by Lisa Scott
He looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head. “A real estate attorney for criminals. Quite a niche market.”
“You didn’t tell me what kind of lawyer. I had to wing it.” She took off the robe. “So, what do we do now?”
“You can sleep in the bed. I’ll take the couch.”
“Thanks!” She hopped on the bed, then started bouncing on it, causing it to creak. “This way they’ll think you really missed me. That’ll make the break up that more dramatic.” She stood up and jumped, kicking her legs up behind her.
Creak, creak, creak.
“Stop it!” he hissed.
She stopped bouncing and sat down with a huff. “You know, I think if I had an actual relationship with you, it really would last only an hour or so.”
He rolled his eyes. “God willing.”
***
The bed that had seemed so comfortable was now offering Goldie no sleep, not with Blake and tossing and turning on the couch. She imagined his muscles flexing under his t-shirt. Sure, he was grumpy and uptight and lived in an ostentatious apartment, but there was something intriguing and attractive about him.
And of course, she was busy wondering where she’d go next. One week here would give her a chance to regroup. Maybe it was time to settle for a real job. Something that would give her the means to find her own place. For the first time, she wanted to stay put. Something about Blake’s place grounded her, made her long for stability.
The next morning, she’d hit the want ads. She would.
That decision must have settled her, because she found herself waking to a sunny room and the smell of coffee. Blake was gone, and she hoped his parents weren’t up yet so she had a moment to talk to Blake and get their story straight.
Grabbing his robe—and inhaling the faint masculine scent that lingered in the fabric of the collar—she wandered to the kitchen. His parents were there, chatting with Blake. His mother looked up and smiled when Goldie stepped in the room. “Good morning, dear. Wait until you hear the good news.”
“You’re leaving for another cruise? Right now?” she asked.
“Oh, no. My days at sea are over after that debacle. No, I was just telling Blake I got an email from a friend inviting us up to their cottage in the mountains for a few days. Since we all had plans to be on vacation anyway, we should go. It’ll give us a chance to get to know each other better.”
Goldie’s heart quickened. She was torn. This act was going to be tough to pull off. But a few days in the mountains? She could get some incredible painting done there, and have plenty of work for her show.
Then she thought about squatting in the woods all those years ago and the possibility of bears. “There’s indoor plumbing, right?”
“Of course.”
Before Goldie could say yes, Blake fixed her with a stare. “I told my mother you have that thing to do this week. At that place.”
But she’d already fallen in love with the idea of a painting trip to the mountains. A free painting trip to the mountains, and another few days of accommodations. She waved him off. “Oh, that thing? No, didn’t I tell you? That’s been cancelled. While you were away. Cancelled!” she said, like it was the best news ever.
He gave her a tight smile and exhaled slowly.
His mother clapped her hands together. “Excellent. Then it’s settled. We’ll leave this morning.” She shrugged. “We’re already packed.”
“Can I talk to you for a minute, Nicole?” Blake asked.
She followed him into the other room, Miss Sniggles trailing after them. “What do you think you’re doing?”
She’d thought of the same question and she was a step ahead of him. “Setting the stage for the breakup. I’m going to bring my art supplies, do some painting, and that’ll lend credibility to our breakup story.” Goldie shrugged like she’d been explaining the ABC’s to a kindergartener for the tenth time.
He closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.”
“It’s fine. What could go wrong?”
***
Goldie stroked the poor pooch in her lap. “How could you not know she gets car sick?”
“I don’t usually bring her with me in the car.”
“She’s a purse pooch. They’re made to be portable.” The dog barfed up another tablespoon of vomit, and Goldie cleaned it up with the last napkin from the glove compartment.
“And how did you happen to name her Miss Sniggles?”
Blake sighed. “My ex thought it sounded like a mix between giggle and snuggles.”
Goldie stared at him for a moment. “For real?”
He could barely manage a nod.
“Huh. Did you meet her when you were in a coma? Was it like that movie where Sandra Bullock showed up and pretended to be the guy’s girlfriend? Because that doesn’t strike me as your type.” Miss Sniggles burped.
“Is she going to be okay?” Blake asked.
Goldie smiled at him. “Aww, you really love her don’t you?”
“More than he loved Katrina, apparently,” his mother said.
Blake grumbled something and looked out the window.
“One thing’s for sure, that dog loves you, Nicole,” his mother said, leaning forward between the seats. “It’s like she’s forgotten all about Katrina.” His mother sniffed, and his father patted her hand. “I’m sorry. I thought she was the one. I even had the reception venue all picked out.” She straightened her shoulders and forced a brave smile. “But now you’re here, and I swear, I feel an instant connection with you, Nicole. I’ve got a very good feeling about this.”
“Oh, me, too.” Goldie turned around and squeezed her hand.
Coming to a stop at a red light, Blake cleared his throat. “I don’t place much stock in ‘feelings’.” He made air quotes around the word.
His father leaned forward. “Son, I had feeling your mother would be the one the moment I saw her.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet,” Goldie said. “I can tell you two are still really close. It’s lovely.”
They beamed at each other in the back seat and the dog threw up again.
“Exactly how I feel, Miss Sniggles.” Blake shot Goldie a look as the light turned green.
Fine, fine, she got the point. Time to set the stage for the breakup. “So, I’m going to be spending some time myself painting. Hope that’s okay with everyone.”
“Painting?” his mother asked, sitting up straight. “You’re a painter?”
Here we go, Goldie thought, mentally rubbing her hands.
“Yes. It’s my true passion. Blake thinks its silly.”
“Silly? I was an art major for a time in college, until my father told me to be more practical and get my teaching degree.” She sighed. “I married your father and never used it.”
“What?” asked Blake. “I never heard that.”
“I didn’t want you to think badly of your grandfather. A person should never stand in the way of someone’s dream.” His mother nodded emphatically.
Blake gripped the steering wheel. “When I told you I wanted to be a writer and major in English, you guys insisted I go pre-law instead.”
His mother looked out the window. “Well, that’s different. No one can support themselves as a writer. You’d never have the apartment you have if you’d become a writer.” Mrs. Behr’s voice trailed off.
Goldie nodded. “I quit the cello back in high school and have regretted it ever since. It’s still at my mother’s house. Who knows? Maybe I could’ve been a concert cellist.”
Everyone was quiet.
“But it’s never too late, Blake,” Goldie said. “You could write as a hobby, like I do with my art.” Goldie nodded at him, then turned around and looked at his mother. “And you could borrow my art supplies when we get up there and give it a go.”
“Really?” His mother’s voice was so hopeful it hurt.
Blake bounced his head on the back of the seat.
Goldie
smiled back at her. “Of course. I’m working in watercolors.”
His mother sucked in a breath. “My favorite. I’m so glad our cruise was cancelled. This is going to be much more fun than Bermuda.”
***
Blake carried in Goldie’s luggage—presumably everything she had in the world—and wondered how he was going to survive this weekend.
A mouse scurried across the floor and he swore. “We’ll need to get some traps.”
“Is that how you treat surprise guests who are hungry?” Goldie scolded.
He fixed her with a stare. “Ones that eat my food without asking, yes.”
“Sometimes unexpected houseguests are helpful Blake, don’t forget that. Now let’s just shoo this little guy outside.” She grabbed a broom leaning against the wall and chased the mouse outside.
With his hands on his hips he shook his head. How could someone so frustrating also be so appealing? She was unlike any woman he’d ever gone out with before. Any other woman would’ve been halfway to the hardware store by now buying mousetraps. Or standing on the table, screaming. No, Goldie was finding the rodent alternative housing.
He tried to pretend he wasn’t put out that Miss Sniggles was following Goldie everywhere, like she was the one providing the furnished room and designer doggie bed and organic dog food, the ungrateful little thing, not unlike her previous owner, Katrina. Blake hadn’t had the best luck with women, female or canine.
“I’m going to take a dip in the lake, care to join me?” she asked Blake. It was an unseasonably warm day; one last blast of summer.
His mother hated swimming, so that would give them plenty of time alone so he could get this damn thing back on track. Goldie was being way too cute and personable. “Sure, I’ll get changed and meet you down there.”
He marched down to the beach, a towel wrapped around his shoulder, determined to get her out of here. He was composing the speech in his head as he spotted her splashing along the shore of the lake with three little children. Shocking, she’d made new friends already. She was probably getting their addresses so she could stay for a visit. But he couldn’t help smile as he watched her. He had to admit, part of the reason he was so annoyed with her was because she was everything he wished he were: spontaneous, carefree, friendly.
No, Blake was all about schedules, priorities, and plans. He’d been voted Most Serious in high school and had taken it as a great badge of honor instead of the snub that it was meant to be. They’d actually created the category for him.
He didn’t have an answer for that. He blew out a deep breath. This breakup was going to be hard on them all. Might as well enjoy the relationship while it lasted. He waved to her and she waved back, all smiles and radiant beauty. No wonder Miss Sniggles and his mother liked her. Who wouldn’t?
She kicked up a spray of water as he walked down to her. “Belly-flop contest? You in?” She gestured to the floating dock a little ways from shore.
He was about to launch into all the reasons he wouldn’t be doing that, when she pulled him by the hand and splashed into the water. And damn, if he didn’t squeeze her hand back.
***
His stomach was still stinging from the smack of water on abs during their belly flop contest. Despite her much smaller frame, she’d somehow managed to produce a bigger splash than he did, and all the kids along the shore named her the belly-flop queen of the world.
“So you’re the belly-flopping queen? I must get you a crown.” He scooped her up and ran into the water with her, tossing her into the lake as she shrieked in protest. She came up out of the water and sloshed back to him, and he tried his best to ignore the glistening beads of water, cascading down her cleavage, lucky droplets.
Then she reached up, lacing her hands behind his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Despite the warm day, she shivered in his arms as she pressed her lips against his, and he pulled her closer, keeping her wonderful mouth against his a bit longer. He didn’t know what had brought on her sudden passion, but he wasn’t arguing.
Finally, he pulled back, looking at her face for a reaction. Did the kiss feel as good to her, too?
She shrugged. “Just wanted to make it really convincing for your parents.” She gestured to his mom and dad standing on the shore, waving.
His heart sank. “Right, right. Of course.” He cleared his throat. “Good call.”
His parents leaned into each other, watching them. They’d never forgive him for breaking up with her. And he’d never forgive himself if he fell for her. He had to be careful.
Easier said than done.
***
After they got dried off and had lunch, Goldie gathered up the painting supplies.
His mother patted his shoulder as he sat at the kitchen table trying not to watch Goldie’s luscious lips closing over a strawberry. “Come watch us, darling. You’ve never seen your mother in action.”
Yikes, that was one way to cool off his lustful thoughts.
After that hot, wet kiss in the lake, Blake was thinking it’d be best to put some space between him and Goldie. Watching her paint—imagining what else her fingers could do besides grip a brush—was probably a bad idea, but his mother looked more excited than the time he got her tickets to the Jiminy Shoes trunk show, so how could he say no?
And Goldie looked pretty pleased, too.
***
Goldie’s hand shook as she focused on the tree trunk growing up around a big rock. It’s not that she wasn’t used to an audience; people often stopped to watch her work when she was set up in the park. She just wasn’t used to the gaze of a hot man who made her hands tremble while he watched. Oh, and his mother and father. Zero pressure to perform.
“That’s simply gorgeous,” his mother said. “I’d been wondering which angle of the mountain I was going to paint, and you found this interesting detail to focus on and it really captures the feeling so much more.” She shook her head. “Do you sell your work?”
“I try. I have shows here and there.”
“I’d love to host an exhibition at my friend’s gallery. Perhaps we can both put out a few pieces. Maybe right before the holidays?”
Goldie’s gut twisted. She wouldn’t be with Blake for the holidays. But why spoil the mood? “Sure, that would be wonderful.”
Blake’s mother focused on a patch of moss instead of the mountain vista, while Blake and his father flicked on a radio and listened to a football game. She blinked back tears that threatened to spill, realizing how perfect this all felt; and perfectly fake at the same time. Of course his mother was enchanted with her; she thought she was a lawyer and an artist, not someone who would need a lawyer to represent her when charged with staying in someone’s home uninvited. She could imagine the disappointment on her face if she found out.
It would probably look quite similar to the look her mother gave her every time she came home without news of a job or a new boyfriend her mother could pin her hopes on.
With their painting gear packed up, plans were made for dinner. They laughed and joked through a delicious meal at a fancy restaurant, trying its hardest to look like a casual old log cabin instead of a place that served thirty dollar pasta entrees. She could feed herself for a week with pasta from the grocery store for thirty dollars. She kept forgetting in real life, they were from totally different worlds.
But his parents had no clue. “I don’t know how you’ve gotten our son to lighten up, but you’re good for him, Nicole. I haven’t seen him smile like this in a long time,” Mrs. Behr said.
“I think I can figure out how she manages,” his father said.
“Ted!” His mom tried to seem horrified, but fought back a grin and playfully slapped her husband’s arm.
Goldie looked down and knew she was blushing. “I think he just works too hard. This vacation was a nice break for him. All work and no play makes Blake a dull boy, right?”
“Wow, Katrina was always after you to work more so you’d make partner sooner,” his mom said.
“Life’s more than work.” Goldie shrugged.
“You don’t want to let this one get away, son.” His father winked at him.
Goldie ached inside realizing how nice it would feel if their words were true. She wasn’t anyone’s catch. An apartment-hopping, jobless artist? His parents would drive her right back to the city if they knew.
With that thought, she wanted more. She was done wandering, hoping she’d find what was right for her. This was right.
Too bad what she was doing was totally wrong.
***
After dinner, his parents dropped them off at the cottage and claimed they were going out for a drink. He doubted they’d be dropping by the local saloon; there weren’t too many martini bars in this neck of the woods.
Miss Sniggles yipped and danced at their heels as they returned. Goldie scooped her up. “Did you miss us?” Goldie asked, nuzzling her nose in the scruff of the dog’s fur.
“Seriously, she likes you better than Katrina.”
“Sounds like she was a winner.”
Blake laughed. “One of my many mistakes.” Would he be making another with Goldie?
“So, your parents probably think we’re up to no good here all alone,” she said, in a soft hopeful voice. Blake was the first to admit he could be a dolt when it came to women, but he knew desire when he heard it.
Which is why he took her head in his hands, and walked her back against the wall, kissing her like he was about to move to Antarctica. Because really, who knew if he’d ever get the chance to do this again?
She plopped the dog on the floor and kissed him back. “What was that for,” she asked, breathless. “I doubt your parents are peeking through the windows.”
He shrugged. “The fresh mountain air is making me crazy, I guess.”
What had he been thinking? Was he really interested in this nomadic artist, or was this just his subconscious saying, “Score! It’s a freebie pass for a little fun without the guilt when it’s over.”
Either way, it was more than he could handle tonight. He couldn’t be falling for this woman. He stepped back from her. “I’m heading to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” He walked to his room without looking back so he didn’t lose his nerve.
