by Vivian Wood
“Go,” I wave him off.
He gives me an odd look as he heads out of the room, answering the phone. “Hey, Jared? Yeah, man. Yeah, I was just hoping…”
The sound of his voice fades away. I turn back to my boxes, exhaling. It shouldn’t take me very long to get them squared away. Not long at all. I stare at them for a second longer, my face glum.
I reach into one of my boxes, pulling out a little wooden crucifix. That goes on to the bedside table, along with a stack of books. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, partially read. A copy of Sherman Alexie’s autobiography. Both copies were checked out of the library just a couple of days ago.
To that list, I add my well-thumbed bible. My dad always said that he could sleep anywhere his bible was unpacked; I guess I feel that way too today.
The little voice in the back of my head laughs. I ignore it.
After unpacking the rest of my stuff and putting the flattened boxes in the closet for later use, I glance at my cell phone. Just enough time for a quick shower in my new bathroom before I have to run to catch the bus.
Every other Tuesday I give my evening to the women’s shelter. I volunteer wherever they can use me, usually leading a prayer group at the end. The bus going to that part of downtown only runs once an hour, so I will have to be economical with my time.
I sprint through showering and change into my regular old clothes. I like the fabric of my new work dress, but going downtown on the bus… it’s just better if I don’t attract any attention.
Wearing a long gray skirt and a buttoned up black cardigan achieves exactly that. I make sure to grab my coat as it promises to drop below freezing tonight. Snagging my shoulder bag, I hunt around inside it for my necklace. My head is down as I reach the living room, frowning. Then I find what I was looking for.
A skinny silver chain with a little silver cross, given to me on my confirmation day by my parents. Of course I immediately drop it on the floor right in front of Luca, who gives me another odd look. He bends down to pick it up, eyeing my outfit as he rises again.
“Where are you going dressed like that?” he asks. “I thought we had moved beyond the librarian’s garb, princess.”
I give him my best glare. “I have to catch the bus. I’m going to be late.”
He dangles my necklace within my reach. He’s so much taller than I am that it’s a little ridiculous, him standing there holding it over my head. I reach out to grab it, but he has other ideas. “Uh uh uh. You didn’t answer my question.”
Gritting my teeth, I give him an answer. “I’m going to First Hill.”
He pauses, cocking his head. “You’re going to that part of town right now? It’s a little late, don’t you think?”
“Give me my necklace,” I snap. “Or you can find someone else to play house with. I swear to the Lord, I will walk away from this marriage.”
Luca’s brows rise, but his hand does drop. “Touchy, touchy.”
I grab the necklace from him. “My parents gave me this necklace, you complete jerk.”
“Oh.” His smile falls away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
Stamping my foot, I glance at my phone. Then I roll my eyes. “Oh crud. I just missed the bus. That’s just… do you even know how much more an Uber will cost?”
I make an infuriated sound and then manage to drop my necklace again.
Luca is too fast for me, picking the necklace up again. “I’m sorry, Cate. Here, turn around. I’ll put your necklace on for you.”
Eyeing him angrily, I heft my coat and my shoulder bag. “No.”
“Please?” he asks. No smirk this time, no humor at all.
I still. That may be the first time I’ve heard that word ever leave his lips. Huffing a sigh, I pull a face. “Fine. But hurry.”
I turn around, shifting things in order to lift my long hair away from my neck. But Luca is no slouch; he helps me bundle my hair up and then smoothly brings the necklace around my neck, clasping it fast. He smooths it down onto my neck with his calloused fingers. The heat they leave, lingering on my nape just for a second, causes me to shiver.
He pauses for just a second, his fingers staying there. I wonder what sort of illicit thoughts he’s having as we stand there, frozen in place.
It’s the first time that I’ve actually thought that he actually finds me attractive. Not just hot, whatever that means, but attractive enough to fantasize about. If only for a moment.
I feel my cheeks begin to heat. Then before I can protest he withdraws.
“Alright,” he says, moving away. “Now get in my car. I’ll drive you to First Hill.”
Shaking my head, I move toward the front door. “I’ll just take an Uber—“
“Will you stop being such a pain?” He heads toward the kitchen. “I said I’m driving you. Just let me grab my keys and coat.”
I stick out my tongue at him and he rolls his eyes at me. He’s as good as his word though, ushering me outside into his Porsche Cayenne. I climb in the passenger seat of the luxurious vehicle, a little intimidated.
The seat warmers start heating up the second he starts the car. He presses a few buttons on his lit up center console, then looks at me. “Buckle up.”
I slide the seatbelt across my body, already giving myself a pep talk. It’s just a car. It may be fancy, but I shouldn’t be worried. In any event, I only have to be inside for twenty minutes, tops.
Luca pulls out of the driveway. “Where are we going exactly? Do you have an address?”
Squinting, I try to remember what the intersection is. “Columbia and 9th, I think?”
He punches it into the car’s navigation system. “All right. You don’t seem entirely sure.”
Raising one shoulder, I shrug. “I know the place by sight. I’ve been going there for almost two years now.”
He gives me an annoyed look. “Are you going to tell me what this place is?”
Looking away out my window, I sigh. “It’s a women’s shelter, all right?”
Silence reigns in the car. I glance back to him. His brows are pulled down, his expression intense.
“What?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I guess I just didn’t see you as a volunteer. That’s like… really…” He searches for a word. “Compassionate, I guess.”
“That’s me,” I say, pulling a face. “I’m known for being exceptionally compassionate.”
Luca glances over at me. “I’m starting to think…” He scrunches up one side of his face. “I’ve known you for eight years, but I didn’t actually know shit about you.”
That earns a half-smile from me. “I know. What have I been telling you this entire time?”
He smiles, looking straight ahead at the road. “You know I don’t listen that well.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m still smiling. “Whatever. Just remember, in seven weeks we go back to being enemies. So just keep that in mind.”
His low chuckle gives me a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. I sit back, enjoying the heated seats. Luca turns on the radio. I stare out the window as buildings pass by, blobs of color.
If this is a draw, both sides having exhausted themselves, I’m content enough with it for right now.
Chapter Twelve
Luca
“If you’ll turn to page five of the contract you provided me with, I can go down the list of clauses that the band will have a problem with.”
God help me. In fact, God help us all if this deal doesn’t go through. I’m in my office standing near my desk. My phone is on speaker, the voice of manager for The New Deals echoing against the walls. He’s about a million years old and exceedingly cranky.
Marvin clears his throat loudly. “Now, the first clause, the definition of performer— that will obviously have to go…”
I am literally about to punch something. This is the third time that I’ve been on the phone with him in the last ten days. Every day is more irritating than the last. How do The New Deals get anything done?
Their manager is over here, telling me that the most basic language in my boilerplate contract won’t work. Who has time for this fucking bullshit? If I didn’t want the band so badly, I would just hang up right now.
Marvin drones on. “The thing about defining who the performer is… it’s bull. And let me tell you why…”
“Marvin,” I interrupt him. “Is there any way at all that I can get you to just send me a marked up draft of the contract?”
He sighs. “No. I hope you are making notes, because I only want to go through this once. I feel like you are young enough to learn something from it.”
I couldn’t roll my eyes any harder. Could he be any more condescending? “Yeah, listen. I’m going to have to call you back, Marvin. I don’t have anything to write on here.”
That’s distinctly a lie. I cast an eye over my notepad, open to a blank page, ready for my notes. I’m just not interested in having some old geezer lecture me about anything at this point.
Marvin clears his throat again. “Should we set an appointment for you to call me back?”
“Look for an email from me,” I say. Then I disconnect the line.
Rolling my shoulders, I walk to the office door. Across the hall, Owen’s light is on.
“Are you busy?” I call out.
There are several seconds of silence, then he yells back. “Come in, Luca.”
Striding across the hall and pushing his door open, I see Owen at his desk. His computer screen is open to a spreadsheet and there is a tired look on his face. He puts his hands behind his head and pushes back in his seat.
“What’s up, man?”
Shaking my head, I sigh. “You know that band, The New Deals?”
He squints. “Yeah, I think so. They’re new, right? Out of Houston, really grunge-y sound?”
“Yeah. I like to think they are a mix between the -era Stones and a heavier Nirvana.”
He nods. “Yeah, okay. I trust your judgment on that. What’s up with them?”
I lean against the metal doorframe. “Their manager is not from this era. Or the last, even. And he expects me to sit in my office and take notes on all the things in the contract that he takes exception to… and he’s so fucking condescending too.”
I make a strangled noise.
Owen’s eyes tighten. “That sounds like a drag.”
“Yeah. It really is. I really want the band to play here but I also like… I don’t let people talk to me any kind of way. He approaches me like I’m a kid or something. I’m a whole-ass adult that owns The Attic.” I make a face. “Marvin should be glad that I want to have his band come play a show.”
“Well, you own part of The Attic. Bradford and I own shares too.” Owen’s mouth curls up.
Rolling my eyes, I sigh. “You are ever the money guy, Owen. I just meant to say I’m not unsuccessful.”
He sits upright, arching a brow. “Do you want to have a drink? It’s only early afternoon but I’m about to go cross eyed if I look at another list of numbers.”
“God yes. Come on, we can grab a drink and pretend that our offices don’t exist together.” I turn around and head down the hall toward the front of the house. When I get out to the bar area, I stop for a second.
Down at the other end of the bar Cate stands with a guy wearing a shirt with the logo of our liquor delivery company. Cate is already full dressed for work, in her short dark dress and tall high heels. When I see Cate grin at something he says, hooking a strand of her hair behind her ear, my gut reaction is straight up jealousy.
I never felt that way before Madisyn dumped me. It just didn’t occur to me to care. Why would anybody I dated have any complaints? As far as I know, I’m basically perfect boyfriend material.
But now I’m broken. Seeing Cate talking to another guy, knowing that she doesn’t really belong to me… something inside of me twinges and curdles. Owen claps me on the shoulder, looking at me as if I’ve grown three heads.
“You’ll have to keep moving if you want to get to the whiskey.”
Shooting one final glare down to Cate and the delivery guy, I swipe a bottle of Four Roses and two glasses from off the bar. “I’m going, I’m going.”
I turn and head to a table two dozen feet away, setting the whiskey and the glasses down. When Owen gives me a questioning look, I shrug. “Privacy.”
We both sit down at the high top table. Owen glances at Cate and the delivery guy, pursing his lips. I pour out two fingers of amber liquid into each glass. Then I slide one to him with a frown.
He raises his glass, waiting for me to do the same. I clink my glass against his, shooting Cate another dirty look before I turn the glass bottom up, drinking the whole shot in one gulp.
Owen frowns. “If it’s bothering you so much, go say something.”
Narrowing my gaze at him slightly, I shake my head. “Not until he leaves. I’m sure our liquor distributor would be interested to find out that their driver has so much time, though.”
He shrugs. “She is your wife, man. At least technically. Isn’t that the deal you guys have worked out?”
Pursing my lips, I pour myself another shot. “We don’t have any rules about flirting with other people.”
He sighs exasperatedly. “Obviously you should, though. Look at you. You’re so tense. I would laugh at you if I didn’t think you would punch me in the face.”
I slide my gaze to Cate again. “I should set a boundary. Just until the marriage is dissolved, I mean. No flirting with other people. It looks bad.”
Owen sips his whiskey, shaking his head. “Like that’s the only reason.”
I snort. “What, are you calling me stupid? Look, I know that I am a control freak—”
“You like Cate.” He grins and finishes his glass.
My expression goes dark. “I do not.”
He seems unworried. “You do so. You can admit it. She is your wife, you know.”
“We’re getting a fucking annulment, for fuck’s sake!” I snap.
He nods to Cate. As I look over, the delivery guy leaves. She smiles to herself a little bit.
“Look, now’s your chance. At least set some basic rules, dude. You have bigger things to worry about than who Cate is giving her number to. Like, for instance, The New Deals. And a million other things, probably.”
I shoot him the dirtiest look. “Fuck off.”
Pressing himself up, he picks up his glass. “I think I hear the spreadsheets calling out my name.”
Waving him away, I finish my second shot and follow him to the bar. When Owen sets his glass on the bar and heads into the back, I scoop his glass up. Putting the Four Roses away, I take the dirty glasses down to where Cate stands, unloading one of the dishwashers. As she unpacks each glass, she gives it a wipe down, making sure it’s dry.
Only then does she put it back behind the bar. She eyes me curiously.
“What’s up?”
I set the glasses down, trying for a neutral tone. “I saw you talking to that guy.”
For a second, her brow furrows. Then she puts the pieces together. “Oh, you mean Justin?”
Folding my arms across my chest, I sigh. “Yup.”
Cate shakes her head a little bit. “He introduced himself. It turns out that we went to neighboring high schools. We know a lot of the same people.”
“I don’t care,” I say. “What I do care about is not looking like a fool.”
She stops wiping one of the glasses and cocks her head. “Okay?”
“I don’t pay you to flirt with every guy that comes in here. Especially not delivery guys.” I frown.
She throws her towel down and faces off against me. “I didn’t flirt with him. I was just nice. There is a difference.”
I take a step closer. “Not to Justin. And you can just bet that he goes back to the liquor distributor and tells the guys there that the owner of The Attic has a new wife who seems easy.”
“Ahh!” she makes an angry sound. “That is unfair. If he we
re to tell the guys that, it would be making a big leap of logic. Just because I was nice doesn’t mean I want anything more to do with him.”
As if to punctuate her point, she crosses her arms. I shake my head, laughing a little.
“Cate, you don’t get how guys work. You’re nice to a guy? Well, in his mind, you just gave him permission to hit on you. You encouraged it.”
She rolls her eyes. “So his imagination runs away with him. So what? That has nothing to do with me. Maybe he does think that but the second he starts acting like some kind of pick up artist, I’ll set him straight.”
I scowl. “You’re not listening. I’m talking about me and my reputation here.”
Cate steps forward, jabbing me in the chest with her index finger. “No, you’re the one not listening! This isn’t about you at all. It’s about how I interact with other people. Who do you think you are, anyway?”
Reflexively I grab her hand and back her against the bar. My breathing is a little faster than usual, my pulse racing. She just knows how to make me so mad. I lean over her, relishing the way her head drops back and her eyes widen. She’s sexy like this, shaking her head defiantly.
I press my hips against hers lightly, glaring down at her. “I’m Luca Leone,” I growl. “And for the next six weeks, I’m your husband.”
Her eyes glitter. “So?”
She’s taunting me. Daring me. She thinks that I won’t do anything?
Oh, she’s wrong. So damned wrong.
I press my lips against hers, just to show her that I can. She tastes sweet, like she’s just been eating berries. I press further, bending her back a little. Cate struggles, slapping me in the face, but for some reason that just makes me want to kiss her harder. So I breathe in deeply and sink my hand into her hair, pulling her against me as hard as I can.
I kiss her again, my lips working against hers. She’s not exactly made of stone either; I feel her lifting up on her tiptoes, her mouth moving in time with my lips and tongue. I hear her panted breath. The blush on her cheeks. I feel her small body pressing against mine.
Fuck. She tastes good.
Not only that, but she feels good in my arms.
