by Julie Cannon
“I’ll take the risk.”
“How about I pick you up in front of the building, say six?”
“Make it six thirty.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”
“Looking forward to it,” Nicole said just before Brady hung up.
She dropped into the chair by the window, her legs suddenly feeling weak. A small shaft of sun forced its way through the clouds that had filled the sky for the past few days, and Brady smiled.
*
“‘I can do dinner.’ Jesus, Nicole, what the hell were you thinking?”
The call had surprised her. She was in the middle of proofing a contract and didn’t even wait for Ann to answer. She just picked up. When she heard Brady’s voice on the speaker the papers she was holding fell out of her hand and scattered across her desk. The wedding had been less than a week ago, and it was good to hear Brady’s voice. She hadn’t expected to hear from her again.
She had meetings all week over lunch, so dinner was the only option if she wanted to see Brady. Actually, saying she just couldn’t make it was an option, and by suggesting dinner, obviously one she didn’t consider seriously. Her remark had come out spontaneously. Now what was she going to do?
Marshalls was a step above casual, and as she glanced at her clothes she sighed. They would have to do. She didn’t have time to go home and change. And if she did, that would make it more like a date than a business dinner. Which was it? What did Brady think it was? She refused to consider it anything other than the latter.
The rest of the day dragged by. Nicole had several meetings, but they didn’t hold her attention, and several times she had to ask someone to repeat what they’d just said. Buck looked at her questioningly. She was never anything but totally focused.
Finally it was time to go, and Nicole’s pulse raced when she looked out the window and saw Brady waiting at the curb. She was pacing back and forth in front of a car, fidgeting with her clothes. Was she nervous? Why would she be? Brady had appeared so calm and self-assured the two other times they’d been together. What would she have to be nervous about?
“Get real, Nicole. You’re the boss, for crying out loud. You sign her paycheck.” Yeah, that had to be it. It certainly couldn’t be because this was a date.
*
Brady was still pacing when Nicole exited the building but stopped and smiled when she saw her. Nicole’s throat suddenly became very dry.
“You’re early.” Brady looked at her clunky black watch.
“The boss told me to get out.” Brady didn’t need to know she hadn’t been able to concentrate and get any work done since her call earlier this morning.
“She sounds like a great boss.”
“She tries. Sometimes she has to be a hard-ass, but I know for a fact she hates doing that.”
“Is that so?” Brady held open the passenger door for her to get in.
“Yes, and I’m starving,” she said, sliding into the leather seat. She told herself to calm down as Brady hurried around the front of the car and slid into her own seat. What had gotten into her? She was simply having a meal with an employee. No big deal. Then why did it feel like it was?
She’d had more important dinners before. Just last week she’d eaten with the CEO of Shell Oil, and a few months ago the President of BP and the King of Rolfim, the largest oil producer in the Middle East. But those meetings didn’t make her heart pound, her palms sweat, her mouth dry, and her brain stop working.
They pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant fifteen minutes later. The conversation on the ride over was relaxed, even if she wasn’t. She kept waiting for Brady to bring up what had happened at the wedding. And what would she say if she did? Sorry, I got carried away by the romance of the entire event? I lost my mind when you took me in your arms? She’d think of something if the subject came up, but the more she thought about it the more she realized Brady was too polite to bring it up.
Nicole opened her door before Brady had a chance to get around and do it for her, if that was her intent. Nicole had to regain control, and the door was a small yet important step in that direction.
“Reservation for Stewart,” Brady said as they approached the hostess stand.
Nicole couldn’t miss the unmistakable reaction of the hostess, who obviously thought they were on a date. Was she the only one who didn’t? Did Brady?
Their table was in the far corner of the room, and Nicole felt eyes on them as they walked across the crowded dining room. Even though her scars were hidden underneath expensive, perfectly tailored clothes, she hadn’t yet gotten over the feeling that everyone was staring at her. She wondered if she ever would.
Brady held her chair as she sat, and Nicole cursed herself for not thinking about that. She put her napkin in her lap and noticed her hands were shaking. She made a mental note to keep them there unless she was holding something.
The waiter took their drink order and Nicole surveyed the menu. She settled on a petite filet, hoping she’d be able to swallow the tender meat because her mouth was so dry.
“I’m glad you could make it,” Brady said as the waiter returned with their drinks and took their order.
“I am too.”
“I have to admit I wasn’t sure if you were being polite or meant it when you said to call,” Brady said, just before she took a sip of her beer.
“No, I was serious. I don’t get out to the field as much as I’d like, and it’s a good way to keep in touch with what’s happening.” There, she thought. That established this as a business dinner.
“I don’t know half of what it takes to run a company like McMillan. Do you like working in a comfortable, clean office, away from the dirt, grime, and filth at a fire?”
Nicole took a rather large swallow of her drink to dislodge the sudden lump of longing in her throat. “Actually, I miss it,” she said honestly. “I loved being out there. The challenge, the camaraderie of the crew, the unbelievable sense of accomplishment when the well is capped. Talk about making a difference in the world.”
She stopped, shocked at what she’d just said and the conviction with which she’d said it. She hadn’t talked about how she felt to anyone. Everyone believed, like Brady, that she was happier out of harm’s way. That was the furthest thing from the truth. She was afraid to make eye contact with Brady for fear she’d see how desperately she did miss it. When she finally did look at her, Nicole saw Brady actually did understand.
“I’d be miserable sitting behind a desk. I know everyone has a job and hopefully they’re doing what they like. But I couldn’t do it.”
“And you love killing fires,” Nicole said. It was an observation more than a question.
“Yes, I do. At first I did it for the money, and I suppose that’s still a part of it. But I agree with what you said. There’s nothing like the rush of knocking it down and killing it.”
“Is that really why you got into the business? For the money?” Nicole heard herself asking.
“Yes. I didn’t have much as a kid, and I didn’t want to stay that way as an adult.”
“Do you have siblings?”
“Not that I know of.”
Nicole tried to hide her surprise.
“My parents were a bit out there,” Brady said, waving her hand in the air to help make her point.
“Out there like hippie or…” Nicole struggled to find the right set of words.
Brady blanched, apparently realizing she’d probably said too much. “Well, let’s just say I’m pretty sure you and I had very different childhoods.” Brady’s expression clearly said that was the end of that discussion. However, Nicole was curious. Her childhood had made her who she was now, and she was very interested in learning about the adult Brady. But she let it drop, for now.
“How about you?” Brady said, shifting the subject.
“Nope, only child, same as you. But I’m a little more confident that I am an only child.”
“How is your dad?” Brady asked.
DD McMillan was highly known in the industry, akin to Red Adair in the oil-fire suppression business.
“I heard he was ill,” Brady said carefully.
“Yes, Parkinson’s.” After several years Nicole still was uncomfortable saying the word. “He’s doing as well as expected. Thank you for asking. Every time I see him he insists on getting the rundown on what’s going on, the state of the business. You know, who’s who, where we are, what we’ve killed.”
“I can imagine.” Brady nodded. “He started the company. It’s his baby.”
“Yes. It was his baby, and as with any baby growing up, it’s hard to let go when it’s time.”
“Does he live nearby?”
“About fifteen minutes from me.”
“And your mother?”
“Same.” Nicole reflected back on her last conversation with her mother. It was like all the others lately. They stayed on safe topics such as the weather or current events. They never talked about the company or Nicole’s personal life. She didn’t approve of Nicole being a lesbian and still held out hope that she’d marry an oilman and give her half a dozen grandchildren. By mutual agreement neither of them spoke about it. Her father was the only thing they had in common, and even then they disagreed about his condition more often than not. Theresa thought he was doing fine whereas Nicole saw him deteriorate more each time she saw him.
“How’s the painting coming along?”
“Painting?” Nicole had no idea what Brady was talking about.
“Your house,” Brady replied, sipping her beer.
Nicole hoped her face didn’t betray her complete lack of understanding of what in the hell she was supposed to be painting.
“At Dig’s wedding you said you were painting your house.”
“Oh, that painting,” Nicole said, remembering the lie she’d come up with. “It’s still a work in progress.” She hoped her answer was vague enough so as not to draw any follow-up questions.
“So what else do you do in your spare time?”
“Spare time?” Nicole asked.
“Yeah, you know the time after work and before you go to bed?”
“Oh, that spare time,” Nicole responded, trying to give herself a few seconds. Was this going to be twenty questions and twenty lies? “I guess normal stuff. You know, make the coffee, pack my briefcase, take the dog out, set the alarm. You know, regular stuff.” Nicole rattled off her activities six out of seven nights of the week.
“Is that all you do?” Brady asked, then blushed. “I’m sorry. It’s really none of my business.”
Nicole shrugged. “That’s okay. I’m pretty much known as a workaholic. Work takes up the majority of my time. My father spent his life building a solid, reputable company, and it’s my responsibility to continue that and make it grow. Even after all this time I still have so much to learn and do, I don’t have much free time.” Nicole hoped her answer was acceptable.
“At the expense of your personal life?”
Brady had no way of knowing that she didn’t have much of a personal life. She had a few close friends who periodically would drag her out; she didn’t do much other than work.
“I don’t consider it at the expense of,” Nicole said, using Brady’s words. “I’m happy with my life.”
“That’s really all that matters, isn’t it? That you’re happy?”
“Yes, it is,” Nicole replied, stabbing a piece of her salad. “How about you?”
“Can’t complain. Got a great job, some money in the bank.”
Nicole looked at her and waved her fork at her to draw more information out. When Brady didn’t say more she said, “And…?”
“And that’s all.”
“Then let me ask you what you do in your spare time, between working and going to sleep?”
Brady looked at her with a peculiar expression. Nicole felt herself blush when she realized how that question could be interpreted, especially with a woman as dangerously attractive as Brady. “I mean, what do you do when you’re not working?”
Brady’s smile was sly, clearly telling Nicole she knew what she meant. “Read, do some yard stuff, visit friends, take care of my landlords. You know, normal stuff.”
Nicole was relieved that the topic had moved away from a very uncomfortable subject. “How do you take care of them? Are they ill?”
Brady took a sip of her beer. “No, Mr. and Mrs. C, Coughlin, are elderly and can’t get around very well. I rent an apartment over their garage. You know, nothing special—keep an eye on them, keep the yard trimmed, do some weeding. Right now I’m painting the exterior.”
“Painting?”
“Yeah, it probably hasn’t been done in over twenty years. It was starting to blister and peel in some places, and they couldn’t possibly do it themselves or even pay someone to paint it for them. So I’m doing it.”
Nicole looked at Brady’s hands, intending to envision how they held a paintbrush, but instead she wondered how they would feel holding her. She put the fork down before she dropped it and took a swallow of her tea.
“That’s awful nice of you.”
“Nice doesn’t really have anything to do with it. It needed to be done and I’m capable of doing it, so I just do.”
“Are you related to them?”
“Nope, not in the slightest. I’ve lived there four or five years, and I guess they’re like the grandparents I never had. Their children live in Maine and they’re just a sweet old couple. Somebody’s got to look out for them.”
The waiter brought their steaks and Nicole was amazed that she enjoyed every bite. They chatted about innocuous topics, and when coffee was served she realized she was quite relaxed and was enjoying herself immensely. Though she went out to dinner with friends, that was different. She hadn’t enjoyed the company of another woman in a long, long time.
Nicole was sipping her coffee when she glanced over Brady’s left shoulder and froze. Walking to a table was Gina, wearing a low-cut, very short red dress and followed by a stunningly beautiful blonde. Her dress was even shorter, and she was balanced confidently on come-fuck-me pumps.
Nicole’s heart lodged somewhere in her throat. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t move. It was as if time stopped and she was back there in their bedroom all those years ago.
She hadn’t seen Gina since she walked out on her. She had made it a point to not be home when Gina came to collect her things. Now here she was. Nicole had known she might eventually run into Gina but that it was improbable because she didn’t go out much, they didn’t frequent the same grocery stores, and they no longer had the same circle of friends.
The woman was obviously Gina’s date and showed more skin than not, and the places that did show were the places on Nicole’s body that were scarred. Gina had always been a bit superficial, and after Nicole had thrown her out she’d realized just how superficial she was. It should have been no surprise to see her sitting at a table with one of the most beautiful women Nicole had ever seen.
“Nicole?” She heard her name, but it sounded like it was coming through a thick fog. She heard it again, this time more clearly, her attention drawn away from Gina to Brady. Brady wore a look of concern on her face.
“Nicole, are you all right?”
Nicole’s mouth opened and closed a few times, like a fish gasping for air. But that was exactly what she felt like; she too was gasping for air. “I need to go,” she said quickly, and started looking around for their waiter. “Please take me back to the office.”
Brady saw the instantaneous change in Nicole. At the risk of being rude she looked over her shoulder at whatever had caught Nicole’s attention. She didn’t recognize anyone at any of the tables, but behind her sat two women, obviously lovers or would be soon, their heads bent in intimate conversation. She turned back around, and Nicole was again mesmerized by the women.
What in the hell is going on, she thought to herself. “Nicole?”
“I’m fine. Sorry. What were w
e talking about?”
Brady thought it odd that one moment she wanted to leave, and now it appeared she wanted to continue their conversation. She risked another look over her shoulder at the women, then back at Nicole. She was still as pale as she was when she first saw them. Nicole must know one of them.
Then it clicked. The rumor around the job was that the girlfriend had left her on her sickbed. At Dig’s wedding she had said that she had someone. Was one of those women her? It had to be. What else would cause such a reaction in Nicole?
That was it, she thought. The accident, the burns, the scars. Brady was instantly furious. What an ass. Nicole was a beautiful, charming woman. So her body wasn’t perfect. Whose was? Brady had scars, some from fire, but not as extensive as Nicole’s. Some from the craziness of youth. Most from the belt buckle wielded by her father.
Brady tamped down her anger and focused on Nicole instead. She stood and held out her hand. “Dance with me?”
“What?” Nicole replied, her coffee cup rattling on the saucer as she set it down.
“Dance with me?” Brady indicated the dance floor on the opposite side of the room. For some reason it was important to her that Nicole felt good about herself again. They’d been having a wonderful time. She’d been smiling and laughing and completely radiant. Now Nicole was a mere shell of who she’d been just minutes ago.
Nicole studied her hand as if deciding if she wanted to call attention to herself on the unoccupied dance floor. She glanced at the women then at Brady. Finally she squared her shoulders and took her hand.
As they walked to the dance floor Brady was glad she’d bought new clothes for the occasion. When she’d been in the store, however, she’d felt ridiculous. It wasn’t a date, but then again maybe it was. She wanted it to be and had finally settled on a pair of navy silk trousers and a royal-blue, long-sleeved, tailored silk blouse. She didn’t want to overdress because she knew Nicole would be coming from the office, but she also didn’t think her standard khakis were appropriate.
Brady stopped in the middle of the dance floor and pulled Nicole into her arms. She was stiff, almost wooden, and moved like she’d never danced in her life. Brady slid her arm around her, pulling her closer, their bodies intimately touching. Brady leaned closer and whispered into her ear, “She’s an idiot. I think you’re beautiful.”