by Jean Oram
Nash tipped his head back laughed. "And how old are you, exactly?" He refilled her wine glass from the bottle of sweet white whine he'd picked up especially for her.
Beth batted her lashes. "Shouldn't you know better than to ask a lady her age?"
Nash laughed again and threw up his hands. "Got me. I'll have to sneak a look at your driver's license after I get you drunk."
She took a sip of her wine, rolled her eyes, and laughed. "Seriously though, I have a cousin who is only a couple years older than I am and she's having troubles conceiving. It makes me nervous. What if I can't have kids? What if I don't find the right man until I'm thirty?" She took a calming breath.
"Of course you'll have kids. Medicine has astounding capabilities these days." He pushed a container of food toward Beth. "Annual exams and ensure your husband wears boxers, like I do, and I'm sure you'll be just fine. And, really, most women don't have to worry at all until they are well into their thirties."
Beth's fork halted halfway to her mouth. She really was running out of time. Especially if she decided she wanted more than two kids.
"You see..." Nash said, acting doctorly. "You've got to keep the testicles away from the body's heat for optimal sperm count." He snatched two chicken balls from the container in front of him and cupped them in his hand. He laid a spring roll between them. "That's the biggest source of the sperm count issue for many men: their choice of underwear keeps their testicles snug up against the body. The testes become overheated." He tossed the chicken balls back in their container and took a bite out of the spring roll.
Blushing, Beth focused on her plate. Great. All she could think about was what was in Nash's boxers, white picket fences, a precious baby girl sporting Nash's bright blue eyes, and a rough and tumble tyke running around the yard trying to place a stethoscope over the dog's heart. It didn't help that Cynthia kept teasing her about Nash. Or that Gran had pretty much given up on Oz already. Beth blinked, realizing she'd broken out in a sweat of longing.
Why did she always seem to grow a crush on guys who didn't seem to see her in a long-term girlfriend kind of way? Chin resting in her palm, she watched as Nash carefully wrapped a long noodle around his chopsticks. Maybe she could move things along a little bit. See if he'd be her rebound guy. She'd keep him less lonely and he'd be her distraction as she mended her heart. When they were ready, they'd move on. No harm. No foul.
"You're so cute when you twirl your noodles," she said.
He smiled and she realized she was close enough... close enough to lean over and place her lips upon his.
Seizing the moment she spun on her stool and gripped his face, placing her lips on his. She gave him a quick peck, leaning away so the kiss would remain light and airy—something that could easily be brushed off—when he gripped her shoulders, keeping her close. Knees touching, they stayed together, her light peck becoming a real kiss. It turned deeper, making her heart pick up its pace.
As he kissed her she pictured Oz kissing Mandy. Which was dumb. She hadn't even seen the kiss. But it had been public. Which said a million things. Such as the fact that maybe she needed a rebound man even more than she thought.
She kissed Nash hard, trying to keep her desperation at bay.
She should be happy. Happy that she was free to move on. Happy that Oz had made the final decision to cut the cord. She was free. No guilt.
But Mandy? Oz said he was never going back to Mandy. Why couldn't the girl just take up with Frankie Fall-Off-the-Water-Tower Smith who'd been chasing her for years and get out of her face?
Nash broke off the kiss and gave her a smile. "Wow. That was... intense."
She sat back, feeling self-conscious. Crap. What had she done? She'd totally lost track of the kiss. She'd probably freaked him out if her lips were anywhere near as furious as her thoughts had been.
Ducking her head she watched Nash out of the corner of her eye. His cheeks were slightly flushed, but he didn't seem anything beyond his normal cool, calm, and collected self. She let out a breath and took a swig of wine. It would be okay. She could do this. They could do this.
Nash resumed carefully twirling his long noodles, and desperate to keep the mood light, Beth hung a noodle from her lips, gnawing on the end before noisily slurping it into her mouth. Giggling, she slurped another while Nash frowned at her lack of manners. Everything about Nash and his condo was so neat and perfect, making it absolutely temptationalicious to act like an unmannered hick and make him cringe and roll his eyes. Laughing, she gave his arm a push and he grinned back, sliding his plate aside.
"Let's go for a walk you ill-mannered yahoo," he said, giving her curls another playful tug.
She slipped her hand into his offered one, a warmth spreading in her soul.
Happy that her out-of-control kiss hadn't freaked him out, she let him lead her onto the elm-lined street. She dropped his hand and linked her arm through his, leaning into his shoulder. It was refreshing to be able to spend time with him and not have the town anticipate marriage like they would if he were a local man. She inhaled the August air, permeated with a hint of the coming fall.
"I can smell autumn coming."
Nash inhaled deeply. "But it's still summer."
"It comes sooner in the mountains." She glanced at the trees, no signs yet, just the early warning scent of the upcoming change of seasons. "It's my favorite time of year. The earth is whispering to cozy up against someone warm." She tipped her head against Nash's shoulder, testing him. He placed a light kiss on top of her head.
Pass. This man was passing with flying colors. It almost made her want to drag him back to his condo and see what those smiling lips could do to the rest of her body.
"Speaking of the fall, I'm going to take ten days off in October and leave town for a bit," he said.
Her steps faltered. The urge to follow him scared her. She didn't want to be in Blueberry Springs if he wasn't. At the moment, ten days without Nash felt like it would be an eternity. She depended on him to smooth her brow when her shit-on-a-stick life got too covered in poop sprinkles. She forced her voice to be light. "Where to Dr. Leham?"
"I was thinking I'd go to Europe. Maybe Paris."
"Holy crap. Serious?" He had to be kidding. She stopped and stared at him. Nobody from Blueberry Springs went to France—Mexico, maybe—but not even on school trips or honeymoons. Not even temporarily transplanted city boys.
"Paris is lovely in the fall. Nice and cool, not many tourists. It's perfect."
Beth blinked and shook her head. "Wait. How do you know Paris is nice in the fall?"
"I've been there in October."
"You've been there in October? And you're going back?"
He shifted uncomfortably. "I try to go every couple of years."
"What!" She stared at him. He couldn't be serious. He took overseas trips—expensive overseas trips—repeatedly? To the same destination?
"What?" he asked. He took a step back, appearing almost offended.
"You're serious."
"Of course I am serious." He began walking again. She skipped to catch up. "If you don't believe me, come along and I'll show you around." Although he said it nonchalantly, she noticed he kept a studying eye on her.
"Serious?"
"Uh." Nash ran a hand through his hair, each strand falling perfectly into place. "Do you get any time off as a hospital minion?"
"Yes," Beth admitted slowly. "Probably." But could she swing that many days off in a row? And was he really, actually, honest and truly asking her along on his vacation?
"Come with me," he insisted.
Her knees weakened momentarily. What had she done to him in that kiss? He was inviting her to Paris? Holy crap.
She sucked in a deep breath. Taking time off now would undoubtedly screw up her Christmas break, but it could be well worth it. Besides, it wasn't like she needed more than a day or two to hang out with Gran and Cynthia and wish her dad was around.
She dared imagine Paris with Nash. An
amazing, different life. Completely out of the norm from what she'd ever experienced or ever would: of that she was sure.
Glamorous. Exciting. New.
Only one problem... "Um. Despite sharing rent with Katie for the last six months I'm pretty sure I don't have enough cash to fly off to Paris and stay there for ten days." She sighed as real life bitch-slapped her. Images of fancy dresses and laughter died away. It wasn't like Paris would have been like that anyway. "Thanks just the same."
Nash scooped up her arm and tucked it under his so it was pinned against his ribs. "Pick up your flight and I'll pay all expenses when we get there."
She paused for a second. "Seriously?"
"Quit saying that; you know I am." He started down the street, pulling her along. "Think about it."
New beginning. Rebound of a lifetime.
Who was she kidding? She'd rob a bank to go along. Well, maybe not rob a bank, but she'd do whatever she had to in order to go as well as to find out what Nash was really like away from this place. She'd pick up a part-time job or beg and borrow from everyone she knew. She was going. Decision made. She was going to eat one of those tiny packets of peanuts or pretzels or whatever they served on planes and see what people ate for breakfast on the other side of the world.
"I'll come."
"Done," he said.
"Done deal," she verified and turned to shake his hand.
She fell into step beside him, worrying about the rumors they would start by visiting the world's most romantic city—or at least a close second to Las Vegas.
"Separate rooms, right?"
"Sure."
She relaxed and took a deep breath, ready to take the plunge and suffer any consequences.
***
"Let me in, Cynthia." Beth banged on Cynthia's apartment door. Her sister had to be home. She never missed the after-supper celebrity gossip show. Ever.
Her hands were shaking and her heart throbbed madly. She couldn't think. She had to move fast: act now for this limited time offer.
Cynthia opened the door, a tube of lip gloss in hand. "For what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
"I need help. Is your computer on?" Beth slipped out of her sandals and headed down the hall to Cynthia's bedroom.
"No. Why? Are there naked pictures of you on the Internet? Because if there are, they can be tricky to get off unless you know what to do." She followed Beth, applying lip gloss as she went.
"No." She stopped to face her sister. "Hang on, how do you know?"
She shrugged. "I watch a lot of TV."
"Right," Beth said without conviction. "Sorry for interrupting your show."
"Meh. It's about Tom Cruise. I can miss it." She pushed past Beth. "So? What do you need?"
"I need to book a flight."
"A flight?" Cynthia asked, perking up. "To where?"
"Paris."
"Can I come?"
"Oh God, Cynthia. I have a feeling I'm going to need help keeping my knickers on." Beth blushed, unsure whether taking a rebound romance as far as knickers off was something she was ready for.
"All right!" Cynthia high-fived her from the doorway of her cozy bedroom. She hit the power button on her computer and impatiently wiggled the mouse. "Who on earth would convince you to leave your little nest in Blueberry Springs? Surely not...?"
"Nash." Beth watched Cynthia's face for a reaction. Her eyebrows shot up and back down again so quickly Beth almost missed it.
"And you think your knickers may come off, do you?" She gave Beth a coy grin and began clicking and typing away on her computer. "Hmm. Very interesting."
"Well, no. Not really." She fidgeted with the cuffs of her light jacket. "According to the people of Blueberry Springs, they'll be off before I even reach the airport."
"Long before. You'll be eloping because you've already taken them off and City Boy needs to make an honest woman of his unborn offspring's mother."
Beth plunked herself on Cynthia's bed and flopped onto her back. "Ohmigod. You're freaking me out. Stop talking and book the flight." She dug Nash's folded note containing his flight info from her pocket. The neat, masculine scrawl almost made her head spin. She was going to Paris. With a man!
Cynthia took the note and, frowning, typed and clicked until she got to the site she needed.
Beth's mind raced. This was a blend of exciting and completely terrifying. She pulled one of Cynthia's pillows over her face.
Stop thinking, stop thinking, stop thinking.
"What if something crazy happens like Oz asking you back before... October 15th?" Cynthia asked, reading the flight details.
"He won't," Beth said with a finality that surprised her. She tossed the pillow aside and glanced at her sister who had raised an eyebrow. "Look. You were right. It's time to move on. And Nash has offered me an opportunity to break away. I'm going to take it." Her sister didn't turn back to the computer. "If I go far, far away I'll get enough perspective that I'll know what to do about my life. What I want and need."
"Sticking with the British knickers slang, I'd say a jolly good rogering? 'Cause that's what's gonna happen."
"Cynthia!"
"Well, why else does a man invite a girl to Paris?" She raised her eyebrows. "Plus, you even said it yourself, knickers girl." Cynthia gave Beth's leg a shove. "Go have a Parisian fling. Get it out of your system. Your big sister is telling you to go live a little."
Paris. Alone. With Nash. She would never admit it, but over the past few days she'd had more than the odd fantasy about what that blue-eyed doctor might be capable of between the sheets, in her office, on the couch, in her car, and now on a plane... but it didn't mean she was going to make something like that happen. They were friends. Friends who were going on vacation together.
And maybe repeat a kiss or two. And engage in a some fun rebound-type behaviors.
She snorted. Why was she even thinking about a fling? She wasn't the kind of girl who could pull off something like that without getting serious. And Nash was nothing but a charming distraction. A few kisses, etc. Nothing more. And if things did progress to serious for some reason, she still wouldn't be losing. Nash was a good man.
On the flipside, it wasn't like she had to worry about Oz asking her back. He'd kissed Mandy—in public—for a reason.
End game.
She needed to move on and Nash was waiting for her, hand extended.
"Earth to Beth..." Cynthia nudged Beth's leg.
Beth snapped back to the present. "A fling," Beth snorted, "yeah right. That would spell nothing but trouble."
"Dreamy look complete with blushing. You're sorely tempted aren't you? Although the peeved look... that was weird. Tell the guy it's an exit only."
Beth rolled her eyes. "You're such a pervert." She stared at the watermarked ceiling and let her thoughts wash over her. "What if the life I want is a bit different than I've always envisioned? What if there is more to me than this small town? I mean, a man asking me to go to Paris with him? To travel? That's so not who I thought I was." She propped herself up on an elbow. "But I like the idea so maybe I am? I mean, what if I'm that girl, but I was always too scared to find out? What if I like things like champagne and orange juice for breakfast and big diamond necklaces? I like cashmere."
"So do I. I think the point here is that everyone likes cashmere," Cynthia replied, her attention on the computer screen. "And nobody actually likes champagne. They just pretend because it's glitzy."
Beth fell onto her back and fanned her face as heart palpitations set in. She didn't have a passport. She didn't even know if she had enough time to get one. Or how to book a plane ticket. Or if she got airsick. Or if she had a bag big enough for whatever she'd need to pack.
What was the weather in Paris? What did they eat? French fries, French toast, and French bread? She couldn't even pronounce merçi correctly, how on earth was she going to deal with the language thing? She slapped her hands over her eyes and tried to calm her thoughts.
"It took a lot o
f convincing to even get you to apply for college in the city. And even then, you took Katie with you. I don't think you're truly a jet-setting girl in disguise."
"College was a good thing though," Beth reminded.
"I know. It's just... well, it doesn't seem like your style to...," her sister stopped uncertainly.
"To what? Be adventurous? To try something new? To see if I like wine—which I do. Cashmere—which I do. Paris?" Beth sat up, hands on her hips. She forced away the anger welling up inside her. "I can do this, Cynthia. I'm not going to be one of those old ladies wishing she'd gone and done something daring when she was young and free. That she had stepped outside of who she thought she was and what she thought she'd always wanted and explored new dreams." Her back snapped straight as she realized what she said.
She sounded just like Oz.
What did that mean? That he was right all along?
No, it couldn't be. She still had her dream of having a family. She was simply testing her boundaries and living a little in the meantime.
Cynthia threw up her hands. "Whatever. I'm not arguing. It's just unlike you, that's all."
"Shove over." Beth squeezed next to her sister on the computer chair. "Let's book this stupid thing." Step one: book a friggin' ticket out of here. Step two: figure out the details. Step three: panic.
"I've got the airline and flight up. Now what?"
"I was hoping you'd know."
"Well, let's just take it step-by-step. It can't be that hard." Cynthia started clicking little boxes and asking for information. "Confirm?" she asked finally, peeking at Beth.
Beth nodded.
"You can afford this, right?" she asked, squinting at the screen, her mouse's arrow hovering over the confirm-flight button.
Beth wet her lips and swallowed. "Barely."
Cynthia turned to face Beth full on. "Paris isn't cheap." She lowered her voice, "Nash doesn't strike me as the slumming type, Beth. He's going to want to stay in fancy places." She tapped her fingers on her desk, thinking. "You're going to need more money."
"He's paying for everything but the flight."
Cynthia's finger tapping ceased abruptly.
