Miss Match: a Lauren Holbrook novel

by Erynn Mangum

  I smile close-mouthed at Ryan. The moment is lost. I can no longer tell Nick to just go propose. Not with Ruby’s brother standing there.

  Reality is disappointing.

  Any good movie would have gone like so:

  NICK: Laurie, I have fallen in love with the most beautiful girl in the world.

  LAUREN: Tina Braxton is already taken.

  NICK: I do not know this Tina. I speak of Ruby Palmer, the most beautiful girl in the world.

  LAUREN: You love Ruby?

  NICK: Yes. (tearfully) I love Ruby.

  LAUREN: Then go tell her so.

  NICK: You are a genius, Laurie. Excuse me, I need to ask the most beautiful girl in the world the most important question I will ever ask.

  LAUREN: You should.

  NICK: Before I go, Laurie, will you be Ruby’s maid of honor and allow us the unending delight of naming our future daughter after you?

  LAUREN: With pleasure.

  Instead, Nick and Ryan walk into the house and I follow. My toes are blue, my hands are ice, my face is stiff, and I distinctly smell the lasagna I put in earlier burning in the oven.

  Reality stinks.

  “Hey, Nutsy! I think dinner’s getting toasty!”

  I collect myself and walk into the kitchen. Hannah, Ruby, Nick, and Ryan all sit at the table. Brandon leans against the counter. “You couldn’t pull it out?” I ask him, politely because of our guests, but dangerously because he rests on quicksand.

  He gives me a saucy grin. “What, and miss that look?”

  This comment elicits chuckles from the table, silent yet tangible wrath from me. I pull the casserole out of the oven and a bowl of packaged salad from the fridge. “We’re doing buffet style, folks,” I announce, tossing a loaf of French bread beside the lasagna.

  Nick hasn’t looked at Ruby yet. Ruby looks at him both confusedly (probably because of his hair) and with that wrinkle between her eyes.

  He studiously avoids her.

  The tension between the two causes a major rift in the natural progression of a thing called conversation.

  Silence fills the kitchen. Everyone lines up politely, fills their plates with food, and settles at the table. All in perfect silence. Ryan prays shortly over the food. We all start eating.

  I pinch Brandon hard on the bicep. “Say something.” I hiss this quietly.

  “Uh, yeah, so did anyone catch the Nuggets game this afternoon?” he shouts.

  Hannah’s mouth works in a hard attempt to not burst out laughing. Her eyes are brimming with mirth as she grins. “Brandon, that’s the worst excuse for a conversation I ever heard.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Okay, you try.”

  “I will.” She smiles prettily. “Today was my day off and I went and got a puppy.”

  My mouth drops open. “Aw! What kind?”

  “Just a mutt. From the pound. She’s little bitty. Six weeks old.”

  “Aw!” This time, Ruby and I exclaim together.

  “What’s her name?” Ruby demands.

  Hannah shrugs. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” I gasp. “The poor dog doesn’t have a name?”

  “I was thinking something like Bitsy.”

  “Bitsy?” I echo. “Oh, Hannah. You can do better than that.”

  “Much better,” Ruby chimes in.

  “What color is she?” I ask.

  “Brown.”

  “Like a taupe or a chocolate?” Ruby asks.

  Brandon grins. “Now see, there is a question that no male in his right mind would ask.”

  We ignore him.

  “What about Cocoa Bean?” Ruby suggests.

  Ryan wrinkles his nose. “Cocoa Bean?” he echoes. “Gag, Ruby. Can you imagine standing in the yard yelling that?”

  “Yvonne,” Brandon says.

  Everyone looks at him.

  “What?” I ask, on behalf of the others.

  “What about Yvonne?”

  I blink.

  “Louisa?”

  Ruby presses her lips together.

  “Doreen.”

  Hannah gags.

  “Boyce?”

  By the time dinner is over and we’re all pulling on jackets to leave for Bible study, everyone, even Nick, is laughing and suggesting names.

  I grin at Brandon as I pull my coat on. To borrow an Anne of Green Gables phrase, we’re such kindred spirits, I don’t even have to say thank you.

  I ride to Bible study with Hannah. I’m balancing both of our Bibles in my lap and she’s talking nonstop about the book of John, where I told her to start reading.

  “It’s just so weird to think about,” she says, quickly glancing over her shoulder as she changes lanes. “I’m looking forward to the study tonight. I just have like this desire to read and study the Bible that I’ve never had before. Isn’t it weird?”

  I only grin at her.

  I climb into bed Wednesday night, exhausted. The study was excellent. Nick pulled his act together long enough to teach a fabulous lesson regarding — what else? — the sovereignty of God. Hannah soaked it up.

  I reread Ephesians 1 and decide God is definitely trying to teach me something. My stomach is still grappling with the whole sovereignty issue, but I’m getting used to it.

  Thursday morning I roll out of bed and land on my to-do list.

  Here’s what I hate: To-Do Lists. I resent the fact that I cannot function properly without one.

  This particular list is scribbled on the back of a napkin from Vizzini’s.

  Things I Must Do, Yet Do Not Want To:

  Make the bed

  Order the barbecue for Saturday family lunch

  Get Ruby to confess how she feels re: Nick

  I climb into my clothes, leave my hair down because I decide the au natural look is in, and walk downstairs to face the scent of lemongrass tea head-on.

  “Honey, I think we should order the barbecue today,” Dad says when I sit at the table.

  “On my list,” I reply.

  He smiles at me. “I like your hair like that, Laurie-girl.”

  Dad is always good for a compliment.

  I arrive at the studio at five after nine. Ruby meets me as I come in the door. “You’re late,” she announces, a bit testily.

  “You’re right.” I frown as I study her. She looks awful. Her hair is yanked back in a short little ponytail haphazardly teetering on the edge of falling out. She doesn’t have any makeup on. And she is wearing a fairly wrinkled cowgirl shirt and jeans.

  Jeans!

  Hannah smiles tersely at me from behind Ruby.

  “Are you okay?” I ask Ruby.

  Hannah shakes her head vehemently, mouthing, “No!”

  “I’m fine,” Ruby says in a biting tone. “I’m just ticked that you’re late. Laurie, you know we’re supposed to get here on time. I needed your help, and you weren’t here to give it.”

  I pull my coat off. “Well, I’m here now. What can I do?”

  “Nothing!” she yells, tossing her hands in the air. “I already did it!” She exhales loudly and rubs her face.

  Something is definitely wrong.

  I study her. “Is this about Nick?”

  Dumb question. I watch Hannah flinch and cover her eyes dramatically.

  Ruby opens her mouth, then closes it. Then she opens it again. “What? No, it’s not about Nick! This has nothing to do with Nick! This is completely about . . .” Her voice trails off and she sinks into one of the chairs in front of Hannah’s desk.

  Her face gets very white, and tears fill her eyes.

  “Girls,” she whispers. She rubs her face again.

  I sit beside her, dropping my backpack on the floor. Ruby stills her hands over her eyes and just breathes in and out slowly. Hannah raises her eyebrows at me over Ruby’s head, and I try hard not to break out into a huge grin. There seems to be a distinct possibility I can mark off number three on my list in the next few minutes.

  I’m not going to miss this fo
r the world.

  Ruby mashes her lips together, starts to speak, then stops again. “Do you think,” she says, finally. “Do you think there’s a chance that Nick . . .”

  Stops again.

  The silence in the room is so loud it’s reverberating in my eardrums.

  If she doesn’t finish this thought, I am seriously going to paint leopard spots on my body, move to the Far Reaches of the Jungle, and spend the rest of my life swinging from vines and not seeing another human as long as I live.

  She looks at me so pitifully I come close to crying myself.

  The dam breaks.

  “I just . . . I don’t understand him,” she bursts. “Some days he’s so understanding and nice and I wonder if he likes me as more than a friend. And other days, he seems so out of reach and avoids me like I have the Bubonic plague.” Her voice cracks.

  Hannah gives her a Kleenex.

  “You’ll think I’m crazy.” She wipes under her eyes. Her voice drops to a decibel below a whimper. “But I think I . . . sometimes I think he . . .”

  “Hi, girls.”

  Ryan lives life on the edge.

  Hannah and I whirl, prepared to kill any and every person, animal, or insect that dares to intrude on this conversation.

  Had he not been Ruby’s brother, and had she not been in such a delicate mental state, I truly believe Ryan would not still be with us today.

  I have such an iron grip on the desk my knuckles pop in protest.

  “Hi, Ryan,” Ruby says softly, clutching the Kleenex. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m on my way in to work and stopped by to see what was happening here.” Ryan looks constructiony. He wears ten-gallon boots, heavy-duty cargo pants, and a big red-and-black-checked flannel shirt, and he’s chomping gum. His brown hair scatters all over his head like he got up and forgot how to brush it.

  He looks so hopeful and sweet and innocent that I can’t stay mad at him.

  I melt.

  I smile at him. “Well, we’re just having some girl talk.”

  His eyes widen. “And I interrupted. I’m sorry. I . . . Ruby, are you okay?”

  There is that ever-so-cute protective gleam in his eyes again. I hope Hannah is noticing it.

  Ruby starts waving her hands erratically. “Fine. Just fine. I think an eyelash or something got in my eye. Don’t worry about it. Actually, I’m going to go try to get it out. Excuse me.”

  Ruby disappears in a hurry.

  Hannah gives me a What-Do-We-Do-Now? look.

  I shrug back an I-Have-No-Idea. Do we go comfort Ruby and perhaps hear the on-the-tip-of-her-tongue confession? Or are we polite and talk to Ryan? Or do we split up and have one talk to Ruby and one talk to Ryan?

  I’m casting my vote for Lauren Holbrook, Counselor Spectacular, to speak with Ruby Fair, and Hannah Curtis, Beautiful Secretary, to woo Ryan the Builder.

  I open my mouth to speak the plan.

  “I’ll go see if she got the eyelash out.”

  Rats. Hannah beats me to the punch. She runs down the hall, knocks once on the bathroom door, and disappears inside.

  I lean back against the desk and study Construction Sam in front of me.

  “So.” He says this tucking his gum in the back corner of his mouth.

  “So,” I echo.

  “Guess you guys aren’t very busy this early.”

  “Nope.”

  Ryan grunts once, either in acknowledgement of my answer or to fill the silence, I’m not sure.

  Here’s what I am: Shameless.

  “Well, this is Hannah’s second week on the job. What do you think of her?”

  Ryan sits beside me at Hannah’s desk, picking at a callous on his left index finger.

  “Uh.” He swallows.

  I prod. “What?”

  “Well . . . I mean, I don’t . . . I haven’t been around her very long.” He is still fiddling with his finger. Beginning to bug me.

  I try to ignore the picking. “Okay, so first impression. I’m garnering info for her file.”

  Ryan smiles at me. “The opinions file?”

  “Yep.”

  “I think she’s a good secretary. Ruby likes her, anyway. Says she’s prompt.” Ryan rolls his eyes. “You know Ruby.”

  “Trust me, I do.”

  He chuckles. Keeps picking.

  Tolerance level for this is dropping drastically.

  “So you give Hannah your stamp of approval?”

  He looks at his hand for a second and then shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

  A little too impersonal. Obviously, I have been slacking on the job.

  Pick. Pick. Pick.

  I can feel my breathing coming faster as I watch him play with the callous. There are only a very few things that really get under my skin.

  Things That Beyond a Doubt Get Under My Skin:

  Picking at calloused skin, scabs, or bites

  Popping knuckles

  Licking the top of the spray cheese bottle

  Leaving a glob of toothpaste in the sink

  As you can see, picking a callous is at the very tip-top of my list. Which will explain my next action.

  “CUT IT OUT!” I scream. Slap my hands over both of his and still his insolent finger.

  He looks at me, blinking and wordless.

  I once heard Laney tell me Barbie’s boyfriend, Ken, would always be the perfect male — because he didn’t speak.

  News flash to Laney: I have my hands on a perfect male.

  He stares at me like I’m Gonzo from the Muppets tap dancing with a flowerpot on my head.

  Then he grins.

  It is at this unfortunate moment that Ruby and Hannah reappear. They both stop at the end of the hallway, mouths open, eyes wide.

  I just know a squalling baby octopus is about to land on my head.

  And then I realize what they are staring at.

  Ryan is smiling. At me.

  And we are holding hands.

  Chapter Twelve

  I yank away like Ryan has suddenly begun channeling the spirit of the Dread Pirate Roberts.

  There he goes blinking again.

  Hannah and Ruby switch from shocked expressions to giddy-pleased expressions. Wait, why is Hannah giddy? Shouldn’t she be frothing with jealousy?

  “We didn’t mean to interrupt.” Ruby is all smiles now.

  Ryan stares at me confusedly. “You didn’t interrupt anything.”

  “No, nothing,” I say emphatically.

  “Uh-huh.” Hannah smiles. I search her face and see nothing but absolute delight.

  “Well, um, I should go,” Ryan stutters. He stands.

  Poor guy. I feel sorry for him. It is all my fault we are in this situation, and he gets to share the blame. If I know Ruby, he’ll never hear the end of it.

  “I’ll walk you out.”

  I might regret doing this in five minutes.

  I sneak a look at Hannah and Ruby as I follow Ryan out. Strike the first comment.

  I will regret doing this.

  He walks to a blue Chevy pickup and stops by the driver’s door.

  “Uh, Laurie?”

  I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans. Sigh.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Do they think that we were . . . ?” He ducks his head and looks at me.

  I nod. Vigorously. “Yep. That’s what they think, all right.”

  “Oh boy,” he says, digging his keys out of his front pocket.

  “Look, Ryan, this is all my fault. I’m sorry. I get carried away sometimes when something bugs me, and you picking at that —” I point harshly to the infidel finger “— was definitely bugging me.”

  He grins abruptly. “You mean like this?”

  Pick. Pick. Pick.

  “ARRG!”

  He laughs, and I have the sudden image of Ryan at age five.

  Poor Ruby. It’s a miracle she turned out so well.

  “Stop it.” I smack his hands. He does, still grinnin
g. “Look, I’ll explain to your sister and Hannah.”

  “Don’t even bother. It won’t do any good. Ruby’s been trying to set me up with someone nice since I was in seventh grade.”

  Now it is my turn. “Oh boy.” I let my breath out. “What should we do?”

  A strange mix of mischievous evil and absolute insanity crosses Ryan’s expression.

  Uh-oh. I have a very bad feeling about this.

  “What if we pretended we were really interested in each other?” He winces. “I mean, not like I’m not interested in you right now . . . it’s just that we could make them think we were . . . I didn’t mean that . . .”

  Okay, now this is fun.

  I grin unrepentantly. “You mean you don’t like me?”

  He closes his eyes. “I’m normally not this smooth.”

  “Good. I’d hate to think I was the only klutz in this group.”

  “What do you think?”

  I look at him. Ryan is nice. Sweet. Christian.

  It will throw a major kink in my plan of Hannah and Ryan together, but really . . . well, she did seem pleased, didn’t she? She definitely wasn’t mad.

  Ryan is Ruby’s little brother. Could it possibly tempt her toward the altar if her baby brother is falling in love?

  And plus, it will put a look like no other on Brandon’s face.

  What do I have to lose?

  “I accept.” I shake his hand.

  His face splits in the cute little-kid-on-the-monkey-bars smile. “This will be great. Okay. First, I have to ask you out in front of at least one of them.”

  “Nick,” I decide. “He’ll tell Ruby, who will go ballistic.”

  “Genius. When should our date be?”

  “Wednesday. Right before Bible study. We should walk in carrying a cup from the same place.”

  “You’re ruthless.”

  “Ah, don’t I know it. So Sunday you’ll ask me out?”

  “Sunday.” He smiles again and squeezes my shoulder. Then he gets in his car and I walk back inside.

  Hannah and Ruby both stand by the door, arms crossed, eyes twinkling. “So,” Ruby draws the word out. “My brother has expressed his interest, I see.”

  I blush in an innocent, Oh-Gracious-I’ve-Been-Found-Out look. “You guys are crazy,” I protest lightly. I go around them and to the appointment calendar.

  “She’s blushing,” Hannah says.