by Shay Savage
Pull yourself together!
“No, not at all!” I smile. “I just can’t even imagine what that would be like!”
“Noisy,” Nate says, and we both laugh. “So how are you liking our little town here?”
I’m glad for the topic change.
“Well, it’s different,” I say. “I spent my whole life in one place, so it’s probably about time I see the world and all that.”
“Would you like to see the world?” His tone darkens somewhat, and I wonder what he’s thinking.
I clear my throat a little. With all the money his family must have, he’s probably been everywhere, and I’ve barely ever left the state of Maryland before a week ago.
“Maybe someday,” I finally reply. “I have some things to get done here first.”
“Such as finding your birth parents?”
“And finding that job I mentioned before I run out of funds.” She chuckles.
“Are you staying with friends here?”
“No.” Though it’s hard to look away from his eyes, I don’t want to admit that I don’t have any friends here.
“Where, then?”
I don’t look back at him. It could be the alcohol, but I feel like if I look back at him, I’ll find myself in his bed before the night is through, and I don’t want to do that. I can hear Aunt Ginny’s voice in the back of my head telling me that I shouldn’t give into a smooth-talking, rich boy.
“Nate,” I glance at him, but only briefly, “you’re being very kind and all, but we just met. I think if tonight has taught me anything, it’s taught me to be a little more cautious.”
“Afraid I might start stalking you?”
“Yes.” I reply far too bluntly and regret it immediately.
“Good call, I suppose.” He grins at me, and I’m glad he didn’t take offense. “I have to admit, it’s a little tempting.”
My head is starting to spin a little. I’ve had far too much to drink, and if I don’t leave now, I’m going to let him take me home.
“And on that note,” I say, “it’s probably about time for me to head home.”
I glance at the clock above the bar, shocked to find it’s a little after one thirty in the morning. Where did the time go?
“It is late,” Nate says. “Since I’m fairly certain you won’t let me drive you home, please let me get a cab for you.”
In my current condition, I’m not sure I could manage to use the Uber app, so I agree to let him call me a cab but not to take me home himself. He beckons Jude over to call for a ride.
“You should let me pay for at least some of these drinks,” I say as I pull out my wallet.
“Not a chance.” He leans over, tilts his head, and winks at me. “I own the club, remember? Drinks are on the house.”
I want to melt into those eyes.
I giggle like a schoolgirl and shake my head at him but put my wallet away. I have no idea how many drinks I’ve had at this point or what they would have cost me.
Nate pulls out his phone and reaches for one of the bar napkins and a pen. After he quickly scribbles down some numbers, he hands the napkin to me.
“The first number is mine because I’m hoping you’ll call sometime. Even if you don’t, still call the second number. Ask for Melissa and tell her I sent you. I know there are some openings, most of which don’t require specific experience.”
“Are you…Nate, what are you doing? Offering me a job?”
“Technically, you’ll have to interview, but if you want to move past the bullshit, yes.”
“I think it’s best I don’t,” I say but I can’t help smiling. “I think the drinks and cab are plenty for one night.”
I’ve already given in to the drinks and the cab. This is far too much, rich boy!
“I’m serious, Cherry.” He reaches over as if he’s going to touch my hand but stops short. Instead, he pushes the napkin a little closer. “I think you’d be perfect for it.”
“Perfect for what? Who the hell is Melissa?”
“Melissa is the office manager at the county parks building,” he says. “It’s nearly time to start data analysis on the maple trees for the spring collection of maple sap. With your current botany knowledge, it’s a good fit, and you’d have some experience when you apply to colleges.”
This is just too much.
“So, what? You…you own the park?”
“Of course not.” He shakes his head, laughing. “It’s a state-owned park. I just…I own the maple syrup processing plant.”
What is happening here? Is he serious? Is there nothing in this town he doesn’t own?
“I didn’t agree to have drinks with you in hopes of landing a job,” I say. I feel indignant, like this whole night has suddenly become about being a charity case. I had a bad date, and I appreciate him intervening, but I am not looking for a savior.
“It’s not like that,” he says insistently. “This isn’t any kind of quid pro quo. And I can’t guarantee you a job there, but I do think once you talk to Melissa, she’s going to hire you on the spot.”
“You’re very confident.”
“Usually.”
All of a sudden, I’m scared. I’m not even sure why, but I am. This is too much too fast, and I don’t understand why he would do such a thing for someone he doesn’t even know.
“Nate, I can’t do this.” I start to push the napkin back toward him, and this time he places his hand over mine.
“Yes, you can. I have a feeling you need work sooner rather than later, and this could start immediately if you call her Monday morning.”
If the Orso family is what they appear to be, Nate could be a powerful ally in finding a job and my birth records. For that reason alone, I should accept his offer, but it feels like something else, and I’m not sure what. I only know that it terrifies me.
I’m about to pull away when Nate leans close, hand still on top of mine, and whispers.
“Cherry, can I tell you a secret?”
“A secret?” A shiver runs down my spine.
“Yeah.”
“Okay…”
He leans over a bit more, mouth near my ear. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek and smell the cologne he’s wearing. It’s faint but intriguing.
“I also own a greenhouse,” he whispers, “but those plants grow indoors. Obviously not a good fit for you, but trees grow outside. I think you can handle it.”
As abruptly as it came on, the fear dissipates, and I laugh. I don’t know why I had felt so apprehensive. Clearly he’d listened to what I said about botany and plants and was just trying to find a good fit for me.
“All right, all right!” I smile at him and he looks relieved. “I’ll call.”
“Glorious.” He returns my smile.
I can see something else in his dark blue eyes, but I’m not sure what it is. All I know is that I’m very tempted to move closer to him and that I’d like to know what his lips taste like.
The alcohol hits me again—much harder this time—and I pull away.
“I need to go home.”
“Cab should be out front.” Nate stands and gestures toward the door with his arm. “May I walk you to the curb?”
“Certainly.” I give him a slight bow of my head. I don’t want to move too quickly for fear of being too dizzy to walk.
“This isn’t that big of a city,” Nate says as we walk outside. “Maybe I will run into you again soon.”
“Maybe.” I walk up to the cab, and Nate quickly steps ahead to open the door.
“Would that be all right with you?” he asks.
“I would at least say hello.” I try to give him a coy smile, but I have no idea if I’ve pulled it off or not.
“Good to know.” With his eyes locked on mine, Nate reaches down and takes my hand. He lifts it to his lips, pressing them lightly against my knuckles. “Good night, Cherice. I hope I will see you again soon.”
I sit in the cab, dazed. As it starts to move, the alcohol
really hits me, and I’m even more grateful that I don’t have to come up with money to pay the driver when he drops me off. I’m not sure I could count if my life depended on it.
Finding my keys in my purse is a bit of an issue. At first, I can’t get the keychain untangled from some of the other crap down at the bottom, and then I drop the keys on the floor but eventually manage to get into my apartment. I close the door behind me and lean my back against it, eyes closed and a big smile on my face.
What had started out as a perfectly horrendous evening had turned into something quite…nice. Yeah. Nice. I look down at the back of my hand where he had kissed it. It was nice. No, more than nice. It was good. Really, really good.
“What’s better than good?” I blink a few times, and my vision swims a bit.
My skin tingles when I think about Nate, leaning his elbow on the bar and looking into my eyes. His dark, slightly wavy hair, stubble, clear blue eyes, and a crooked grin completely captivated me. I had to fight with myself just to look away from him, and as soon as I did, I wanted to look back. My heart is still beating a little too fast, and my hands are sweaty. The couch and walls are moving around a bit, and I laugh for no apparent reason.
I’m clearly still drunk.
I drop my purse and keys on the floor just inside the door and stagger toward the kitchen. Grumbling something unintelligible—even to myself—about high heeled shoes, I kick the bastards off my feet, sending them careening across the floor and under the kitchen table.
“Vee, you aren’t going to believe this shit.” I head over to the refrigerator, head still spinning, and get myself a glass of water. “Date one was a total fail, but then…well, then I met someone else. Can you believe that?”
Vee does not respond.
“His name is Nate, and we had conversation—actual conversation! And he gave me a lead on a job. Like, a real job, not just part time. At least, I think it’s real and full time. Shit! He didn’t actually say. He owns the club and the maple syrup place. Did you hear me? He owns the fucking club, and he gave me a job lead working with the maple trees! He’s part of that family in the newspaper articles.”
I drop my ass onto a chair, grab my laptop, and immediately start digging through my search history. It’s late, and I should be drinking my water, eating some carbs, and passing out in bed, but my mind is racing.
“Here he is! Nataniele Orso—oh, Nataniele sounds sooooo sexy—son of Rosa and Carlo. I’m pretty sure this is him cutting the ribbon on Big O’s opening day. Why are the pictures so damn grainy? Nora Orso and Micha Orso must be his sister and brother. Or maybe they’re married to each other. He said he had a big family. If the pictures didn’t suck so bad, I might be able to tell if they all look alike.”
I keep looking, but I don’t find much more than the constant mentions of the Orso family’s contributions to Cascade Falls, or more specifically, to the east side of Cascade Falls. What I can’t find is anything that actually says what sort of business the family is into.
“This town is weird.” I shake my head and try to focus on the webpage, but my eyes simply aren’t working that well, and my typos are plentiful, so I give up and back away from the laptop.
“I’m borderline crazy, aren’t I?” Vee just sits there, offering no confirmation, denial, or advice. “I need to relax. Yeah, he was really nice and all, and he said he wanted to see me again, but maybe he was just being nice because he didn’t want the club blamed for that asshole Aaron. It hardly means I need to spend the remainder of the night, or early morning that is, cyber stalking him, even if it is fun.”
I laugh aloud and then quickly cover my mouth.
Even though actual information is sparse, one thing is absolutely clear—the Orso family has money. Capital M-O-N-E-Y, money. Where there is money, there is power and influence.
“There is usually a significant amount of drama, too, bitch.” I glance up at Vee, but she doesn’t seem offended by my language. “Maybe he can help me. Do you think he could, Vee? Do you think he has enough influence to get me the information I came here for, or am I barking up the wrong tree?” I think about what I said and then laugh aloud once more. “Wrong tree! Get it? He said I could get a job working with trees!”
Yeah, I’m definitely still drunk. How many martinis did I have?
I finish my glass of water and then pour another one.
He was so sweet to me. The way he spoke—all polite and rather old-fashioned as if he were courting me—was hot as hell. He asked me questions and then actually listened to the answers. He asked questions about the answers. We bantered. I love banter! He must have felt what I was feeling, right?
No, not necessarily.
He was just a nice bar owner taking care of a patron who had a bad evening. It was PR, that’s all. I’ve read too much into it, and getting my hopes up is not getting me anywhere.
“He gave me his phone number.”
Okay, that’s not just a casual thing, is it? He said he wanted me to call him. Do I want to do that?
“Yes. Yes I do.”
Is it too late to call? I check the phone for the time, and it’s nearly two o’clock. Yes, it’s too late to call, but what about a text? He might still be awake, especially if he had to stay until the club closed or something.
“But he owns it. He clearly wasn’t working there.”
Unless all of it was bullshit. How do I even know for sure?
“No, it was real. I’m sure he wasn’t lying. Everyone there certainly treated him like he was the owner.”
All right, a text then.
I place the napkin on the table beside my phone, gently flatten it out, and stare at the number on top. I enter his name and the number into my contacts and then open the messenger app on the phone. Now to come up with something to say without sounding like a complete idiot.
You are so fucking hot and I wish I had let you drive me home.
Delete.
I want to lick your stubble.
God, no. Delete.
I had a fabulous time tonight! You saved me from the douchebag, and I’m forever in your debt!
“That is waaaay too over the top.”
Delete.
Maybe I should not be doing this when I’m drunk.
“Keep it simple,” I mumble to myself.
It was really nice meeting you tonight. Thanks again for the drinks and the cab! -Cherry
“There! That’s it!” I let my finger hover over the send button for a good two minutes before I finally hit it. Before I can even blink, I can see he’s typing a response. I hold my breath until the message appears.
Nate O: It was my pleasure, Cherry.
“Nate-O.” I giggle.
I’m disappointed there isn’t more but then remind myself that he may very well be in bed and half asleep. I’m lucky to have heard back from him at all. I should wait and maybe send him another message tomorrow. Maybe even wait until Monday. If I wait, I won’t sound so eager.
I lick my lips and start to close out the phone when I see him typing another message. Again, I hold my breath.
I can see the little ellipses icon at the bottom of the text window, indicating typing, but then he stops with no message sent. I see the typing again but still no message. The third time, I have to take a breath, and finally a message comes through, and it’s a long one.
Nate O: I want to say a lot more, but I think the bourbon has me at a disadvantage. I don’t want to say anything offensive or, heaven forbid, become the victim of a horrible autocorrect accident, causing you to never speak to me again. I really enjoyed our time tonight, and I hope to see you again soon. Goodnight, Cherry.
Now I’m breathing and breathing heavily.
Why are those words so fucking hot? Why? There is nothing sexual in his words, but it still feels implied, and I don’t know what to make of it.
“Stubble.” I giggle again and then quickly cover my mouth with my hand. “Stop giggling!”
He said absolutely nothi
ng that warrants the level of excitement I have, and I need to get a grip. He was being polite, that’s all, and I’m acting like a lovestruck teenager.
“You’re drunk and making way too much of this,” I say aloud. “Get your ass to bed.”
I type out one final message before putting the phone away.
Goodnight, Nate.
I pour the rest of my water into Vee’s pot and stumble to the bedroom. I crawl under the blankets, my mind still racing, convinced I’ll never fall asleep. I grab the phone and re-read the text a few more times, imagining his dark eyes, square jaw, and totally caressable stubble.
“That is not a word,” I mumble. “You’re being ridiculous. Stop it.”
I place the phone on the nightstand and roll away from it. The alcohol takes its toll, and I fall into a dreamless sleep.
In the morning, my head is pounding. Clearly, I did not drink enough water before I went to bed, and no number of pills is going to make up for it. It’s also Sunday, and I have no plans or chores I have to do. I was going to prepare for job hunting, but since I already have a lead, that seems rather pointless.
I moan as I roll out of bed and get myself more water and something for the headache. My laptop is sitting on the table, still open from last night. I log in, trying to remember why I had it out in the first place, and find an article displayed on the screen about the Orso family’s contribution to the Eastside Boys and Girls Club.
I have a vague recollection of myself hovering over my phone, typing out something about licking stubble, and my stomach suddenly feels like it’s dancing at a late-night rave.
“Ah, shit!” I smack myself on the forehead. “I was drunk texting!”
I race to my phone, terrified of what I might have written, but it seems I did not make a fool out of myself. I read over Nate’s texts a couple of times and then breathe a long sigh.
“I am making way too much of this. I know I am.” I set the phone on the table between my laptop and Vee, sighing again. “This is how I reacted when Justin and I first started dating—all worked up over every little word he lobbed in my direction. In other words, acting like a total idiot.”
Justin had been my one and only serious boyfriend in high school. He played trumpet in the marching band, and I thought he looked so cool in his uniform. He was sweet and caring and very open about his feelings. He was particular open about them when he came out as gay on our prom night, approximately an hour after losing our mutual virginities to one another and thus ending the relationship.