“Ah, yes, Miz Gentry. Everything’s fine now. Thanks for asking.” He sat across from her as she rounded her desk and took her seat again. “Jed said something about going out tonight to celebrate?”
She nodded with a soft smile.
He studied her face. Her skin was especially pale and she had faint dark circles under her eyes. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to it? You’re looking awfully bushed, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
She laughed and sipped her ginger ale. “Well, I don’t think that’s going to be changing for a while.” Something twinkled in her eyes as she caught his gaze. “I guess he didn’t tell you. Jed and I are having a baby.”
Michael was sure his jaw hit the ground. Well, his belly at least. “A . . . a baby?”
She tilted her head. “Yes. You know, an infant? A child. It’s usually what married people do. Procreate?” She smiled. “Aren’t you happy for us?”
Happy? He was overwhelmed. He wanted to flippin’ cry. By allowing him to remain here on a second assignment, Father had allowed him the unique honor of observing the happily-ever-after that came after his match had been made. A baby. How beautifully, wonderfully, perfectly miraculous!
He took in Kyle’s concerned expression and reached across the desk to clasp her hand. “Miz Gentry, I couldn’t be happier. What a blessing. A true blessing from Heaven.” He stretched over and kissed her cheek as she blinked tears from her eyes and thanked him for his kind words.
He quickly excused himself as Kyle seemed ready to give in to a bout of morning/evening sickness and found Ariel waiting anxiously for him in his station. He’d swear her pacing had worn a hole in the wooden flooring.
She snapped to attention when he approached. “Michael! You’re back! I’d heard that you came out of the Elder’s Lockdown. Please, tell me the news!” Her huge, icy blue eyes bugged with fear.
He shot a quick glance around to make sure no one could overhear them, then led her to the corner of his station. “I’m sorry I’ve been out of touch, Ariel, but it’s all right. The upheaval was within Prophecy and Crossovers.” He quickly explained the intricate details of the snafu and reassured her that all the angels on Love Detail were safe and sound in their current assignments.
“Oh, thank goodness!” She breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m so happy to hear that. I was so worried!”
“So was I,” he assured her. “But it’s settled now.” He shook his head gently, thinking of his brothers and sisters erroneously going on their own paths and now being punished with lowly and humbling angelic duties. The most grievous offenders having already had their wings clipped and having been cast down. A most horrible situation. He turned back to her. “How have things been here?” He’d hardly had time to think of his own assignment these past days.
If Ariel’s instant and glowing smile was any indication, things were going well. “Good! Great, actually.” She shot a glance over her shoulder as Jed laughed. But they were still in the clear. “Noble has been spending a lot of time with Braelyn. Nearly every night, in fact.”
Michael smiled. “Really? What’re they doing?” Dating, he hoped.
She shrugged. “I dunno. Braelyn stays pretty mum about it. Says it’s personal.” She made quotation marks with her fingers.
Hmmm. Very interesting. “And Tristan? Does she say anything about the three of them together or how he’s taking their relationship?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Not really. She’s keeping this really close to the vest. But I keep trying.” She winked. “Every once in a while I crack her and get a little blush, so I’m pretty sure something is going on.”
Well. Looked like his initial intercessions with Braelyn’s home worked. Had he finally found his “Golden Couple?” The one every Love Detail angel dreams of, the one that hits it off with little to no intervention from their cupid? The one whose chemistry is so amazing and perfect that once they meet, they take it from there and create their own happily ever after? It didn’t look like that in the beginning with Noble’s insistent standoffishness and brooding ways, but who knew? Maybe love had found a way.
He smiled down into Ariel’s excited eyes. “Well, things certainly sound promising.”
They both looked over as Noble strode in the door, his dark countenance oozing frustration. He made his way toward Jed and the two men exchanged a few hushed words before Noble proceeded to his station and began rummaging around in his supplies and setting up for a night’s work.
Ariel leaned in and lowered her voice as to not be overheard. “So, Michael, if things are working out with our assignment . . .” She waited until he turned back to her. “Is it over? Do we leave?”
He glanced to Noble then back to her. “No. We’ll know when it’s time, and it’s not. Not yet.”
“So, what exactly do we do?” she asked.
Good question. One he’d wondered about himself. With Jed, he’d had to work much harder at getting and keeping him and Kyle together. Not the case with Noble and Braelyn apparently. But the emotions at play were the delicate issue here. And he couldn’t forget young Tristan. Michael knew that his role in this assignment was perhaps even more critical than ever before.
He turned to his innocent intern, seeing all she had yet to learn shining in her bright blue eyes. “We keep doing exactly what we’ve been doing. They’re going to need us for love and support as their spiritual emissaries on this journey and that’s something we cannot take lightly.”
“Oh. Wow, so much for me to learn—”
She was cut off as Jed and Noble followed behind Jed’s client. Michael and Ariel turned in unison as they heard Noble’s words clear as day:
“Yeah, dude, it’s all good. Sweet Cheeks next door and I are just friends and that’s all we’ll ever be. Period.”
Well double Devil Dogs. Back to the drawing board.
Chapter 21
If it wasn’t so pathetically—well, pathetic—it might be laughable, Braelyn decided as she studied herself in the mirror. Really. Who showed up for their volunteer shift at a nursing home dressed like a total and complete harlot? She sucked in her stomach and glanced down at the waistband of her hipster jeans to see the tip of her butterfly tattoo. Yup. A complete Jezebel. But really, how else was she going to get Noble to change his mind about his little declaration of “I’m Mr. Dudley Do-Right?” She had to tempt his baser instincts. She knew she was playing with fire trying to crumble his defenses to peek at the man inside. But she couldn’t seem to help herself. And, come on, nobody had said anything about love. Not yet, anyway.
Her heart quivered at the realization.
Shit.
Time to get this ship back on track. Seduction without strings. That, she could do. Right?
She studied her eyes in the mirror. “Desperate much?” She laughed at herself. Yeah, she had needs and she was desperate. But, luckily, it appeared to be limited to a certain hot neighbor who she’d be seeing this evening. Who was apparently protecting her virtue. Grrr.
She made her way out of the small, potpourri-infested bathroom in the nursing home lobby and scooted back into the dining room for bingo. Besides reading, this was her favorite activity, simply because it had been her grandmother’s favorite pastime. The memories of sitting and plugging the cardboard spaces with plastic chips while being cozied up in her Granny’s rose water scent and love were priceless. Now, calling out ‘B-13’ or ‘I-24’ over and over loud enough to be heard in China and sharing dessert and coffee with these wonderful people was the closest she could come and it was a paltry, but passable substitute.
Mr. Myers wheeled up to her, looking especially spry in a clean white sweater, his eyes twinkling and bright. “Hello, Missy. Your young man with you today? I was looking forward to telling him about the day my boys stormed a group of unsuspecting Japs.”
“Oh, no, Mr. Myers. I’m sure he’ll be sorry he missed you. He’s home tonight doing his homework. I’ll let him know you were looking for him so he’ll be sure to find you next time.”
He reached out and gripped her hand. “And your other young man? Your beau? Are you ever going to bring him to see us?”
Her guilty heart tugged. “My beau? I’m afraid . . .” She glanced up just as Ariel skipped in, filling the room with her buzzing energy. She focused back on Mr. Myers. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I don’t have a beau.”
Ariel joined them. “Hi, Bray! Mr. Myers!”
Ariel and Mr. Myers exchanged a look before the old man spoke. “My mistake. I’ll just carry on to my table. You give my best to your son, will you?”
She assured him that she would before turning back to Ariel. “Hey, there.”
Ariel gave her award-winning, always angelic smile. “How’s it going? How was work today?”
“Pretty great. Jeremy had an exceptionally good day, even without Oreos. Mom’s trying out chocolate chip cookies.”
Ariel giggled. “My favorite!” Together the women began passing out the bingo boards and markers. “Oh.” Ariel popped up like she’d remembered something urgent. “May I borrow your cellular phone? I just need to make a quick call and I left mine at home.”
Cellular phone? “Uh, sure. It’s in my purse, over there.” She pointed to a table across the room.
Ariel darted across the room and found the phone. She fumbled with it for a couple minutes, looking very serious, holding it this way and that, appearing for all intents and purposes like she’d never seen one in her life. Maybe she’d never used an iPhone?
“You just touch the—” Braelyn began to call out instructions, but Ariel held up the phone, stopping her.
“I think it’s dead.”
“Dead?”
“Nothing’s happening.”
She walked over. “I just charged the dumb thing.” She took it from Ariel. Sure enough, it was deader than a doornail. Damn.
She glanced up at Ariel. “I left Tristan home to do his homework, but he said he had a pretty bad headache. I told him to take something and lie down for a while and Michael was gonna stop by and see him. Have you talked to him today?”
Ariel’s lips pursed. “Oh . . .”
“Oh, what?”
“Well, when I left the shop, Michael was pretty tied up with a client getting a tattoo that was going to take several hours. I don’t think he’ll make it by tonight. Sorry.”
All kinds of frustration filled Braelyn. Why hadn’t Michael just told her he was busy? She excused herself to use the nursing home’s landline to call home. Her heart sank when there was no answer. She knew Tristan slept like the dead, but the mother in her couldn’t help but worry.
“Hey, Ariel,” she spoke when she returned, “Would you mind if I head home? Tristan’s not answering and I really wanna check on him. Probably overreacting, but you know.” She shrugged.
Ariel smiled. “Yeah, no worries. I can do the bingo call. You go ahead. Hope he’s feeling better.”
She thanked her friend and headed out wondering why she’d left him home alone in the first place when he didn’t feel well. What kind of mother was she?
Tristan’s head was throbbing like someone had a jackhammer live and in living color to his temple and he thought he was going to puke. He crawled off the couch to search the bathroom cabinets for pain reliever. Nothing. He rifled through his mom’s medicine shelves and drawers. Mysterious girly creams, makeup, tampons. Ewww. Nothing for a freakin’ headache and he was getting desperate as the light started to pierce his eyes painfully.
He lumbered down the hallway and found the phone where he left it on the coffee table next to his empty Sprite can and chip bag. He picked it up and dialed his mom’s number.
Her voicemail picked up on the first ring. “Fuckin’ A, Mom,” he cursed as he threw the phone down and sagged back onto the couch. Why couldn’t she answer when he was in desperate need here? Stupid, smelly nursing home.
He rolled his head to try and relieve some of the tension in his neck, but his brain only threatened to explode. Or implode. He had to do something. Through the blinds he caught sight of Noble’s truck next door. He pinched the bridge of his nose and rose to make for the front door. Screw waiting for his mom. Maybe Noble would have something he could take. At this point, he’d trade every video game he owned for some relief.
He yanked on his tennis shoes and made his way across the yard to Noble’s door. He rang the bell because he couldn’t stand to knock, knowing it’d make his head split right down the middle.
The door opened and the scent of something spicy drifted out along with the strains of canned laughter from a television sitcom. Noble surveyed him up and down. “What’s up, man? You okay? You look like hell.”
Tristan sagged against the doorframe. “You got any Tylenol?”
Noble glanced next door then back to his face. “Sure, dude. Where’s your mom?” He stepped back and motioned him inside.
“At the nursing home. Bingo night.” Noble didn’t say anything as Tristan followed him into the kitchen and he pulled down a bottle from the cabinet. He shook out two caplets and motioned to the pot of chili on the stove. “You eaten?”
Tristan accepted the pills. “No. I think I’m gonna hurl.” He sat and swallowed the pills with the Coke Noble slid to him. “Thanks.”
Noble studied him a minute then tossed a package of crackers at him. “Eat some of those. If you have a headache because you need to eat it’ll help. So will the caffeine from the soda. Then go take a load off on the couch if you want. The game should be starting soon if you wanna hang out for a while.” He paused as he stirred the chili, then glanced back at him. “If your mom’s cool with it, anyway.”
Tristan nibbled a saltine. His stomach seemed to accept it with minimal protest. “Yeah, it’s cool. She never gets home before nine on bingo nights.” He sipped his Coke again. “So, no work tonight?”
Noble dished up some chili and sat down across from him. “Nah. Monday nights are usually pretty slow. I took off early.”
Noble made short work of his bowl of chili plus had a second helping while Tristan downed a few more crackers. And while his headache didn’t subside, thankfully, it did loosen some of its death grip.
After Noble rinsed out his bowl, they both made their way to the living room where the commentator announced the beginning of an exciting Monday night football game. Personally, Tristan had never really given a rat’s ass about football. He’d never really understood the game. He preferred basketball. When it came time for NCAA Sweet Sixteen, man, he was all over that. And, right now, he could care less about the Packers and the Steelers, so he plopped down on Noble’s couch and closed his eyes.
After several minutes of the monotonous noise of the crowd, the referees, and the plays, Noble’s deep voice broke through and startled him from that place between wake and sleep. “Don’t like football?”
He peered over. Should he be honest or play it off to his headache? Why did the expression on his father’s face the last time they’d been together pop into his head right now? “What’s the problem, Tristan? Don’t you like her? Well, you’d better get used to her, she’s going to be my wife, and more importantly right now, she’s pregnant with your little brother or sister. I won’t have you upsetting her with your God-damned temper tantrums.”
Yeah. His “temper tantrum” had been asking his dad to pick him up on time from his mom’s and honor his promise to take him to the dirt bike races. A guy weekend. It’d been a long time coming. And when he had finally shown up, it’d been with her. So Tristan had been a little pissed. He had a right. He hadn’t seen him since and his dad was apparently totally cool with that because he’d sent his mom papers to terminate his parent
al rights. In other, not so fancy words, he was fired from being his son. What a kick in the balls.
“Tristan?” Noble reached over and lowered the volume on the TV.
He thought back to the things Noble had told him about his own shitty childhood. Weren’t they just two peas in a dysfunctional freakin’ pod? He shifted on the couch and glanced at the silent screen. “It’s cool, man. I’m just more of a basketball fan really,” he admitted, knowing that Noble would never judge him or cut him out like his father had.
“Sweet. Me, too. You play?”
He turned back. “A little.”
“I have this abandoned park I shoot hoops at to blow off steam. Maybe we can play sometime?”
Even as he wondered if Noble really meant it or if he’d stand him up like his dad did a hundred times, Tristan gave a half smile. “Yeah, that’d probably be cool.”
Noble reached for the remote to adjust the volume back up. “Sweet. And if you ever get that heap running, we can ride the cycles out there.”
Tristan leaned his head back on the couch with a grin, not bothering to remind Noble that he wasn’t sixteen, didn’t have a license, and didn’t even know how to drive a motorcycle yet. Honestly, at that moment, it didn’t matter.
Chapter 22
Noble noticed two things when he swung open the door to the frantic pounding. Scratch that. He noticed three things. The pure, unadulterated fear in Sweet Cheeks’ eyes. The way her huge ragged breaths strained her tight blouse against her chest. And—annoyingly third—the primal surge of protectiveness that overcame him at the sight of her.
Braelyn’s words tumbled out before he could speak. “Noble, I don’t . . . I’m not sure what to do . . .” She shot a glance back toward her house, as if seeking something. “I’m so scared.” She turned back to him, her eyes huge with unshed tears. “I left Tristan home with a headache, and then he wasn’t answering the phone, and I came home to check on him, and now . . .” She dropped her head, unable to continue.
The Halo Effect (Cupid Chronicles) Page 18
