I’m glad my parents taught me never to open the door without checking to see who it is first, because at the sight of Leo standing on the porch, I want to pretend I’m not home. My body freezes. I stop breathing. If I’m silent and don’t move, maybe he’ll walk away. He’s dressed in a suit and his hair looks like he’s run his fingers through it a few times, which means he probably drove here straight from work.
“Chloe, can I talk to you?”
I jump back. He must have noticed a shadow behind the peephole.
“I know you’re home. Your car is in the driveway.”
Or there is that.
Looks like I can’t avoid him any longer without making this even weirder. I tighten the knot on my robe and open the door. “Hello.”
“Hi,” he says. One little word in his affable tone and I wish I’d been selfish enough to walk away from the door. “Can I come in?”
No! I hate you. I don’t want you here. Too bad I can’t blink and make him disappear.
With reluctance, I shift to allow him entry. “I guess so.”
“Thank you.” He steps inside my house like he’s done a hundred times before, only this time his presence hurts. “Is your dad here?”
“No. He’s at dinner with a baseball buddy.”
Leo takes a seat on his favorite side of our well-loved buckwheat-beige fabric couch. I sit on the opposite end. He checks out my painted toenails then slowly lifts his gaze to meet mine. “How are you?”
“Okay.”
“You going out tonight?” Can he smell my Pretty as a Peach foaming sugar scrub? The one I rub all over my body on special nights out.
“Yes.”
He looks bothered for a split second before he says, “I won’t keep you then. I just wanted you to know I never cheated on you with Adele. I don’t think I made that clear before.”
I scrunch up my nose. “Excuse me? You said it was love at first sight, blah, blah, blah.”
“Yes, but I never touched her. Not until after you and I broke up. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
My blood starts to boil. He’s claiming they didn’t even hold hands? I don’t believe it. “Correction. You broke up with me. And what you’re now saying is you had an emotional affair, which can be argued is worse.”
He shakes his head. “No. Maybe. Shit. I wasn’t looking to meet someone else. I loved you, I really did, but I took one look at Adele and an actual bell went off in my head that told me she’s the girl I’m supposed to marry. How could I ignore that? I didn’t mean to hurt—”
“Stop. I don’t need to hear any more. The fact is you did hurt me. And I’d appreciate it if you left me alone from now on. If this is what you needed to say to feel better about yourself then fine. Mission accomplished. But if you’re looking for my forgiveness, that isn’t going to happen.”
“I don’t want you to hate me, Chloe. I still care about you. I want us to be—”
“Friends? That’s not going to happen either.”
He loosens his tie. Pain is etched around his eyes. “I’m so damn sorry.”
“I know.” I do. Leo isn’t a bad person. None of my exes are. They simply found women whose souls mated with theirs. I’m like the Angel of True Love or something.
“This wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
I fist my hands. Is he for real right now? “I know that! You wronged me, Leo. This is all on you and I don’t want to see or talk to you again.” I jump to my feet. “It’s time for you to go.”
He doesn’t move as fast as I’d like him to. Finally, he reaches the door and steps outside. “You’re amazing and there’s someone out there for you.”
I shut the door in his face. I’m vibrating with hurt, anger, and an unhealthy dose of how-dare-he. In all my twenty-five years, I have never been this upset with another human being. He doesn’t know about my curse, so for him to even imply I was guilty of something is completely insensitive. Tears prick my eyes, but I refuse to shed any more for him.
Never again. I am never giving my heart away again.
I walk back into my room ready to crawl into bed and watch romantic comedies for the rest of the night when I remember I have a party to attend. Ugh. I could text Finn I’m not feeling well—because I’m really not—but then I stop, square my shoulders and tilt my head in heavy-duty thought. What better way to get my mind off Leo than to dance and drink and eat cake? Surely, there will be cake.
Tonight, I’ll dress up and pretend to be someone else for a little while. Tonight, I’ll be Just Chloe, not Cursed Chloe. I’ll celebrate with the rich and famous like it’s 1999. Heck, who knows? Maybe I did dodge a bullet with Leo. Maybe he secretly hoards fingernail clippings or belly button fluff. We did spend a lot more time at my house than his. He probably has a stash somewhere and now Adele gets to deal with it. I laugh. I just realized Adele rhymes with hell.
My maid of honor dress hangs over the back of my closet door. The sleeveless, floor-length champagne-colored gown has a crepe bodice, flowing tulle skirt, and open back, or T-back detail, if you want the exact wording from the bridal shop salesgirl. Basically, it shows off my shoulder blades. It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever owned.
I blow-dry my hair, use my curling iron to add big curls, then gather it into a low chignon. Without Jillian to help me with makeup, I’m left to my own devices. That means tinted face lotion, mascara, and my peach lip oil, which is a ChapStick and gloss mashup that leaves my lips shiny and plump. I stare at my reflection in the mirror and smack said lips together.
Lastly, I slip into my dress, slide my feet into the matching pair of satin pumps, and throw a few essentials into the one and only clutch I own. It’s black, but black goes with everything, right?
This time when the doorbell rings, it’s my driver. His name is Benjamin. He escorts me down the walkway then opens the rear passenger door of a sleek town car. I slide into the leather seat and almost cheer out loud when I see there is a minibar. With chilled champagne.
“Is this for me?” I ask Ben once he’s in the driver’s seat.
“Yes. Mr. Auprince wanted me to let you know to enjoy it if you’d like.”
“I’d like,” I say. “Thank you.”
Ben smiles at me in the rearview mirror. “Have a favorite music station?”
“Anything is fine.” I pour myself a glass of bubbly while Ben turns on the radio. Jazz music plays through the speakers. It’s not my go-to, but my dad loves jazz and plays it often when he’s home. “You like Miles Davis?” I ask, recognizing the trumpet sound.
“He’s one of my favorites,” Ben says.
“My dad’s too.” I raise my glass in the air. “To great musicians.”
Traffic is terrible. So terrible that I have time to drink not one, not two, but two-and-a-half glasses of the best champagne I’ve ever tasted before we arrive at the hotel. I’m tipsy, but thankfully the peanut butter sandwich I ate before getting into the shower has absorbed some of the alcohol.
A valet opens my door. Ben wishes me a good time and says he’ll be ready whenever I am to drive me home. “Okay. Thanks,” I say, wondering how he’ll know when I’m good to go. Then I decide tonight is about being carefree and Benjamin is my carriage driver. He’ll magically appear after I’ve eaten cake and before the clock strikes midnight.
Running a hand down my gown, I attempt a graceful walk into the hotel, but the combination of heels and champagne equals more bull in a china shop. I forget all about my inelegant amble, though, when magnificence greets me inside the lobby.
And I don’t mean the furnishings. I mean Finn.
All-star center fielder, brother, son, grandson, puppy owner, whale watcher, egg maker, and the hottest tuxedo-wearing man I have ever seen. Black slacks. Black jacket. White collared shirt with black buttons and a black silk bow tie, oh my. My breath whooshes out of me. My knees go weak. (I had no idea that was a real thing until this second.) If Chris Hemsworth and Henry Cavill had a love child, he would look
like Finn Auprince.
This is not an exaggeration, people.
Total heartthrob.
“Hi,” I say, and manage to sound halfway normal.
“Hi. You look gorgeous.” Finn gives me a thorough once-over, his appreciative gaze setting off a powerful string of tingles down my spine. “How was the drive?”
“It was good. Thank you for arranging it and for the champagne.”
“My pleasure.” He gives me his arm. “Shall we?”
I wrap my arm around his, grateful for something to hold on to. Lucky that something is him. He ushers us into a ballroom that is both opulent and simple in shades of gold, red, and plum. Chandeliers with large glass globes bathe the room in white light. Tables are set with crystal and towering floral centerpieces. A band plays soft music in front of a large dance floor.
“Can I get you a drink?” Finn asks, steering us toward the bar.
“Sure.” It appears everyone else in the room has a glass in their hand. Including Grandma Rosemary, who sees us and excuses herself from a group of people.
“Chloe, it’s good to see you again.”
I smile. “Good to see you, too.”
“Hello, Finn.”
“Grandmother.” He kisses her cheek. “You look stunning this evening. Can I get you a refill? We were just headed to grab something.”
“No, thank you. I’m fine sipping this one until it’s dry.” She puts her hand to the side of her mouth like she’s about to tell us something top secret. “Incoming at twelve o’clock.”
Finn and I turn. I’ve seen pictures of Liza Auprince, but in person she is larger than life. A force of nature in a tall, slim, elegant package. Her face lights up when she sees her son. “Finn, darling, you made it. I wasn’t so sure I’d see you.” She wraps him in a hug, squeezing him without thought to her pale yellow Grecian-style gown. This is a woman who would gladly wrinkle for a loved one, and I instantly like her. “And you must be Chloe. It’s lovely to meet you in person.”
“Likewise.”
“I hope my son is behaving himself for you.”
“Oh, he is. He’s been a great client so far.”
Liza beams at him. “How are you feeling? I see you’ve taken the sling off. Was that with doctor’s permission?”
“Yes, Mom,” he says a bit disgruntled. It’s very cute. “I’m feeling stronger every day. How’s everything here? It looks fantastic.”
“Thank you. Your father and brothers are in a huddle with the mayor over at the silent auction table in a bidding war to win a Pedego. Once that’s decided, I’ll be much more relaxed.” Something catches her eye over my shoulder. “Excuse me a minute, would you?”
“What’s a Pedego?” I ask.
“An electric bike,” Finn tells me.
“Excuse me, too,” Rosemary says. “Betty White is waving me over. I’ll see you two a little later.” Yes, that Betty White.
“Maybe,” Finn mumbles under his breath before putting his hand on my lower back and escorting me to the bar.
“Are you planning an early escape?” I ask, ignoring the heat that erupts on my lower spine from his palm.
“What would you like to drink?” he says rather than answer my question. “More champagne?”
“Yes, please.”
The bartender nods and fills a flute with golden bubbly. Finn orders a light beer. We step away and end up at a high-top cocktail table to stand around. It’s a great spot for people watching. I take a stuffed mushroom off the tray of a passing waiter. Finn accepts a crab cake from a passing waitress.
“Would you like one?” he asks me.
“No thanks. I’m allergic.”
“To crab?”
“Shellfish.”
“Thank you,” he says to the waitress to move her along before he puts the crab cake down on the table.
“It’s okay if you want to eat it. I don’t mind.”
“Hypothetically, if I was to eat it, could I, say, kiss your cheek in thanks for coming tonight?”
“Umm…” I down my champagne, suddenly very thirsty. Standing next to Finn when he looks so gorgeous and smells like heaven and says the word “kiss” is more than a mere mortal like myself can handle. “Probably.” I glance at his mouth for a quick second. “But I don’t think we should test that theory.” Because Finn’s lips anywhere on my body is a bad idea.
His gaze dips to my mouth and back up. “Agreed,” he says.
I relax. For a second there, I thought he was flirting and that is also a bad idea. I wait for him to eat the crab cake. I look at the appetizer, back at him, at the appetizer, back at him, silently giving him the go-ahead to chow down on it already. Instead he takes two filet kabobs from yet another server.
Oh, boy. Talk about a silent message. My head spins. From the idea that Finn wants to kiss me—I mean, why else wouldn’t he eat the crab cake? He obviously likes them. And from the champagne deciding to party with my brain cells.
He hands me one of the kabobs. “You’re not allergic to beef, are you?”
“Not your beef.” Oh my God. I can’t believe I said that out loud. I almost poke myself in the eye with the kabob trying to recover. “I mean, not yo beef.” Shoot me now! “Yo.” I make a gesture with my arm across my body like I’m some hip-hop artist.
Also, I now cannot get the picture of that little old lady on the fast-food restaurant commercials saying “Where’s the beef?” out of my head.
Finn grins so hard, a dimple pops up on his left cheek.
“Yo, Chloe,” Drew says, arriving at the table and saving me from further embarrassment. He’s flashing nice white teeth, too, and I want to throw my arms around him in thanks. Before I can, though, Finn moves between us.
“Hiya, Drew,” I say around Finn’s broad shoulders.
“Hi, Drew,” Finn says.
“Hey, Finny. Nice penguin suit,” Drew says back.
The brief greetings are full of brotherly love, both men clearly happy to see the other even though it’s also clear they like to give each other a hard time.
“Chloe, it’s great to see you again. How are things with this guy?” He thumbs over at his brother. “And please speak freely even though he’s standing right here.”
I giggle. “Things are fine.”
“Fine? Bro, you need to up your game.” He tosses an impish smile at Finn that morphs into a flirty one when he meets my regard. “When you get tired of hanging out with fine, make sure you find me, okay?”
“Okay.” Drew wears his designer tux with much more ease than Finn and is so easy on the eyes I think mine might roll out of my head. This is your brain on too much champagne talking.
“You got something on your shirt,” Finn says, pointing to the middle of Drew’s chest. Drew looks down and Finn lifts his hand to catch his brother under the nose.
“Damn you,” Drew says with very little heat.
“Every time,” Finn says to me with a smirk.
A server walks by with a tray of shot glasses, each one filled with bright blue liquid and decorated with a lime wedge. “Hey, thanks.” Drew takes three, placing one in front of each of us.
“What is this?” I ask.
“It’s a Bazooka Joe,” Finn says. “Our dad has loved the bubble gum since he was a kid so this has become his signature party drink. You in?”
“Sure.”
“Cheers.” Drew lifts his glass. Finn and I follow suit and the three of us clink Bazooka Joes before tossing them back and then banging our glasses on the table.
“That tasted exactly like the gum,” I say before I wrap my mouth around the lime to curb the sweet flavor.
“Yeah,” Finn agrees, making a face. Poor guy. I’m guessing the drink is too sugary for his pro athlete taste buds.
Finn and Drew talk for the next couple of minutes but I have trouble keeping up with the conversation because I have definitely exceeded my alcohol limit. I smile and nod like I’m paying attention when really, I’m dreaming about a big juicy h
amburger (damn you, “where’s the beef”) and french fries.
A man stops to say hello, introductions are made, and then he and Drew stride away. Elbows on the table, I cup my chin in my hand and look dreamily at Finn. “Your nickname should be Kissy Face, not Prince of Thieves.” His team nickname is a play on his last name and the fact that he constantly robs batters of hits with his phenomenal catching skills.
“Really?” He leans his elbows on the table so we’re more eye level.
“Uh-huh. Oh! And instead of black lines under your eyes, you could put lips.”
“That would go over well with my teammates.”
“Riiight?”
“No,” he says kindly, realizing I’m dead serious. At least I think I am. “They’d laugh their asses off.”
“And call you Funny Face instead?”
“You’re cute under the influence.”
“Are you implying I’m not when I’m not?” I release my chin and stand taller, accidentally knocking my clutch off the table. “Oops.”
“Not at all,” Finn says, bending to pick up my purse and the spilled contents. He hands me the bag, my peach lip oil and my phone, which is lit up with a text from Leo.
I let out an irritated breath as I shove it back into my bag. “What does he want now?” I mumble.
“Problem?” Finn asks with concern.
I wet my bottom lip with my lip oil. Finn watches, mesmerized it seems, by the glossy brush and the way I’m moving it back and forth. Huh. I do an extra swipe for his benefit and when finished say, “No. Not really. It’s just my ex-boyfriend.”
“Is he bothering you?”
Elbows back on the table, I palm my cheeks. My head feels too heavy for my little neck. “You’re so handfum.”
He frowns, which makes him no less handfum. “I mean handsome. Silly ‘s’ and ‘f’ mix-up.”
“I understand.”
“Because you’re a smarty marty,” I tell him.
“Oh-kay. I think it’s time we get out of here.” He makes sure my clutch is securely closed, palms it with his big, strong hand, and then links his arm with mine.
I look up at him. “No, no. You can stay. I have Benny.”
“Ben—?” He shakes his head in amusement. “Benjamin will appreciate being relieved of his duties. Besides, you’re my early escape.”
Heartthrob Page 9
