The Only Thing

by Marie Harte

  Hope waited for her to return, needing to talk. But the sparkle in Noelle’s eyes demanded she ask about the big date instead. “So, last night?”

  “A win.” Noelle’s grin warmed. “Jean-Luc—I swear that’s his name—is my cooking instructor.”

  “Wait. I thought you met him in a language class.”

  “No. That was Pierre. Except his name is actually Paul. He just called himself Pierre to sound French.”

  “Ah, okay.”

  Noelle filled her in on the hot date. “Apparently French men do do it better in bed.” Noelle laughed. “He was amazing. Or as I learned in class last week, fantastique. Man. I don’t think I can go back to American men now.”

  “Wait. He’s not from the U.S.?” How long could this relationship last?

  Noelle went on a lengthy spiel about visas and work permits and Jean-Luc’s employment in the States, for some big company that planned to keep him as long as they could.

  At the end of her explanation, Hope pulled together the important parts. “So after just a week, you’re in love.”

  “A week and four days,” Noelle corrected, her tone lofty. She groaned. “I know. I feel stupid. Maybe it’s just his accent. Or the way he used his tongue.”

  Next to them an older woman gasped, gathered her things, and walked quickly away.

  Hope blushed and tried not to laugh. “Noelle, lower your voice.”

  “What? Oh. My bad.” In a lower voice, she said, “So what’s your deal? I know you’ve been down lately. I can see it, or I could see it. But you look a lot happier today. Is it the caffeine or something else?”

  “Well, remember that guy I told you about from my cousin’s wedding?”

  Noelle grinned. “Oh right. The hot guy who looks like Dwayne Johnson? Except hotter, which isn’t humanly possible? When do I get to meet this paragon? Because if he is the Rock, I can speak enough French for the both of us. He’ll be Monsieur Noelle Katz before you can say merci.”

  “Dream on.” Hope laughed. “But yes, I’m talking about J.T.” She glanced around, made sure no one was sitting too close, and continued. “Let’s call him Rocky, just in case anyone around here knows him.”

  “Oh, wow. Code names? This sounds serious. Tell me.”

  Hope explained the fake boyfriend plan she’d cooked up to get her mother off her back and J.T.’s willingness to play along. She also mentioned their many family connections, as well as their hot-and-heavy non-date on Friday.

  Noelle’s eyes grew huge. She leaned closer. “He was oh God good?”

  Hope nodded. “Totally. And you know I’m not one for casual anything. He and I, we weren’t going to go there. We have too much to lose if it goes wrong. He’s so hot it’s no surprise he’s a major player. I mean, everywhere we go, women are eyeing him up like dessert.”

  “So? Guys look at you like that all the time.”

  Hope frowned. “They do not.”

  “Oh? Look at your three o’clock.”

  She did and saw an old man playing cards with his grandson. “Where?”

  “Oh, sorry. My three o’clock. That’s your nine.” Noelle took a moment to confirm, then nodded.

  “You’re horrible with directions, you know that?”

  “Yeah, yeah. So look.”

  Hope sipped her coffee and took a subtle glance to her left, only to see a cute blond man smiling at her. He winked, then turned back to his tablet.

  She didn’t see a hat or a sweatshirt on the guy, so she crossed him off her list of secret-admirer suspects.

  “And the dude with the woman who sat down by the door. He’s been staring at you.”

  “He has not.”

  “I saw him watching you while I was waiting to get my food. Is he still?”

  Hope glanced over and saw the man talking to his girlfriend or wife. He looked over at Hope, saw her staring, and hurriedly looked back at his coffee companion. “Coincidence.”

  “My point is you’re pretty. You can hold your own with a player.”

  “But I don’t want to.”

  “It’s time.” Noelle sighed. “I was going to get a bunch of the girls together for a man-tervention, but now we won’t have to.”

  “Excuse me?” Hope put her cup down, focused on her wacky friend.

  “A man-tervention. It’s something you have for a friend who’s either dating too much, dating the wrong type, or not dating enough. You went a long time without, for you anyway. Most women can go half a year without dating, and it’s no biggie.”

  “Where do you get your statistics?” Noelle could always be counted on for a laugh.

  “But you’re used to being with someone. And let’s face it, you want a relationship.”

  “I—Crap. Yes, you’re right. I do want a relationship. I want love and all the great couple stuff that goes with it.” Hope sipped her coffee again, wanting the caffeine boost. “I finally faced facts. I’ve been kind of bummed out because I want true love, and I realized I’ve never come close. I came to that conclusion a week or so ago.”

  “You and every other single woman on the planet.” Noelle huffed. “Heck, Hope. The last guy I dated turned out to be the king of boring. And he had no intention of ever leaving Tacoma. What a waste of a year that was. But I was like you, thinking it was better to have a boyfriend than be alone. Then again, I’ve been alone most of my life. It’s hard to be tall and get guys.”

  “Whatever. You’re beautiful.”

  “To you. But then, you don’t want to do me. I don’t think. Do you?”

  Two guys at the next table swiveled heads toward them at the same time. The older one smiled at Noelle. The younger one raised a brow at Hope.

  Hope quickly looked back at her dopey friend and hissed, “Would you please use your indoor voice?”

  Noelle snickered. “Sorry…baby.” She laughed louder.

  Hope covered her face with her hands. “My face feels super hot. I’m blushing so hard I’m afraid I might spontaneously combust.”

  “Oh, come on. Let’s walk and talk.”

  They gathered their drinks and Noelle’s bag of meringues and left the coffee shop, heading for the Fremont Bridge. They crossed under a bright-blue sky, the sun shining high. Clouds moved along with the boats coming and going down the Fremont Cut as they passed from Lake Washington to Puget Sound.

  Once across the bridge, Hope and Noelle walked along the trail, skirting bikers and runners all in a rush to get fit.

  “Finally feels like summer.” Like Hope, Noelle had dressed in layers. The jacket she’d worn into the coffee shop was now belted around her waist. “So tell me more about this J.T. What does J.T. even stand for?”

  Hope shrugged. “No clue. But I do know he’s handsome, charming, and really sexy.” She paused, stymied. “I don’t know what to do about him. His sister is right. We shouldn’t date. It will end badly, and then the families will suffer for it.”

  “Dear God, the drama.” Noelle put the back of her hand against her forehead, and Hope laughed. “Get a grip, Hope. So you like the guy. Date him. Have fun. Live a little. Why make it so serious?”

  “Because that’s how I roll, Noelle. Unfortunately. I always go a little too far too fast with guys. Except most of them are real jerks. J.T. seems different. Maybe that’s the appeal.”

  “I say enjoy him. Reap the benefits, then go your separate ways later. At least keep him around to annoy your mom. That’s what you and he are supposed to be about, right?”

  “Right. Except I keep finding myself spending time with him, getting to know him, and it’s got nothing to do with my mom. It’s embarrassing. Like, I can’t help myself around him.”

  “Oh, that’s chemistry. I love when that happens. It’s so rare.”

  “Yes, chemistry. And you’re right. It is rare.”

  “Look, we bot
h know that just because the sex is great doesn’t mean the guy will be great. I mean, remember Vincent? He was so good in bed. And a total douche every time he used his mouth for anything other than pleasing me. I cried when he left. Not because I missed his stellar company, but because I missed his golden phallus of joy.”

  A jogger running by whipped his head toward Noelle, missed a large tree root, and stumbled. After nearly face-planting, he righted himself and hurried away.

  Hope bit her lip to keep from laughing.

  “Was it the golden phallus comment that got him, do you think?”

  Hope nodded.

  “Ah, well. I still miss it to this day. But Jean-Luc is magical in and out of the sack.”

  “So you’re going to marry him after knowing him for nine days. He’ll use you for a green card, end up being the worst serial killer France ever exported, and I’ll never know where he buried your body. But on the flip side, you’ll be famous and your picture will be on every documentary they make of him. Plus, as a bonus, you’ll be on Wikipedia when I click on his list of victims.”

  Noelle stopped in her tracks. “Wow. You just ran with that.”

  “Sorry. Saw a documentary on killers a few days ago.”

  “Riiigght.” Noelle gave her a searching side glance. “Now that we’ve given your imagination a run for its money, I say go out with J.T. Irritate Linda. Sleep with him a few times, get it out of your system, part as friends, the end. It’s only a big deal if you make it one.”

  * * *

  The words continued to linger as Hope’s Sunday evening drew to a close and Monday morning rolled around. She hadn’t heard from J.T. and kept telling herself she wanted it that way.

  Arriving at work at seven on the dot, she found another bouquet waiting by the door. A glance to her right and left showed no one about in the hallway, so she picked up the flowers and let herself in the office. This time, she locked the door behind her as she set up for the morning meetings Cam had scheduled. Only once she’d returned to her desk with a cup of coffee in hand did she turn to the new vase of flowers.

  After a careful search, she found nothing dangerous. Just a lovely bouquet of irises, roses, lilies, and some white filler and greenery she couldn’t name. The accompanying card said:

  You’re more than sweet and special. And honey-brown is my favorite color too.

  Hope frowned. That sounded like J.T., kind of. Except for the too at the end.

  She pulled out her phone, uncaring of the early hour, and called him.

  After three rings, he answered in a rough bark, “Yeah?”

  “J.T. Good morning.”

  “Oh, hey, Hope.” He sounded more relaxed. “It’s early, damn.” It was seven fifteen. “You okay?”

  “Yes, thanks. I’m at work.” She paused, studying the note. It had been typed, not handwritten. “Did you send me flowers?”

  “No. Why? Should I have?”

  “Well, this is the second bouquet I’ve received at the office. But the note on this one sounded like you.” A phone call to the florist after the first bouquet had been delivered had yielded little. The buyer had paid in cash, and no one there could remember who’d ordered what because they’d had a rush on orders at the time.

  “Read me the note.”

  She did and worried about what it might mean.

  “That’s freakin’ weird. A coincidence it mentions a favorite color, like we talked about at the bowling alley?”

  “There’s something else. Someone sent me a pastry when I was with Noelle at our favorite coffee shop yesterday. And it’s the kind I always order when she and I meet. I think someone’s been watching me. Boy, this is creepy.”

  “Are you okay? Is Cam there?”

  “Not yet. I usually get the office going. He should be here soon, though. The door’s locked. Don’t worry.”

  “Smart. Okay. Do me a favor. Just let me talk to you until he gets there, okay? For my own peace of mind.”

  “Sure.” A relief, because she hadn’t wanted to feel alone waiting for Cam to show up.

  “And make sure you tell your cousin about this. And your brothers.”

  “I will.” Well, she’d tell Cam. He’d be calm about what to do. She would not tell her brothers. Landon and Gavin would launch into warrior mode, strategizing about how to deal with the enemy as if still in the Marine Corps. She could just imagine discussions on avenues of attack, mounting a defense, and ways to go on the offensive.

  No, she’d be smarter to let the McCauleys help her on this one.

  “And since you never called me yesterday like you were supposed to, we can talk tonight when I pick you up and take you to my place. That way you can give your mom details about my pad, and it’ll all be true.”

  “Wait. I was supposed to call you?”

  “Sure. You’re the one pursuing me, aren’t you?”

  She frowned. “How’s that? We’re in a fake dating relationship, J.T. Hello?”

  “Exactly. But since this show is for your mother, and you’re taking charge, I thought, from a psychological standpoint, that you should run with that.”

  “What?”

  “You know, taking charge. Being the man, the wo-man. That way you’re not breaking your dating rules. That no-guy thing you’ve got going on. I mean, we’re fake dating, right?”

  “Right.” Was it really? She was so confused.

  “And if you take charge and keep making it all about you, then you’re not letting some guy boss you around, making it like your past relationships. You’re the one bossing me around. Make sense?”

  “Kind of…not really. So I don’t—”

  “Exactly. You don’t concede anything. You’re still an independent woman. I’m just a dude helping you out of a jam with your mom.”

  Who went down on me and kissed me like it meant something. “Okay,” she said slowly, trying to think. “So what are you getting out of this pseudo-relationship?”

  “I’m hoping you’ll want to use and abuse me some more. Like, maybe you need more orgasms or something. But we’re not dating, and you’re not into casual hookups, am I right?”

  “Right.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’m so confused.” The doorknob rattled. Her pulse rocketed. “Someone’s here.”

  “See who it is,” he said, his voice clear, precise. “But don’t open up yet.”

  The frosted door outlined what looked like Cam’s frame.

  Someone knocked. “Hope? Are you in there?”

  “It’s Cam.” She let out a nervous breath. “Thanks, J.T. I have to go. But we’re going to talk about this later.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll swing by your office at five thirty. Now tell your boss about the flowers.” He hung up before she could discuss him taking charge.

  She scowled as she opened the door.

  “What’s going on?” Cam immediately asked. “Why was the door locked?” His gaze zoomed in on the flowers on her desk. “Again?”

  She nodded, explained why she felt uneasy about the gift, and waited for his response.

  He studied the card, turned it over, then tucked it into his pocket. “I’ll make a call or two. But do me a favor. Stick close to the office today, and if you leave, make sure I’m with you when you walk to your car.”

  “Okay.” She felt worlds better not to be the only one thinking the situation bizarre and a bit worrisome. “J.T.’s going to meet me here after work, though.”

  “J.T.?” Cam cocked his head. “As in, J.T. Webster? Del’s brother?”

  She blushed at his look. “Yes, but it’s not like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “You’re giving me that big brother look of disapproval.”

  “Well, although I’m not your brother, technically, I am older than you by one year, so you have to do w
hatever I say, and not just because I’m your boss.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  He nodded. “I’ll just admit, it’s nice not to be the baby of the family anymore. With you around, I’m not the youngest.” His wide grin should have annoyed her but didn’t. “And I don’t disapprove, though I’m not sure what we’re talking about.”

  So Hope found herself confessing her scheme to annoy her mother a second time in two days. But she left out all the sexy parts with J.T. that she’d shared with Noelle.

  “Good luck with Aunt Linda,” Cam said with a smile. “I always liked her.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re the only one successful enough to be an honorary Donnigan.” She couldn’t help noticing he beamed at that. “Now let’s get cracking. You have meetings all day, starting at eight with Brad Wheeler. After that you have the Lamberts, then Joe Gregory.”

  “No, Joe canceled. I have a new client penciled in, though. It’s a meet and greet, so don’t stress about information on him we don’t have. Just get me a new client folder, and I’ll fill it in as he and I talk.”

  “Sounds good. Now I’d better get through the emails piling up.” It felt good to focus on work.

  “Okay. What about those?” He gestured to the flowers.

  “I say let’s leave them where we left the others. On the table there by the guest chairs.”

  “Perfect. They do class up the office, you know.”

  “Yeah.” Too bad they were freaking her out.

  She and Cam settled in to work. When Brad Wheeler arrived twenty minutes later, Hope had almost forgotten about her earlier scare.

  Brad offered her a shy smile. “Hello, Hope. Good to see you.”

  “You too, Mr. Wheeler.”

  “Call me Brad.”

  She smiled. “He’s ready for you, Brad.”

  Brad noticed the flowers. “Oh, those are lovely. That reminds me to pick some up for my wife. Our anniversary is tomorrow.”

  “That’s sweet. She’s a lucky woman.”

  “I wish you’d tell her that,” he grumbled, then walked back with her to Cam’s office.

  He left forty-five minutes later with a wave, and she spent the rest of her morning busier than she could have hoped. She had no time to worry about admirers, J.T., or her mother.