Chapter 13 Abby #2
The realization makes my stomach twist. Maybe it’s the way Marcus keeps staring, like he’s trying to do emotional calculus in his head and all the variables come out wrong.
I feel a peak of rage spark behind my ribs.
Then I catch Jonathan’s smile. Still easy, still close and I remember, this is the point.
Make Marcus hurt. Make him jealous. At the very least, make him wonder.
The song ends. The group claps and I slip out of Jonathan’s arms and join them.
Jonathan, showman that he is, sticks two fingers in his mouth and whistles like we’re at a Yankees game.
Not shocking, he can whistle and of course he can sing.
And dance with two annoyingly coordinated legs. The man is infuriatingly functional.
We start walking toward the main lodge, Jonathan nudging my elbow with his like we’re co-conspirators. He gives me a smirk so alarmingly handsome it could knock a weaker woman off her feet. Not me. I’m only weak-ish.
Just as that thought shoots across my mind, a woman in a breezy white linen dress steps directly into our path.
Well, more Jonathan’s path. She’s wearing large, clay earrings and perfume that screams floral overload, like she wrestled a spray bottle and lost. The kind of scent that makes your eyes water and your soul whisper, Oh honey, no.
“That was some performance,” she says, resting her hand on his arm and wedging herself next to him like I’m just here to carry his fan mail.
She turns her blinding smile toward me. It’s the kind of smile that says You don’t mind if I flirt shamelessly with your man, right?
I mind. Oh, I definitely mind. Except why do I mind? He’s not my man.
“I’m Sherry,” she says. “One of the managers here at Cedar Lakes.”
She’s the kind of woman who makes you question if you packed enough lip gloss. I have to admit, I do like the shade of pink she’s wearing on her lips. Bold choice. Might copy it later.
“Hi, Sherry, thank you for having us,” Jonathan says fluidly as he untangles himself from her grip and wraps an arm around my waist instead.
The shift is subtle but firm. Protective even. It’s kind of nice. I haven’t been held like that in a long time, even if it is just a performance with my insufferably attractive work nemesis.
Victoria, Marcus and the rest of our group approach and Sherry flips into hostess mode.
“Welcome, everyone, to Cedar Lakes,” she beams, glancing at me like I’m the garnish on a plate she didn’t order. “Please come inside. Mimi will get you all checked into your cottages.”
She gestures toward the main building and we follow her across the wraparound porch of what looks like an Ina Garten’s guest house during lavender season.
“We also have a karaoke bar that entertains our guests nightly,” she says straight to Jonathan, with a wink. “Would love to hear that voice again.” She taps his cheek lightly like she’s known him since high school.
Jonathan lets out an uncomfortable laugh. “Sounds fun. Thanks,” he says, then not-so-subtly guides me inside with a rigid hand on my back.
“Your voice always bring out the cougars?” I tease under my breath.
“She’s not a cougar,” he mutters. “She’s just… desperate.”
“What? I thought you liked desperate women.” I smirk.
“I like to work for my meals,” he says with a laugh, like he’s joking. But he doesn’t blink and I don’t think he’s joking.
I roll my eyes. “Well, she’s not your type anyway.”
“Oh yeah? And what’s my type?” he asks, releasing my waist as we fall into step beside each other.
“You like them young,” I remark confidently.
“And how would you know what I like?” Jonathan asks, his voice dipped in curiosity.
“Because…” I pause. Oh no, I was about to admit I know more about him than I’ve ever let on. “I think Tanya mentioned it once,” I lie instead.
He raises a single brow. “Tanya, huh?”
“Yep.” The lie burns on the way out.
“Well, Tanya doesn’t know me. And neither do you,” he says as we approach the check-in desk.
My eyes roll so hard I’m impressed they stay in my skull.
“Come on. Let’s see what our digs look like,” he says, pulling out his license for the front desk and walking ahead of me.
Marcus suddenly appears beside me, his voice low and cool.
“That was some show your boy put on,” he says, still facing forward like eye contact might kill him.
I give a lazy shrug. “He likes attention.”
“From what I remember, you didn’t like men who acted that way,” he replies, side-eyeing me.
Wow. He really side-eyed me.
“People change their minds,” I snap, my voice tight. “You should know that better than anyone.”
Before I can start throwing decorative pine cones at his face, I walk straight to Jonathan and wrap my arm through his.
He startles a little but catches on fast. He glances over his shoulder at Marcus, then slides his arm around my shoulders and he kisses the top of my head like we’re one of those couples who call each other babe in public without shame.
A+ recovery. Okay, maybe this weekend won’t be a total disaster.