by Amy Daws
Dean shakes his head and opens the gate. “It’s going to be fine. Let’s go have some fun.”
“Everyone keeps telling me to have fun,” I hiss, my hands clenching into fists by my sides. “What part of a bougie backyard barbecue with a bunch of sixty-year-old yuppies sounds fun?”
Dean’s shoulders shake with laughter, and the scent of his cologne engulfs me as he leans in to whisper in my ear. “Norah, you look seriously beautiful tonight. Please try to relax.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and ignore the shivers running down my neck from his hot breath on my flesh. He gestures for me to walk ahead, and my errant butterflies disappear because my parents’ backyard looks like it’s hosting a large wedding, not the intimate party for their close friends my mother described.
“She got a live band?” I croak in amazement as I recognize a cover song from Bryan Adams. My brows lift with amazement. My mother may be uptight, but she’s also the one who passed along the love of seventies and eighties power ballads, so this is actually pretty impressive.
However, the moment I see she’s hired servers in bow ties, who are probably sweating their asses off in this eighty-degree weather, her cool factor is blown to smithereens.
Dean rests his hand on the small of my back. “No back touches,” I hiss into his ear as goose bumps erupt up my spine. My body is seriously betraying me tonight, and I don’t need him getting handsy, making me even more of a mess than I already am.
“Sorry, I was only leaning in to ask if your mother knew I was coming?”
My eyes fly wide, and I whirl around to face him. “Oh my God, I was going to text her and completely forgot.”
Dean smiles while glancing over my shoulder. “I wondered because the woman coming toward us who has your eyes is currently staring at me like I have two heads.”
“Norah!” My mother’s voice peals from behind me, and I turn too quickly on my heel and damn near face-plant.
Dean’s warm hands engulf my waist to help stabilize me as she approaches.
“Hi, Mom. Happy Anniversary.” I pull out of Dean’s embrace and lean in to give her a tense hug.
“Who is this, pumpkin? Your Uber driver?”
I jerk back. “No, Mom. This is Dean.”
“Who is Dean?” she asks, her eyes widening like she’s going to cast a spell on me.
“Dean is my date.” I plaster on a smile and think I hear my teeth crack. “Dean, this is my mother, Elaine Donahue.”
My mother’s jaw flaps open and closed repeatedly like those ridiculous talking bass fish that pop out from the walls. “I…I didn’t know you were bringing anyone. You never—”
“Surprise!” I shoot her another toothy smile.
Dean reaches his hand out to my mother. “Mrs. Donahue, best wishes to you on your anniversary. Thirty-five years is incredible. We could all be so lucky.”
My mother wavers for a moment at a rare loss for words, and thankfully my father arrives to save her just in time. “Pumpkin, you look splendid.” He pulls me in for a hug, and I swear I feel him forcing me to exhale. “Who is this young man with you tonight?”
“Dean Moser, sir.” Dean reaches out and shakes my father’s hand. “Congratulations on your anniversary.”
“Thank you very much. My name is Jeffrey, but please, call me Jeff.” My dad reaches around and claps Dean on the back. “You’re a brave soul for coming to a gathering like this. These people will eat you alive.”
Dean laughs with ease and gestures toward me. “That’s why I brought a bodyguard. Have you seen your daughter’s triceps? Who knew making all those croinuts would give her arms like the Incredible Hulk?”
My dad barks out a laugh, and the two of them shoot the breeze like they’ve known each other for years. It’s a bizarre sight because this is the first time I’ve introduced my parents to a man. I knew bringing guys around my mom would only encourage her. Seriously, I could introduce her to a crack addict, and she’d still ask me if the guy wanted kids someday.
But my dad…I didn’t really expect him to be so warm and welcoming to Dean. Suddenly, my belly is riddled with guilt because if I didn’t know any better, I’d think those two have the start of a bromance happening.
And Dean…he’s so at ease with all of this. Not a care in the world. Meanwhile, I’m having a nervous breakdown.
“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me you were bringing a date,” my mother states, interrupting my dad as her eyes rove over Dean like he’s some sort of abstract art exhibit she can’t quite make sense of.
“It’s a party, Mom.” I force out a laugh and murmur quietly in her direction, “And you seemed like a date was sort of required.”
“You didn’t RSVP, though.”
My father cuts my mother off as he steps forward and claps Dean on the back. “Son, I sincerely hope you like hard liquor. I find it helps in situations like this.” He ushers Dean away despite my wide, pleading eyes.
“Seriously, Norah. What is going on here?” my mother seethes, losing all that fake kindness her voice had earlier as she grabs my arm in a death grip. “I haven’t seen you with a date since…well…ever.”
“You wanted me to bring a date, Mom,” I reply and gently extract myself from her vise grip. “You explicitly told me so multiple times.”
“Yes, but I didn’t want you to bring just any man. I wanted you to bring Nathaniel. He’s perfect for you.” She fingers her silver, gelled hair delicately while shooting a fake smile out to her party guests milling about.
“Well, beggars can’t be choosers.” I reach out to swipe a flute of champagne off a passing server’s tray, and the young man reaches out and grabs my hand.
“That’s a used champagne, ma’am,” he stammers nervously while extracting the glass from me.
“Used?” I glance down and see red lip prints on the edge of the glass. “Oh my God, gross. Why would you pass out used champagne?”
“I’m just taking the glass away to be washed.” He eyes me up and down like I’m in the middle of a psychotic break and then points to the area beside me. “The fresh glasses are behind you.”
“Get a grip, Norah!” my mother hisses and swipes a flute from the ridiculous champagne tower backlit with white twinkle lights.
She hands it over to me, and I murmur an apology to the man before taking a fortifying sip. “Sorry, Mom, but you’re stressing me out.”
My mother demurely sips from her flute. “I just wish you had told me you were bringing someone because…”
“Because what?”
I turn to my mother as she speaks to me out of the side of her mouth. “I invited Nathaniel, and he said he was really looking forward to seeing you.” She squeals the last bit like she’s some sort of high school gal pal who just passed me a note from the boy I’ve had a crush on.
“Mother!” I’m shocked. “Why would you invite him?”
Her smile falters as she turns to face me with wide, warning eyes. “Because Jim and Carol are our dearest friends and their son just moved back to town, and it won’t kill you to talk to him. Who is this Dean person anyway? You never hinted you were seeing anyone.”
My brow furrows, and I open my mouth to reply but then remember the rule about not bringing up work. “I’m…um…I met him at the bakery.”
Her face softens a bit. “How long have you been dating?”
“Not long,” I reply instantly, and her expression deflates, so I quickly add, “which is why I wasn’t sure I should bring him tonight. It’s early in our relationship, but he practically insisted. He really wanted to meet you guys.”
My mother’s eyes twinkle with hope that kills me a little inside because this is all a big, fat lie. “Well, he’s very polished. What does he do for a living?”
I force a proud smile. “Financing and investing. He’s a broker for a handful of wealthy people here in Boulder. And he’s a primary investor in my Denver location.” That’s not technically breaking the rules because it’s stil
l referring to Dean’s work, not mine.
My mother’s chest puffs out. “A businessman, how impressive.”
I want to roll my eyes because if a man runs a business, it’s impressive. If I do, it distracts me from getting married and having babies. I square my shoulders and add, “Dean is very impressive, Mother. I’d love for you to get to know him. We should go find him and Dad.”
My mother grasps my arm in her cool hand and leads me slowly into the party toward the bar where Dad and Dean are currently talking. “But this is a sticky situation, pumpkin, because I gave Nathaniel the impression that you needed an escort tonight.”
“An escort?” My voice rises sharply. “What am I? A prized heifer at the county fair?”
“Would you stop? It won’t kill you to be nice to him. He won’t arrive until later because of some West Coast conference call.”
I blink my eyes rapidly. “Mom, I can’t have two dates tonight. You have to fix this.”
“Relax, Norah, it’ll work itself out.”
“Jeffrey,” my mom coos, turning her attention to my dad. “I think you owe me a dance. It is our anniversary, after all.”
“It would be my pleasure, wife.” My dad takes a sip of his whiskey and lifts his brows knowingly to Dean before whisking my mother off to the checkered dance floor in front of the band.
“This is a disaster,” I groan and turn to prop my elbows on the bar. “Can I get another champagne, please?”
Dean sidles up next to me as the bartender fills my glass. “What’s up, sugar? I think your dad likes me.”
I pin him with a warning look. “If you add tits to the end of that sugar, your balls must have a death wish.”
“Why so cheery?” Dean asks, hunching over the bar to sip his brown liquor out of a rocks glass. “Did your mother give you a puppy again? That Elaine.”
“My mother invited Nathaniel here tonight,” I state flatly.
“The perfect teeth guy?”
“Yes.”
“So, what’s the big deal?”
I pin him with an accusing look. “She gave him the impression I was here for him. Like I was some lonely sack who couldn’t get a date even if I wanted to. Jesus, this is embarrassing.”
“Relax.” Dean turns to face the party and rests his elbows behind him like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “We’ll just have to break some of your rules.”
“What do you mean?” I grab a nut from the bowl on the bar and chew on it nervously.
“Well, if you want this guy to steer clear, then a little PDA might be in order.”
“What kind of PDA?” If he says kissing, I’ll spontaneously combust.
Dean seems to read my mind and rolls his eyes. “Relax, sugar cake, I mean a little…affection. Maybe we dance. Maybe I put my arms around your waist or play with your hair a little. Or maybe we get practically pornographic, and I waffle your fingers.” He laughs casually. “Something to show your mother this Nate guy doesn’t have a chance.”
I nod thoughtfully as I process what Dean’s just said. He mentioned touching me so casually like it’s no big deal. I suppose it isn’t since he seems to flirt with anything that walks. But I’ve been out of the game for a while now, and I can count on one hand the number of people I’ve been affectionate with, and even those were years ago. Is this really something I can pull off?
“Norah, drink the rest of that champagne. It’s going to be fine.”
I close my eyes, letting his words sink in while feeling anything but fine. “Okay, just promise you won’t try to kiss me. I’m barely holding it together as it is, and if I have to worry about you breaking the ultimate rule, I won’t survive this night.” I tip the rest of the champagne into my mouth.
“Relax, I won’t tongue thrust you in front of all your parents’ friends. I’m a mountain manwhore, but I draw the line at lip raping.”
I huff out an incredulous laugh at that strange phrase and then hear the music shift to the song, “I Want To Know What Love Is.” “Oh, I love this song.” I sigh wistfully.
Dean’s lips twitch as he fights back a smile. “Really? This is what does it for you?”
My head jerks back. “Yes, I think Foreigner is highly underrated. Lesser bands have been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. It’s a crime that these guys aren’t.”
I feel Dean watching me, but I don’t want to look. I’m sure he thinks I’m a nut job.
“I’ve never seen you wear a Foreigner bandana.”
My brow furrows, shocked that he would notice something like that. “Yeah, so?”
“Never mind. Come on, let’s dance.”
He grabs the flute of champagne out of my hand and leads me onto the dance floor where several couples have joined my parents. I force a smile at my dad, who I swear knows something weird is up with Dean and me, but he’s too sweet to ever say.
Dean’s hand snakes tightly around my waist as he pulls me in so our bodies are flush. My head reaches just below his chin in my wedge heels, and I lift my hand to rest it on his shoulder.
Jesus, his body is hard under these clothes. He’s bragged about his abs before, but even his pecs are impressive masses based on what I feel beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. When he grasps my free hand and holds it up against his other pec, all I can think about is how sweaty my palms are right now.
I glance up to see his smile looking completely at ease. “How is this so easy for you?” I ask, briefly dropping my head to his chest and exhaling heavily. “My palms are sweaty…my heart is in my throat. I feel like everyone at this party can tell this isn’t natural for me.”
Dean shrugs casually. “I hang out with a lot of women.”
I roll my eyes and look away, trying to catch a breath of fresh air that doesn’t have Dean’s seriously delicious-smelling scent. I bet he wears a really expensive cologne. “I don’t need to hear about your conquests, Dean.”
“I’m not talking about my conquests.” He squeezes my hand so I look back at him. “I’m talking about Kate and Lynsey. They’ve been my best friends for years, so hanging out with women like this is no big deal.”
I nod. “Ah yes, your sister wives.”
Dean frowns at that remark. “If they were my sister wives, doesn’t that mean I should be getting laid?”
I balk. “Don’t tell me you’re not getting laid.”
He shoots me a dirty smile. “Oh, I’m getting laid…but not by them.”
“So, you’re cheating on your sister wives.”
“They’re my closest friends, Norah, and I’d have to be in a relationship with them to cheat except I’m not a cheater.” Dean tightens his grip on my waist, and I swear I see a flicker of hurt in his eyes. “What exactly are you insinuating?”
I lift my hand in surrender, horrified that I could be coming off like a creepy, jealous fake girlfriend. “Sorry, nothing. I’m just curious about how you met them.” I exhale a shaky breath and try to get a grip. Being this close to Dean, in his arms, wrapped up in his scent, it’s…confusing. It feels briefly like a real date, but it’s not, no matter how good his hands feel on my sides. This is just two friends talking.
Dean inhales deeply. “They were my neighbors, and they were fun. That’s pretty much it. Plus, Kate’s one of those girls who if she wants you to be her friend, you will be. End of discussion.”
His jaw seems tight when he says that, so I pry a little further. “So, you never dated either of them?”
“Define dated.”
“Oh jeez, this is worse than I thought,” I reply with a groan.
Dean’s chest vibrates with laughter. “I haven’t slept with either of them if that’s what you’re tiptoeing around.”
My brows furrow. “Sooo, what then exactly?”
He licks his lips and rubs them together for a moment. “Lynsey and I dated for a time. We realized pretty quickly we were better off as friends…and Kate…” His voice trails off as he looks away.
“What about Kate?”
I follow his gaze; he’s watching my parents with great fascination. “God, your parents are legitimately in love, aren’t they?”
I shake his shoulder to redirect his attention. “What about Kate?”
He levels me with an unamused look. “Kate’s more complicated.”
“How so?” I ask, my mind drifting to all sorts of scenarios. “Are you…into her?”
“No…not anymore.”
My eyes widen.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Suddenly, he pushes me out from his grasp into a surprisingly effortless spin and pulls me back, tight into his body, and I have to tell my heart rate to settle down. “I had feelings for her at one point. They weren’t reciprocated. End of story.”
My jaw drops. “Dean Moser rejected by a female. Alert the presses.”
He scoffs. “You reject me every day.”
“That’s not real.” I pin him with a knowing look. “I know you’re not truly into me. You’re just a big flirt.”
His brow furrows, but he lets it go. “If you saw my current text chain with Kate and Lynsey right now, you wouldn’t have any doubts that they’re more like annoying sisters than sister wives.”
“What’s going on?” His reaction about his friends is so unlike him and has my interest in their relationship piqued.
His jaw tightens as he grumbles out a frustrated sound. “They’re trying to set me up. They keep texting me pictures of girls like I’m on some horrible episode of Boulder Bachelor. You think your mom is bad? Try fighting off Kate and Lynsey after they’ve had a few tropical drinks. There’s usually wrestling and bloodshed involved.”
I can’t help but laugh at that image. “Why do they want to set you up so much? I wouldn’t take you as a man who sleeps alone often.”
Dean’s eyes flicker down to me, clearly shocked that I said something so bold. I’m a little shocked too. I’m more curious about Dean’s personal life than I care to admit out loud, but I don’t need him to know that.
Heat rises in my cheeks, so I stammer out, “I ju-just mean if you’re finding women desperate enough to beg you to be their fake date, surely you wouldn’t have any issues finding a real one.”