Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Dahlia rolled the white primer onto the bathroom ceiling.
Even with the small window open, the odor was strong and noxious.
With each motion forward and backward, the yellow stain slowly disappeared.
Cold speckles hit her long lashes from above.
She couldn’t believe it had taken this long to repaint.
She chuckled silently, remembering the day fifteen years earlier when Daisy filled the upstairs sink to wash her American Girl dolls.
“Daisy, come on, we’re late. Your dad is waiting at the church,” Dahlia said, sweating through her white lace dress.
She couldn’t believe she’d said yes to a church …
and yes to Spence. But how could she not, after Daisy had made a birthday wish for Spence and Dahlia to get married after he showed up out of the blue?
Daisy was so happy, and Dahlia couldn’t dash her hopes of having a “real” family.
Plus, he was very convincing. He said he’d changed, that he thought about them every day and wanted to be the dad and husband they deserved.
More than anything, Dahlia wanted a partnership; she was tired of being alone.
“Mommy, Kaya’s not ready,” Daisy shouted from the top of the stairs in her sweet little voice.
“Then get her ready and quickly.” What if he thinks she’s a no-show? Is that a bad thing? Dahlia sat on the Windsor bench and anxiously rubbed the arm. What was she doing? They didn’t work then, and what was to say they’d work now? But she had to try for Daisy.
“Coming,” said Daisy, running down the stairs with her two dolls tucked under her arm.
“Carefully, we don’t need any accidents today,” Dahlia said, getting up. “Daisy, you look so pretty and very wet.”
“It’s okay, Mommy. Don’t sweat the small stuff, remember?” Daisy said with her lisp.
“How could I forget? Pop used to say that all the time. Did you turn the water off?” Dahlia asked, holding her hand.
“Of course, silly pants,” Daisy said in midskip.
“Okay then, let’s go get married, Daisy girl.”
What an omen that was. Nothing like a monsoon inside your house on your wedding day to bring you impending doom.
She should have known that the dream would be better than the reality.
And it most certainly was. It turned out that she and Daisy were mere pawns in his becoming the token family man in a well-crafted plot to take over the family’s wealth management business.
Once Dahlia found out he’d lied, he treated her like the help.
He was indifferent, emotionless, and cold.
He was the same person he’d always been.
She was told she was ungrateful many times and that any woman would die to be in her position.
Who would have thought she’d feel more alone being married?
The old, rusted ladder wiggled as she climbed down. Every stain on the metal marked a project that still seemed relevant. Dahlia pushed it into the hallway, hearing the plastic feet skid across the floor. Her phone vibrated in her pocket; it was a text from Kara.
Is McHandy over yet?
Dahlia rolled her eyes and typed. He’s working on the porch. Just finished the refrigerator.
When am I going to get to meet him? How about a quick FaceTime? Kara asked.
God no. Not today. Not any day.
You’re crushing my dreams.
Lol. I doubt that. FYI, we’re making good progress.
And we’ll need to continue since I’m now the chief curator at the swankiest gallery in Charleston.
Dahlia felt an enormous sense of relief wash over her, knowing she wouldn’t have to run any more ridiculous errands or report to her a-hole boss ever again.
Now she could focus on the job ahead and find a place to live in Charleston.
She wondered if the cute apartment with the great kitchen and period details in the French Quarter was still available from her search before she left.
I’ll settle for a pic. Kara’s text interrupted Dahlia’s panic.
You’re incorrigible. Not happening.
Dahlia put her phone away, feeling a rush of anxiety swell through her veins. As soon as she picked the brush back up, she was greeted by loud music outside. “What the …?” she mumbled.
With each step, the song became louder. The lyrics to “Dancing in the Dark” echoed through the window screens.
She peeked out the back door. And there it was, Noah karate chopping the air.
He also kicked, swayed, and twerked his fine hips to good ol’ Bruce.
Wow, he really likes him. It was another affirmation of the “old soul” that lived inside him.
She could feel the heaviness lift, and all she wanted to do was join the fun-loving guy bobbing around the sawdust dance floor to her dad’s favorite song.
Her smile extended ear to ear until he spotted her.
“Come join me?” He playfully summoned her with his finger from the back porch.
Lordy. “I’m good,” Dahlia yelled back, watching his hips move effortlessly with the rhythm. Her mouth was moist, and her chest fluttered. She couldn’t look away.
“Dancing is good for the soul.” He continued kicking and punching the air in his dingy baseball hat and a graphic tee while singing into a hammer.
Dahlia smiled, feeling her face blush. She held up the brush covered in white paint, hoping he would stop asking.
Not because she didn’t want to, but because, deep down, she did.
She wanted to feel his body next to hers and dirty dance with him into the sunset.
At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to be Baby and him, Johnny.
She filled the cup next to the sink with cold tap water and gulped it as if she had been stranded in the desert for days. The gallery job was the right decision. The only decision.
“Got some for me?” Noah asked, bopping his gorgeous, dirty body through the back door.
“Oh, sure.” Her voice pitched embarrassingly high when he grabbed her arm and twirled her.
He smelled like rugged goodness, like a cowboy at the end of a long, hard-earned day.
Then he pressed her body into his and swayed.
She had two choices: go with it or fight it.
After taking a beat, she realized he wasn’t going to take no for an answer anyway.
At least she’d be able to cross something off her summer bucket list.
His eyes were mesmerizing this close, like an ocean you could get lost in. His hold was firm but soft, like in a leading man kind of way. When his stare lingered a little longer, her body began buzzing with a joy unlike she’d ever felt. Then he dipped her, and she let out a sudden squeal.
“And that’s why they pay me the big bucks.” He laughed, setting her back on her feet.
“Water, right?” She cleared her throat, still reeling from what that was, and poured him a glass.
“Thanks.” After three large swigs, it was gone. “How’s that working?” He pointed to the cream-colored refrigerator that now had a consistent low hum.
“Great. It’s nice not having to pull things from a wet and leaky cooler. And to be able to cook if I want to. Not that I need to make this house any hotter.” Did she just say that out loud? She did.
“I’m almost done with the screens. Then I can get up to check out that chimney cap.” Noah wiped his ’stache with the back of his hand.
Dahlia gulped; this time, she was sure it was audible. “Are you sure? That’s pretty high.” Nothing could happen to him. She needed him. And … perhaps she wanted him too, despite what she found online.
“Yup, we’ve got a couple of ladders that will reach the roof.” He paused, putting the glass in the sink. “I was thinking. I’ve got to return to the island tonight to drop off the banquettes. Want to join me?”
She pushed the hair off her face. “I don’t know, I have a lot to do here. That long list of mine isn’t going to take care of itself.”
“Oh, come on. You need a break. There’s a great little brewery in town, where I got the beers the other night, and you can meet my sister,” he said, heading for the back door.
His sister?
“I’ll pick you up at, say, four.” He smiled confidently.
Who was she kidding? She was no match for his perfectly sculpted jawline, ’stache that made her core feel things it shouldn’t, and gorgeous get-lost-for-days eyes. “I guess I can spare a few hours on one condition.”
He raised one brow.
“You let me help you with the screens.”
“Deal.” And with that, he shook her hand, sending tingles up her spine.
Dahlia heard the pebbles crunch from inside the entryway. It was exactly four.
He was on time, and she was impressed.
Dahlia hadn’t been on a first date, if you could call it that, in … seventeen years. It felt strange to go on a date now but oddly comfortable. Although she had only known Noah for a few days, it felt like a lifetime.
Right after Noah left, she made an emergency FaceTime call to Kara.
Kara was driving, so she pulled over until they found the right outfit.
One that said, “Hey, look at me,” without trying too hard.
After all, this wasn’t a date; it was a last-minute afternoon brewery trip.
Which also screamed casual. It was decided that the short, strappy cream-colored floral dress would be best. Kara tried to convince her to pair it with her slip-on Birkenstocks, but gold flip-flops felt more fitting with the dress.
She pulled up Noah in her contacts, which she’d added the other day.
I’ll be right out, Dahlia typed with raw fingertips.
All that pinching and pulling of rough metal to get the screens tight enough was hard work.
But she was happy to help. It felt like they were a team to some degree, and that the possibilities of their working relationship were endless.
“Harry, you be good while I am gone.” She lowered his bowl of kibble and sliced chicken. “Who has it better than you?”
He just moaned.
Dahlia slid a fireplace screen found in the basement in front of the fireplace opening and anchored it with a basket of wood. The last thing she wanted was more squirrel guests.
She took one last look at herself in the mirror.
Her lips were a matte pink that felt like summer, and her hair curled in big, flowy waves.
Her lashes were painted with a thin layer of mascara, and a light dusting of bronzer highlighted the high cheekbones she inherited from her mother.
She always wanted to feel as pretty as her mother, and in this moment, she did.
She tucked a blonde curl behind her left ear and let out a lengthy sigh.
All she had to do was be herself and have a good time. If it were only that easy.
Dahlia closed the thick door behind her and walked toward the old, rusted mustard truck, feeling a bounce in her step.
Noah had already gotten out like a gentleman and was leaning against it.
He had on navy cargo shorts, a white shirt that complemented his tan, and his Timberland boots.
His hair was wet and slicked back, and there was something in his hand.
Upon further inspection, it was a single Montauk daisy.
“You look …” Noah was at a loss for words as he closed the gap between them. “Incredible.” He held out his hand for her to twirl, and she obliged.
She was on a cloud with cartoon hearts in her eyes.
“Oh, I almost forgot. This is for you.”
“For me, wow.” She took the stem from his grip casually, as if it were no big deal, when inside she was a gooey mess.
He was thoughtful, and little by little, all the reasons why she shouldn’t give this a chance were fading away.
And more and more, this was starting to feel like a date.
“You clean up nice too,” Dahlia said, noticing he’d shaven some of his scruff. “I’m glad you kept the ’stache.”
His eyes sparkled. “You like it?”
“I do.” She smiled. He reminded her of a young Magnum P. I., another classic show she’d watched with Gran and Lil.
Noah opened the passenger side door for her.
“Thanks,” she said, climbing into the truck, feeling her dress stick to the taped pleather seat. Chivalry wasn’t dead after all.
He hopped in and closed the door. “So, you ready for a great night?”
“Yes,” she said with enthusiasm, meeting his assuring glance. A thousand butterflies released inside her. She was warming up to this idea of a no-strings-attached summer fling, but that’s all it could be, as much as she liked him. She had plans, and no boy would stand in her way. Not this time.