by Tamar Sloan
I’d stared at his collar, not willing to admit defeat.
Noah bent his knees, chin tilting down to catch my begrudging gaze. “It might just suck cumquats.”
Despite being the worst joke ever, my smile rose from the dead.
Although its resurrection was short-lived as I head for the wardrobe several days later, my mouth a straight line. Surely there’s something else I can wear. I flick through the long dresses I’ve never worn, barely look at the short dresses I’d never consider wearing. Surely some women would wear slacks to an awards dinner? Sinking shoulders acknowledge I have no idea what other females would throw on for a night like this.
Shoulders that practically scrape the timber floor acknowledge the dress waiting on my bed is my best bet at appropriate attire.
I glance at the clock, knowing I have to get ready for the dreaded evening. I pick the dress up by the thin straps; the soft black material hangs in midnight folds, never reaching the floor. I sigh. My mother has essentially bought me a little black dress. One thing is certain; I’m not going to be comfortable in that.
I change quickly, slipping out of jeans and t-shirt into the dress. The stretchy material hugs me from my chest to hips then flares out gently down my legs. Thankfully it’s not as short as I thought, although it’s still not long enough for long-limbed me. I tug at the hem, but it doesn’t quite reach my knees. I put on the stockings next, quickly realizing I may have done things the wrong way around as I have to hitch up the skirt. The kitten heels come next, all of a sudden making my exposed legs feel too long.
I grab the brush, looking at myself in the mirror. With Tara’s help, I’d put on a light layer of makeup, some pale eyeshadow, a little nude lipstick. I bite my lip, belatedly realizing I’m now eating the stuff. With the black dress and dark hair, the black stockings and black heels, my serious eyes and somber face, I look like I’m going to a funeral.
Caesar sits up, tongue hanging out. I lean over to pat him. “You can smile. You don’t have to go.”
As I head for the door, he barks from the bed. I turn with my hand on the door. “Stop gloating,” I admonish. I get another canine grin in response.
Alexis is waiting in the living area. My mother looks lethal in a tight red number, killer red heels, and gold accessories. Her grey eyes scan me from head to toe and back again, those chili-red lips puckering slightly.
“Good.” It looks like the cattle passed muster. “Try to smile.” Except they’re meant to smile as they get led to their doom.
I keep my face in the land of the serious. Alexis sighs, looking at me for a second longer before glancing at her watch.
Creating the best time to bring something up. A time-limited time. So I say casually, quietly. “I’m going camping with Noah next weekend.”
Alexis is much more interested in the ticking diamonds on her watch. “Okay.”
“We’ll leave Saturday morning.”
Grey eyes flick to me then back to the gold timepiece. “Okay.”
I smooth the soft black material. “We’ll be back Sunday.”
Silence.
I look up, grey eyes, ringed with flawless makeup, are well and truly honed on me. “Do we need to see Dr. Welch?”
Dr. Welch? The middle-aged man with the bedside manner of an angry mule? “What for?”
“To talk contraception.”
Did she just say what I think she said? I want to bring my cold hands to my hot cheeks. I want legs, frozen in shock, to take me out of this room.
“Well?”
“No.”
“We don’t want any regrets.”
I don’t need my hands anymore; my cheeks are cold. All the blood sucked deep into my painfully beating heart. She’s always acted it, but never actually said it.
“It’s not a problem,” I choke out.
Those smoky grey eyes flicker for a moment. “You know that’s not what I meant.” She glances around the room then back at me, frozen on the timber floor. “I just don’t want you to go through what I did.”
I don’t want you to repeat my mistakes.
“It’s not a problem.”
Red lips open then shut. Alexis looks back at her watch as her shoulders drop on a sigh. “Where is he?”
Just as the doorbell rings.
“I’ll get it.” I go to rush and then remember the heels. It’s a wobbly, noisy dash to the door.
I open the door to a hunk in a dark suit, the conversation I just had evaporating. Noah, in a classic suit, sucks all the air from my lungs. My eyes don’t know what to devour first. They feast on long legs in black slacks, the chest I know is muscled and defined, now covered in a white shirt divided by a black tie. They scan and consume a cleanly shaven jaw, smiling lips, almost-tamed blond hair, summer blue eyes.
Eyes which darken as I connect with them, a look I’ve gotten to know well over the past few months.
Noah likes what he sees.
Alexis’s heels clack toward the front entry. “Hello, Noah. I appreciate you being on time.” Gravel crunches on the driveway. “Excellent, as is our ride.”
I look over Noah’s shoulder to see a black limo pull up in front of the house.
“You look lovely, Mrs. St. James.”
“Thank you.” Alexis grabs the clutch that was sitting on the hall table. “Let’s get going.”
Noah steps back as fire-red breezes past. His glinting grin comes back to me. “You look good.”
I don’t have anything to carry, so I close the door behind me. I lean into Noah, whispering. “I hate it.” I point to the stretched transportation as we follow Alexis down the driveway. “I hate that.”
His eyes rake me from head to toe. “Well, I love it.” Then he leans in, his beautiful face filling my vision, his sandalwood scent filling my senses. “And I love you.”
Those words stop me mid-stride. An unwilling smile softens my face. “I love you.”
Noah grabs my hand, giving it a squeeze. “Let’s go own this thing.”
I feel my smile stretch my lipstick. With Noah, I can do anything.
In the limo Alexis takes one side, glass of wine already in hand, whilst Noah and I sit on the other.
“So, Mrs. St. James, what are these awards for?”
Alexis smiles her first smile for the night. “It’s a national marketing award. The Inn’s winter promotion was nominated then shortlisted. It was one of our most successful campaigns. We had record numbers over the winter season.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it nailed, but good luck anyway.”
“Thank you.” Alexis takes a sip of wine before speaking again. “I’ve been informed you’re going camping this weekend.”
For the first time this evening I feel a little jolt of nervousness from the hand wrapped around my own. “Yes, Eden gave me a helicopter ride for my birthday. It should be amazing.”
Contemplative eyes turn to me. “Did she?” Then return to Noah, developing a hint of steel. “I trust you’ll be safe.”
I don’t know how Noah isn’t shifting on the tan leather seat there’s that much nervousness churning through him. “Eden always comes first, Mrs. St. James.”
I can feel the protectiveness that overrides the nervousness beside me, and I squeeze Noah’s hand, my leg brushing his as I infinitesimally move closer.
Alexis looks out the tinted limo window. “I hope so, Noah.”
I can’t decipher the tone in my mother’s hard words. Could I detect a trace of doubt? A warning? A little part of it almost sounded protective.
The rest of the limo ride is quiet. The only time Alexis’s eyes leave the window is to line her wine glass up to her lips. I study Noah from the corner of my eye, tapping into the little barometer I have within me that senses the emotions in the black suit beside me.
Noah is still. Still and quiet. The sharp line of his jaw tilted to the window, lips resting together, his breath steady and slow. Looking as cool and composed as my mother. But I can feel something beneath the
surface, an edginess, a slight uneasiness. I can feel Noah is nervous…about an awards night? I don’t think Alexis is on his Christmas card list, but she’s never made him nervous. Maybe it’s my nervousness overflowing, having a contagion effect.
Noah turns from the window, catching me watching him. He smiles, squeezing my hand, and the feeling settles. That must have been it. I will myself to relax over the remainder of the trip. Noah’s right, this won’t be so bad with him here.
We arrive at the Stanton Hotel, multiple stories of long, narrow windows, a well-lit entrance that has its fair share of limos pulling up and dropping off expensive cargo. I suck in a fortifying breath and climb out, Noah not far behind. He looks up at the daunting building then looks at me. He mouths two words, ‘own it.’ I squeeze his hand in return. There is one thing that Noah already owns.
My mother’s stilettos clack out our approach across the marble foyer, as if she knows exactly where she’s going. Inside, there are more men in dark suits and women in dresses that scream money and power. I haven’t been to one of these things for a while, and certainly not as formal as this, but I know what I need to do. So I climb back up on that bicycle, adjust my posture, and arrange my painted lips.
Alexis is smiling, too, a glass of champagne in her hands, as a grey-haired man clasps her, kisses one cheek then the other.
“Alexis, lovely to see you. Big night for you m’dear. Ah, I see you’ve brought her with you.”
“Thomas, this is my daughter—”
I stretch out a hand, smiling like I love riding, wondering what he’s talking about. “Eden, lovely to meet you.”
“And this is Noah, her…partner for the evening.”
For the evening?
Noah shakes Thomas’s hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
“Oh, Alexis, you are a clever woman, bringing your campaign to flaunt before your competitors.” Thomas quirks a brow, leaning in close. “I see where she gets her looks from.”
Alexis flutters a hand over the man’s wool jacket. “Oh, Thomas, stop it.”
Although her tone says the opposite.
“The Everetts are here.”
My mother’s smile takes on a hard edge. “I expected they would be.” She shrugs a bare shoulder. “I felt their campaign didn’t quite…capture the audience.”
I take Noah’s hand when a woman walks up this time, dressed in silver, air kissing my mother on both cheeks. I once again get the look over, but I introduce myself, turn my grimace into a smile, and almost find a rhythm. Underneath it all, I’m glad Noah invited himself to this thing. I don’t remember Alexis’s associates paying this much attention to me before.
As we cross the room I smile, shake hands, smile some more. I talk about veterinary science; I act like marketing is interesting. It’s as if I’ve learned from the best. We finally make it to our table, and I sink into the chair the waiter is holding for me. We’re right up front near the stage, where a handful of glass trophies stand, one three times the size of the others.
Alexis sashays and schmoozes her way through the crowd, taking her time arriving at the table. I turn to Noah, one eyebrow raised, saying ‘see?’
He leans in. “When I said, ‘let’s own this,’ I didn’t know you planned on being the CEO.”
That brow comes down to join its mate in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“You’re the hostess with the mostess. I’ve never seen you so…owning it.”
I pull my chin in surprise. I suppose shy, timid Eden isn’t here. “Alexis has made me attend these things since she could dress me in frills. I suppose I just got into character.”
He kisses me lightly on the temple. “I love that you keep surprising me.”
I flush a little, wishing I’d put on a heavier layer of foundation. I nudge him with my shoulder. “Never underestimate an introvert with a mission.”
Noah’s index finger comes up to stroke his bottom lip, that thoughtful, sexy Phelan thing he does. “Noted.”
I look around to see Alexis heading to our table, a red ribbon merrily winding through the tables. I’d forgotten how happy these things make her. I smell the sandalwood, feel the heat at my shoulder, before I hear Noah speak again. “Can we talk after?”
It’s a simple question, an innocuous one. But there’s something about it that has me pivoting to face him. Maybe it’s to see the little smile, just an excuse to find the summer blue pools. Maybe it’s the nervousness that I can sense. Maybe it’s because he thought he had to ask.
“Sure, we’ll go back to yours?”
A quick kiss, I don’t want to call it a nervous peck, and he smiles a little. “Is it too cold for Grandfather Douglas?”
Maybe it’s because it’s a talk beneath Grandfather Douglas. “Never. What about?”
A soft shrug of those black, broad shoulders, and the smile grows. “Nothing urgent.”
“Now, you two, I have sodas and hors d’oeuvres.”
Alexis slides into the seat next to me, all smiley and motherly, as she places two glasses and a crystal bowl with an assortment of nuts before us. Maybe I got the acting abilities from her, too, because I don’t pretend her interruption is annoying.
“Thank you, Mrs. St. James, this is a great looking hotel.”
“Isn’t it? These awards are quite prestigious, so they had to find somewhere that reflected that.”
Alexis sips her champagne as she turns to face us both. “So, Noah, you and Mitch are twins.”
My back stiffens a little at this unexpected social opening. Aren’t there some exec types she needs to wheel and deal with? I glance at the glass, wondering how much she’s had.
“Yes, ma’am. Somehow my parents survived, although I think my mom used some pretty intensive anti-aging cream.”
“Handfuls, were you?”
“You have no idea.” Noah pops a nut in his mouth then grins a little. “We learned that garbage bags don’t make good parachutes. That the average response time for the fire brigade is fifteen minutes. And I’m pretty sure we now have a chocolate Labrador because the last one got dyed blue and pink. On separate occasions.”
Alexis smiles a little, tipping her glass toward Noah. “I may need to get the brand of this miracle cream.”
I sit there between Noah and my mother conversing, completely unsure whether this is a good thing. I do know it makes me uncomfortable, and I’m glad the topic seems to have run dry.
Noah grabs another nut, winks at me, then turns to Alexis. “So, what did Eden get up to as a child?”
What? I turn to Noah in shock.
“Oh, nothing like that.”
“What? No plastic toys in the oven, no haircuts when you weren’t looking?”
“No.” I’m sure that’s a shutdown comment from Alexis, since when did she talk about me as a child? “For her, it was always animals. The first was a mouse”—grey eyes turn to me—“What was its name?”
I flick the edge of the fan napkin on the plate in front of me. “Twitch.”
“Yes, that right. Although Twitch brought relatives. I don’t know how we didn’t have a plague.”
They never figured out how to open a jar of peanut butter, so we were safe. Luckily, by the time I had to release Twitch his leg had healed.
“I thought we were past it, only to discover she just went underground. I got suspicious one day when I caught her harvesting dead flies off the window sill.”
Where is this coming from? I look around, certain that some mogul is watching us put on a happy family show. But there’s no one.
Noah quirks a brow at me, asking the question.
I flick the napkin again. “Legs.”
A delicate shudder shakes my mother’s shoulders. “A spider.” Alexis releases her glass for a moment—I mean, releases her glass! Then points with a fire engine red nail at Noah. “Then there was the kitten. It certainly raises eyebrows when your vegetarian daughter asks for a can of tuna.”
“Nor does cat litter totally absor
b smells,” I grumble beneath my breath.
Noah nudges me with his shoulder. “False advertising, huh?” He turns back to Alexis. “I wonder where she got those tendencies from?”
I resist the urge to turn shocked eyes to Noah. What did he just say?
“Indeed.” Coolness creeps back into Alexis’s tone, the wine glass coming back up.
I don’t know if Noah doesn’t care, or doesn’t see the shutdown, because he keeps prodding. “What about Caesar?”
I almost fall off the shiny brocade chair when Alexis keeps talking. “That one was the most impressive. She kept him, how long?”
Impressive? That’s not my definition of her response when she discovered a German shepherd in my room. “Five weeks.”
“Before I realized. By then I was told it was too late.”
Noah’s arm comes around my shoulder, and I think it’s the first time it doesn’t prompt a lip tighten. “She’s certainly connected to that dog.”
“He’s been a wonderful companion for her.”
This time, I actually look at my mother. Since when did she pay attention to any of this? Alexis’s eyes are looking at me, grey and indecipherable. I’d like to say something, but I have no idea what.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve now come to the part of the evening that everyone is waiting for.” We turn to see Thomas at the podium.
Alexis straightens and turns, one hand gripping the back of her chair, probably wishing it had something else to hold, like a glass of wine.
“As you all know, marketing is a highly competitive industry, one where excellence will give you the edge. It is this commitment to quality that grows marketing as an industry, encourages innovation, and powers our economy. And it is this excellence that should be recognized.”
Noah’s hand creeps under the table and takes mine. Thomas’s voice blends into the background as that warmth graces my palm then starts to wander up. I lean toward him, finding his shoulder just where I need it.
“Your mum let you keep Caesar,” he whispers into my hair.
I glance over my shoulder, wondering what he’s getting at.
“She didn’t have to. A lot of parents would have made their daughter get rid of the dog, no matter how many weeks had passed.”
