Finding Cupid

by B. E. Baker

I shake my head. “I have a meeting tomorrow afternoon in San Francisco. You’d have to come with on that little jaunt, but you could work from the hotel there.”

  She shakes her head. “I can’t justify expensing extra hotel stays.”

  I don’t bother pointing out that the hotel room would cost less than a flight. She could certainly stay in my room, but I don’t suggest that because I don’t want to scare her off. A better idea occurs to me. “I have scads of points. I can get you a room without spending a dime.”

  “You can convert those points, you know,” she says.

  I lift my eyes skyward. “I could trade them in for seven hundred magazines I don’t want, it’s true. Or you could just let me get you a hotel room so I don’t have to travel all alone, bored and miserable. Plus we could have a rematch or two on that chess game. It’s not often I find a competent opponent.”

  “Competent. What a glowing recommendation.” Her scowl is so cute. “I wonder if Mary might consider San Francisco for a bachelorette weekend. Golden Gate Bridge, or Alcatraz, or something.”

  “Brekka loves the Kabuki Springs and Spa,” I say. “That might be fun for a girls trip.”

  She taps her bottom lip with her perfectly polished pink fingernail and I want it to tap me instead. Which makes me think about kissing her. Senseless. Of course, she has no idea what I’m thinking. Which is probably good.

  She taps on her phone and glances up at me. “Mary said I should check it out.”

  “Which it? San Fran, or Hawaii?”

  Her lips curve up on the left into a half smile. “Both.”

  I don’t bother hiding my grin.

  The rest of the night flies by, a blur of steak, fish, sides from the salad bar, and limeade that tastes almost creamy. Geo can’t eat very much, at least not compared to me. Our chairs inch a little closer, and then a little more, until her hand rests right next to mine on the table, and our knees brush against one another intermittently. Every single time her knee bumps mine, my heart lurches.

  When the waitress asks whether we want dessert, Geo shakes her head and glances up at me to make sure I don’t either. I stretch backward and groan. “Not for me either. I’m so full.” I take advantage of having my arms outstretched to wrap one around her shoulders. She rests her head against me and I hope she can’t hear my heart beating frantically in my chest.

  “Check, then?” the waitress asks.

  Geo nods her head against my chest. I don’t want to shift, worried I’ll dislodge her and she’ll fly away like a startled sparrow. But when the waitress brings the check, I have to reach for my wallet.

  She grabs her purse lightning quick and tries to give the waitress a credit card. “I’ll pay.”

  I shake my head. “Absolutely not. This is a date. I’m not letting you re-characterize it in any way shape or form. It’s not a work lunch, or payback for a contest you had already repaid, or anything else you might come up with.”

  “So you admit that I had already granted you that boon.”

  I grin. “I’m not above a little arm twisting to get what I want.” I hand the waitress my credit card without breaking eye contact with Geo. “You’re on a date with me. Bernard Thornton the third. And you agreed to do it knowing you didn’t have to.”

  Geo huffs and leans back against me. “Oh, fine. Touchy, touchy. Probably for the best you pay anyway. I doubt I can make my car payment and cover this dinner in the same month.”

  I chuckle and she pokes me. “It’s not a joke, Richie Rich. We can’t all own a private island. Some of us have to grind it out one month at a time, turning the thermostat down when we have a rough month. Or eating ramen noodles for breakfast, lunch and dinner when our clients pay late.”

  That’s a sobering thought.

  “I’m happy to buy you dinner.”

  “Well, thanks. The food was amazing.”

  “I hope the company was okay too,” I say.

  She lifts her head up and meets my eye. “Well, that depends.”

  “On what?” I ask.

  She lifts one eyebrow slyly. “On whether you’re still okay with me driving your car home.”

  I nod my head. “Absolutely I am.”

  Her maniacal grin gives me pause, but I still wave her into the driver’s seat when the valet pulls my car around.

  “Why the Vantage and not the Vanquish?” she asks me from the driver’s seat.

  I shrug. “For one, I leave this in Atlanta, and I’m not here that often. But beyond that, when I picked this one a few years back, my dad already had a Vanquish.”

  “You didn’t want to be just like good old dad? Isn’t that where all your money came from?”

  “Yes and no. My money came from the Thorntons, but my dad’s not someone I strive to emulate.”

  “No?” she asks. “Why not?”

  “We don’t have that kind of time.”

  “Maybe on the plane ride to San Fran,” she says. “While I’m decimating you at chess.”

  “Maybe so,” I say.

  Then she hits the gas and leaves my stomach back at Chama Gaúcha.

  “It really can do zero to sixty in under four seconds can’t it?” she asks.

  I close my eyes. I’ve never been seated on the passenger side and it’s a little disconcerting, not being in charge of the acceleration. “It appears so.”

  “You don’t like it?” she asks. “Or do you think I’m a bad driver?”

  She’s a pretty good driver actually. “You should consider coming to the bachelor weekend NASCAR event,” I say. “You’d probably do better than Luke and Paul.”

  “You think?” Her grin makes me a little nervous, but we make it back to her condo in record time.

  I pry my stiff fingers off the armrest and force a smile. “And? What did you think? Worth the money?”

  “I might have sprung for the Vanquish,” she says. “But I guess I won’t know until I drive one of those.”

  “I have one in Colorado,” I say. “And Los Angeles.”

  “You said you didn’t get one because your dad has one.” She frowns at me. “And it turns out you have two?”

  I chuckle. “This one’s pretty old. I got it years ago, before I realized that if I excluded every car my dad owned from my list, I’d be stuck driving a Honda Accord. At that point, it seemed silly not to try the Vanquish. For the record, it is nicer, but I don’t know if it’s enough nicer to justify the bump in price.”

  “And yet you bought a second one.”

  I shrug. “I bought one, and Mom bought me another. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’d gotten one the month before. So I keep the one I bought tucked away in L.A. Mom hates it there, so she’ll never know.”

  “Our parents really do not shop the same. My mom wouldn’t even spring for the remote controlled Aston Martin.” She rubs her hands across the steering wheel longingly. “It’s too bad you don’t keep that extra one in San Francisco.”

  We could always hit LA next weekend, but I don’t figure I should press my luck. “Maybe someday.”

  She tilts her head. “Who knows?”

  I walk her to the front door of her condo, but before she can get her key out, I grab her around the waist and pull her against me. “You did admit this was a date.”

  When she looks up at me, there’s an edge of panic in her eyes I don’t like. “I did.”

  I reach up with one hand and touch her cheek. “Don’t worry. I’m not asking to come inside. But it wouldn’t be much of a date without this.”

  I lean down toward her slowly, one inch at a time, her eyes softening and her body relaxing against me. When my lips near hers, her eyes close, but I don’t kiss her. Not yet. I pause. I want to make sure every bit of stress or reservation or whatever I saw is gone.

  When she exhales, her scent washes over my face and I breathe her in. A light, flowery perfume mixed with some kind of cherry vanilla shampoo, and the mint from her gum.

  Her eyes open, questioning me, wanting me, and that
’s when I finally press my mouth to hers. Her eyes close again and I hear a little moan. That’s when I close my eyes too and give over to the feeling of her lips against mine. My hand on her waist tightens, pulling her closer to me, marking her as mine. My mouth presses harder when I think about Paul and Rob and every other man who sees her and wants her. They don’t know how competitive she is. They don’t know she taps her foot when she works on lists. They don’t know how loyal she is to her friends.

  They don’t know she loved so deeply that when it ended, her heart went into critical care. They don’t know how to fix it, but I’m beginning to think maybe I can.

  I don’t say any of those things, but when I pull away from her, our lips parting, my hand releasing her hip, I worship her with my eyes. She deserves better than me, but I’m persistent and I’m here. That counts for something I hope.

  “I’ll be by around nine a.m. tomorrow to pick you up.”

  She nods and leans back against the door like her legs no longer support her weight.

  I should wait and make sure she can get in, but if I stay, I’ll kiss her again and I don’t want to pressure her. I spin on my heel and head back down the stairs, one hand over my mouth. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

  13

  Geo

  The moment I wake up, I check the time. Nearly seven a.m. I meant to try and jog early today, but I don’t even have time for that. Since I’m leaving with Trig later, my usual evening jog is out. I’ve missed it twice this week already.

  I groan and move my thumb over my phone to check for messages, belatedly noticing the date on my lock screen.

  January 26.

  I bolt upright in bed. I should not have stayed up so late chatting with Paisley while I packed. My head’s pounding. How could I have blanked on the date? What’s wrong with me lately?

  I blame Trig. I never should have agreed to that date. Or this trip either.

  My phone rings. It’s Rob. We haven’t spoken since he told me he loves me. I close my eyes and consider screening his call.

  But he deserves better than that. He had a broken back and he was still there for me.

  I swipe to answer. “Hey Rob.”

  “We still on for nine today?”

  He’s supposed to be giving me a ride. I forgot he offered to do that. I should say no, but then he’ll think I’m upset or something instead of just unsure how to act around him.

  “Uh, yeah,” I say. “I need to make the cobbler still.”

  “Cutting it close, huh?” he asks. “Well, I’ll let you get to it.”

  I preheat the oven and pull a bag of sliced peaches out of my freezer before I even take time to brush my teeth. Whipping up a peach cobbler takes like three minutes, but it bakes for forty-five.

  I don’t want to text him too early, but I need to see whether Trig can wait for me. Honestly, it’s probably better if he can’t. I should just cancel, but part of me hopes he’ll delay his flight.

  I FORGOT I HAVE AN APPOINTMENT I CAN’T MISS THIS MORNING. I WON’T BE ABLE TO LEAVE BEFORE 11. I’M SO SORRY.

  I want to hop in the shower, but I wait for a minute to see if he’ll reply. My patience pays off.

  I CAN PUSH MY MEETING A BIT. WHEN SHOULD I COME GET YOU?

  ROB CAN DROP ME OFF AFTER.

  WHAT KIND OF MEETING IS THIS? ROB’S GOING?

  I sigh. ROB’S TAKING ME.

  LET ME TAKE YOU. I HAVE NOTHING ELSE GOING ON THIS MORNING.

  I don’t want anyone else to know about any of this. NO, IT’S FINE.

  ARE YOU SURE? I’D BE HAPPY TO DRIVE YOU.

  I bite my lip. IT’S NOT ACTUALLY A WORK THING.

  NOW I REALLY WANT TO COME.

  Maybe a tiny part of me wants Trig along.

  I text Rob. ACTUALLY I HAVE A WORK THING RIGHT AFTER. I’LL DRIVE MYSELF TODAY.

  He texts back right away. YOU SURE? YOU AREN’T UPSET WITH ME, RIGHT?

  I LOVE YOU TOO, ROB. JUST NOT THE WAY YOU WANT. I’M REALLY SORRY. BUT THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS. WE’LL BE OKAY, I SWEAR. I NEED YOU IN MY LIFE. I ALWAYS WILL.

  I’M MORE WORRIED ABOUT YOU BEING OK TODAY.

  I’LL BE FINE, I lie.

  OKAY. IF YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND, I’M HERE.

  I’m sure he’s hurting right now, and waving him off from being there for me isn’t helping. I doubt driving me around and being my shoulder to cry on is going to help him either, so I try not to feel too guilty.

  Paisley calls right as I get out of the shower. “Are you so excited for Hawaii?”

  I grin. Paisley always brightens me up. Her excitement’s always so over the top that it’s contagious. “A little bit, yeah.”

  “I was calling because I noticed the date.”

  My eyes tear up. I don’t deserve my friends.

  “You there?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” I say. “I’m here. How would you remember this date?”

  “Last year it fell on a Saturday.”

  Right. Of course it did. And that was the first one so it was really bad.

  “I’ll be okay. Actually, Trig’s going to take me to see her.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Her reaction spooks me. “Should I not let him? I could still tell him never mind.”

  “No, no,” she rushes to say. “I think it’s great. I’m just surprised. You’re many things, Geo. Many, many good things. But open and welcoming aren’t really qualities I’d use to describe you.”

  “I’m hospitable,” I protest.

  “Sure, you offer people water when they come visit, but that’s not what I’m talking about. You are about as closed a book as they come. I’m proud of you for letting Trig in, honestly. This is probably a bigger deal than a jaunt around the world to Hawaii.”

  My throat closes off because she’s right.

  “Well, I’ll let you go. I wanted to make sure you didn’t forget with everything else going on.”

  Crap, the peach cobbler. I rush into the kitchen, but it’s fine. “I’ll be okay,” I manage to choke out. “Thanks for checking on me.”

  “Love you, Geo. Take care of yourself, okay? And call me if you need anything. Anything, seriously. Even if it’s just to have someone cheer, or cry, or yell. Or I could totally take that spoiled rich guy off your hands if it comes to that. Unless he turns out to be a villain, and then I’ve got a concealed firearm and a shovel.”

  What the heck? “Are you serious?”

  I hear her snort through the phone. “If you count a water gun, then yes. But my scowl can cross state lines. I mean it.”

  I hang up and notice a text came in while I was on the phone. From Trig. Because I forgot to text him after I told Rob I didn’t need a ride.

  HELLO? Trig says.

  CRAP, SORRY. PAISLEY CALLED. YES, IF YOU DON’T MIND GIVING ME A RIDE, I’D LIKE THAT.

  WHAT TIME? He asks.

  It’s already 8:20. 8:45 TOO SOON? I have no idea where he’s staying.

  I CAN TRY.

  THANKS. I text back.

  It’s a good thing I was already packed. I’m just swiping on some mascara when I hear a tap at my door.

  I scoop the photo albums into my tote bag, grab my rolly suitcase and slide the peach cobbler I transferred into a Tupperware into a sack and sling the straps over my shoulder.

  I’m a little breathless when I finally answer the door.

  Trig’s leaning against the doorframe like he owns the place. I like it. I like him, probably too much. The thought makes me smile, but I feel a little guilty, too. Especially when I notice a photo on the entertainment center of me and Mark on a hike.

  I shake my head to clear it and force a smile. “I’m ready. Sorry for the confusion and shuffling around this morning.”

  He shrugs. “No big deal. My meeting was easy to move. People are usually pretty accommodating for me.”

  “Wonder why,” I say over my shoulder as I try to roll my bag past him.

  He takes my tote and my roller bag. “You lock
up. I’ve got this.”

  “Thanks. Billionaire Bell Hop audition?”

  “Think I’ll get the job?” He leans down and brushes a kiss across my mouth and my heart skips a beat. Or three.

  “I’ll consider you for it. I have high standards, and you were about two minutes late.”

  “Can’t control traffic.” He leans over me again, this time pulling me against him like he did last night.

  When he pulls away I can’t even remember my own name, much less what we’re doing or where we are.

  I glance around and recognize my front door. Right. I fumble around until I find my key so I can lock up. We walk down to his car, and I don’t ask to drive. I’m too nervous and shaky to feel safe.

  “Where to, boss?” he asks.

  “Arbor Terrace on Burnt Hickory Road. I’ll tell you where to turn.”

  His eyebrows rise, but he doesn’t ask any questions. Which is good, because I don’t really want to talk about it. When we arrive, I pull out the peach cobbler and the photo albums. He comes around and opens my door. I’m carrying so much that I let him. His car looks bizarre parked between a Lincoln Town Car and a Buick LeSabre, and near a fleet of Arbor Terrace Assisted Living vans.

  He’s got to be burning with questions, but he doesn’t ask a single one. He takes the albums from me, and I snag his free hand with mine. He interlaces our fingers and squeezes once. I approach the front desk and wave.

  “Geode,” Megan greets me. “She’s having a great day today. I’ll sign you in.” Her eyes slide sideways and seem to realize I brought someone other than Rob. Her eyes drop down to where I’m holding Trig’s hand, and they cloud. “Wait, where’s Rob?”

  “He was busy. Trig brought me today.”

  Megan gulps and blurts out what I assume is the first thing that came to mind. “How many super hot boyfriends do you have?”

  I shake my head. “Rob’s just a friend.”

  “Pretty devoted friend,” she mutters.

  Did everyone but me know that Rob liked me? I feel like a complete imbecile.

  “She just has the one boyfriend, Megan, and my name is Trig. It’s a weird one, so I thought you might need to hear it again.”

  Boyfriend. I should be sprinting the other direction right now. But my heart swells instead. I want to kiss him on the mouth right in front of Megan for supporting me, for claiming me, and for being here with me, but I settle for bumping him with my hip and mouthing the word “thanks.”