by Dee Lagasse
After asking Tucker which seat is his, I take a seat in one of the two available chairs left at the table. Lola is already chowing down on her burger, so I know I don’t need to wait for grace like at my sister’s house.
The dinner conversation is mostly Lola and I playing twenty questions. And by that, I mean she asked, and I answered twenty questions. When she first started asking them, Tucker told her to just let me eat, but when I assured him that I was fine and that with my four nieces and nephews, I was prepared for a dinner like this, I swear I saw his shoulders relax.
By the time we were clearing plates, Lola had asked if I had any kids, if I had a girlfriend, if I had any brothers or sisters, what my job was, and got so excited when she found out I was working with her dad.
“Does that mean I’ll see you again?” she asks as she throws her plate in the trash.
“It sure does,” I tell her. “I’m actually going to go pumpkin picking with you guys on Sunday. So, I’ll see you again this weekend.”
Once dinner is cleaned up, Tucker says that I’m more than welcome to stick around, but that for the next hour or so, he’ll be on dad duty helping Lola with homework and bath time before bed. Not wanting to intrude on their family routine, I thank him for the dinner and the tips. After a jump tackle hug from Lola and a few puppy kisses from Meatball, I say goodbye and head out the front door to my car.
Maybe Abbott Hills won’t be so bad after all.
Chapter Seven
COLE
One hour.
That’s all that stands between now and when Pax will be knocking on the door for our date. All I have left are sixty minutes and I have no idea what I should be wearing tonight. Grabbing two pairs of shoes, I take the matter into my own hands.
In only a camisole and a pair of small knit shorts, I open the door and walk across the hall to Apartment 2B. If he tells me I can wear the heels, I know I should dress up. If he tells me to wear the canvas shoes, I know I can dress a bit more casually.
I’m semi-surprised when Pax answers after just a couple short knocks. Half-naked, nonetheless. The fresh-out-of-shower smell of his coconut and tropical wood body wash hits me heavy. He smells like a summertime adventure. And even though it’s mid-October, I’m ready for playing in all the waves that Paxton Callaghan could create.
Canvassing his bare chest, I stop when I realize my eyes are now focusing on the hunter green towel covering his lower half.
“My eyes are up here, Cole,” he laughs lowly, smirking when I snap my focus back up to his face.
“Okay, so you can still do the knock on the door and pick me up thing, but I need to at least know what to wear. What shoes should I wear?”
The illumination in his eyes and the cocky smirk he gives me in return when my eyes lock with his says more than any words could. Instead of answering me, he takes his own turn, looking me over. Slowly.
With each passing second, I contemplate pushing him back into his apartment and…
Get it together, Cole. You still have to go on the date.
“My eyes are up here,” I swallow, returning his words, lifting the shoes I had almost forgotten about.
Pointing to the heels, he gives me a small, sexy half smile before he slowly closes the door without another word. Turning, I go back across the hall to my apartment and know exactly what I’m going to wear. Tossing the canvas sneakers into the closet, I jump when Ellis barges into the room.
“Do I look okay?” she asks, worry and panic is written all over my normally overconfident best friend.
Her recently changed purple hair is down, sitting just below her shoulders in loose curls. All her makeup looks professionally done, a dramatic black wing of eyeliner on top of a perfect smoky eye and a bright red covering her lips. The black maxi dress, the fitted jean jacket and the simple black ballet flats she’s wearing all came from my closet.
After stressing for most of the afternoon, I called Ellis into my room. In just a few minutes, she put together two different outfits pieced together with items from both of our closets. With Pax’s shoe decision, I shimmy off my shorts and slide each leg into the mid-rise black straight-leg slacks laid out on the bed.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her, tossing the camisole in the laundry hamper. “Do you know what you guys are doing yet?”
Reaching for the next item on my bed, I pull Ellis’s white sleeveless blouse over my head. Assessing myself in the mirror on my closet door, I’m happy with what I see looking back at me. The plunging V-neck shows the tiniest bit of cleavage, the relaxed fit is just loose enough that it showcases my curves but gives me a little extra room to wiggle if we end up grabbing food tonight.
Adding a black three-quarter sleeve blazer and my barely worn Michael Kors watch to my date night ensemble, I start to stress about makeup. Normally, I would just ask Ellis for her help, but I don’t want to bother her while she’s stressing about her own date right now.
“Yeah, we’re going to go painting at one of those paint bars. I’ve wanted to for a while now and how friggin’ cute is it that Tuck, Mr. Contractor Construction Man, suggest we go drink wine and paint some fucking trees? Plus, the closest one is in Concord, so there’s no chance of anyone seeing us tonight,” she shrugs. “Come on. Kitchen table. Now. I can see the stress wheels churning. I’ll do your makeup. Just lie to me and say you’re freaking out about your date, so I’ll feel better.”
“Oh, I don’t have to lie,” I tell her while fastening the backings of the diamond studs my dad gave me for my eighteenth birthday. “I am freaking the fuck out. I don’t even know what we’re doing.”
“Well, you look hot,” she notes as she assesses my final outfit before pointing toward my bedroom door.
Trusting her completely, I let her work her magic without any instruction. I don’t even have a chance to look at myself in the mirror, because as soon as she twists the cover back on the dark berry liquid lipstick she’d just applied to my lips, there’s a buzz from the living room alerting us that someone is ringing our apartment from outside.
Looking wide-eyed at the speaker box on the wall next to the front door, Ellis whispers, “Answer it…Please.”
Pushing back in the chair, I stand up and clear my throat when I get to the little black button that allows the people outside to hear us from inside the apartment, “Hello?”
“Hey, Cole, it’s Tuck.”
Taking a deep breath, Ellis just nods, giving me the go-ahead to press the button that will unlock the main door below.
“Come on up,” I say as I hold down the little black square under the speaker box.
Opening the door quickly, anticipating Tucker, I find the need to catch my breath when I find myself face-to-face with Pax instead. With his hand raised as if he was just about to knock on the door before I opened it on him, he freezes in place, wide-eyed.
“Whoa.”
One little word leaves his lips before he breaks out in the beautiful smile that does something crazy to my insides. I should say something. I should say anything. But as I look him over, I find myself speechless for the second time in my life.
His navy collared shirt is tucked into a pair of skinny black chino pants. The fitted, open black jacket and the top few opened buttons of his navy shirt gives him the casual but collected look I never knew was my favorite until right now. From his blonde hair perfectly styled on top of his head to the little bit of scruff scattered throughout his face all the way down to his navy loafers, everything about him makes me want to pull him into this apartment and spend the night here…in my bed. Or his bed across the hall. I’m not picky.
And here I thought he couldn’t get any more attractive than he was in the “New Employee” photo Tucker posted on the Capparelli Construction & Carpentry Facebook page yesterday afternoon. His hair had been hidden by a backward gray baseball hat that matched his gray Capparelli Construction & Carpentry work shirt. Paint-stained jeans and work boots hadn’t stopped a dozen or so thirsty suburban house
wives from making comments like, “I think my entire house is broken. Please send Pax to come fix it.”
Kinley, Ellis, Hollis, and I had a good laugh about it though. As we ate our weight in tacos, we took turns reading through all the comments during our weekly dinner last night. We were shocked not only by the comments, but by the commenters themselves. Some of the women are not only well known in the community, but also very married.
I guess that’s the Pax Effect. And believe me, I am feeling it right now.
Making the first move, Pax extends the hand holding a huge bouquet full of daisies. Just as I’m about to ask him to come in, Tucker comes up from behind him, holding a bouquet of pink hibiscus flowers…Both of our favorites.
These guys are good. I wonder if they planned it together.
“They’re beautiful. Thank you,” I tell Pax, taking the flowers from him and placing them on the small dining room table. “Come on in. I’ll just put these in water, and we can get going.”
Opening one of the lower cabinets, I grab a vase, passing it over to Ellis. Crouching down, we are both hidden behind the half wall that separates our little alley kitchen from the dining room. Mouthing “Oh my god” she points to her flowers and then mine.
“I know!” I mouth back, reaching for another vase and standing up. When we both pop up at the same time, Pax and Tucker simultaneously shake their heads in amusement, which only causes Ellis and I to burst out laughing.
After putting the flowers in the vases, we set them in the middle of our dining room table. Excusing myself to grab my clutch, I snag one last mirror check while in my room.
“Ready?” Pax asks, offering me his arm when I come back into the dining room.
Taking it, I give a quick wave to Ellis, who tells us, “have fun, kids.” And that’s when my stomach begins to twist. Before now, I had been worried about my outfit and wanting to look good, but a thousand new reasons to panic flash through me all at once.
What if he brings me somewhere lame? Do I have to pretend to have fun? It would be rude if I didn’t, right? What if we can’t find anything to talk about? What if he doesn’t think I’m funny? What if I don’t think he’s funny?
My worries are interrupted when, like a perfect gentleman, he opens the black passenger door of his Subaru WRX STI.
Fuck, even his car is sexy.
I knew what kind of car he drove courtesy of our Monday night “fate date” that turned into the revelation that he lives across the hall from me, but at that point, I was more worried about having a potential stalker than admiring his choice of vehicle.
He gets his first brownie point of the night when he slides in and tells me I can take control of the radio. Though, I don’t feel the need to change it once he starts his car and I hear Zac Brown Band come through the speakers. I can’t help but smile when “The Ranch – NH’s Hottest Country Radio” scrolls across the screen.
“You listen to country?” I ask, pointing to the radio.
“Yes?” he answers with a hint of hesitation as he pulls out of his parking space and out of our building’s lot. “Please tell me you’re not one of those girls that sticks her nose up at country music. That might break my heart a little.”
“I love all kinds of music,” I start. “I wouldn’t be able to do what I do if I didn’t, but I asked because I love country the most. And the station you’re listening to? Hollis from the morning show? Yeah, she’s one of my closest friends. She’s actually dating Tuck’s brother, Chase.”
“Hollis Capparelli,” he says, nodding as if it suddenly makes perfect sense to him. “You’re in pretty tight with the Capparelli fam, huh?”
When I start to tell him the story of how Hollis and Ellis walked up to me and Kinley on the playground so many years ago and asked us if we wanted to be best friends, Pax turns down the radio. My, what was meant to be a little story turns into a long-winded explanation of who everyone is to me and each other.
Things I’ve learned since getting in Pax’s car…
Number One. I ramble like a complete lunatic when I’m nervous.
Number Two. Paxton Callaghan never not makes something look sexy. Even driving.
“So, let me see if I got this,” he starts when I stop rambling. “Hollis and Davis are twins. They’re cousins with Ellis and Travis, who are also twins. Ellis is your roommate. Has been since college. Tucker and Chase are brothers. Kinley is your sister and she’s married to Davis. Hollis and Chase are dating. Ellis and Tucker are secretly dating. I work for Hollis and Davis’s dad. Capparelli & Co. is owned by Hollis, Davis, Ellis, and Travis’s grandparents. Ellis’s mom owns a hair salon. And you and your sister are merging your businesses together.”
“Holy shit, you’re good,” I laugh, impressed that he was able to not only follow everything I threw at him, but that he was genuinely listening to me babble in the first place. “Sorry I just dumped all that on you. I guess I’m just nervous. I haven’t done the whole dating thing in, well, in a long fucking time.”
“It’s all good. It’s been a while since I’ve done the whole dating thing too,” he confesses, pulling his eyes away from the road just long enough to make eye contact.
As we continue to pick up speed, I try to covertly gawk at Pax as he drives. As if it’s as natural as breathing, he shifts effortlessly. His hand, so relaxed as it rests on the shifter knob. To avoid sharing any more awkward life stories, I choose to just sing along to the Kenny Chesney song playing on the radio.
If I were to say something right now it would probably be something like, “holy fuck, I never knew watching a guy drive could be so attractive,” or “can we just get coffees and stay in your car all night so I can watch you drive?”
I would honestly be okay if this was it. If the rest of the night was spent in Pax’s car, driving around, listening to music, getting to look at him as we go. There isn’t a word spoken between us until Pax merges over to the right lane to pull off the highway, but it doesn’t feel empty or awkward. It’s the exact opposite. I feel relaxed, calm…safe.
Moving over three lanes of traffic, he pulls off to the right following the sign that says, “Exit 13 Manchester St. Downtown.”
There’s no way he knows.
Just as we pass The Capitol Center for the Arts, Pax easily slides into an open parking spot on the street. Just as I’m about to pull the handle to open the door, I notice Pax leaning down to do it himself. Once the door is open, he leans over, offering me his hand as I step out of his car.
Chivalry isn’t dead. It’s alive and well, and Paxton Callaghan is the king of it.
“Paxton.” I pause once I’m next to him on the sidewalk. “Are we going to the live screening of Phantom of the Opera?”
I got the email last week. I almost bought tickets for me and Hollis, but she’s riding a new relationship high. After dinner with the girls last night, I knew getting her to come out two nights in a row would be asking a lot. She probably would have come. We probably would have had fun. But I also know that given the choice on her own, she probably would want to spend the night with Chase.
And then Pax asked me if I wanted to go out on a date anyway.
“We might be, Nicole.” He shrugs, the bright sparkle in his eyes contradicting his calm demeanor. “I guess that all depends on whether or not you want to go see a live screening of Phantom of the Opera. I do have tickets.”
Instead of answering him, instinctively, I grab his hand in excitement.
Such a couples-like thing to do.
Shit. We’re so not there. Hell, I don’t even know if we’ll ever be there. Letting go as fast as I grabbed it, I begin to apologize. Profusely.
“Oh, man,” I groan. “I’m so sorry. I swear that was just a knee-jerk reaction. It’s just, this is my favorite musical. Ever. Of all time. And you clearly did your research, so you probably already know, I’m a big fan of theater and Broadway…but, Phantom? Ugh. Phantom has my heart.”
A short, amused chuckle leaves Pax, but then he
surprises me by placing his hand right back in mine and locking his fingers in between mine. When I did it a minute ago, I assumed he would have worried he caught himself a stage five clinger, but somehow when he does it, it just feels right.
Hand in hand, we walk through the door and he leads us right up to a little stand serving drinks outside of the theater. Scanning the small selection of wines, I stop when I see my favorite on the list. Could this night get any better? It’s like everything is aligning and fate is on my side.
Gently pulling his hand out of mine, Pax reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet.
“Can I have a glass of the Kendall Jackson Chardonnay?” he asks before turning to me. “Whatcha drinking, pretty girl?”
First, holy fucking swoon. Needing a second to process the adorable, subtle compliment drop, I flash him a smile and pretend like I’m still looking over the board with the drinks listed despite knowing exactly what I want.
“A glass of Saint Supery Sauvignon Blanc, please,” I say, pulling my clutch up from where it’s been hanging off my wrist.
“I know you’re seriously not trying to pay right now, right?” Pax questions before leaning in and whispering. “You pinky swore.”
The proximity of his lips and the hushed tone of his voice makes our little inside joke feel like the world’s best-kept secret. A secret that everyone would know if I paid for my wine right now.
Oooooh, he’s good.
Sighing in defeat, I let my clutch fall. Once the server returns Pax’s credit card, we take our plastic glasses of wine and he leads the way to the entrance of the theater. Showing the usher our tickets, he points straight down and tells us to enjoy the show.