by Andi Burns
“Jesus H. Christ! And I even shook his hand!” Ted reaches into his pocket, pulls out a tiny bottle of Purell, and douses his hands. “Stay here at your own risk, people!” he bellows. “Simon’s got a stomach bug.”
Ted’s announcement effectively clears the room in a matter of minutes. “Nice work, Nick.”
“Yea, yea. I saw that look of horror on your face, Molls. How could you doubt me?”
“I shouldn’t have—you were brilliant.”
“I’m gonna round up Dunc and Gavin. We’re on clean-up duty. Go check on your girl.”
A quick survey of the downstairs tells me that everything is well in hand, so I take Nick up on his offer.
Elaine’s bedroom door is ajar, and I peek in, not wanting to disturb her if she’s fallen asleep. But it’s not Elaine I see. Her bed is empty, and Ev is the only one in the room. He’s in one of the slipper chairs by the window, and though it might make me a creeper, I take full advantage of this moment. His back is turned, but I can still see his profile and the wide set of his shoulders. He’s clean-shaven today, just as he was six weeks ago. The man has the jawline of a Greek God. His nose is straight, and his eyes are a rich, dark brown. I don’t need to look at him to remember that. Every detail of our night together is etched into my memory, despite how hard I’ve tried to ignore it. And maybe there’s something to be said for the fact that I haven’t forgotten him, but I’d rather not dwell on that now.
Everett Madigan is Marc? My best friend’s brother is the source of the hottest sex I’ve ever had?
How is this my life?
It’s awkward, sure, but not insurmountable. It’s not like Elaine and I spend holidays together or anything. But, I do spend all of my other free time with her. And once the baby comes, that will only increase. I’m a kick-ass aunt. (I learned from the best—thanks, Stella). But that won’t necessarily be an issue. Elaine has mentioned that her brother is a workaholic. And I know for a fact that he doesn’t live around here, so avoidance shouldn’t be impossible.
But make no mistake, avoidance will be necessary. I knew it the morning I woke up alone in my apartment and I know it now: Marc, or rather, Everett is the kind of man I could easily get used to. He’s like a drug I didn’t even know existed. But after just one hit, I’m dying for more. And that’s exactly why I need to avoid him. I don’t do commitment. I don’t do mornings after or meet ups with the fam. I’ve got enough on my plate, and no boyfriend I’ve ever had has been worth the time or the hassle. And that’s why, after my disaster of a relationship with Chase Sleazak (his last name really should have been a clue), I promised myself I wouldn’t succumb to men’s charms anymore. Not that I chose celibacy—let’s not be ridiculous. It took that trainwreck of a relationship for me to realize that, well, I’m a bit of an enabler, honestly. And that men use that, use me, and I end up being taken advantage of. So, right after that relationship died, I decided I’d never put myself in that position again. So, yea, I flirt. And I sure as hell have sleepovers. But commitments? Relationships? Nope. Not for me.
“Hey, Molls. Thanks for taking care of everything downstairs.” A freshly-shirted Simon steps into the hallway from the guest room, and I can see from the look on his face that this pregnancy is taking a toll on him, too. I file that away and make a note to do something nice for my bestie and her boo.
“No problem. Nick and I were able to divide and conquer. And your mom and Betsy dealt with all the food, so you guys don’t have to.”
“Yea, I just got a text from the guys that everything is all cleaned up, we’re the only ones in the house, and they took the cake and the beer and headed to Nick’s.”
“Sounds like them.”
“And I got a text from my mom saying that she’s got crab dip at her house, so I can sneak over and eat it in the next day or so. She said she’ll even throw my clothes in the wash, so the smell doesn’t bother Lainie. That’s love.”
“Holy hell. It sure is. Elaine is that sensitive to smells? I didn’t realize it was that bad.”
“Yea, I mean, I know morning sickness can be brutal, but this is next level. Here,” he pushes the door open. “I just got off the phone with the doctor, and I want to tell you guys what’s up.”
We step inside, and I see that Elaine is back in bed, now in a conversation with Ev. “What did the doctor say?” she asks, as all her attention turns to Simon.
Simon settles in on the bed next to Elaine and I take the seat next to her brother.
“So, Dr. Sutherland wants to see you ASAP, love. She’ll do an exam and unless things change drastically overnight, you’ll get fluids, too. She told us to be there at 11 tomorrow. I talked to Daryl before he left. He said you can work from home or do whatever suits you. I figured Molly could bring you the stuff that you can’t get digitally.”
“Of course,” I offer.
“Wait, you said tomorrow at 11?” Elaine’s scowling down at her phone.
“Yeah, that was the only time she could squeeze us in tomorrow. Her next slot wasn’t until Thursday, and baby, there’s no way we can wait that long.”
“I know. My mom actually complimented me on my appearance. That’s how I know I’ve lost weight.” None of us respond. Elaine’s mother is awful, and we all know it. But wait. That means she’s Ev’s mom, too. Hmmm...no wonder Elaine says he rarely shows up to family functions.
“We have an appointment with the photographer tomorrow. At 11.”
“Babe, we’ll have to reschedule. You are literally fainting. We’ve got to get you in to see Dr. Sutherland, sooner rather than later.”
“No argument here, Wonderboy, but we can’t reschedule, either. These appointments are so hard to get. If we want to book her, we’ve got to do it this week.”
“No problem. Nick doesn’t go into the shop until late afternoon anyway. And I bet Dunc can take a long lunch. They’ll go for us.”
“No way.” I say, just as Ev pipes in with “Hell, no.” And Elaine adds, “Sweet Jesus, no.”
“What? They’re good guys.”
“The best, honey, no one is arguing that. It’s just that…”
“What my lovely sister is trying to say is that if you want a bro-themed wedding, they’re your guys. If you want anything fit for the general public, don’t send them. I heard all about Dunc’s bachelor party.”
“God, I forgot about that. Those mice were everywhere. We didn’t even get our security deposit back.”
Elaine and I exchange a look at the mere mention of mice. I shake my head in disbelief. “I’ll go.” I volunteer, just as I hear the same words escape Ev’s mouth.
“You guys will go? Really? That’s perfect.” The look of relief on Elaine’s face cements my fate. “Molls, you know exactly what we like. And Ev, you have great taste, too. Are you sure you don’t mind staying in town a few more days?”
Ev turns toward me, and his glance is heated. “No, E, I don’t mind at all.”
“Yes, Steve, I’ll be sure to tell Elaine to ignore the sentence fragments. I’m sure she knows they’re your signature style.” I refrain, just barely, from rolling my eyes at my coworker, and that’s only because he’s standing in my office and I don’t have time to get into a full-on argument or even a quick middle-school-style refresher of why fragments aren’t anyone’s ‘signature style.’ I’ve got places to be and a bunch of work I need to grab before I go.
Once Tall Steve has blessedly left my work space, I begin shoving Elaine’s files into the tote I brought along. I love Chesapeake Shores, don’t get me wrong. It’s quirky; it’s friendly; it’s the best place I’ve ever worked. We sell crab hats and lobster-shaped pens, for fuck’s sake! Most of my co-workers are delightful and the rest are usually tolerable. Our boss, Daryl, is a teddy-bear of a guy. My salary is above industry standard, and I even get three weeks paid time off every year. Can I really complain? Ok, I can. The only drawback to Chesapeake Shores is that half the company is technology-illiterate. Okay, probably not half. But a solid twent
y percent. And they’re not remotely willing to learn. God bless Simon for dealing with this madness while he worked here as the head of IT. Dan’s been filling in and doing an admirable job, but it’s no easy task, I’m sure.
So, instead of carting home a flash drive for my best friend, or, heaven forbid, asking these guys to share their work with her, I’m toting home actual hard copies for her to proof and then type. Gah. Is it 1986? And don’t even get me started on the trees…
My door creaks, and I swear I’m about to lose my mind. I need to leave in five minutes if I want to get to the photography studio on time, and I really wanted to check in with Daryl before I left. “Look, Steve, I was trying to be kind, but I just have to say this: a sentence needs a verb. It just does, okay?”
“Totally fine with me.” A deep, clear voice, that is definitely not Steve’s, emanates from my doorway. I straighten and turn around, knowing I’ll find Ev Madigan there.
What the hell is he doing here? He must’ve gotten my number from Elaine because he texted me last night. And I clearly said I’d meet him there. “I thought we were meeting at the studio?”
“I figured we could carpool. Better for the environment and all that. Plus, my rental car is a Porsche 911 Turbo convertible, so…”
“Say no more. Give me a sec to finish getting this stuff together for Elaine.” Ugh. I really want to be annoyed at him, and he’s making it difficult. And a Porsche. Damn the sexy guy who knows my weakness for fast cars.
“No problem. Do you really work in an industry wherein you have to explain to a grown man what constitutes a sentence?”
I shoot him a dry look. “You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve had to explain to grown men.”
“Ouch.”
“Present company excluded.”
“Damn right.” He smiles with satisfaction, and I momentarily regret that brief reference to our night together. I should have left it alone, should have allowed it to continue to be the giant-ass elephant we studiously ignored.
“You ready?” Ev is behind me, scooping up my tote.
“I am fully capable of carrying that,” I say, with more snark than necessary.
“Absolutely. But if you’re schlepping this, how can you catch these?” He pitches the rental keys in my direction, and in a move that would make my t-ball coach proud, I nab them in my left hand.
“You’re letting me drive?” I don’t know what his game is, but I won’t turn down a shot behind the wheel of that Porsche.
“Hell yea. Now, come on, or we’ll be late.”
“You sure about that? This car can go from zero to sixty in 2.5 seconds.”
“But a traffic violation will take at least twenty minutes. Come on, Speed Racer.”
We arrive at Picturesque, the photo studio my sister wants to book for her wedding, and I am 100% sure that Molly is pissed at me. And I have zero clue as to why. I mean, I know she said she’d meet me here, but is it really a big deal to arrive together? I’ll admit we didn’t do a ton of talking back in December, but I definitely got the impression that she was a woman who liked her cars fast. Turns out, I was right. So, I figured she’d love a turn at the wheel of the Porsche I rented, and truthfully, I loved watching her handle said car. There’s something undeniably sexy about a woman who is confident and determined, and Molly is clearly that.
I made polite conversation on the drive, and she answered in kind. There’s no outward hostility, just an underlying current of irritation.
At first, I figured she was mad about the way things ended. And I’m fully willing to admit that I’m not up-to-date on morning-after etiquette. Is she mad that I didn’t leave my number? I was maybe two miles down the road and already I regretted not leaving her a way to contact me. Had she felt the same way?
But that makes no sense. She’d been adamant about our one-night-only arrangement. Before we even stepped foot into her apartment, she’d pressed her palm against my chest and told me not to get too comfy. She said I was lucky to have her for the night, and I should plan on enjoying every minute, because there was definitely an expiration date. Not gonna lie, I think I fell halfway in love with her at that moment. She knew exactly what she wanted, and what she didn’t, and that’s a hell of a turn-on.
So it’s implausible that she’s now pissed because I left the next morning. That was more than two months ago. Surely the wound isn’t still fresh? Besides, she’s the one who laid down the edict about our time together being temporary.
Does she have an issue with the fact that I’m Elaine’s brother? That, too, seems unlikely. I mean, yeah, I gave her my middle name instead of my first, but she did the same. And we’re not in high school, so I highly doubt that she takes umbrage at having had a fling with her best friend’s older brother. That’s a juvenile complaint and though I can’t claim to know all there is to know about Molly Randall, I am certain she wouldn’t be so petty. We spent less than 12 hours together, sure, but she was genuine and up front at every turn. Well, exce[t for fake-naming me. But since I did the same thing to her, I’m calling that even.
“You waiting for an engraved invitation? Or should I be chivalrous and open your door?” She smiles cheekily as she stands poised outside the car.
“That’s why I’m still sitting here.” I deadpan. “And you sure as hell better open that lobby door for me. That thing looks heavy.”
“I was planning to, seeing how weak you clearly are.” She rolls her eyes and pops open my door. I notice that she pockets the keys—she’s not giving them up anytime soon.
“So, I figure I’ll take the lead on this since I’m sure you’re heading out of town soon. I don’t mind being the contact person. Really, apart from the fact that I love driving that car, you don’t even need to be here. I’m fully capable of handling all of this on my own. It’s kind of my thing.”
Her words should appease me. Hell, that would certainly make my life easier. Yes, my sister complimented my good taste yesterday, but that only holds true if you equate good with expensive. Or if you’re talking about suits, booze, or cigars. As for wedding photographers? Or venues? Or invitations? Definitely not my areas of expertise.
But something in her tone bothers me. She’s trying to get rid of me like I’ve overstayed my welcome. Sure, I fit the bill for a spectacular fuck, but that’s all I’m good for in her eyes.
The hell with that. I’ve been in the finance business nearly twenty years. I can read people easily, and I adjust my attitude accordingly in order to get what I want. And, for whatever crazy reason, I want more time with Molly.
I don’t respond to her offer, and if she takes that as acquiescence, so be it.
We walk into the studio together, and she holds the door as promised. I bat my eyelashes in appreciation. What is it about this woman that makes me act like a flirtatious teenager?
The lobby boasts clean lines and sparse decorating, save for the giant photographs hanging on the walls. There’s a naked, chubby baby in a rustic bathtub, a set of twins on a see-saw, and a married couple shoving cake in each other’s faces. I know next to nothing about photography. Just like most people, I guess, I know what I like, what appeals to me, but I have no actual knowledge of angles or lighting or anything. It’s obvious that this photographer knows her stuff.
As if on cue, a tall brunette appears behind the desk. “Hi, I’m Lori. You’re Simon and Elaine, here for the 11 o’clock wedding consult?”
“Yes and no.” Molly smiles. “We are here for the wedding consult, but we’re not Simon and Elaine. Unfortunately, they had a medical issue and couldn’t make it. But, I’m Molly, the maid of honor, and this is Everett, the bride’s brother. I’d love to meet with you to get some information. I’ll run it over to them tonight, so they can take a look and see what it is you have to offer.”
Lori hesitates a moment, but this doesn’t slow Molly down one bit. “These pictures are absolutely gorgeous. And my best friend is so photogenic—I can’t wait to see what you’ve come up with, so I
can show her.”
Mollified in more ways than one, Lori smiles and leads us over to a spacious desk surrounded by deep bucket chairs. We all take a seat, and she begins to outline package details, explaining that everything she’s telling us will be included in a folder of information that we can take along, saving us the trouble of trying to write all these notes down or remember them. And thank God, because most of my attention is not focused on Lori, or her list, or the damn folder.
Molly sits next to me, her attention turned slightly to the right, toward the photographer. Exactly where it should be. My attention, however, is on Molly’s calf. The fitted leather of her boots cradles the sensuous curve of her leg. Her skirt rides up as she crosses her leg, affording me a delicious view of her thigh. I remember all too well what is hidden beneath those tights. I recall vividly how tightly those thick thighs squeezed my head like a vise as I—
“What do you think? Do you think Simon and Elaine plan on indoor or outdoor photos? Or maybe a combination of both? Many couples choose that these days, weather permitting, of course.” Lori’s question is directed at me, and I can tell she realizes this whole consult has basically been a conversation between Molly and her, and she’s aiming to correct that. If she excludes me, it’s possible I’ll give a bad report, I guess.
This presents me with the perfect opportunity. “Oh, I’m not really sure,” I hedge. “I guess it’s ultimately their decision, but if they wanted my input, I would definitely tell them to do both. Those pictures you have of the wedding party in that gazebo? They’re really stunning. And I guess I’m being selfish,” I shoot a heated look in Molly’s direction, before reaching out to caress her thigh. My hand spans her flesh, and I squeeze gently as I stroke. “But I’d love to have a shot of you in the sunshine, baby, just like that one.” I point to a pose in the gallery of photos that is spread before us. “It’d be perfect on my desk.”
Her momentary blink as my skin touched hers is the only outward sign that I caught her off guard. That’s just more confirmation that my girl likes to be in the driver’s seat. And as sexy as that is, she’ll soon learn who’s really in control.