight, shuffling on his feet behind us. Somewhere a camera shutter clicked, but I couldn’t find a lens.
Cal eased into his grinning, sunny self. “Hey, there, bud. You here for tacos, too?”
The boy nodded, eyes shining. “Can I get your autograph?”
My extroverted date shot me an apologetic look, but I offered him a smile. This was part of his life.
“Sure thing.” Cal took the offered pen and paper and signed it in a bold, messy scrawl. He engaged the boy for a few minutes, talking about sports—the boy played hockey—and Cal gave him a few tips.
When the boy finally scampered back to his mom, who offered a grateful wave, Cal turned to me with a flirtatious smile. “Now where were we?”
But it wasn’t to last.
One autograph broke the ice and soon a mob of fans crawled out of the woodwork, gathering around the table and asking for selfies or autographs.
Others wanted to talk about the last game and how Cal was recovering after his knee injury.
I’d seen clips on the Chargers’ social media page about Cal interacting with fans; he was good at it.
Taking time to make them feel special. Like he cared.