Sweethand

by N. G. Peltier

  “I just wanted to check up on you, that’s it. Is it so wrong to want that?”

  “Stop being nice and caring and shit.”

  He cocked his head. “You saying I can’t be nice to you cuz we’re having sex?”

  She let the spoon clang against the now-empty bowl. “I’m trying to prevent the catching of feelings and shit.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t fall in love with you.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. Wasn’t sure she believed him, then thought she was being full of herself to think he’d fall in love with her. She blamed the germs that had invaded her body and the grogginess from the meds. He’d admitted to liking her, sure, and being hurt about Jerome. But that didn’t automatically mean he felt anything deeper, at least not to that extreme.

  She pushed the tray to the side. Keiran swooped down to grab it up, body hovering over her, face too close. “You’re breathing in my flu germs,” she pointed out.

  He took his sweet time pulling back. “I’ll be fine. If I do get sick, you’ll be the first to receive a whiny “I’m dying” text. Need anything else?”

  She needed him gone. He’d done enough already. She appreciated the soup, but she didn’t need the guy she was hooking up with buzzing around while she looked a hot mess. “I need a shower,” she mumbled, “and no, you can’t help with that.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of offering.” That smirk said otherwise.

  She slid back down onto her back. After Keiran left, she’d get her shower sorted out. “I just need to be better before my birthday,” she mumbled.

  They’d been planning it for weeks. The gift vouchers she’d won were going to be put to use. Spa day with Remi for their actual birthday on the Friday which would lead into clubbing later in the evening. They’d also planned to overnight at the Hyatt so no one would have to drive back after whatever tipsy shenanigans bar hopping brought. Then Saturday night was the surprise party Cherisse wasn’t supposed to know about, but Remi had given her the heads up, thankfully. Cherisse wasn’t keen on surprises, but her mother never listened.

  She had two weeks to get rid of this cold so she could enjoy her twenty-ninth birthday. She really should get up for that shower, but her foggy brain and tired, achy limbs were making that difficult.

  “Sweet dreams, Sugar Queen,” she heard before she drifted off again.

  KEIRAN

  Remi ignored him when he came downstairs with the tray and empty soup bowl. She was still staring at her laptop. When he’d shown up earlier, he’d been certain she wasn’t going to let him in. She’d stood at the door, eyes raking him up and down, brow raised at the Tupperware container of soup.

  “Brought food. Smart.” Then she’d stepped aside for him to enter.

  He’d expected some kind of ‘what are your intentions with my friend?’ type interrogation, but she’d merely told him Cherisse was likely already in dreamland courtesy of some cold meds. He’d been surprised she’d let him hang out until Cherisse woke up, and he could take the soup up to her.

  “Do I just leave this in the sink?” He lifted the tray.

  She didn’t look away from her laptop. “Sure.”

  He considered leaving the bowl in the sink, but his mother’s voice in his ear scolding about washing up after himself was loud enough for him to rinse out the bowl and spoon and stash them in the appropriate slots on the draining board. He left the tray on the counter. His mother’s Tupperware bowl had already been washed and dried off, so he grabbed that up. Figured this was his cue to leave. He walked back out to the living room, expecting to just sail out the door.

  “Tell me something, Keiran. How you think this will end, hmm?”

  So damn close. Body angled to face him, her fingers drummed against the desk, other arm draped over the back of the chair.

  “She’ll get tired of me eventually and move on.” He shrugged, even as the idea made his chest ache. He knew what he’d gotten himself into here. Knew he was full of shit when he’d agreed to this whole thing. He didn’t just want this to be sex, and it would blow up in his face soon enough.

  “And you’re good with this?”

  “Doesn’t matter if that’s what she wants.”

  “You like her—” He opened his mouth to protest. Remi held up a hand. “Don’t even try to lie right now. You’re both being ridiculous as hell here. I don’t know what she’s doing. Hell, I don’t think she knows. Guess your pipe-laying skills are that good.”

  “She likes what I do well enough.” He wasn’t trying to be cocky. Cherisse had been vocal enough when coming for him to deduce that. But he sure as hell wasn’t going into details with Remi.

  “Someone’s gonna get hurt,” Remi announced.

  “I won’t hurt her.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t mean her.”

  Of course. Because he was the sap in this situation. The one most likely to let his emotions tie him up when Cherisse was just here for a good fuck. He couldn’t blame her. She’d been upfront. He was the one lying. About more than one thing.

  He spun the empty bowl in his hand. “Anyway, thanks for letting me in. I need to go. Promised Maxi I’d babysit. She’ll suffocate me in my sleep if I bail, and she doesn’t get to go out.”

  “I wouldn’t lose any sleep over that. She’s the cuter twin anyways.”

  He clutched his chest. “Damn, tell me how you really feel.”

  “Bye, Keiran.”

  “Laters, Remeena.” He chuckled all the way to the door as she tossed some seriously inventive curses at his back.

  Chapter 27

  Cherisse

  IT TOOK THE REST OF the week and into the next one to fully ditch the cold, which set her back workwise, even with Reba handling details with that other wedding she had before Ava’s. That bride had apparently been a hair-trigger away from going full-on Bridezilla with Reba because Cherisse hadn’t shown up to the meeting. Reba’s explanations that Cherisse was sick didn’t help. The bride had shouted in Reba’s face about being sent an assistant instead of Cherisse, which had then turned into Cherisse getting on the phone—still feeling like crap—to soothe the woman and fit in a reschedule of the meeting because no matter how Cherisse tried to tell her Reba was capable of running the meeting, the client didn’t care.

  Cherisse had been willing to dissolve that working relationship immediately. She didn’t want to deal with someone who was condescending to Reba like that, but Reba had talked her down.

  Coupled with that, Cherisse had apparently gotten a couple of offers for TV shows. One pitched a co-hosting segment with a popular local chef, Patrick Simmons, who had a weekly segment, and another was for some type of regional cooking contest. They’d both piqued her interest, especially the contest since the prize money was enough for her to put towards funding that project she’d been thinking about for a while—her own bakery. She didn’t plan to work out of her apartment indefinitely, but spaces were so expensive to rent. A loan was an option, but Cherisse preferred to exhaust all other avenues first. A small part of her also needed to redeem herself after Pastry Wars. But, putting herself out there again was scary too, so she’d told Reba she would think on it a bit.

  While she’d been trying to play catch up, she also caught herself glancing down at her phone. Keiran hadn’t returned to check on her since the soup, but he’d been sending her ridiculous memes every day since then. He claimed they were to cheer her up, and she had found herself laughing at them while trying not to hack up a lung. Luckily, the damn cough mostly cleared up because her mother had come over to force-feed her some foul flu-be-gone concoction, which had turned into an interrogation about Jerome.

  As they sat on the couch, her mother trying to pick her mouth about “the date,” her phone chimed, and just like all the days before, it was another meme. This time, it was one of those ‘What people think I do vs. what I really do’ ones for pastry chefs. She snorted because it was so accurate.

  “Is that him?” her mother asked, scooting over to peer at her
phone. “See how he has you smiling? A true sign of something good. If a man can’t make you laugh, then it’s no good. Your father is ridiculous most times, but I can’t help myself. I love that man.”

  “Mummy, come on!” Cherisse protested, putting her phone face down so her mother couldn’t see the screen. As cute as that reveal about her father being able to still charm her mother was, she had no intention of letting on that her reaction had been to Keiran’s message and not anything Jerome had sent.

  That wouldn’t go over too well, and she was in no mood for a lecture.

  “Fine.” Her mother scooted back, giving her some space. “But you always tell me stay out of your business, but see? I chose well. You like him.”

  “Let’s not get carried away, okay? Just because I laugh at one thing doesn’t mean it’s time for a wedding.”

  Her mother sniffed. “Whatever. You never want to listen to me. But, just remember to tell my grandchildren I had a hand in their parents’ love story.”

  Cherisse rolled her eyes. Nyla Gooding always knew how to lay it on thick, especially after the Sean fiasco. She’d definitely have a fit if she knew what Cherisse had been up to with Keiran. She’d been clear on her opinions, especially after seeing the fight video. Keiran King was trouble.

  Cherisse agreed—not quite in the same way her mother meant, at least not anymore—because she couldn’t wait for her mother to leave so she could reply to his silly meme. Trouble. So much trouble.

  “You should invite Jerome to the wedding,” her mother continued.

  Cherisse rubbed her forehead. That was not happening. She could envision how terrible an idea that was. Bring the cousin of the man she was currently having sex with to the wedding? As a date? Absolutely not. Not that she planned to still be having sex with Keiran by then. He’d given her the power to end their arrangement whenever she wanted. So why hadn’t she done that yet?

  “The guest list is all set. I’m not going to upset Ava and Eric’s carefully laid plans.” Ava hadn’t shown any Bridezilla tendencies, but Cherisse had seen her sister and Eric poring over the guest list and seating chart intensely. No way in hell was she messing with that. “Anyways, I got shit...uh, stuff to catch up on, so.”

  Her mother didn’t call her on that slip of profanity. A miracle. But she did release an exasperated sigh before she tapped the jar of dark liquid and rose to her feet. “Take this for the lingering cough. It’ll be gone in no time. Just don’t let it touch your tongue because the taste is awful.”

  Arguing was pointless. It was easier to just let her mother have her way. Nod and smile until she left. As soon as she was gone, Cherisse checked her phone. Another meme from Keiran and a couple of new messages in the bridesmaids’ chat group. She replied to Keiran first.

  Cherisse: don’t you have work to do?

  Keiran: it’s called multitasking

  Cherisse: looks like playing de fool to me.

  Keiran: much needed stress reliever more like it. How you feeling?

  Cherisse: better. Thanks for the soup. And I guess the memes too

  Keiran: just trying to be a good friend.

  Cherisse paused. Friend? She wasn’t certain she’d call them that. Fuck buddies? FWBs? She didn’t know. It was something people did all the time, but she didn’t like blurring the lines, didn’t know how not to. She and Sean hadn’t exactly been friends prior to them becoming a couple. They’d met randomly at an event, sparks flew. They’d hung out, and things had gotten serious pretty quickly. Sex had come after they’d been together a few months. This thing with Keiran was new territory for her.

  Before she could respond, her phone chimed with another message from Ava, which turned out to be a notification that she’d been added to another group chat with the other bridesmaids.

  Ava: hi my lovelies! Please meet me at the address below at 4pm and wear something nice!

  Julia: ...

  Cherisse: what’s happening?

  Ava: no questions, just be there!

  Cherisse: this is sketchy as hell

  Ava: omg it’s nothing bad I swear

  Remi: k

  Cherisse: you’re not even gonna ask what’s going on?

  Remi: nope

  Ava: and that’s why I love you. Ok mwah! See you all at the address k byeee!

  Cherisse clicked the link Ava sent. The address turned out to be the same country club where they’d held the wedding shower. Why would Ava want them to meet her there, and what was with the secrecy? It obviously involved something wedding-related, but Cherisse couldn’t begin to know what. She returned to Keiran’s chat.

  Keiran: so Eric dropped a weird meet me at this location text and a link to that country club. Weird.

  Cherisse: Same here with Ava. What are they up to?

  Keiran: No clue but he said to dress nice. What you wearing??

  Cherisse: goodbye

  Keiran: so mean

  Cherisse: you like me this way

  She pressed send on that before she thought better of it. Fuck. Would he take that as flirting? She hadn’t meant to. It just seemed to come easily with Keiran, which, no. This flirting banter with him was a terrible idea and possibly sent mixed messages.

  She switched back to the chat with Remi and Julia, where the conversation was still ongoing minus Ava, who’d dropped her summons and vanished.

  Julia: it’s the country club. That means we should dress fancy

  Remi: I got that one dress that shows a lot of leg

  Julia: anything you wear shows a lot of leg Madame Gazelle

  This was safer territory. God, she was making this worse for herself.

  It was so easy to let the banter fly when it wasn’t face-to-face, but it wasn’t helping to keep things casual. She realized she’d looked forward to his annoying meme messages, which weren’t so annoying at all. Funny. Cute, even. Which was bad. So very bad. And he’d been so sweet bringing her the soup when she’d been sick, even if in the moment, she’d acted put-off about it.

  End this.

  She tossed her phone on the couch. She had too many things to get done before meeting Ava at the country club for whatever mysterious reason. Cackling at memes was nowhere on that list. Thinking about how sweet Keiran had been and how maybe he wasn’t as terrible as she’d thought was going into a danger zone.

  She ignored her phone while she finally typed up the list of names of persons who’d given Ava gifts at the wedding shower. Ava needed those for her thank you cards. But the constant pling of her phone kept beckoning, and finally, she sighed and picked it up, swiping to check the chats, but mostly Keiran’s reply to her ill-advised message.

  Keiran: you know I do

  Her heart, pounding in her chest, startled her. God. Why had she checked that? Should she reply? He’d know she read it, but what could she even say that wouldn’t make things more awkward when they met up at the club later? The country club. Where they’d had sex in a supply closet.

  Congratulations, you definitely played yourself.

  By the time Remi came home, showered, and got ready to head to the country club, Cherisse had worked herself into a tizzy. She’d popped on her sunglasses inside in preparation for stepping into the afternoon sunlight. After a week of confinement, the sun was sure to feel too bright. She’d also hoped to hide her growing anxiousness from Remi long enough that the drive would soothe her.

  It was ridiculous to get worked up over seeing Keiran today. So, she liked his memes, looked forward to his messages. That didn’t mean anything. What was her problem? Seriously.

  “What’re you thinking about so hard over there?” Remi asked as they rolled to a stop at a traffic light.

  “Keiran.” Remi was her best friend. Keeping stuff from her was always a waste of time.

  “Ah.”

  “He’s not fitting into the box I tried to put him into. I don’t like this.”

  “Hmm. Human beings are unpredictable like that sometimes. But not you, you’re super-predictable.”


  “What?” Cherisse asked, offended. “I am not.”

  The light changed, and Remi drove forward. “You know you don’t do casual but yet acted like you could. After I reminded you that you don’t. Sex is important to you in that it’s all wrapped up in your emotional connection to someone, and yet, you thought, oh, hey, it’s Keiran, so this’ll be easy.”

  Cherisse stared straight ahead, arms folded across her seat belt. “So, this is your long-winded I-told-you-so?”

  “Yup.”

  “What do I do now?”

  “I don’t know. You jumped on his dick, you figure that shit out.”

  Cherisse continued to sulk the rest of the way to the club while Remi sang along jovially with the radio. But she was right. This was a mess of her own making, and she was the one who had to decide how to fix it.

  Chapter 28

  Keiran

  MAXINE AND SCOTT WERE full of theories about why Eric and Ava had called them to the country club, ranging from Ava being pregnant to more outlandish things like a plan to elope. Keiran was too busy thinking about Cherisse and the supply closet to add anything useful.

  “There’s no way in hell they’re eloping after all these preparations,” Maxine mused as they walked in.

  “Eric’s parents are rich. They won’t even feel that loss of money,” Scott chimed in.

  The attendant led them to the dining room, to a table where Ava and Eric were already waiting, big smiles on their faces. Remi, Julia, and Cherisse were already at the table too. Everyone was standing as if they, too, had just arrived.

  Keiran’s gaze clashed with Cherisse as he came to stand next to her.

  “Well, you’re looking better.”

  She fiddled with the belt on her jumpsuit. “I feel better. Thanks again for the soup. You’re sweet. I mean, it was sweet. The gesture. Jesus fucking Christ.” She looked away as Ava urged them all to sit. He was close enough to have heard her muttered curses, but what intrigued him the most was her fumbling. Was Cherisse nervous? Interesting.