Nancy managed to rearrange a couple of meetings with some of the bigger potential clients. Nicole was overjoyed. With the mood she had, she knew she could nail the presentations and scoop up a healthy bonus along the way.
She rummaged under her desk for her other bag. She checked inside to make sure her keys were in there. It was exactly how she’d left it. She didn’t have to worry about getting into her apartment that night.
Until her first meeting began, she had nothing to do. She thought about calling Amy, but her friend had worked late last night. She’d probably be coming in later to make up for it. But she wondered if Tiffany would be free. This might be her day off. Just in case, she dialed her friend’s cell phone, hoping she wasn’t out somewhere with Trent. Despite her teasing about the “married life” and how it left everyone else behind, she didn’t want to hog Tiffany all to herself. But after the second ring, Tiffany answered. Nicole put her on speakerphone to make it seem more like Tiffany was actually in the room.
“Hi Nicole,” Tiffany said. “It’s not like you to be calling so early. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. In fact, everything’s right in the world.”
“That sounds ominous,” Tiffany said with a laugh. “What’s his name?”
“Branson.”
“It figures. I had a hunch. So, give me all the info. How did you two meet?”
Nicole explained everything—how she’d met him in the apartment building and what living next door to him was like. She also had a chance to talk about his appearance, which she classified as ruggedly handsome. His surfing experience also came up.
“Used to.” Tiffany noticed the choice of words. “Has he lost his shape a bit?”
“Not that I can tell. He’s in great shape.”
“And you know this because…”
“Well, I have eyes, you know. That, and he had his arms over his head when he was holding my key.”
“Your key?”
“Yeah. He was holding my spare key over his head, and I was jumping up and down trying to get it, and the bathrobe I wore got in the way.”
“Hang on,” Tiffany said.
Nicole listened, and it sounded like Tiffany was moving from one room to another. Possibly crossing the living room to sit down. Then Tiffany’s voice came back, as strong as ever. “Start over about last night. How did it all start?” Tiffany asked.
“Last night I got to the apartment, and I left my work bag under my desk. So I went home with my travel bag. No keys.”
“Not a good start to things,” Tiffany said.
“No, it was perfect, because then I called my neighbor, Branson. He opened the outside door for me and then drew me a bath.”
Tiffany chuckled. “Like he’s your butler or something?”
“Oh stop. It was a sweet gesture. I was freezing cold. You know how chilly it was yesterday. It rained, and I was soaked. Then I ate dinner at his place. That’s all that happened.”
“You two must be getting close. He sounds like a smooth operator. All these baths and playing games…”
“All these? It’s just been the one bath. He’s always been a perfect gentleman.”
“Just be sure he treats you right, otherwise I’ll come over there and give him a piece of my mind. You know I will.”
Nicole laughed. “Yes, I do.”
“So, are you already falling for this surfy beefcake?”
“I don’t know about that, but I like him, and I hope he likes me back.”
“You don’t know if he does?”
“It’s…complicated. But I’ll be careful. I promise.”
Now that she looked at the events of last night from Tiffany’s point of view, Nicole could see that she didn’t have a lot to work with. She liked being with him, and he liked her—she was sure of it—but the whole thing might peter out to nothingness all the same. It’s not like he’s asked me to be his girlfriend. For all she knew, Branson could decide they were better as “just friends” and keep ignoring their chemistry forever. He might even try to find a real girlfriend, content to keep her in his life as his safe, fallback friend when things went wrong.
Nancy popped her head into the office. Nicole’s first meeting had already arrived, and they were heading to the conference room. Nicole grabbed her USB drive, telling Tiffany she had to go. Nicole’s short “coffee break” was over.
Nicole thanked everyone for coming and outlined what they were about to see in the presentation. There had been a leak from their competitors about how they were going to market a similar product, and she wanted to beat them to the market and steal their thunder. Her idea wasn’t the same, though. It was a better tactic with more of a snowball effect in terms of sales.
She explained that her company had finished all the mock-ups. If they were given the green light today, they could beat the other product.
She looked down the table when she was through. They were all watching the display screen, assessing the finished ad concept and how it would work with their product and overall brand. Nicole tried her best not to let her thoughts wander, but it was almost second nature at this point. She made sure she remembered where she’d put her key, not wanting to make the same mistake a third time. Although, losing my key has been working out pretty well for me lately.
Nicole noticed one woman raising her hand to speak. “Yes?” Nicole asked.
“Why the change of heart for the meeting? It seems like time is of the essence here.”
This was the one challenge they faced—the juggling of advertising accounts, when time mattered for all of them. “Twenty-four-hour bug. It must have been something I ate,” Nicole said. “That’s why, as soon as I was feeling better, I had my assistant call you. Thank you for your question, Ms.…”
“Branson,” the woman said.
Nicole blinked. What?
“Celine Branson.”
If that’s not a sign from the universe… Nicole cleared her throat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Celine. As well as meeting all of you. I’m glad you all could make it today.”
She had her thoughts full of one Branson. There wasn’t much room in there for two.
Chapter Ten
Nicole couldn’t remember the last time a day at work had gone so quickly. Even though she loved her job, some days were still a drag, especially since she’d moved to the sixth floor. She felt so good, she decided to walk home from work again, and she dawdled around the park for a while to soak up the late afternoon vibes. The sky had cleared, and there had been no rain since earlier that morning. Everything looked green and fresh, the dousing of water on all the grass and plants stirring up a bit more life.
It was like nature had a birthday and she was invited to the party. Nicole felt tremendous and wondered how life could get any better for her. She circled the pond and then made her way past all the beds of flowers, the last of the season. She stopped to look at a few, bending down until her nose nearly touched the petals. Her thumb brushed over one of them, and she was tempted to pick it, but that was against park rules. She released it and watched as the stem swayed back and forth.
She looked up at the sky. As glorious as the weather was, just then, she saw a hint of what could turn into another charcoal gray evening with yet another downpour. It seems she hadn’t learned her lesson after all.
As much as she’d love to stay, it was time for her to make her way home and get out of her work clothes. There was only so long one could walk around and forget the reality of life. She needed to get back to her own regular routine.
She walked toward the park gate and paused at the news stand, browsing through the magazines.
Anything I can read and curl up with this evening? It would be a nice, light read and would help keep her up on current trends—things she could use in her marketing strategies. Every little bit of information helped because it was a fast-changing world going at breakneck speed. She bought the magazine, then placed it in her bag and strolled the last two blocks to her a
partment building. She had the keys ready and had checked her bag at least five times to make sure she’d grabbed the right one. The door opened, and she saw Charlie standing at the mailboxes with his toolbox on the floor beside him.
“Helping more people?” she asked.
“Yeah. That’s my job. A couple on the top floor said their key snapped off in the lock. You know how bad they are. Finicky at times. I wish the owners would get them all changed.”
“You and me both,” she said. She placed the key in the mailbox lock and started the key-jiggling routine. “I hate it when you open your box and find you don’t have anything. You feel like you’ve been cheated somehow after all the work that goes into opening these things.”
“Hey, I’d ask the mailman to leave them with me, but there’s just too many.”
She smiled and told him to have a good night. There had been nothing in her box, but for once, she didn’t mind. Nothing could upset her today.
She walked up the flights of stairs to her apartment, listening to the echo of her shoes against the treads. Why the building didn’t have an elevator, she’d never know. It must be awful for movers who hoisted beds and couches up and down all that way. That wasn’t her experience, thankfully.
She froze as she looked at the foot of her apartment door. This is new.
A bouquet of red roses sat at her doorstep. Even though a number of people knew where she lived, she had no doubt who it was from.
Some days are just great, beginning to end.
She thought back to the flower she hadn’t picked. It was a good thing she’d left it alone now that she had a bunch of them. She scooped up the bundle, giving them a big whiff before she slid her key into the lock. She opened the door, rattling the key extra-loudly in the hopes that Branson would hear and casually open his door so they could continue where they’d left off.
No such luck. She placed the roses on the kitchen counter. “I’ll get out of these work clothes and put them in water,” she told herself.
She walked to the bathroom and slipped off her work clothes, running the shower so the hot water had time to get there. While she ran shampoo through her hair, her thoughts drifted to places with warmer water, maybe spending the time there with Branson. He could probably show her some great, remote places off the beaten path.
She blinked. This was getting out of hand. He hadn’t even made his own feelings clear, and yet she was going to that length. The roses were a clue, of course, but he hadn’t even admitted he’d left them. She couldn’t prove they were from him…at least, she didn’t think she could. Do friends send flowers?
She closed her eyes and pretended she stood underneath a waterfall. Letting fresh water continually wash over her was a dream, especially if it was cool and the air warm. One day she’d visit a place with the perfect kinds of waterfalls.
She stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel, placing a smaller one around her head. She walked in and sat on the edge of her bed and began drying her hair. She glanced at the clock. It was well after six. She’d been at the park longer than she’d thought. She needed to get started on dinner once she put her roses in water.
I’ll thank Branson next time I see him.
She checked her bruises. They were still pretty bright. She pulled on her trusty pineapple pajamas before heading to the kitchen, where she rummaged in the lower cupboard for a vase, finding two that could handle all the flowers if she split them up. She half-filled them with water and then turned her attention to the roses. She removed the tape and unwrapped the flowers from the cellophane. A string was tied around the stems, so she looked for her scissors, then cut the twine away. The bundle of rose stems expanded and fell across the counter, and she spotted a small envelope which must have been tucked inside. She hadn’t noticed it before.
Setting it aside, as badly as she wanted to read it, she trimmed all the stems and arranged them in the two vases. They fit just right. She put them next to each other in the center of the bay window. Perfect.
She walked back to the kitchen and threw all the remaining stem pieces into the trash. Then, finally, she picked up the small envelope. It was sealed, so she grabbed her scissors and carefully sliced along the adhesive. Inside was a cream-colored card. She slid it out. That side was blank, so she flipped it over. The letters were neatly written in what looked like fountain pen ink.
She read the message and then glanced up at her wall clock. It was ten minutes before seven, and then her eyes fell back to the note.
Dinner will be served at seven p.m. Don’t forget your key! -Branson
She dropped the card on the counter and ran to the bedroom. She flung her closet doors open and quickly slipped out of her pajamas while she looked through the hanging clothes.
What am I going to wear? I can’t wear comfy clothes every time.
Chapter Eleven
Nicole checked the clock. It was a new record for getting dressed for dinner. It was only next door, but a dinner date was a dinner date. At least what she counted as a date. After all their casual get-togethers, she wanted to finally make some effort this time. His flowers had definitely taken things up a notch.
Not long after, a pair of pink shorts and a white blouse with a cardigan did the trick. It was a summery outfit, but Branson put her in a summer-like mood—which went nicely with the spring in her step that took her right up to his door at two minutes before seven.
By that point, she’d gulped a few lungfuls of air and was light-headed, so she exhaled slowly. She regained her composure. Her fingers ran through her long hair, brushing it back off her face. Then she tapped on the door.
She waited a moment and guessed he was inside, being all casual and not wanting to appear overly-eager. Then the metallic click sounded in the door, and it opened slightly. He peered around the edge of the door.
“Yes?” His voice was muffled, and he used a deep tone, like a butler from an old, black-and-white TV show.
“Reservations for seven?”
“This way, ma’am,” he said, opening the door wider for her to enter.
She stepped inside and could instantly smell the food cooking. A box at the end of the kitchen counter gave her a clue.
“You cooked Italian?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am. I did.” He led her to the living room where a drink was already waiting for her. “I must say, you look beautiful,” he said in his normal voice. “Just like the sunset dipping below the horizon.”
She liked how poetic that sounded. “Thanks. You’re not too shabby, yourself.”
“I hope you’re hungry—but not too hungry, because it won’t be ready for another few minutes.”
She shrugged her shoulders, trying not to show just how impressed she was with his efforts. The roses were great but not necessary—save for her own doubting mind. But now, he was dazzling her with dinner, and the food smelled absolutely delicious.
“Before I forget,” she said, taking a sip of her white wine, which was perfectly chilled—she was so glad she’d read the invitational note before it was too late. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re lovely.”
“No problem. I just wanted to show my appreciation for the fun night last night. You were a good sport about it all.”
She was almost worried all over again, given how casual he sounded about it, but there was a look in his eyes that made her feel better. He might not make a big deal about things, but he cared. He liked her. She was sure of it.
“So, what’s the dinner?”
“Are you ready for something fancy?” he asked with a smile. “Spaghetti.”
“Hey, I love spaghetti. Nothing to sniff at. Are you putting something with it?”
“Meatballs. And breadsticks.”
“Well, there you go. That’s pretty great. That’s a lot more cooking than most guys I know.” Inside, she kicked herself for that. She didn’t want to make it seem like she dated around that much. But even the guy friends she had didn’t cook much, either. It jus
t wasn’t a thing in her circle. “It smells fabulous.”
“Trust me, it’ll taste even better,” he said. “And it isn’t the only thing I can cook.”
“A man of many hidden talents. And here I was thinking you only traded stocks.”
“Ah, that’s just a bonus, how all my early trips were funded. I’ve got some photo albums I’ll show you after dinner.”
“I’d like that.”
Learning about his past through pictures was a great way to continue getting to know each other. She was sure he didn’t show them to just anyone off the street. Maybe he’s finally decided he’s ready to move from casual to interested.
“It’s ready,” he called from the kitchen. He started bringing a number of dishes to the table, and she thought there was no way the two of them could eat all that food. She sat at the table and placed the napkin across her lap. He even has napkins. She waited for him to finish pouring the wine. Then he sat.
“These are huge. Did you make them yourself?”
“The meatballs? Honestly, no. I picked them up from the store. But I cooked them in the sauce myself.”
“Hey, that’s what counts in the end,” she said, cutting into a piece and taking a chunk off. “They’re delicious.”
“I told you, and I saw it in your eyes that you didn’t believe me.”
She leaned over to playfully tap his arm. She somehow missed, not looking where she was aiming, and somehow in the process her foot brushed against his leg. She froze, looking at him while trying to act like nothing had happened. But it had. Still, both of them smiled at each other and carried on with their meal.
I touched his leg.
She pulled her foot back and crossed her ankles underneath her chair. She decided not to try and tap him again. He’d more than deserved it, but it had led to a split second of uncertainty, and she wasn’t sure they were ready to go there yet. It was only a dinner date.
“So were all your trips designed with surfing in mind?” she asked.
“Pretty much. I was lucky because I was earning and saving well. My friends and I were pretty frugal. We traveled and stayed in the cheapest spots. Even if it didn’t have air conditioning or hot water, if it saved us more to put toward the next trip, that’s what we did. We got to experience so much more of the culture by finding these out-of-the-way places to stay.”
Cover Up Page 7