by Misti Murphy
“Well,” she says as I pull out and slowly let her feet drop to the ground, “ready for our date now?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
RONNIE
“This is a nice place.” I glance around the restaurant Danny picked for our date. An actual date. Not one where I pay for his meal or we split the bill. This is more...
Uncomfortable.
“Yeah, it’s nice.” Danny glances over his shoulder, darts another glance at the door, and adjusts the collar of his shirt.
I pick up a fork. My reflection shines in it. Don’t get me wrong. I like swank restaurants and nice dinners. But I’ve never been to one on a date. I’m more comfortable in places like this when it’s with my brothers. Or when chatting up clients. Although a few of those tried to turn dinner meetings into dates over the course of my career at Pascal Design. Perhaps that’s part of the problem.
I put the fork back down, smooth out the linen napkin while Danny hesitantly reaches for the wine list. It’s like he expects the narrow, cardboard menu to bite his hand off if he doesn’t catch it without being seen. He’s acting weird. And that’s saying something. But he was fine when we left the apartment. More than fine. “How was your date this afternoon?”
He lowers the wine list enough that I can see his eyes, like we’re playing peekaboo, and clears his throat. “Fine. Everything went great.”
“Tell me about it?” I run the toe of my heel up his leg under the table.
He jolts in his seat as though he’s being electrocuted. “We should order. Beer. I need a beer.”
“Beer would be great.” Because this restaurant, this date feels like we’ve entered The Twilight Zone. Maybe it’s the date-i-ness of this situation that’s making us both nervous. We’ve been sleeping together a while now, but we’ve kept everything casual. This, well, it’s the opposite of casual. Like my feelings for Danny. I like him so much. Enough that his suits hang in my closet and his toothbrush nestles with mine. Enough that I’m not sure we can actually continue calling what we’re doing casual. “But I have an idea.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Do you wanna get out of here?”
He drops the wine list on the linen-clothed table. “Fuck yes.”
The couple at the next table, a well-dressed man and woman with matching salt and pepper hair, glare in our direction.
Standing, I pick up my purse. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” he asks once we’re outside.
“To do something fun.” I hail a cab. “Something crazy.”
Danny takes my hand as the cab pulls to the curb. The smile I like so much curves his lips. “Ronnie Frost, you are the perfect woman.”
***
“I can’t believe we just crashed a wedding.” Danny hands me a glass of champagne. “Do you know anyone at this shindig?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” I sip from my fluted glass. The setup for this reception is amazing, straight out of a design magazine. It’s like someone built a ballroom without windows or walls. Maybe the Mad Hatter, because there’s a definite Alice in Wonderland tea party feel. Top hats and fairy lights hang everywhere, funky couches and odd chairs are situated on a checkerboard floor between thick potted ferns. A huge dance floor is surrounded by tables covered in gold linen and mismatched china. Huge mirrors set up around the perimeter bounce reflections of the whole thing, including guests, like a kaleidoscope.
“I’m rubbing off on you,” he says. His stance is at ease, one hand in his pocket, the other casually wrapped around the stem of his glass.
“You certainly rubbed something on me earlier.” I side-eye him.
“Couldn’t help myself. Have you seen how sexy you look tonight?”
“Sure. It takes effort to look this fabulous.” Which included a good forty minutes of bathroom mirror time while I primped. I finish my champagne. “Should we hit up the buffet?”
“We could.” He offers his hand for me to slip mine into. “But I’d rather see you bust a move on the dance floor.”
We dance, and drink, and dance some more. The champagne is fizzy, and all those air bubbles are going to my head. But they’re great for my courage. Even though I don’t know that having a... oh my God, I’m seriously considering talking to Danny about this... conversation about how not casual this thing between he and I are, is a good idea. Danny is still a bit off, or maybe it’s me. Maybe he isn’t being a little less showy. It could be that I’m struggling with how I’m feeling about him.
“Hey.” A woman in ruched purple taffeta and a gray top hat—a bridesmaid, considering the four other women dressed identically—gives a tipsy shriek and grabs Danny’s elbow. “I know you.”
Oh crap! We’ve been busted.
A waiter in the black and white tuxedo that seems to be par for the course at these events enters my peripheral vision, and I snag another champagne and down it like a thirsty camel trying to restock its hump. One for the road.
“You’re Rent-A-Danny.” The bridesmaid continues with her high-pitched noises, as she grabs his other arm. Someone needs to take the squeaker out of this chew toy. She glances at me, and shit, she thinks I’m renting Danny for the night. She doesn’t come right out and say it, but two and two equals four, right? I can manage numbers still despite the champagne.
“Felicity.” He’s so damn smooth, like top shelf scotch.
“Right?” She beams. “You helped me with my little conundrum.”
“The neighbor, right?”
“Yes.” She bounces up and down, which is something no girl as well endowed as she is should ever do in a strapless number. “Yes. That’s the one. He asked me out the day after our date. Three years I’ve lived next door, crushing on him, and he finally asked me out. You made it happen.”
“I didn’t do much,” Danny says. “It was just a few pointers.”
“Well, they worked.” She beams at me, her face flushed, eyes bright as much from alcohol as excitement. “This guy is a miracle worker. I can’t even begin to tell you.” Her hand flutters to her throat. “I’m sorry. I’m probably intruding on your own miracle, aren’t I?” She pats Danny’s bicep as she squeezes my shoulder. “But seriously, this guy is the best. He’ll totally have your love life sorted in one evening. It’ll rock your world.”
“Is that so?” I waggle my eyebrows at him. This is going down in the history books of crazy stories we share.
“Absolutely,” she says.
“Great reference, don’t you think, Ronnie? I can rock your world with one date.” Danny smirks. He’s getting so much entertainment out of this.
And me? It’s funny, but I also want to set her straight, so she’ll stop being so touchy-feely with my...casual fuck buddy. Yeah, I’m not sure that designation is going to do anymore. Another waiter walks by, carrying a tray of hors d’oevres, and I place my glass amid the salmon cream puffs and blinis piled with caviar and then pull a card from my purse. “It’s good. We’d love to use your recommendation for our website, if you’re interested in shooting something through to my email.”
“Oh.” She stares at the card before slipping it into her cleavage. “Oh. You’re his manager.” Again she pats my arm. “You must be thrilled.”
“I am.” Well, I was when he was fucking me up against a wall earlier. Now, not so much.
“Can I ask you something?” She weaves closer, whispering very loudly.
Danny can barely suppress a chuckle, and I roll my eyes at him. Even though I know I shouldn’t, I say, “Okay.”
“Have you slept with him? Surely you must have. How could you not? If I wasn’t totally in love with my neighbor, I might have considered it, you know?” She’s still whispering, in what she thinks is a conspiratorial octave, but her volume button seems to be stuck on the highest setting. “He’s so good at relationship advice, he has to be good at the sex too. Doesn’t he? Come on, you can tell me. The sex is amazing, isn’t it? He’s the all night, dirty, sweaty, multiple orgasmy type.” She nods, satis
fied with her own description. “Look at him. You can just tell.”
I feign shock as I glance at him over her shoulder. Also, I hope he’s telepathic because I’d really like him to save me right now.
“Seriously though.” She’s now talking to my boobs, her head dropping lower and lower like they’re becoming best friends. I’m concerned she’ll fall, passed out and snoring, into my cleavage if we don’t part ways soon. “If you haven’t had sex with him yet, you should. You know you want to. And he’s totally into you. I’ve been watching you two dance, and it seems to me like you’re much more than work colleagues.” She giggles. “Look at me. I’m giving relationship advice.”
“Okay, okay.” Danny grabs her arms and gently guides her back. “How about we find you some water and somewhere to sit?”
“I’d love to sit. My feet are killing me, but switch out the water for champagne.” She sways, but Danny has a good hold on her.
“I’ll get the wa-champagne,” I say, already targeting a waiter with both bottled water and champagne flutes.
“We’ll be over there,” he says pointing to one of the tables where a few people are congregated before wrapping an arm around her waist. “Come on, Felicity. Let’s walk before we fall asleep.”
It takes me a few minutes to snag a glass of champagne and a bottle of water. The champagne goes down my throat. A reward for dealing with Felicity in her current state. And the water goes into the flute before I discard the evidence of my trickery. I pop it down on the table in front of her.
Danny gives me a half smile that says sorry and fuck, I’m lucky all at the same time before tapping Felicity’s arm. She groans and opens her eyes. “Champagne? Awesome. But maybe I should switch to water next.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Danny says.
“Felicity. Are you okay?” One of the other bridesmaids—same outfit, different level of tipsy—hovers over her friend.
“She’s had a bit too much to drink,” I say. “She should drink some water, pop a couple of painkillers, and get some sleep.”
“Do I know you?” the girl asks. “I thought I knew everyone here tonight.”
“It’s Danny,” Felicity manages. “Remember I told you about him.”
“You’re the relationship guru?” She gives him the once over, her dark brows drawing tight over equally dark eyes. “Are you here with one of the guests?”
“We should go,” I say to Danny.
“Don’t be silly,” Felicity says. “He’s here with his manager.”
“I take it you’re the manager?” She’s starting to get suspicious. This might go south in a hurry.
“She’s my girlfriend,” Danny says, getting up.
“Girlfriend?” Felicity squeaks. I’d almost forgotten she did that. “So you do know about the sex. You’re so lucky.”
“W-what? Girlfriend?” I stare at him, my mouth hanging open. I almost glance around to see if there’s another woman who might be more girlfriend material than I am.
“Yeah.” He shrugs, but it’s anything but uncaring. “If that’s okay with you?”
“Um. Yeah. That’s okay with me.”
“I think you two should go now.” Felicity groans. “Before anyone realizes you’re not supposed to be here.”
“I knew it,” the other bridesmaid says.
“Make a run for it?” Danny asks.
I’m wearing heels, but what’s life without adventure? I slip my hand into his. “Let’s go.”
We run across the dance floor, past the couches and open bar, where Danny snags a bottle of champagne. Through the lights and top hats. We don’t stop until we hit the road, which is where we realize we’ll have to call an Uber and bribe him to pick up a pizza on the way.
Sitting on the side of the road, we try to catch our breath.
“So we’re doing this?” I lean against his shoulder as he pops the cork free from the bottle. “We’re actually going to try a relationship?”
He takes a swig and hands me the bottle. “Don’t think I have it in me?”
“Do you think I do?” I take a long pull from the neck.
He rests his jaw in my hair, his hot breath making my scalp prickle and my insides tighten. “How about we find out together?”
“Okay,” I agree.
“Okay,” he says.
“But there’s a condition,” I tell him.
He chuckles as he lifts my face to his. “What’s that?”
“My mother can’t find out that you’re calling me your girlfriend. Not yet at least.”
He presses his lips to mine, slides his tongue into my mouth.
“She’d wield this information like a baby-seeking missile,” I mumble around his tongue.
“So we’ll keep it between us,” he says, nipping my bottom lip, “if that’ll make you happy. I won’t tell her or your brothers or my best friend that you’re my girlfriend. But I wanna hear you call me your boyfriend at least once.”
“Boyfriend,” I blurt.
“I was thinking more like once a day.” He laughs. “Maybe twice a day. We could even teach Pucker to call out ‘Ronnie and Danny are in a relationship.’”
“That might be going too far.” I take another draw from the bottle.
“Maybe,” he agrees, stealing the champagne from my grip. “I can’t believe I was so worried about how you would take my suggesting we turn this into an actual relationship. It was really pretty easy.”
“That’s why you were acting weird.” It makes sense now. The fiddling, the lack of confidence.
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t sure you would want to.” He runs a finger along the inside of his collar. “I’m not exactly a catch.”
“Pfft.” I punch his shoulder and roll my eyes. “You’re a catch. Like a salmon. Only...you’d be the salmon swimming downstream.”
“You’ve had a lot to drink.” He starts to chuckle but immediately stops. It’s a little like one of those monkeys with the cymbals when it runs out of batteries as it dries up. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.” I get up and straddle his lap. “I want to. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but for the first time in my life, I’m actually interested in more than just getting into a guy’s pants.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DANNY
“That thing you did with the Nutella was hot and all, but I’m not sure it was worth this,” I say, eyeing the two-story brick Tudor house my parents moved into after I left. This is the first time I’ve been to their new home. Which isn’t really new, considering they’ve been here for four years.
“And I can’t believe I had to bribe you with a Nutella blowjob just to get you to have dinner with your own family,” Ronnie says, lifting a casserole dish out of the trunk of the car.
I extract the oversized bag that contains a Caesar salad, breadsticks, and a couple bottles of merlot to go with the lasagna she made for my mother’s welcome home dinner. She agrees to be my girlfriend and suddenly she’s Suzy Homemaker. Or, more accurately, Mama Frost Junior.
Don’t get me wrong; I like this side of Ronnie. This person with the need to take care of everyone. She’s suppressed what I suspect is a natural aspect of her personality for so long, it’s probably going to be a little overwhelming for a while, until she gets a handle on it.
My mother’s stroke, followed by my confession about the Harrison family dynamics, certainly didn’t help. I assume because she likes me, and especially now that we’ve officially shifted our relationship to this new level, she’s overcompensating, trying way too hard to please my family.
And I’m not confident it’s going to work. In fact, I’m confident it isn’t.
“Pretty sure you got a reasonable amount of enjoyment out of it too,” I quip, falling into my comfortable role of jokester, casual and carefree guy. The one my dad hates.
She chuckles. “Actually, I got the bonus package. I got an orgasm and far more Nutella in one sitting than an adult woman has a right to consume.”
/> I’d managed to hold out until she licked my Popsicle stick clean, and then I’d grabbed her hips and slammed into her like a crazed man, and she climaxed after maybe two thrusts. Apparently she’s a big fan of chocolate and hazelnut. And my dick.
Lucky me.
Except afterward, she’d hopped out of bed and headed into the kitchen, whipping up this dinner-to-go, chattering about how Joe said he couldn’t wait to try the lasagna her mother had taught her to make.
“Ready?” she says, reaching for my hand.
No. But I twine my fingers with hers anyway, let her lead me up the path of meandering slate pavers that take us to the front door. It’s thrown open before I can push the bell, and my brother is there, taking up every inch of space in the doorway, holding a beer and grinning, his gaze on Ronnie.
I watch as he deliberately scans her from the top of her dark locks, over those blue eyes that are practically a Frost family trademark, and full, red-painted lips, to the slightest hint of cleavage tucked behind conservative lace and a thin cardigan, down her long, lean legs to the flat sandals on her feet. I wonder if she dressed conservatively because this is apparently the kind of woman my brother likes.
And they have become awfully close over the course of the last week.
I shift the bag to my left hand and wrap my right arm around Ronnie’s shoulders, pulling her tightly against my side. The not-so-subtle act of possession doesn’t go unnoticed by her or my brother. She arches her brows while he snickers and then takes a swig from his beer.
“You look nervous,” Joe says, and I want to punch him for being so observant. If he can see it, so will my dad. And I don’t want that man to know he still affects me. I want him to believe my life is perfect, despite it being nothing like what he hoped for me.
Dad’s voice booms out, slapping at us like the air on a muggy day. “Sit down, Irene. He’ll be in here in a minute. For Christ’s sake, do you want to end up back in that damn hospital?”
Ronnie’s eyes widen while Joe shakes his head. “He’s been like that since she got discharged. I told him he’s the one who’s going to put her back in the hospital, and I thought he was going to take a swing at me.”
