CHAPTER FOURTEEN CECI
Chapter Fourteen
Ceci
Pixel and Aunt Delilah came running forward the minute Ceci shut the door behind her and Boudica.
“Spill the tea,” Aunt Delilah cried.
“Wait!” Pixel shouted, pointing toward the credenza where Ceci had placed the trophy.
“Is that—?” She didn’t wait for an answer.
She went running toward it and picked it up.
“It is! You and Boudica won the Pawsome Sledding race!” Her huge smile disappeared when she looked at Ceci. “Why aren’t you happy?”
“I’m happy.”
Even Ceci could hear the snappy, irritable tone in her voice. She shouldn’t be taking her anger out on Pixel and Aunt Delilah. That tone was reserved for one person and one person only.
Once she’d clocked him, he was back to being Sir Stick Up His Ass.
Back to being Sir Stick Up His Ass? He was always Sir Stick Up His Ass.
She’d apologized. Told him he could sleep over at her house and she’d drive him to the airport the next morning. She’d even offered to collect snow by the roadside to ice his eye. But all of this was met with curt noes, that won’t be necessary, I prefer we get back as soon as possible.
Ceci cast aside any thoughts about Krispy Kreme burgers and deep-fried s’mores.
Forgot about the guy who’d come up with the idea for the kart and seemed almost as happy as she was when they’d won.
She tossed kerosene followed by a lit match on her memory of the guy who’d told that douchebag he didn’t mind having pussy all over him.
She swallowed as that last recollection ignited a flame between her thighs. Okay, she’d have to work harder to rid herself of that one.
“Looks to me like she’s more than happy,” she heard Aunt Delilah say.
Ceci shifted from Pixel’s face to her aunt’s. They were clearly waiting. She could practically see their furrowed brows forming a question mark.
“Okay,” said Pixel, “I’m really confused.”
“As am I,” Aunt Delilah said. “First you looked miserable. Then you looked ecstatic.”
“Ecstatic?!” Ceci cried.
“And now you look miserable again,” Pixel said.
“And angry,” her aunt added.
“Well, that’s hardly surprising given the company I had to keep.”
Pixel frowned. “Yeah, but you won the trophy and you were gone for hours. All day. So, what gives?”
“Sir Stick Up His Ass—that’s what gives.”
“I think this requires liquor,” Aunt Delilah said, “and no fancy cocktails. If we give it too much time, she’ll rethink telling us about it.” She pointed toward the bar. “Come on, Pixel.”
Pixel gaped. “Did you just call me Pixel?”
“What? Why would I do that? You need to get your hearing checked, dear. You get the glasses. I’ll get the hard stuff.”
When they were all sitting down with glasses of rye, Ceci took one sip followed by one gulp before she felt prepared to talk.
She told them about the Krispy Kreme burgers and the deep-fried s’mores, and they laughed heartily.
“Oh, and the scarf. I forgot about the scarf. You can have it if you want, Pixel. I put it in my purse.”
Pixel jumped up and retrieved the bag. “Nice,” she said, pulling out the scarf.
Aunt Delilah held out her hand. “Let me see that.” Once Pixel gave it to her, she ran her fingers over the delicate fabric. “Forget-me-nots,” she said, her eyes darting from the scarf to Ceci. “Put it on, Cecilia.”
Rolling her eyes, Ceci balked. “Can we just get to the race?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” her aunt said, waving her hands dismissively. “But first, put this on.”
Ceci sighed but took the scarf and wrapped it haphazardly around her neck. “There. Are you happy now?”
“Interesting,” her aunt said.
“Wow, it really suits you,” Pixel said.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Aunt Delilah agreed.
“I don’t wear scarves,” said Ceci, removing it and tossing it on the coffee table.
Pixel poured each of them a second round, and Ceci went on to tell them about the glory of the race before finally getting to the grand finale.
Pixel stared at her in disbelief. “You hit the man?”
“A second time,” her aunt said, no look or tone of disbelief.
“I meant to hit the asshole, but he got in the way. Again. Formula 1 drivers are supposed to have quick reflexes. So how is it I’ve been able to land two punches on the man?”
“When is that second date scheduled?” Aunt Delilah paused. “Or fake date.”
Ceci stared at her aunt.
“Piper told me, dear.”
“There isn’t going to be one,” Ceci huffed. “I’m done with him. That’s the last time I’ll have to see Sir Stick Up His Ass away from the paddock.”
“But I thought—” both Pixel and Aunt Delilah cried in unison.
“The Stick said no. He won’t do it. So, there it is.”
Pixel grinned. “Maybe he figures it’s too dangerous being around you.”
Ceci laughed. “Apparently.”
Aunt Delilah picked up the scarf, examining it while she spoke.
“What do you suppose the chances are that a woman out on a date with a man should punch him on two separate occasions? I mean, when there was no reason to and she didn’t intend to.
What do you think, Piper? Statistically speaking, what are the odds? ”
“I can’t give a precise number without doing some calculations. But off the cuff, I feel confident in saying they’re very, very slim.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Aunt Delilah was looking at Ceci like a cat who’d caught a mouse. Ceci could almost swear she saw the rodent’s tail like a string of spaghetti slither up and disappear while her aunt licked her lips.
“What?” Ceci demanded. “Why are you looking at me like that? The fake dating thing is a no-go, Aunt Delulu. Thank goodness! I don’t know what I was thinking making that deal with Roxanne. Nothing is worth having to go out on another date with that stick.”
Soon he would be on a flight out of Montana. With any luck, he already was.
Her aunt stood up. “I wonder if we have enough logs for the fire. If not, now would be a good time to go out and collect some before the snow really starts coming down.”
Aunt Delilah was right. It had begun snowing. But it was a light snowfall. Just a few flakes drifting softly to the ground.
Ceci shrugged. “That’s nothing. It won’t add even an inch.”
Pixel got up and grabbed her jacket. “I’ll get some just to be safe.”
After Pixel was gone, there was a moment of silence. Aunt Delilah had yet to wipe that sly expression off her face.
“I’m going to my room to read, dear,” she said. “Come get me when dinner is ready.”
She still held the scarf, but released it when she passed the credenza, watching the vibrant yet delicate material in a swirl of brilliant color float down. “It definitely puts a different spin on the narrative. Then again, it is the twenty-first century.”
“What do you mean spin? Narrative?”
Her aunt was gazing out the window. Anyone else might have thought she hadn’t heard Ceci. But Ceci knew her aunt had a special talent for ignoring things she had no interest in responding to.
Aunt Delilah turned from the window and headed down the hallway. Without even a backward glance, she added, “That snow is coming down now something fierce.”