Sweethand

by N. G. Peltier

  “Sorry.”

  She took one last deep breath, folded her arms across the front of her blue romper, and said, “You’re late. And wet.”

  Her hair secured in two plaits, face bare of makeup, she was even more casual than she’d been at the flower crown-making session. In spite of the fission of anger that reared up at the memory of what she’d said, Keiran stared, cataloging her bare feet, with toes painted a bright pink. It was throwing him off as much as her voice had.

  He realized he was staring, so he let his eyes flit about the apartment.

  The front door led right into her living area, where there was already a whiteboard set up with scribbled bullet points and a notepad and pen tossed on the couch. The apartment was cozy. The living room led to a spacious kitchen area with a portion sectioned off for dining. A staircase led up to what Keiran assumed would be the bedrooms. Bright cushions added some color to her chocolaty brown couch, and Keiran noted framed photos hanging on the walls, some gorgeous scenery shots, and people silhouetted against a firework-lit sky. He wondered if these were Remi’s pieces or stuff they bought from other photographers.

  “Forgot an umbrella. Can I dry my clothes?” He tugged at the t-shirt sticking to his chest.

  Her eyes followed the movement. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve met you outside with an umbrella.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, Cherisse, maybe I figured you wouldn’t care to do something like that.”

  She tugged on a braid, eyes not meeting his. “Listen. About what I said, I’m really...”

  “Can we get to that after? I’m cold.”

  “Okay, just follow me. I’ll get you a towel, and I don’t know what you’ll wear in the meantime, but I have a dryer for your clothes.”

  “I don’t want to drip on your floor more.”

  “You can’t strip right here. It’s okay, I have a mop.”

  “It’s less of a hassle if I just keep the puddle to one spot.”

  “It’s fine.”

  He followed her upstairs, conscious of the water dripping behind him, but if Cherisse didn’t care, why should he?

  She pointed at one of the closed doors. “Bathroom. Towels are on the shelf in there. I’ll see what you can wear when your stuff is drying.”

  “I can mop up for you,” he offered, even though he really wanted out of these soppy clothes, but he’d made the mess, so it was ingrained in him to offer.

  She sucked in her bottom lip before releasing it with a pop, fiddled with her braid again. Was she nervous? It wasn’t an emotion he’d ever seen from her. Cherisse oozed confidence or haughty superiority when she was dealing specifically with him. “Don’t be nice to me. It’s weird, and I don’t deserve it.”

  “Well, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”

  “I was a bitch.”

  “Yup.”

  “So, yell at me or something.”

  “Nope.”

  “But why?”

  “Too tired.” Which was the truth. Arguing with his father at that meeting while Sean looked on smugly had been exhausting.

  Cherisse shook her head. “I’ll get you something to wear.”

  He’d slipped into the bathroom, tossed off his wet clothes, secured the towel around his waist, and was peering at the ceramic cat on the toilet tank by the time Cherisse knocked on the door. She stumbled back when he opened the door.

  “Fuck me. Jesus.” Her eyes drank in his bare chest and dipped down to his hand, clutching the towel.

  “As much as I’m enjoying the look on your face right now, are those for me?” He indicated the bundle of clothes cupped in her hands.

  She jerked her gaze up. “Yes, here.” She shoved the clothes into his hands. “Sean’s stuff. Guess I forgot to give these back. Feel free to keep them, burn them. I don’t care. Let me put your wet stuff in the dryer.”

  Seriously, Keiran couldn’t be free of Sean today, but clothes were clothes. He couldn’t afford to be picky when remaining in only a towel while waiting on his clothes to dry wasn’t an option.

  Cherisse’s eyes made another sweep of his bare chest before she literally shook herself and muttered, “I’m downstairs,” before briskly walking away.

  Keiran grinned as he got changed and joined Cherisse in the living room. That look in her eyes didn’t lie. Coupled with the surprise had been flat-out appreciation. Cherisse had definitely liked what she’d seen. Something darted in front of him, and Keiran paused. A white cat with orange and black spots stood at the bottom of the stairs staring at him, tail up and curled.

  “You have a cat, and you can sing? Just full of surprises today.” He stared down at the feline, who didn’t look pleased to see him. But you just never knew with cats. Maybe that was just its resting cat face, and it wasn’t actually plotting to claw his eyes out.

  “Yup. Jello. Don’t worry, he won’t attack or anything.”

  “Jell-O? As in Jell-hyphen-O?” Keiran skirted around the cat as he entered the living room and sat on the couch opposite Cherisse. “You for real named your cat Jell-O?”

  “No hyphen, but yes, I named him after the wobbly treat because who doesn’t like Jell-O?”

  Keiran snorted. “That’s interesting.”

  The cat strolled over to Cherisse, bumping his body against her legs before sauntering over to stare up at Keiran quizzically. It was pretty cute. He sported a little pink collar with donuts printed all over and a Pusheen pendant dangling from it. He hoped Jello was just curious about him and not about to go into attack mode. The cat was staring at him intensely.

  “Dissing my cat’s name won’t win you any points.”

  “I wasn’t,” he assured her. “Just thrown off by you having one, and like I said, your singing. Where the hell you been hiding that? You have an amazing voice.”

  She looked down at Jello, but not before he caught the flush creeping into her cheeks. “Eh, it’s alright.”

  Alright? Was she being serious? Her singing had been more than alright. “Cherisse, for real. Your voice would go so good on this one track we’re working on.”

  Her head snapped up, eyes narrowed, skepticism clear as day.

  “I’m not playing,” he insisted. As he thought on it, he could hear how her voice would fit in as background vocals, add something special to the track. It wasn’t quite where he and Dale wanted it to be, and damn if he didn’t think he’d found the missing link.

  She laughed. “Yeah, right. I’m not a professional singer. Is this your way of getting back at me for being awful to you?”

  “Trust me, I wouldn’t lie about this.”

  “Trust isn’t something I give freely, but I do apologize when I’m wrong. I’m sorry about how I acted. It was so uncalled for. I know you don’t think so, but I’m not usually like that. You just make me...” She clamped her mouth shut. “I’m just sorry, okay?”

  “Well, I was an asshole with that joke, so I guess we’re even. Listen, just come into the studio. We can record a bit. No pressure. See how it goes. I think you’d be a good fit. What do you want me to do to convince you?”

  She eyed him thoughtfully. Perhaps he should’ve dialed back on the desperation there, but he was already arranging the piece in his head around Cherisse’s vocals. If he added some piano right there at that note, they’d have it. He just knew it.

  “I’m not saying I would do this, but I have a challenge for you. You don’t really get what goes into what I do, do you? That joke pissed me off so damn much, and since I’m short my assistant for this thing, I dare you. Be my assistant for the day, and I’ll do the vocals. Tit for tat. Then we’re even.”

  “Your assistant? For what?”

  “Easter brunch with my mother’s old school buddies. This weekend. I’m doing a full dessert bar.”

  “A brunch? That’s all?” Didn’t sound so terrible to him. How difficult could it be to prepare for something like that? Frankly, it sounded like he was getting the better end of the deal. A small part of h
im did think doing this with Cherisse could be intriguing. Seeing her in her element. “How bad could it be? Older ladies love me.”

  Cherisse scoffed. “Uh-huh. So, that’s a yes? You be my tagalong, and I’ll do your thing. Desperate times and all.”

  Keiran stuck out his hand. “Alright, we’ll call this a truce of sorts, then. Sold. Shake to seal.”

  Cherisse rolled her eyes before shaking on it, then frowned down at Jello, who was attempting to climb Keiran’s leg. “Jello, no!”

  “It’s cool. Animals love me.” Keiran grinned down at the cat. He was more used to dogs, but animals, in general, did seem to be cool with him.

  “Whatever. We should get crackin’ on the planning.” She leaned down to retrieve her cat, but Jello sped up Keiran’s leg, claws digging in as the cat made it all the way up to his shoulder.

  “Seriously?” Cherisse glared at him and then at Jello, who merely perched on his shoulder like it was something the cat did every day. Huh, well, wasn’t that something? Her cat liked him, and that pissed her off.

  “Okay, before you end me with your murder eyes, this isn’t my fault.” He petted Jello, and the cat butted at his neck.

  “Goddamn traitor,” Cherisse huffed.

  Keiran chuckled. Oh, this was going to be fun.

  CHERISSE

  “So, I had some ideas.”

  Keiran sat across from her, arms resting on his knees as he leaned forward to check out the bullet points on the board. Jello made himself comfy next to Keiran, and Cherisse pretended she wasn’t offended by her cat ditching her to cuddle up to him—but oh, it chafed. So did the smugness radiating off of him. She could read it easily in the quirk of those damn lips. He figured his end of their little deal would be easy. She couldn’t wait for him to be schooled and surprised at the work that went into preparing for something like this.

  They’d supposedly squashed things between them for now, but Cherisse could still appreciate the tiny, vicious part of her that was looking forward to seeing him struggle to keep up with her. He so wasn’t prepared.

  And she hadn’t been prepared for Keiran when he’d emerged from the bathroom, Jesus.

  She’d nearly swallowed her tongue. Keiran had stood in that doorway in just a towel, one he’d clutched for dear life like it would slip down his hips any moment. Cherisse had never wanted gravity to have its way with something as much as that towel.

  She’d drank in all that gleaming brown skin like she’d been a woman parched. Her brain had snapshotted broad shoulders, toned arms, abs. Glorious, glistening abs with a treasure trail that disappeared beneath the towel. She’d forced her eyes away from lingering on the bulge behind it, but fuck. She’d imagined his ass had been perfect, biteable handfuls—not that she’d been able to see with his back to the inside of the bathroom, but she’d seen said ass in pants and jeans before, so she assumed.

  Lord, she needed to get it together. She’d had moments of seeing an attractive man and full-on lusting, but this was Keiran, for God’s sake. This visceral reaction was unexpected and unwanted. She did not want this.

  “So, your ideas?” Keiran prompted. Jello was basically draped in his lap now, kneading at his thigh. Same, boy, same, she thought before she could stop herself. Nope. No way. She wasn’t having lustful thoughts about Keiran. No.

  She waved at the board.

  “Movie-themed. Romance movies. OTP?” he read, wrinkling his nose. “Shipping? I see you speak Eric. I never know what any of this stuff means when he gets going. I really should Google this.”

  Cherisse folded her legs under her. “Lemme save you the trouble. OTP means one true pairing. Like your favorite combo of characters in a fandom? The ones who get together or who you want to get together. Then there are NOTPs and BROTPs. So, I was brainstorming some things I know Ava and Eric like...did I lose you?”

  He was staring at her as if she was speaking gibberish, which to him, she probably was. He obviously wasn’t big on fandom lingo. The crease between his eyes kept getting more pronounced, and his lips were pursed.

  “Yeah. How exactly does any of this translate into a theme for the party?”

  “Well, I was thinking we have movie-centered games, based on their fave movie fandoms, and we can make all the food around their favorite movies? I know they’re both obsessed with rom coms and romance novels.”

  “Yeah,” Keiran chuckled. “Eric basically got hooked when he found his mom’s romance books one day. He’d hide in the bathroom at school to read ‘em at lunch so the other guys wouldn’t give him crap for it. Meeting in a bookstore when you both reach for the same book. Who even does that?”

  “It was the cutest meet-cute.” Cherisse agreed. Her sister was a voracious reader, and finding a guy who was into romance as much as she was, was pretty awesome.

  “Okay, I get where you’re going with this idea, and I’m liking it, but how ‘bout this? We set it up like this giant slumber party. Dress code is sleepwear. We have drinks, food, and games that are movie-themed. I already checked some things online, and the invitations can be shaped like those sleep masks. We can maybe even give out actual sleep masks as souvenirs, with the date and their names on it. Not sure what the budget allows, but there can be a giant sheet set up as the screen with movies projected on it if you want to go old-school. Karaoke can be involved. Imagine drunken singing. That would be hilarious. I can arrange the music part of things if we agree on this.”

  “That’s...” It was an amazing idea. She was genuinely floored. She’d expected Keiran to just stroll in with either zero ideas or some ridiculous plan that she’d have to veto, but this was brilliant. “Sounds like you put a lot of thought into it.” Like he’d actually taken the entire thing seriously. She was a tad peeved she hadn’t thought about the slumber party angle.

  Keiran stroked Jello’s fur, back and forth, the movement of those hands hypnotizing. Jello seemed to be enjoying his touch. Damn traitor. “Not really,” Keiran drawled. “It just came to me on the ride over.”

  And there went her moment of awe. She should’ve known. “Do you ever take anything seriously? I have an entire Pinterest board dedicated to this, and you, what? Just pull an idea out of your ass?” Albeit a good one, but damn him.

  “So much for that truce. Look, I don’t have a fancy board or whatever, but I’ve thought it through. Just because I spent less time doing so doesn’t make my idea inferior. Everyone works differently.”

  “Stop making sense. I don’t like it.”

  “Well?” Keiran prodded. “We can pull portions from each idea, so everyone wins. I’m not here to just monopolize the entire thing.”

  Which had been her plan. She blew out a breath and allowed herself to stop getting worked up over things that were trivial. “It’s a really good idea. I...wow...blanket forts. There could be blanket forts. Can you imagine the entire thing set up as a blanket fort slumber party?” She flapped her hands at the whiteboard. “Write! Put all the ideas down!”

  He didn’t move, but his lips quirked up in a small smile.

  “What?” Why was he grinning at her like that?

  “You excited is a thing to behold. I like it.”

  She frowned, and he chuckled, getting to his feet to grab up the whiteboard marker. Jello mewed as if he didn’t like that at all.

  “I didn’t see this going like this,” she muttered. He was setting her off-balance again.

  “Oh, I know. You expected to just walk all over me, and I’d agree with whatever.” The squeaking of the marker stopped, and Cherisse’s frown deepened as he sank back onto the couch. She didn’t think he’d heard her. “I don’t mind bossy women one bit.” His lips curved into an infuriating smile. “But regardless of whatever, we need to be a team on this. I’ll defer to you where desserts are concerned, obviously, but don’t think you can just do your own thing and not consult me. Eric’s my friend. I get a say on this.”

  “Fine,” she gritted out after too many minutes had lapsed with both of them just e
yeballing each other. Him still smirking, her grinding her teeth together so she wouldn’t snap or go into a curse-filled rant.

  “Ready to flesh out the details now?” Keiran asked.

  She could be the bigger person. His idea had been a good one, and he was right. They could incorporate thoughts from both and make the party something special. They could do this. Work together without fighting. Attend that brunch together. Get through a studio session. Cherisse still couldn’t believe those were things she’d agreed to.

  “Sure,” she muttered, but an annoying voice in her head kept nagging at her, demanding to know: What the hell was she doing?

  Chapter 10

  Keiran

  KEIRAN SQUINTED UP at the streetlight as he waited for Cherisse to open the door. Still dark out and a little chilly too, he tugged the sleeves of his Henley down to cover his forearms, wondering if Cherisse was even awake. Had her 3:30 a.m. call time been a joke to play with him? Because he wasn’t amused. Did she really need to be up this early to prep for this brunch?

  He released a jaw-cracking yawn just as the door swung open to reveal Cherisse, who didn’t look any happier to be awake at this ungodly hour, her usually loose waves up in a lopsided bun. She didn’t say a word, just waved him in, and stumbled towards the kitchen. There were already ingredients all over the counter. She ignored all of them and reached for a huge coffee mug, the thing so big the cat could probably do some laps in it, held up a finger and said, “Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee. For your own safety.”

  Keiran raised a brow as she took a long sip and sighed. Okay, so she wasn’t a morning person. How unexpected. He was beginning to realize there was a lot he didn’t know about Cherisse. “Might work faster by IV,” he quipped.

  She shot him a death glare. “I said, don’t speak to me yet. I will murder you and toss your body into the bushes.” She resumed drinking her coffee, her blissful sigh so incongruous with her threat he couldn’t help but laugh, which earned him another narrow-eyed gaze over the mug’s rim. She finally nodded. “Okay, you’re safe now.”