by Jean Oram
She took it out again, then reached for a few bright pink sheets of paper. “Which color?”
“Devon asks you to marry him again, save your breath and...” He made a popping sound with his mouth and acted as though he was stamping Devon’s forehead.
A thought struck her. “Are you jealous?”
“Me?” He gave her an incredulous look as though she’d suggested he date the queen of England. He let out a huff of air as he dismissed the idea but she saw a glimmer of something similar to awakened awareness flash in his gaze.
She wiggled the paper at him again before he could walk away.
“Doesn’t the town stock paper?” he asked.
“Yeah, but I want bigger sheets and our next order isn’t for another few weeks. I didn’t get this far yesterday.”
“Hot date?”
“You know it,” she said. She’d been with him, testing zombie night paintball.
“I bet you were with someone both highly intelligent as well as charming.”
“Are you fishing for compliments?”
He smiled and mimed casting a fishing line, then reeling something in. “Always. It’s what you love best about me.”
“Actually, it’s not.”
He leaned against the shelf beside her. “Then what is?” His curiosity was genuine and she watched him for a moment, thinking, as she studied the amber colored flecks hiding in his blue eyes.
“There are a lot of things to love,” she said finally, looking away.
Todd turned to the empty aisle behind him, arms out. “Hear that?” he called. “I’m a catch.” He turned back to Nicola. “I knew I was despite what you said the other day.”
“I said you’d be a catch,” she protested, knowing he was referring to their conversation about his inability to commit. “As long as you got over your fear of being in a serious relationship.”
“It’s not a fear.”
“Then promise me you’ll marry me at age thirty like we joked.”
He gently took the pink paper and replaced it with a ream of bright green. “Not pink.”
She stared at him for a long moment, challenging him to meet her gaze. Anger began to simmer under the surface.
“You’re a big, fat chicken, you know that?”
“Yes.” He flashed her a warning look, jaw tight.
She yanked back the pink paper. “Pink is bright. Eye-catching.”
“And all the men will stay away.”
“Why? Does pink equal commitment?” Her voice was getting louder. “After all humanity has been through, men still have a fear of pink?”
“They’re men,” he said carefully, easing the pink paper from her grip. “So yes.” He replaced the pink paper with green.
She concentrated on pulling herself together. There was no reason to be angry with him. She was the one who’d changed, not him.
He was peering into her basket, at the columned shopping list she’d printed off at work, complete with how many items of each she needed and the best place to purchase them.
“What’s this?” he asked, reaching in.
“Life.” She yanked the list back, stuffing it down to the bottom of her basket. “I have no clue how the town is going to fund everything. I’m going to have to ask people to pay in advance.”
He reached for the list again. “That’s some serious—”
“Don’t say it.” The big lists helped her keep sane without forgetting things.
“You work too hard.”
She scowled at him. It was called being an adult and having responsibilities, not shying away when others needed something from you.
“Those lists are a sign you’ve taken on too much and feel like you’re drowning.”
Did he have to be so perceptive? She was trying to make it all look easy.
“I like being busy.”
“What are you hiding from?”
He was the one who ran and hid, not her.
“You’re upset about something. You take on more stuff when you’re feeling that way.”
“I’m not mad.” She tucked the list out of sight, feeling exposed.
Of course she was mad, she was angry with him for not wanting the same things she did. They’d always wanted the same things and were supposed to stay that way. They were partners, friends. In this whole big mess together.
And even worse? She’d come to rely on the security of their marriage-at-thirty joke. She’d foolishly thought it might be something to fall back on. But now she knew that’s all it was—a joke—and she was a fool for believing it. For believing she was special enough. That he’d choose her.
“What do you want out of life?” she asked, turning to face him.
He looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“Like, I know you won’t take over your dad’s business. But are you going to keep traveling after this break? Even if I don’t go along?”
“You’re not coming?” His jaw dropped, searching her face for answers. He seemed to deflate when he saw the truth—that she didn’t want to give up her current life to go be “free” and “live the dream.” At least not at the moment.
“I like it here.” She knew her tone was apologetic, that she was letting him down just like he’d let her down moments ago. Her hard anger and hurt softened, morphing into compassion, sympathy.
“You’re really not coming back out on the rails with me?”
She reached for his arm. “I mean, maybe someday. But not for an entire year. Right now I have things to do here.”
“Please don’t say your new idea of travel is an all-inclusive, five-star resort.”
She laughed. “I haven’t changed that much.”
He was looking at her as though she had, and she felt her spirits fall. “You still want to pick up and go.”
They stared at each other for a moment, stuck at an impasse.
“Well, this sucks,” he said glumly.
“I’m sorry.” She felt as though she’d let him down in one of the worst possible ways.
Todd caught her expression and chuckled. “Oh, Nicola.” He slung an arm around her neck, bringing her in for a half hug.
“You’re messing my hair.”
He straightened up, smoothing her locks back into place. “There you go, my little princess.”
“Are we still friends?”
“No, of course not. You’re an agent of the man now.”
She gave him a pout. He could not kick her out of his life because she didn’t want to give up what she had. It was nice having one place to come home to. Clean laundry, a steady job. Knowing where the grocery store was. Small things, she knew, but the tiny reassurances added up after two years on the road. “I had an awesome time traveling and would never give it up for the world. Those were some of the best adventures of my life and made me who I am. I’m proud of what we did, but right now I just want to be here. Living this adventure. I’m sorry it’s different than what I promised, Todd.”
“Quit apologizing. We’re still friends and that means we’ll figure it out.”
He ruffled her hair and, digging out the list from the bottom of her basket, went to go find the next item on it.
She knew she should feel relieved, but she couldn’t help but wonder if and when she was going to be left behind. For good.
* * *
“I have good news for you,” Todd said the next weekend, as he let himself into her apartment.
Nicola looked up from where she had been filling Twiggy’s food bowl. “What’s that?”
He closed the door behind him, setting his keys and phone on her coffee table. He stretched out on her futon, looking pleased with himself and apparently waiting for her to guess.
She fed her goldfish next, trying to think what could have him grinning. Had he found her backpacking replacement and a way to take off on adventures again?
She pushed away the sudden feeling of loss and jealousy, and slapped his foot off the futon so she could sit down, inhaling his f
amiliar cologne, a smell she equated with happiness. “What’s the news? You have a job where you never actually have to show up?”
“That would be sweet, but no.” He sat up, arranged his feet in her lap and lay down again, hands behind his head. “You know how you’re worried about keeping the costs down for your date night participants?”
“Social nights,” she corrected. She didn’t need her mind thinking she was testing dates with her BBF, because then it would start looking for evidence as to why whatever kept zinging between them was real, when it wasn’t and never would be.
“Well,” he said as he sat up. “A very handsome and charming man that you happen to know chats up various businesses as part of his job.”
“What’s your job again?”
“Marketing assistant. Thanks for making me feel special enough that you remember what I do for a living.”
She giggled. “Sorry!”
“You totally aren’t.” He gave her a crooked smile, telling her he wasn’t hurt by her not knowing the details of his ever-changing work. “A vineyard has offered to cover the cost of your wine and cheese party.”
“No way!”
“Yes way.”
“Oh my gosh, I’m so excited I could kiss you!” Nicola bounced in place, before realizing what she’d said. She froze, holding her hands out as if warding off something evil. “Figure of speech.”
He brushed off the comment, his gaze drifting to the dog, which had lifted his head to bark at Nicola. “So? What do you think?”
“Purely awesome.”
“I sent him your work email address so you can iron out the details and tell him what you need.”
“Thanks.” Unable to resist, she gave him a quick, grateful hug. They’d embraced a thousand times before, but there was an awareness this time that had her shortening their contact as though she’d been burned.
She tucked a foot under her so she didn’t bounce it nervously, and leaned away from him. “I’ve been totally stressing out about the cost.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t say anything,” she protested. She’d been striving to keep job talk to a minimum for fear of boring him to tears.
“You didn’t have to.”
The man knew her better than she knew herself sometimes. What was she going to do without him when he went back to traveling?
“I almost forgot.” He shifted so he could dig into his front pocket, and pulled out a bag of candies. “Your favorite and, from what I’ve heard, unavailable in Blueberry Springs.”
She dived for the candy drops, sorting through them for her favorite flavor.
“Seriously. Gonna kiss you.” She grinned and gave him a wink, loving that they were back on normal ground, able to joke, laugh and flirt without anyone getting their panties or undies in a knot.
“There’s a catch,” he said.
She froze, her hand still in the bag. She hated catches.
“You have to list them as a sponsor for that event.”
She resumed digging through the brightly colored candy. “No problem.”
“And,” he added, “I have to give them special consideration at our company’s upcoming public events, as well.”
“Are you okay with that?”
“We don’t really have events, so no biggie. And anyway, I don’t have to choose them, just consider them. Which I’d do anyway.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool. Thanks.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, their shoulders touching as they sat on the futon, and she wondered if he was noting things about her as she was with him. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. The flecks of yellow in his mostly blue irises.
He broke the silence. “Don’t we have a date to get to?”
Her heart zipped ahead, along with her imagination, before she was able to ruthlessly rein them both in.
“It’s not a date,” she said softly, feeling as though she was leaning closer to him, like a tower built on quicksand. Tipping slowly, coming closer.
“What is it?” he replied, his voice just as soft, his attention focused on her lips, their knees pressing into each other as they angled closer to each other.
“It’s a mystery social night. And we still have an hour to kill.” There was her imagination again—all full of ideas on how to spend that hour.
He frowned. “What happened to being your confidant?”
“You’re still my confidant.”
He gently placed a finger under her chin. “No. You’re hiding something from me.”
She sucked in a slow breath, her chest tightening. Like the fact that I love you?
No, no. Not love.
Infatuation. Lust. Longing. Those.
“I thought I was the man you brainstormed with and you’re not going to tell me what tonight’s date is?”
Oh. That. Right.
“Social night,” she murmured.
He shifted to take the foot that wasn’t tucked under her and pulled it onto his lap, giving it a light massage.
“Mmm. That feels nice.” She let herself lean back into the cushions, head tipped back. She watched him through lowered eyelids. “Tonight’s something I planned with you in mind.”
“Really?” He leaned over her, forgetting to massage her foot. She wiggled it, reminding him to knead the tight spots. “What is it?”
“A surprise.”
“I thought you said it was a mystery?”
“Now you’re going to be disappointed.”
“I’m never disappointed in the things you plan for me.”
That was one of the odd things she loved most about Todd. She could schedule, plan or book the craziest, most obscure or seemingly boring things for them to explore on their travels and he would wholeheartedly jump in with both feet every single time. It didn’t matter if they were wandering the catacombs in Paris or watching untouchables wash clothes in India. He acted as though it was the best, most interesting thing in the world—after first mocking her detailed plans, of course.
“I think this is something you would choose.”
“Now I’m even more intrigued.” He sidled closer. Way too close.
“What are you doing?”
He was acting debonair which meant he was about to do something. She tried to slip farther away but fell off the edge of the futon, Todd in quick pursuit, his fingers racing over her skin in the start of a tickle fight.
She giggled and twitched, trying to get away from his nimble fingers, which always found her most sensitive spots.
“You are so ticklish,” he said, dropping down on top of her.
He kept her pinned and she rolled, using a self-defense trick her aunt Mary Alice had taught at a professional development day for the town office. It didn’t work, other than knocking Todd flat, his hands braced on either side of her face to keep from head-butting her. He paused in his attack, his body pressed to hers, his breath whispering across her cheek. Their laughter died and something beyond friendship burned in their gazes.
“Hi,” she whispered, not daring to move.
His lips were a mere fraction away from her own and his body felt so right locked against hers. She wanted to twine her hands in his hair, kiss him, wrap their bodies together in bliss.
“Hi, Nic.”
Hearing her name said so tenderly, awoke the rational part of her. She twisted, knocking him off so she could stand. She wasn’t chancing their friendship with her messed-up needs. She had to keep them on solid ground, or they’d quickly reach a point of no return. And even though she wanted so much more than friendship with him, she couldn’t lose him. Not again.
Chapter 4
Nicola smoothed her hands down the thighs of her jeans, feeling nervous. Originally, she’d been looking for an activity that could serve double duty. Something to round out the fourteen nights, as well as say cheers to Todd for putting up with several weeks of her neuroses around planning. Poker had always been their
go-to game while traveling, and they’d spent hours playing when they’d been too tired to explore any longer or the weather sucked.
But now that she was here, the surprise event unveiled, she realized that the night could completely flop for those who weren’t into poker.
“Do women like poker?” she asked Jill.
Her friend shrugged. “I don’t think guys usually let them join the game—you know, ‘men’s night out’ and all that.”
“I guess we could set up a table for other games.”
Jill gave her a look, then announced to the group to pair up. “Teams of two,” she repeated, ushering people into groups before seating herself across from Todd.
He hadn’t stopped smiling since the event reveal, and that made it all worthwhile—even if it ended up flopping.
“Partners?” Jill asked Todd.
Nicola felt her shoulders fall. She hadn’t counted on that. In all her planning, she’d envisioned herself as his partner. Then again, Todd so relaxed, and looking hot in a white cotton long-sleeve that stretched over his shoulders and set off his healthy tan…who wouldn’t choose him?
“Sounds good,” Todd said to Jill, leaning back, tapping his index fingers on the table’s edge.
Devon pulled out a chair for Nicola. “Do you have a partner yet?”
“Nope.” She sat, trying to mask her disappointment. She’d planned to kick back tonight, set her planner personality aside and let loose like old times. And maybe kick everyone’s butt with Todd as her partner. She knew his tells better than anyone else’s in the group—although maybe that was an advantage, if she was playing against him. Unfortunately, he knew hers, too.
Devon leaned over her, his cologne too musky for her liking, his hands on the back of her chair. He began whispering game tips, as well as what his various expressions meant. Eyebrows up meant a flush. Scratching his nose meant fold. She stopped listening after that, her attention set on Jill, who was leaning across the table, hand stretched to Todd’s as she laughed about something Nicola hadn’t quite caught.
What if the two started dating? What if he pulled his usual “goodbye” stunt and dumped Jill unexpectedly, leaving her hurt and sulky? If she was feeling bitter and heartbroken she’d make a horrible helper, and Nicola already knew she needed Jill’s buoyant optimism as well as her subtle matchmaking skills in order to pull of the events with the flare she anticipated.
