Sway (Keeping Score Book 6)

by Tawdra Kandle

  “Oh, yeah?” I was still distracted by her scent and the way it was affecting me. “That’s cool. For Christmas, you mean?”

  “Actually, I’ll be on the East Coast from Thanksgiving week all the way through the New Year. Kara and Allan don’t like to stay at home for the holidays.” Her smile dimmed a bit. “Too many memories, I think. They’re going to be in Europe from mid-November through January, and when I told Kara I was thinking of flying home for both Thanksgiving and Christmas, she suggested that I should save myself a trip and stay until after New Year’s Day. Most everything I do can be handled remotely, so I’ll just bring my laptop and set up shop wherever I want.”

  “Sounds like a good idea.” I side-stepped a guy who was ambling down the middle of the sidewalk as though he owned it, oblivious to the rest of the world. By the glassy look in his eyes, I suspected he was high on something fun. When he careened toward Sarah, I grasped her elbow to steer her out of his path.

  “Thanks.” She grimaced. “He wasn’t paying any attention to where he was going.”

  “Yeah, he would’ve mowed you over and never missed a beat.” I let go of Sarah’s arm and tried to pick up the thread of conversation. “So you were saying you’ll be on the East Coast for a while.” As the words came out of my mouth, a realization struck me, and I didn’t even stop to think before I pivoted to face her, walking sideways. “You’ll be there Thanksgiving week, you said?”

  “Yep.” She nodded. “I’ll probably fly in the weekend before to beat the travel rush. I hate to fly on holidays.”

  “You’re from New Jersey. Same town as Taylor, right?” The wheels in my head were spinning now.

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Yes, Gideon. Nice job on remembering personal details. I’m very impressed.”

  “No, that wasn’t my point.” I shook my head impatiently. “You’ll be in New Jersey the week of Thanksgiving.” I turned around again so that I was walking alongside her. “Would you consider doing me a tremendous favor?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “I know I should just say yes, because . . . damn. The great and mighty Gideon Maynard is asking me to do him a favor? But then the more reasonable part of my brain kicks in, and I have to know—what kind of favor?”

  “My grandparents are celebrating their sixtieth wedding anniversary.” In my rush to explain, that’s what came out first.

  “Well, congratulations to Grandma and Grandpa. That’s a whole lot of years to stay together.” Her tone was somewhat cautious.

  “Gammy and Gramps, actually, but–”

  “What?” Sarah’s forehead creased.

  “My grandparents. They aren’t Grandma and Grandpa, they’re Gammy and Gramps. But that doesn’t matter.” I waved one hand. “Their anniversary is that week. And my mom and her sister are throwing them a huge party.” Pausing, I drew in a deep breath. “Would you go with me?”

  “Go with you?” Sarah stopped dead in the middle of the crowded sidewalk, and I had to pull her out of the way of the man walking behind us. He shot us a dirty look as he kept going, and I tugged Sarah closer to the large brick building we were passing, guiding her to press her back against the solid wall and keeping my own body between hers and the people passing us.

  “Yes.” Dropping her hand, I slid my fingers into the front pockets of my jeans. “I know it’ll be boring and not exactly what anyone wants to do on their time off, but it would mean a lot to me.”

  Sarah frowned. “Why do you want me to go to your grandparents’ anniversary party with you, Gideon? Is this, like . . .” She hesitated. “Do you want me to go as your date?”

  “Well, yeah.” I hadn’t had this much trouble asking a woman out since I was in the sixth grade. “It’ll make my mom and dad happy if I bring someone with me. I mean, if I bring you with me.”

  “Smooth, QB.” She smirked. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why will it make your parents happy for you to have a date for the big family shindig?”

  I exhaled long, puffing out my cheeks. “They’ve been pressuring me to date again. I mean, to date.” The word again opened up a door I wasn’t ready to walk through with Sarah. Not now, maybe not ever.

  “Oh, really? How come?” Sarah tilted her head. “Do they think you’ll get a reputation as a player if you don’t have a steady girl?”

  “Nah. I’ve never had that problem.”

  “Okayyyyy.” She drew out the word. “Then . . . are they afraid people might think you’re gay if you don’t have a woman in your life?”

  I snorted. “Of all of my family’s faults, homophobia is not one of them. No, they’d be just as happy if I brought home a nice young man as if I brought home a woman.”

  “Then why are they putting the screws to you?” She folded her arms over her chest. “Unless—” Sarah gasped as her eyes went wide with what I recognized as phony shock. “They just want you to be, I don’t know . . . happy?”

  “Funny.” I sighed. “I’m sure my happiness is part of it, but it’s more than that. They think that if I don’t have someone in my life, I’ll come to be known as being too aloof. Cold and withdrawn. Not a team player. Like I think I’m better than the other guys.” I waited a beat before adding, “Which, of course, I am.”

  Sarah’s surprise this time wasn’t pretend. She glanced up at me, her mouth opening to argue, until something in my face gave me away.

  “You are so full of it.” She took one step closer to me and gave me a small shove. “For a second there, I actually thought you meant that. And then when I realized you didn’t, I almost went into shock. You, Gideon Maynard, just made a joke.”

  “What?” It was my turn to wink at her. “I'm not allowed to make a joke?”

  “No,” she returned. “It's not that you're not allowed to. It's just that you never do. Or rarely, anyway.” She paused, and the expression in her eyes was one I could only describe as sassy. “You know how they say some women have resting bitch face? Well, you, my friend, have resting intensity face. I don't think I’ve ever seen a picture of you in public when you're smiling. No goofing around during press conferences. So it's not surprising that people have the perception that you're a little . . . I don't know . . .less than funny. A little humorless.”

  I pretended to be insulted. “And here I thought you were my friend.”

  Sarah’s face sobered. “I am your friend, Gideon. And I was just teasing you more than anything. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.”

  “Talk about needing a sense of humor there, princess. I wasn’t being serious.” I wagged my head. “Maybe you're right. Maybe I do need to let mine out a little more often if you can't even recognize it when I'm fooling around with you.”

  A tinge of pink touched her cheekbones. “Believe me,” she muttered. “I know when you're fooling around with me.”

  I pretended that I didn't hear that and went back to our previous conversation. “So, what do you say, friend? Are you willing to brave the high drama that is the Maynard family and come with me to my grandparents’ anniversary party? I promise that the food and the booze will be outstanding.”

  “And the company?” Sarah challenged.

  I sighed. “Well, two out of three ain't bad.”

  “Oh, come on, Gideon. Your family can't be that bad. You have a sister, right? Do you get along with her?”

  I nodded. “Oh, yeah, I do. Gabby and I are good buddies. And she's always got my back, just like I’ve got hers. She’s cool. You would probably like her.” I paused for a beat. “And my parents are not that bad. It's just the whole . . .” I struggled to put my thoughts into words. “The whole idea of expectations and of trying to measure up and—” And this was not a conversation I wanted to have on a crowded San Francisco sidewalk with anybody. While I had this weirdly intimate relationship with Sarah—I’d told her some things I hadn’t shared with anyone else—she was still somebody I didn't know that well, when all was said and done.

  “Anyway.” I cleared my throat. “Everyone will be thrilled to meet you, and you'l
l actually probably have a better time than I will.”

  She nodded slowly. “Okay, then. Let's say I do go with you. What's in it for me? I mean, aside from the booze and the food. What are you going to do to make it worth my while?”

  For a moment, I didn’t answer, uncertain of where she was going with this. “Well, what kind of payback do you want? Fancy dinner at an exclusive restaurant in the city? A signed Gideon Maynard jersey?”

  She pretended to gag. “No, thanks. No, what I want is something that only you can give me.”

  The air between us seemed to crackle.

  “And what is that?” I asked my voice low and rough.

  She grinned at me. “I want a tour of Peaceful Meadows. I want to see the place that you're making your home now.”

  I let out a long breath I hadn’t realized I've been holding. “That’s it?”

  “Yep, that's it.” She tilted her head.

  “Well, that I can do without a problem. It doesn't even have to be your payment for services rendered. But I have to ask, why you want to see it so badly? It really isn’t that special. I mean, I love it, but that doesn't mean that it’s going to be on the cover of Architectural Digest or anything like that.”

  Sarah rested her hand on my arm. “I think I want to see it because it’s where you are. I want to see it so that when we're texting—or let's say pretend that you get brave enough to call me on the phone someday—I can picture where you are while we're talking. Just consider it to be one of those funny Sarah Jenkins quirks.”

  “Well, it's something I can make happen for sure. Maybe some time in December will work out. While you’re still on the East coast, I mean.” I slipped one of my hands between Sarah’s back and the brick wall against which she stood, guiding her back to the main stream of foot traffic. “You know, though, you’re making a pretty major assumption there, princess. You think I’m going to text you again?”

  She threw back her head and laughed, reminding me of the first moment I’d seen her. “Of course, you are. You just asked me to be your date at your grandparents’ party. I assume you won’t just expect me to show up, especially since you haven’t given me the date, the time or the place. You’ll have to fill me in on all of that, so yes, Gideon, I expect that you will text me at least once more.”

  She had me there. Not that there’d been any doubt in my own mind that I was planning to keep in touch. “Okay, sure. I’ll have to do that.” I paused. “It’s the Saturday before Thanksgiving, by the way. And you don’t have to show up—I’ll have a car sent for you. I’ll get your address in enough time beforehand. Are you going to stay with your mom down in Jersey?”

  “That’s the plan right now.” Sarah worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “You don’t have to send a car, Gideon. I could just get the train up to the city. I’ve done it before.”

  “That’s not how the Maynards operate,” I informed her, tapping the tip of her nose. “If you’re coming to a family party as my date, you get the car. So don’t argue with me about it.”

  “Fine.” She feigned exasperation, heaving out a breath, but I sensed that underneath it all, she was pleased. I couldn’t deny that I was, too. I was on the verge of taking her hand, throwing all of my carefully constructed rules to the wind, when she spoke again.

  “Hey, Gideon?” She sounded a little more tentative this time. “Can I ask you something? We were joking about you texting me again, but . . . why did you get in touch with me tonight? I thought you didn’t want to see me again.”

  I winced. All too often, I forgot that in the crusade to protect myself from hurt and humiliation, I risked injuring others, bruising pride and hearts.

  “It was never that I didn’t want to see you again,” I confessed. “It was that I didn’t trust myself if I did. If you want honesty, having your number in my phone all these months has been a huge temptation. I’m proud and kind of shocked that I held out this long.” I offered Sarah a rueful grin. “But I couldn’t be in your city and not reach out.”

  “I’m glad you did.” She reached out and slipped her hand into mine, showing once again that she was far braver than I could ever be.

  We walked hand-in-hand in silence until we reached my hotel. I was opening my mouth to ask her to come up to my room under the guise of sharing a cup of coffee or a drink—anything to have more time—but Sarah beat me to it.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t invite you up to my apartment, but . . .” She shook her fingers loose from my hand. “Like you said, if you want honesty, I didn’t think I could trust myself. It was probably better this way.”

  “Yeah, sure.” I tried not to sound disappointed. “This was fun.” Even though a certain part of my anatomy was snorting in disagreement, I realized that I was speaking the truth. I had had fun with Sarah tonight—probably more fun than any day or evening I could remember in the recent past.

  “I know I come across as though I’m independent and strong all the time, but I’ve been a little bit lonely here.” She wasn’t meeting my eyes; instead, her gaze was fastened somewhere behind me. She was embarrassed, I thought, and out of instinct, I gathered her close to me.

  “Hey, that’s nothing to be ashamed of,” I murmured against her hair. “You’re in a new city, with a new job, across the damn country from everyone you know. It’s okay to admit to that it’s not all sunshine and roses.”

  “I guess so.” She had snaked her arms around me and was holding on tight. “I really needed a friend tonight, Gideon, and you were here for me. Thanks. As much as I would’ve loved a romp in the sheets, this was . . .” She pulled back to look up into my face. “Better. No offense meant to your, uh, prowess and all that.”

  I laughed. “No offense taken, I promise.” I eased back. “We’re friends, right? So we don’t get all touchy about shit like that.”

  “Friends. Yes.” She took a deep breath. “Well, this friend is suddenly worn out. I’m going to grab a taxi to go home. I think I’m walked out for tonight.”

  “Let me give you a hand.”

  We moved to the cab stand, and within moments, the doorman had secured a car to drive Sarah home. She stood at the open back door, waiting as I bent to speak to the driver, telling him to put the cost of the fare onto my hotel room account.

  “You didn’t have to do that. I can afford a taxi home.” She shook head.

  “I know I didn’t, but that’s what friends do.” I leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be in touch, okay? And I’ll make sure you have all the details you need for the party.”

  “That’s perfect. Thank you.” She sank onto the back seat and closed the door, then rolled down the window. “Have a safe trip home, Gideon.”

  “I will. Thanks for being my tour guide tonight.” In the front seat, the driver cleared his throat in impatience, ready to go. “Bye, princess. See you in November.”

  9

  Sarah

  I’d grown up in a family of females, and on the girly-girl spectrum, I fell somewhere between my youngest sister, Reena, who was the most prissy of us all, and Dana, the sister right below me, who veered closer to being a jock. This meant that I could be ready to go out in five minutes or less, given the right incentive, or I could take two hours to get ready for an important event.

  That was probably why I was still standing in front of my bathroom mirror a full hour and a half after I'd begun prepping for the Maynard anniversary party. I’d carefully washed and conditioned my hair, taken my time blowing it out and curling the ends. And then I’d painstakingly applied more makeup than I usually wore, putting it on in such a way that I hoped looked artful and not overdone.

  My dress, though, was the one part of my look about which I had no reservations. It was deep green, sleeveless, with a simple round collar that fastened around my neck. The bodice was a lace panel to the waist, where it gave way to a gracefully falling skirt of satin. My silver heels were high enough that my legs looked endless, while the dress highlighted my other attributes without flaunt
ing them.

  “Wow. Look at you, baby. You’re absolutely gorgeous.”

  My mother’s face appeared in the mirror as she stood in the doorway behind me, leaning against the jamb.

  “Thanks.” I turned to face her, taking a half step backwards. “You’re sure this is okay? The dress is all right, and my makeup isn’t too much?” I glanced back at the mirror, smoothing one hand over my hair. “I should’ve gone to the salon and had them blow out my hair. Does it look frizzy?”

  “I told you, everything is perfect. The dress is lovely, your makeup and hair are exactly right . . . you’re a knock-out, honey.” Mom’s eyebrows waggled. “You’re going to have this guy eating out of your hand.”

  I frowned. “Mom, I told you, it isn’t like that with Gideon. We’re just friends.”

  My mother rolled her eyes, reminding me of Reena. “I know, I know. Just friends. But let me clue you in, baby. Guys who want to be just friends don’t invite girls to their families’ celebrations, and they don’t send limos down from New York City to pick them up.” She paused, her eyes gleaming speculatively. “And girls who think that guys are just friends don’t spend hours primping in front of the mirror, making sure the dress, the hair, the makeup is just so.”

  “Honestly, Mom, the way you talk, I’m Cinderella and you’re the fairy godmother, sending me off to meet the prince.” I gave myself one last look in the mirror before I snapped off the bathroom light and slipped past my mother, crossing the hallway and going into my bedroom. “I promise, it isn’t that at all. Gideon is a friend who needed a date for this party, and I was happy to help him out. End of story. No prince, no pumpkin coach, no glass slipper . . . and no happily ever afters.” I glared at her. “Got it?”

  “Happily ever afters aren’t a bad thing, Sarah,” she retorted. “Finding the man who can be your true love . . . well, once it happens to you, you’ll understand.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, well, it’s not going to happen to me. I saw enough of your so-called happy endings growing up. I’m not interested, thanks.”