Hard Love

by Joanne Schwehm

  We paid our fare, grabbed our packages, and dragged our tired asses into our apartment. I was completely and utterly exhausted.

  Monday morning came fast. Thankfully, it didn’t start off like last week, when anything that could go wrong, did. No, the day was sans issues. I’d placed an order for a new client who had a body like a runway model. I purchased some fabric swatches for my portfolio and made appointments with a few boutiques.

  When I sat down to do my taxes, shit got real. I let out a sigh, hoping the office space I had would help with my bottom line. Originally, I had planned on working out of my apartment. But I was lucky and worked with one of the best realtors, and he found me an affordable space, which was a feat all in itself.

  An email from a new client had come in. She needed a gown for a charity gala and wanted something different. I believe the word she used was “unique.” She also didn’t want it to clash with the red carpet. She told me she was blonde, had hazel eyes, had a fair complexion, and her measurements were perfect. As a result, she’d be easy to fit, and I had a couple of weeks before she needed it, so it worked out. Usually, clients would have their attire picked out as soon as they got the invite, but my assistant Rochelle said this was a last-minute date.

  Fashion magazines, the latest article of “Who Wore It Best” and pictures sent in from new designers were spread across my pine desk. I looked at the photos, trying to come up with just the right dress and color combination. If I could get her noticed, and depending on what type of event this was, I could get noticed—or at least my business, which was what I wanted and needed.

  Rochelle walked in, and my senses immediately sparked to life as the sweet smell of ginger wafted toward me. When I looked up, Rochelle was carrying a cellophane wrapped basket filled with cookies.

  “Someone got a gift.” My assistant practically sang those words as she set it down. Her salacious grin grew wider. “Would you like me to read the card?” Since I had a feeling who sent it, I politely declined her offer.

  She let out a dramatic sigh and headed toward the door. Before she left, she turned to look at me. “Looks like you have an admirer.”

  I flicked my hand, shooing her away. “Close the door, will you? I have a lot of work to do.”

  “Uh-huh.” Rochelle snickered, clicking the door shut behind her.

  Before I opened the card, I pressed my nose to the cellophane wrapping and inhaled the spicy-sweet smell.

  Margo,

  Did you know that ginger relieves tired and aching muscles? You’ll need to consume a few of these for what I have planned for us tomorrow.

  Noah

  P.S.

  Save me a cookie.

  Certifiable. That’s what he was. Before sending a text to thank him, I pulled an end of the ribbon, reached into the basket, and took out a cookie. It tasted as though it just came out of the oven. Sitting in my chair, I took a moment to savor the sweet flavor and ponder his words. They didn’t make sense.

  Me: Thank you for the cookies, but I have to work tomorrow night.

  Hardheaded: No, you don’t. I already talked to Rochelle. Sweet girl.

  My mouth went slack as I glared at the door she just walked through.

  Hardheaded: Do you lie to all your friends?

  Me: No, just the ones who like riddles. I’m not fond of surprises.

  Hardheaded: I have a meeting. See you tomorrow.

  Me: I didn’t say yes.

  Hardheaded: Like that’s going to stop me.

  Me: You’re a pain in the ass.

  Hardheaded: You have a great ass. I can’t wait to see it tomorrow.

  Me: Friends don’t look at each other’s asses.

  Hardheaded: Tits?

  Me: Bye, Noah.

  Rochelle had some explaining to do. But for now, I enjoyed my cookie, got back to work, and would deal with Noah later.

  I went through pictures I took at a few boutiques I had gone to last week. It was the only way I could remember style and color. My newest client would need something very upscale, form-fitting, and worthy of a red carpet.

  Deciding on a strapless, deep maroon gown, with a thigh-high slit on the left side, I paired it with silver Jimmy Choo pumps. If this woman had a date, I hoped that he was tall, because she was going to top out at about six feet once I was through with her. To be tall . . . what would that be like?

  With my chin propped in my hand, my mind wandered. I stared off into space thinking about Noah. I was desperate to talk to Adam and find out details about Noah that weren’t available with a simple Internet search, but I had no idea how he’d react. Yes, I was a grown woman, but if Noah had the reputation I read about, I could be seventy and living in an adult home and Adam would still forbid it.

  The scent of ginger assaulted my nose. This wasn’t good. If I kept eating these cookies, I wasn’t going to fit through my office door. I wrapped the ribbon around the cellophane to close it up and set it on the far corner of my desk. The card . . . I kept in front of me.

  Stars in the night sky greeted me as I walked out of my office. It was later than I wanted to leave, but with tax season upon me, I needed to get my shit in order. As it was, I’d be filing an extension. My plan had been to take the train home rather than cabbing it. Pulling my lightweight coat tighter around me, while balancing my basket of deliciousness in one hand, I began to make my way down the crowded sidewalk.

  An eerie feeling caused a shiver to run up and down my spine. Then I heard a horn—not uncommon for the city, so I ignored it. That was until it sounded again and again. I chanced a quick glance over my shoulder, but didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, and when I took it out to look at it, a text from Noah told me to stop and turn around. When I did, I saw him jogging toward me. “Talk about playing hard to get.” He chuckled. “Come on.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward a double-parked black sedan with its flashers on, a multitude of angry drivers yelling and beeping their horns.

  “You’re insane, you know that?”

  Noah opened the door for me. “Just get in, will you?”

  Once we were both securely inside, he began to drive through the city streets. “What are you doing here?”

  “Do you always leave work so late? It’s not safe for you to be roaming the streets; this isn’t Europe.”

  I felt my entire face crinkle—starting at my nose all the way to my forehead. “I’m not sure that walking from work to home would be considered roaming. I was just walking.”

  He glanced over at me with a confused expression in his eyes. “You’re a gorgeous woman, carrying a basket of cookies, walking at night in the city. It’s my concern because I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Can you hear yourself? You sound like my brother.”

  Noah’s cheek moved as he ran his tongue along the inside of it. “No, I sound like a man who doesn’t want anything to happen to his friend.”

  “I wanted to walk for a bit.” I patted my stomach. “I ate a lot of cookies. So, technically, it’s your fault.”

  He shook his head. “Do you do that often?”

  “Eat cookies?”

  “No, smart ass—walk alone at night.”

  I deflected. “Why were you outside of my building?”

  “I was just leaving a dinner meeting and saw you. Actually, I saw the basket and realized it was you.”

  “Look, I appreciate your concern, but I’m a big girl and can take care of myself.”

  “Can we start over, please?” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate that you couldn’t take care of yourself. I was surprised to see you, is all.”

  “Okay, well, I’m sorry I got snippy. It’s been a long day.”

  “I see.” His eyes stayed focused on the road, but mine were glued to his profile. There was something about the way his dark scruff highlighted his strong jaw that made my insides quiver. “Have you eaten today?”

 
; I held up the basket. “Yup.” We both laughed. “Just kidding, I had a salad at the office. So, what are we doing tomorrow that I need all of this ginger?”

  “Nope. It’s a surprise.” He pulled in front of my building and stopped the car. “You’re going to have to wait and see.”

  I sighed. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

  He smirked. “And you’re rude, but I like you anyway.”

  Chapter 10

  You told my brother, what?

  This day couldn’t end soon enough; it had dragged on with meetings and phone calls for what seemed like an eternity. I looked at the box on my desk containing Margo’s gift. Jan needed a raise for having it made and delivered so quickly. Of course, Margo could pull the “friends don’t buy friends gifts” card, but then I’d remind her of the handkerchief she bought me, so technically, she started it. And the basket of cookies, well, that was me doing my best to let her know I was thinking of her without actually saying the words.

  When I pulled up in front of Margo’s office, she was waiting for me outside. Rather than give me the chance to open the door for her, she did it herself and fastened her seatbelt. “Hi, thank you for picking me up. So, where are we headed?”

  I laughed at her impatience. “Hi, and you’ll see soon enough.” It really wasn’t a major secret, but for some reason, I wanted to keep the details to myself until we got there. Then, at least, she wouldn’t have the opportunity to refuse. Not that she could change my mind. Technically, I didn’t have a choice, and I had a feeling she would like it.

  As usual, the city streets were flooded with cars. It was times like this that I wished I hadn’t given Arthur the night off. Not because I couldn’t maneuver my way through the city, but because I would rather focus on her than the taillights in front of me. It was easy being with Margo. Something about having her with me felt right.

  Maybe it was because we had known each other for a long time, or perhaps it was because we had great sex. . . once. I needed more. I needed to feel her again. One thing I’d never do was push her into anything she didn’t want. Nor would I ever want to hurt her.

  Not wanting to overthink things, I decided to keep the conversation light. “How was your day?”

  “My day was good. Although, whoever created taxes should get a good ass kicking.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t you have an accountant?”

  “Yeah, QuickBooks.” She laughed but I could tell she was serious.

  “If you ever need help, let me know. I’m a whiz at accounting, and I do have an accountant on staff if you need him.”

  “Yes, I know you’re a math genius, but I have it all under control. Thank you, though.” She paused for a minute. “How was your day?”

  “Good. I talked to Adam.”

  When I cut my eyes toward her, she stared at me with a slack jaw. Her voice stammered a bit when she asked, “What? You didn’t tell him . . . I mean, he doesn’t know . . .”

  “That we had incredible sex and I’ve been trying my damnedest to get back into your pants?” I couldn’t suppress chuckling, especially when she gasped. “Of course not. He had a question for me, that’s all.”

  “Oh, how is he? I should call him.”

  “Yes, you should, and he’s doing great. You know, closing deals and making money.”

  “Typical Adam. My father will be proud.”

  Hearing her say that made a small ache grow in my chest. Something told me she was proud she branched out on her own, but hearing those words from her family would mean the world to her. When Adam got back into town, I needed to figure out a way to suggest that without letting him know I’d been spending time with his little sister.

  After about twenty minutes, we arrived at our destination. TEN PINS flashed in neon red lights. A large white bowling pin, rimmed in red, hovered over the entrance.

  “Bowling? We’re going bowling?” Her voice raised about seven octaves as she said, “I love to bowl! How did you know?”

  Her exuberant reaction made me happy I didn’t tell her my plan. “Lucky guess.”

  I grabbed her gift from the backseat and gave it to her. She looked down at the package and then back to me. “This isn’t more cookies, is it? Because I’m going to look like a bowling ball if you keep this up.”

  “Nope, just open it.”

  Her shoulders rose and fell as she let out an excited squeak. She pulled off the cover and gasped. “Oh my God! You got me a bowling shirt?” Margo held up the black shirt trimmed with white piping in front of her. I had the name of my company embroidered on the left side with her first name underneath . . . well, it was sort of hers.

  She snorted and then abruptly covered her mouth with her hand before tracing the white stitching. “Sally?”

  I couldn’t contain my grin. “Do you like it?”

  “No, I love it.” She shrugged off her coat, put on the bowling shirt over her long sleeve top, buttoned it up, and turned to face me. “What do you think?”

  “It’s perfect.” And it was. The embroidered detail rested perfectly on her left breast. “Let me grab my ball and we can head in.” Margo’s eyes went wide. “What?”

  “Nothing, I just never pegged you for a bowler.”

  “The shirt wasn’t a giveaway?” I pulled my jacket open to show her that we matched, except my real name was displayed. “Margo, there’s a lot you don’t know about me. Not everything on Page Six is the truth.” On her nod, I got out of the car before she did, and like a gentleman, helped her out of my BMW.

  Pins crashed as balls scattered them against the alley walls. The aroma of beer and wings filled the air. I’d been in this bowling league since I started working at Carris. It was a club I had joined and it just stuck, but tonight we were down a player, and Margo, I mean, Sally, was filling in.

  I gently grasped her elbow, halting her in her tracks. “There’s one more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We’re playing against Cade tonight.”

  Her eyes grew as round as the balls we were getting ready to heave down the lanes. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Why would you bring me if you knew he was going to be here?” Margo’s face paled, and her trembling fingers grazed the embroidered name on her shirt. Maybe she thought it’d be like a shield or a cloak that would make her invisible. Whatever the case may be, it didn’t work that way. Although, that would be kind of cool.

  “Although, if we’re just friends, this shouldn’t be a big deal.” I waited for her usual wit to come up with a retort. But she had nothing—no sarcasm, just silence. “Since I’ve rendered you speechless, I’ll assume I’m right.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “It’ll be fine.” I placed my hand on the center of her back. “Come on, Sally, let’s do this.”

  My teammates’ eyes went wide when they saw her. “Sally, this is Bryce, he works in my accounting department.” I shot her a quick wink. “And this is Hank, my advertising guru. Guys, this is Sally; she’ll be filling in for Jan, who can’t be here tonight.” Yes, my assistant is my ringer, but that wasn’t because she was good, it was because she wasn’t, and her high handicap gave us the pins we needed to beat some other teams, but she had to babysit her grandson tonight. Granted, using her handicap might have been the smarter move, but spending time with Margo was more important than winning.

  The guys stood and appraised our new teammate a bit longer than necessary. “Great to meet you. So, what’s your handicap?” Bryce asked.

  Margo didn’t say a word. Instead, she looked to me for help.

  “She’ll be using Jan’s. They have the same average.”

  Hank nodded. “Good deal. We should be able to easily handle these clowns.”

  I walked over to the rack that housed used balls and grabbed a few for Margo. She hurried toward me. “It’s been a long time since I’ve bowled, but do they have a twelve or fourteen pounder in here?” She pushed balls around, and I was still trying to comprehend that she wanted a heavy one
. I set the eight pounder I chose for her down in shame.

  “You know, if you disclosed where we were going, I could have brought my own ball.” I stared at her. “What? I said I loved to bowl. If you would have paid attention to me when I was younger, you would’ve known I lettered in bowling.”

  “Wait, bowling was a varsity sport at our school?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re unbelievable.” With her ball and rental shoes in hand, we headed toward the team.

  Cade was facing away from us when we made it back to our lane. He stood and turned, his eyes roamed Margo’s body from head to ugly bowling shoes, to the name on her shirt—which meant he was looking at her tits. I should have had it embroidered on the sleeve of her shirt.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t Noah’s friend, Sally.” He smirked and held his hand out to her. “I’m Cade.”

  Margo placed her hand in his. “Yes, I know.”

  Shit. What was she doing?

  “You do, do you? Does my reputation precede me?”

  She quipped, “No, your name is on your shirt.”

  I couldn’t stifle my laugh. Then I noticed he hadn’t let go of her hand yet. When I glared at him, he released it.

  “You look familiar to me.” Cade’s brows lowered.

  “Enough with the small talk, are we going to play or what?”

  “Geez.” Cade scowled. “Relax. All I said was she looked familiar.”

  Thankful to the bowling gods, our names appeared on the overhead screen and all attention was now on the ten pins waiting to get knocked down.

  Margo positioned herself at the line with perfect form. From the way her hair hung in loose waves down the middle of her back, to her denim-clad ass, had me transfixed on her.

  “Dude, she’s smokin’ hot, but I’m telling you, I know her from somewhere. It’s her eyes.”

  There was no way he wasn’t going to figure out who she was. Margo took five steps and launched the ball down the smooth wood. It veered right just before it careened left and into the pocket. Strike.