“You’re a good egg,” Sharon says while offering Ruby a covert wink.
Geoffrey
God save me from interfering mothers. As far as Claire and I are concerned, Sharon and Ruby are like two little kids left unattended in a candy store.
I’ve gone out of my way over the last couple of days to avoid Claire, figuring the less I have to interact with her, the better.
Once I get into my car, I take a look at my messages. I don’t keep my phone on me while I work because I don’t need the constant distraction. My brothers have been busy texting.
Drew: I swear, Geoff, Mom never made such a big deal over my thirtieth birthday and I’m the heir. Be prepared to be dazzled, that woman has plans!
The next one is from Alistair.
Al: Good Lord, you’d think your coming back to Malquar was the Second Coming! Queenie is driving us crazy with all her planning. You might want to contact Aubrey. I saw the painters coming out of your new place covered in hot pink.
My brothers each leave more messages that result in the hair on the back of my neck standing up. The small parade seems to have turned into a national spectacle. There’s talk of a ball, a concert, and a royal park being renamed after me.
As I pull into my driveway, I see a car advertising Hammy’s Pizza pull into Claire’s driveway. I hurry over while taking my wallet out of my pants. I wave to the driver and say, “I’ll pay you.”
“This pizza is for Claire Choate,” the teenager tells me uncomfortably, like I’m a pizza thief.
“I’m having supper with her tonight,” I say, realizing how good pizza sounds right now.
After he takes the money and hands me the box, I ring Claire’s doorbell. I’m not sure what to expect but I don’t expect her to answer wearing her pajamas and wielding a fireplace iron. “Pizza!” I announce.
“Geoffrey.” A myriad of emotions cross her face, everything from shock, to confusion, to delight. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m on a mission from your mother,” I tell her. “She’s having supper with Ruby and Gwen and she wanted me to let you know.”
“What are you doing with my pizza?”
“I thought you might need someone to share it with,” I tell her. “I’m offering my services.”
She steps back and says, “Come on in. You want a beer? I picked up a six pack of something called Valley Fever.”
Once I get inside, I get a good look at what Claire is wearing. While not sexy in its own right, the pale pink silk long johns are positively riveting on her. The color is close enough to her skin tone to give the illusion that she’s not wearing anything at all. Claire seems completely oblivious to the effect she’s having on me, which makes her all the more appealing.
She tells me, “Take the pizza to the living room and I’ll go grab a couple beers.” I watch the delicate sway of her hips as she heads toward the kitchen. I’m going to need a cold shower if I stay here for any length of time.
Trying to think about something that will cool my ardor, I settle on thoughts of what room in my house Aubrey had painted hot pink. I tremble at the possibilities. By the time Claire comes back in, I have a little more control over my urges.
“I was going to watch more Speed Date, you game?”
“Sure.” I settle onto her couch trying to keep a respectable distance between us.
We eat in silence while we watch the television. A good ten minutes passes, when Claire pauses the show. “These people ask the stupidest questions. I think we should put a box of questions on every table to help the couples along.”
“That’s not a bad idea. What kind of questions do you have in mind?”
Claire jumps up and walks over to a bookshelf to get a notebook. She comes back and sits cross-legged on the floor across the coffee table from me. “Let’s make a list. Would you ever consider dating someone from another country?” she asks while writing it down.
I have a feeling that might be a question she’s asking me, but I don’t answer. Instead, I say, “How about, would you ever consider dating someone who you knew was going to move in the near future?”
She shakes her head. “Who would do that unless they were looking for a booty call?”
“I guess you’re right,” I tell her, while thoughts of a booty call fill my head.
“Here’s one,” she laughs before saying, “Would you ever let your mother set you up?”
“NO!” we both shout at the same time.
“Would you ever date someone if you knew your parents wouldn’t approve of them?” I ask.
“Great question!” Claire answers. “I’m guessing most grown adults don’t care what their family thinks about their dates, unless they’re getting serious.”
“We should have a question in there about whether they’re looking for a serious relationship or are more interested in some casual fun. Making sure they’re both on the same page seems like a good idea.”
“I’m not familiar with the dating scene in Spartan,” Claire says. “But don’t the casual hookups usually happen at bars and such?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know. I haven’t really dated since I’ve been here.”
“I think Cheryl at the Quick Mart has a thing for you.” She blushes while she says this and it’s adorable.
“Why do you think that?”
She impersonates Cheryl by asking, “Who’s your friend, Geoffrey?” Then she flutters her eyelashes wildly.
“I’ll have to make sure to let her down gently,” I say. “As I told you, I’m not available for a relationship right now.”
“What if Cheryl was just looking for some fun?” Her tone becomes serious.
“That might be another thing, then,” I answer, knowing I probably sound like a cad.
“So, you’re available for something casual?”
I’m not so sure we’re still talking about me and Cheryl here. “I might be interested in casual,” I say impulsively. But not with Cheryl.
“Interesting.”
I force my gaze away from Claire’s and pick up the television remote. Turning it on, I announce, “Let’s see if we can get any more ideas from this show.”
Claire doesn’t respond. She’s staring off into space lost in her own thoughts. I should tell her right now that I’m not looking for any kind of relationship, but I don’t. While I don’t think I’d be capable of doing casual with a woman like her, I’m not sure I’d have the power to walk away should she offer.
Chapter Seventeen
Sharon
After excusing herself from the dinner table, Sharon hurries to the lobby to answer an incoming call from Tooty. “Hey, girl. What’s shakin’?
“My butt and a bowl full of Jell-O,” her sister replies with their old childhood comeback. “I got your message about going to Malquar again. I’m in.”
“When can you go? We’d need at least a week.”
Tooty makes the clucking sounds she always makes when she’s thinking before saying, “I don’t have a whole week free for another two months.”
“Well, I don’t want to wait two whole months before I see you,” Sharon tells her. “I’ll be in Oregon for a few more weeks. Any chance you can come here for a long weekend?”
“Hmm … maybe. Let me see if I can switch some things around. How’s Claire doing, anyway? She settling in okay?”
“I have a good feeling about her being here, Toot.”
“Is there some reason in particular?”
“I’ve got my eye on that man from Malquar.”
“Won’t Phillipe be upset about that?” Tooty teases.
“I’m looking at him for Claire, goober. If you visit, you can check him out for yourself.”
“Well, now, I’m more interested than ever.”
Claire
I can’t be the only one who thinks Geoffrey and I are flirting, can I? I mean, asking questions like, “Would you ever date someone you knew was
going to move in the near future?” He was talking about himself, right?
We’ve been watching TV for a solid hour and I have no idea what’s happening on Speed Date. My brain is whizzing around like a blender crushing ice.
“Earth to Claire.” Geoffrey’s voice breaks into my thoughts.
“Yeah?” I turn to look at him.
“Your phone is ringing.”
Sure enough, I hear the sound of Tooty’s biggest hit, “Pucker Up, Buttercup,” blast out of my phone. I pick it up and hit ignore. It’s the ringtone I just programmed should Jack call again.
“Not in the mood to talk?” he asks, sounding curious.
“It was my ex,” I tell him. “I spoke to him before you came over tonight. Apparently, he thinks there’s more that needs saying. There’s not.”
“Is he trying to win you back?” Geoffrey sounds almost angry.
Before my brain can kick in and alert me that I might be able to use this as a tool to gauge his interest in me, I blurt out, “God, no! He’s more upset about losing his event coordinator than his girlfriend.” Way to make yourself look desirable, Claire.
“Then he’s a loser,” Geoffrey decides, which causes my face to flush.
“Geoffrey …” I start speaking before realizing I can’t possibly ask him what I want to ask, which is, “Why aren’t you free to date anyone?”
“Yes?”
After an uncomfortably long pause, I ask, “Do you want some ice cream?”
“It depends entirely on what kind you have. It’s a solid yes if you have pistachio, rum raisin, or butter pecan.”
“I have vanilla,” I tell him.
“Do you have hot fudge sauce?”
“No, but I have some leftover brownies.”
“I can work with that.” Then he says, “Are you sure that’s what you wanted to ask?”
“What else could I have wanted to ask?”
I don’t wait for him to answer before jumping up and running out of the room like I’m being chased by an axe murderer.
Geoffrey follows behind. Once he walks into the kitchen, he puts his hands up on either side of the doorway, effectively blocking the only exit. “From the expression on your face and the long pause, it sure feels like there’s something else on your mind.”
“No. Nope. Not at all.” Omg, Claire, shut up!
“Well, there’s something I want to ask you.”
I feel like my soul lifts straight up and I’m watching us from the ceiling, like I’m having an out-of-body experience.
“What’s that?” I see myself say to him. This must be what it's like to be high. It’s not unpleasant, just really weird.
He steps toward me slowly, making me feel like a caged tiger. My heart is beating so fast I wouldn’t be surprised if it jumped right out of my throat. “I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime,” he says.
“You mean, like friends going to the movies or something?” I sound every bit as nervous as I feel.
He tilts his head from side to side as he replies, “More like a casual date.”
“I thought you couldn’t date!” I practically yell at him like I’m saying, I’m not going to rob that bank with you!
“I’m not in a position to get serious with anyone right now,” he explains, “but I don’t see any problem with dating casually.”
What does that mean? Is he after a friend with benefits situation? ‘Cause I’m not that kind of girl. Then, I suddenly wonder if I could be. Is Geoffrey interested in testing the waters before committing to something more, or is he holding firm to the idea of not getting serious with anyone? So many questions.
“Claire?” Geoffrey’s voice busts into my tornado of thoughts.
“Yeah?”
“Do you want to go out sometime?”
Silence. “I do … but …”
How do I finish the sentence without making myself sound like some pushy woman? I’m not interested in getting serious with someone so soon after breaking up with Jack, but if I did decide to get serious, I could definitely see it being with someone like Geoffrey. Could I just be casual with him if he’s telling the truth and that’s all he’s interested in?
“I feel like I’ve just asked you to conjugate verbs in Latin,” he jokes, obviously trying to break some of the tension in the room.
“I feel the same way,” I confess. I decide to quit beating around the bush and just lay my cards out on the table. “I like you, Geoffrey, and I’d like to go out with you, but I’m worried about you not wanting to get serious.”
“I can’t get serious.” His voice sounds strangled, like he’s dragging chains around his neck.
“I don’t think I want to get serious right now either, but …” There’s always a but. “I’m not a casual kind of dater by nature.”
“Meaning you don’t sleep around,” he cuts right to the chase.
I’m sure my face is beet red as the heat of embarrassment washes over me. “I’m the kind of girl who wants to get married and have a family someday. I’m not the kind who’s looking for hookups.” I could seriously die of mortification, but I know that telling him this is the right thing to do.
“I’m not exactly the kind of guy who asks a girl to jump into bed with him out of the blue.” He sounds offended.
“I’m not saying you are. I just don’t want to get hurt again and being up front is the only way I can keep that from happening.” This conversation is about as painful as exfoliating your face by dragging it across rough pavement.
Geoffrey clears his throat and shoves his hands into his pockets before saying, “Would you like to go out with me sometime as friends?”
The angel on my shoulder is yelling “DANGER!”
But the devil on the other shoulder is louder. She’s screaming, “Tap that, girl!” I’m afraid my devil is pretty loose with her charms.
I open the cabinet and pull out two bowls while I weigh my options. Either I go out with Geoffrey as friends, which would be excruciating, or I don’t go out with him at all, which would be even more unbearable. I turn around and discover that he’s advanced toward me while I wasn’t paying attention. He’s practically standing on my feet.
I put my hands out and push him back slightly before answering, “I’d like to go out sometime.”
“Tomorrow night?”
“I suppose that would be fine,” I tell him, feeling like a flock of pterodactyls have taken over my innards. I remind him, “As friends …”
“Right. As friends.” He’s staring into my eyes so intently that if this were a scene in a movie, the soundtrack would be picking up the tempo to increase tension—as well as matching the cadence of my accelerating heartbeat. The scene would reach its peak and Geoffrey would pull me into his arms while the “Hallelujah Chorus” started to play.
But this isn’t a movie, so that’s not what happens. What happens is that Geoffrey reaches out and takes my hands—tingles!!—before leaning down and practically whispering in my ear—more tingles!—”I think I’d better get going. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“I thought you wanted some ice cream,” I accuse, like I’ve been churning it by hand all day.
“I wanted something sweet, but I don’t think ice cream is going to do the trick anymore.”
Dear. Lord. If that isn’t enough to make me melt, he leans down and kisses my cheek. The brush of stubble from his beard causes electric currents to zip through me and it’s all I can do not to jump into his arms and demand that he take me now.
I’m glad I’m leaning against the counter when Geoffrey pulls back because it’s the only thing holding me up. With a slow smile, he says, “Good night...friend.” And then he turns and walks away.
I don’t move until I hear the front door open and close. Holy. Crap. I’m walking dangerously close to a precipice that could either kill me dead or offer me a second life. The problem is, I don’t know which one it will be.
; Chapter Eighteen
Ruby
Before going to bed, Ruby picks up her laptop and opens her Scrabble app. “Okay, Tom, let’s play,” she whispers.
When her tiles pop up, her eyes immediately fill with tears. I-L-O-V-E-U-R, which she knows means, I love you, Ruby. “I love you too, honey. Now tell me what I can do to help Geoffrey and Claire make a love connection. I know in my heart there’s potential there.”
Ruby’s learned her husband’s messages come in a variety of ways. They are usually words that are played but they can come as a message in the tiles like what just happened when Tom told her that he loved her.
After the game is over, Ruby takes a screenshot of the board before curling up into bed and studies it.
king
queen
trouble
contract
over
lawsuit
wrenched
heart
disaster
Confused, Ruby tells her husband, “I don’t think you were answering my question. None of this looks like it has anything to do with Geoffrey and Claire. But no matter, we’ll try again tomorrow. I love you.” Then she puts her computer aside and pulls the covers over herself while trying to hang on to her husband’s presence as she falls asleep.
Geoffrey
What in the world has gotten into me? Why did I ask Claire out? I think too much of her to toy with her emotions, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. It’s a good thing she shot me down, even though I didn’t seem to take her rejection to heart.
Instead, I pushed her to say she’d go out with me as friends when we both know friendship is the last thing on my mind. Not to mention, we were already friends so there was no reason to make such a big deal out of it.
I’m going to need a cold shower followed by an ice bath. That woman has crawled under my skin in such a way, I feel like I’m about to spontaneously combust. I can’t seem to get within five feet of her without wanting to pull her into my arms and devour her.
It's My Party: A Royal Romantic Comedy (Seven Brides for Seven Mothers Book 3) Page 9