by Kristi Rose
Now I leave it in hands more omnipotent than mine.
Okay, after a few well-placed nibbles, then I’ll leave it be.
I shift so I’m closer to Stacy. “Did I tell you Pippa’s fluent in three languages?”
“Really?” He faces me and crosses one leg so his ankle rests on his knee. “How’ve you been? Things working out okay at the shop? You seem pretty busy; I’m glad you’re relaxing tonight.” He lays his arm across the top of the bench seat, his finger brushing my shoulder.
“Oh, you know me. Career woman first and all that. Everything is as good as I can get it for the moment.” I smile as large as I can. No, this isn’t awkward. Yes, I still can smell you sometimes, late at night, when I’ve got only memories to hold me tight. But no, sadly, I don’t think we are suited for more than what we’ve had.
“I admire someone who goes after their goals.” He plays with the cuff of my sleeve.
“Pippa’s the same. I know she seems flighty but she’s actually built up quite a clientele worldwide.”
“I hope she doesn’t find us too pedestrian.” He winks.
Drat, not the message I was intending to send. I go for broke.
“She personally owns a Kama Sutra book.” I wag my brows.
He sits back. Startled perhaps? “I hope she doesn’t share it with Cordie.”
“Of course not. I was just saying—”
“What are you saying?” Paisley asks.
Realizing she was listening, I jump to my feet. “If you’ll excuse me. I. Er...I need to wash my hands. Chocolate.” I hold my hands out to the group before I drop them to smooth and straighten my sundress.
“Which you just wiped on your dress,” Josie says, her gaze narrowing.
“The meat’s burning,” I say and point to the grill. Then I scurry off while everyone has shifted their focus onto the empty grill.
I hide in the loo and try to gather my wits.
I’m coming out and have no sooner opened the door when I’m pushed back into the small space, the door slamming shut behind Paisley.
“What are you up to?” She crosses her arms.
“Not a thing. What are you accusing me of? Because I washed my hands,” I say and smirk.
“You know what I’m talking about. I’m talking about Pippa and Stacy and this...whatever it is you’re doing.”
“I’m letting nature run its course, bringing two people together who likely should be together.” I smile serenely.
“Pfft.” She coordinates her words with an eye roll.
“Honestly.” I cross my fingers behind my back.
“Because you don’t want him?” She levels me with a stare.
“I don’t want him the way he wants to be wanted.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Without a doubt,” I say with more determination than I knew I had.
“I repeat: I don’t believe you.” She narrows her gaze.
“No? Oh, all right.” I sigh and settle back against the sink counter. “I’ve decided it’s in my best interest to set Stacy up. As I—”
“What? Why? You’re crazy. I never thought it would be you who’d be the craziest of us...but it is,” she mumbles and leans against the door.
“I’m not crazy. I’m removing temptation. He’s like chocolate and as long as I’m able, I’ll snack on him. If he’s unavailable, then—”
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Her incredulous expression gives me pause. But it’s selfish to want Stacy and it’s obvious he doesn’t do fly by night (he was recently engaged for Pete’s sake) so I steel my resolve.
“Positive.”
See Jayne be a good person.
“What if they get married and have tons of babies, because I can see Pippa doing that. And you have to spend the holidays looking at them and their cute children. You know they’d make cute babies, watching them canoodle—”
“Canoodle?”
“And be all...sexual with each other. What would Pippa’s version of timeout look like? Would she make them all get into child’s pose? Oh, of course Pip’s the type to have stick figures on her minivan, because she’d need one for her litter of kids, and she’d have those figures all in some sort of yoga pose. That’s kinda cute actually. You’re sure you’re up for that?”
“I am absolutely one-hundred-percent positive I want to do this.”
She presses her lips together and cocks her head to the side, much like a dog who’s heard something intriguing, or obnoxious. Could go either way.
Briefly, I press my palm to my temple, hoping to push back a tension headache. “Look at you and Hank. I don’t want to go through what you’re going through. If I mess around with him, I could muck up a lot.”
She blinks several times before answering. “Okay.” She pushes off the door. “I’ll help you.”
“Oh, there’s no need—”
“It’s a really good idea actually. You’re right. When I look at the big picture you two aren’t...suited for long term.”
“It’s not that we aren’t suited; it’s that we have different life goals,” I murmur. “He was engaged, you know. Before moving here.”
“Really, how do you know this?” Her eyes narrow in doubt.
“Cordie told me. What more do you need to know that he and I just don’t make sense long term?”
She nods once. “I get it now. Hank comes home in two days and if I can’t make him see how much I love him—” Her voice breaks. “Then I, too, will lose a lot. I get it.”
“So you have a plan?”
“Yeah, of sorts. I’ll let you know.” She bites her stubby thumbnail.
“Best of luck.” I want to hug her but I’m afraid if I touch her she’ll burst into tears.
Suddenly she claps her hands. “Your idea is smart. Oh, I’ve got three friends we can set him up with.”
“Because they’re better suited for him than me?” I cross my arms.
She dismisses my words by waving her hand. “It’s really you and Cordie that aren’t suited. Remember that time you watched Tyler for an hour?” Her raised brow is the sort of condemnation I find quite irritating.
“How am I to know that grapes are supposed to be quartered? Where were those instructions?”
“Good thing Heather came home when she did. He could have choked.”
“But he didn’t,” I point out for the one-millionth time.
“Because you got lucky.”
I throw up my hands in disgust. “How was I to know?”
“Everyone knows that.”
I narrow my gaze, winging my brows inward. “Well, I guess not everyone. I can’t believe we’re still having this conversation. That was what? A year ago?” I’d leave but she’s still blocking my way.
She pulls out her phone and begins to scroll through her contacts. “I’m going to reach out to my friend Evie. Just in case this doesn’t work out with Pippa and Stacy.”
“You don’t have to do that.” I should have kept my fool mouth closed.
“You want him to be happy, right? So much you spoon-feed him your cousin.”
“If they’re happy, then I’m happy.”
There goes her brow again, reaching up into her hairline. “You do whatever it takes to believe that. When you need another setup, let me know. I’ve got the perfect person and with her you won’t have to see them on the holidays,” she says, fingers flying over the keypad as she constructs a text message.
“Move,” I say and push her out of my way. Let the Stacy diet begin.
Chapter 14
After parking in my garage, I gather up my laptop, a notebook, and accordion file stuffed with receipts. I yawn three times, and while using my phone’s flashlight I search in all the car’s crevices for my mobile. Until it dawns on me that it’s in my hand, the key instrument in the search. I rest my head on the steering wheel and contemplate sleep. Instead, I force myself from my car, entering my
home through the laundry room where I’m greeted by whistling.
Pippa.
It’s not that I don’t want to be home. I absolutely do.
Pippa’s loading dishes into the sink as I come into the kitchen. Likely because she thinks they’ll magically wash themselves. She thinks this happens at my parents’ pub as well. Even though she’s met Cam, the dishwasher, a million times. The tune she’s whistling is something upbeat and should be smile inspiring.
But not for me. That’s how low I am.
“Things good, Pip?” I sling my handbag and messenger bag onto a dining chair and head straight for the fridge and the wine.
“Aye-ya, grand. I’m off to the pub in a few.” She’s drying her hands on a tea towel.
Ugh. The pub. Another topic of failure for me.
“How are Mum and Dad doing? Are they swamped?” I pour a large glass. It’s only been two days since I’ve been in, but it seems like weeks, with the bank visits, appointments with personal clients, and my own shop to keep afloat now that Shara’s gone.
“No, it’s good. We’re managing it.”
“Have there been any delays with deliveries or any problems like that?” I haven’t shared my fears with Pippa because I don’t want to cause an issue where one may not be.
“Nope. Everything’s like usual.” She narrows her eyes. “Should I be looking for those things?”
I shake my head. “You’re a godsend, Pip. Your timing’s spot on.” I raise my glass in toast of my cousin, who manages to do it all with grace and aplomb. And teal green streaks throughout her hair.
“Nice.” I point at her head with my index finger, still cupping my glass.
“Cordie and I did it today after school. Teal looks better on her.” She fluffs her hair and smiles.
“All’s well there, I suppose.” I want to pry, but, not fully having the energy to keep up my end of the conversation much less hear any intimate details about Stacy, I walk away before she answers. That would be too weird, right?
“Aces.” She gives me two thumbs up. A horn blares outside and Pip jumps.
“That’s me. I’m off to earn money under the table.” She smirks before kissing my cheek and bounds out of the house like an excited puppy.
I lean against the counter and stare at the assortments of takeaway menus stacked next to my fridge while I sip the wine. Which will it be tonight?
Oddly, none sound good. I push away from the counter and fling open the fridge door; inside is cheese and a small opened can of tuna, Pippa’s staple.
Stacking them first, I take them from the fridge, kick the door closed, and make my way out the front door where I whistle for that difficult-and-should-be-grateful cat. Setting my wine glass on the pavement, I take his little plastic bowl from under the shrub and dump Pippa’s tuna in it. I lay the cheese across the top.
After placing it back in its spot, I call again. And that’s how Stacy and Cordie find me, in my bare feet, wine glass in hand, skirt wrinkled, calling for a cat they both know I don’t own.
Stacy gives me one of those open-handed waves, heavy with hesitation, as he slowly lifts it in the air while following his daughter from their house. He pauses next to his SUV.
“You have a cat?” Cordie asks.
“Not really per se. There’s a rogue little bast...er, rascal of a cat wandering around and sometimes I feed him.”
“He could be rabid.” Stacy moves to stand next to Cordie. Teal streaks color her hair.
“I like this,” I say, pointing to her head.
“Yeah, me too.” She looks over her shoulder. “Dad not so much. Pippa says you used to do each other’s hair all the time growing up.”
“More like I did her hair. Back then it was down to her bum and she needed it put up. Ask her tomorrow about the time she singed the ends.”
With a flash of multi-colored gray and dark fur, he-who-doesn’t-answer-to-a-name streaks across the car park and dives under the shrub to his bowl.
I gesture with great flair to the proof that I’m not mad.
“Cool,” says Cordie.
“You should be careful with it,” Stacy tells me, nodding his chin in the direction of the cat.
“You’re not kidding,” I say before taking a swig of my wine and glancing at the scar across my knuckle.
“We’re going to get something to eat,” Cordie says. “Wanna come with?”
“Did Pippa not make dinner?” I only ask because she smelled distinctly of curry and it’s not like her to leave them hungry.
Stacy steps away from Cordie, his hand turning a key over repeatedly. “Pippa’s great. She really is. But Cords and I are more French fries and burger people.”
“And Pippa’s making things with kale and quinoa?” That explains the curry smell.
“Yeah.” He grimaces.
“Are they any good?” I should, at the very least, defend my cousin.
“We only tried the first one.” He shakes his head. “Listen, it’s hard to get my kid to eat peas, much less ones with curry on them.”
“I see.” Sorta. Just make her eat them, I want to say. Besides, who doesn’t love a pea? I enjoy them on my pizzas.
“Can you talk to her?” he asks with droopy puppy dog eyes.
“Please,” Cordie says from behind him.
“You want me to tell my vegan cousin to make you burgers and fries?” I shake my head. “She doesn’t even touch meat when she’s at the pub. No, we’ll have to find a different solution.” I feel guilty that I pitched Pippa’s cooking skills to him. I never considered he’d prefer fried foods to healthy alternatives.
“Find it quick. We’re starving over there.”
“I can’t eat any more pizza.” Cordie makes like she’s gagging.
“Even though I tossed the boxes in the dumpster outside, she knew. Said she could smell it.” He briefly looks toward his house and lowers his voice. “It’s like she has a camera or something.”
To that I laugh. “Not likely, Pippa can barely work a smartphone. No, her sense of smell can rival the best sommelier, and she has a cousin who has a similar palate as you both so she knows the tricks.”
“Where is Pippa?” This time he looks toward my house. Is he longing to see her? Was I spot-on with setting them up?
“She went to help out at the pub.” I look away, not wanting to see his reaction, to see if he’s thinking of her and his face showing the same desire he showed me the night of Josie’s wedding. “So you are safe to sneak away for food.”
“Have you had anything to eat?” he asks.
“Only this.” I hold up my wine glass.
“You’re welcome to join us. If you don’t have other plans. It would give me a chance to clear up some questions I have about your books.”
“Oh?” I step toward him.
“I’ve been meaning to text. Haven’t had a chance.” His look expresses nothing. Maybe a wee bit of neighborly friendship. There’s no longing etched on his brow. No fidgeting to touch me. The contrast from our night together is staggering. Each kiss was delivered with a hunger matched only to what I was feeling and each time he pulled away it was as if he couldn’t bear us to be apart. As if he poured every bit of himself into our night.
He snaps me from my thoughts. “It’s nothing, but as I look at the numbers, I could get a better sense of how you want to present them if I knew what the endgame was.”
“That makes sense.” I’m still in a haze from the memories.
“So?” He nods to the car; Cordie is already climbing into the back.
“Right. Sure thing. Sounds good.” I start to walk toward him when I realize I’m still holding my wine glass. I stop and turn back to my place. “Let me put this inside and grab my handbag.”
“Don’t forget shoes,” he calls after me.
I was about to go off with him barefoot and toting stemware.
“Of course,” I say over my shoulder.
Cordie agrees to try Indian food. I had nothing to do with the suggestion but am pleased with the selection, and I direct Stacy to my favorite place.
Inside I wave to Amit, who returns my greeting with a chin jut.
“Another visit and it’s not even Thursday.”
“I’m with people,” I say, kinda hoping he gets the wrong impression about Stacy and I.
“Eat in or take out?” Amit asks and smiles at Cordie.
“Table for three.” Stacy steps back to allow Cordie and I to precede him, his hand coming to rest on the small of my back. The reaction to his touch, the warmth spreading across my lower back, the instant tingle in my girly bits, and maybe the half glass of wine combined makes me jump and spin to face him. A giggle my other response. Which, I suppose, is better than a moan of desire.
He steps back. “Sorry. An old habit.”
From Jill, perhaps? Did his hand fit snugly in the small of her back, too? “No, not a problem. Only unexpected, that’s all.” And just as quickly as I turned to him, I turn back and follow Cordie to a booth where I slide into the seat opposite her. He slides in next to her and our knees bump.
First world problems of the long legged. He shifts so his knees are facing away from me.
Amit puts menus before them, omitting me, and I roll my eyes. Two can play this game.
“What’s the special?” I ask.
Amit chuckles. “You want extra shrimp in your korma?”
“That sounds lovely; I’ll take that then.” Because I never order anything else. Because it’s my favorite.
“How about we each get a different dish and share?” Stacy asks. Cordie and I nod in agreement.
I might allow a bite or two.
Once they’ve placed their order, Stacy turns his attention to me.
“Tell me your plan?”
Following a sigh of resignation, Cordie asks, “If you’re going to talk business can I play with your phone?”
Stacy hands it to her while nodding with his chin for me to continue.
“I want to expand into a different city. I have a fair amount of personal shopper clients and I studied where most of them came from and am targeting their areas for expansion.”