I’d start by nibbling on her earlobes and then I’d run the tip of my tongue down her neck before pushing her up against a wall and letting things get truly interesting. Cold shower, here I come!
After bringing my body temperature down by twenty degrees, I go to bed where I proceed to toss and turn and wrestle with the demons that fill my head. Why am I the only one of seven who was so driven to leave home? How do I feel about going back to Malquar? How mad would my parents be if I didn’t return? Why can’t Claire come with me? I know the answer to the last question, but in my feverish state, I ask them all anyway.
In the many years I’ve been in the US, I’ve had two long-term relationships; both of those were when I was a lot younger and had an almost robotic ability not to think about the contract. They both ended organically; the breakups had nothing to do with my other life.
When I moved to Portland at twenty-six, I made the conscious decision that serious romantic entanglements were a thing of the past until I returned home. It has not been difficult to stay true to that plan...until now.
Two months before I leave, Claire Choate walks into my life and turns it upside down. Now is the time to nip disaster in the bud and avoid getting involved with her. I fall asleep with conflicting emotions raging through me like food poisoning.
When I wake up to my alarm, I feel oddly calm. Why in the world is that? When no answer appears to be forthcoming, I drag myself out of bed to make a strong pot of coffee. I drink half the pot before leaving my house.
In the parking lot at work, I run into Ruby’s son, James. He waves as he’s getting into his truck. Then he seems to have second thoughts and gets back out before jogging over to me. “Hey, man, how are you doing?”
“Good. Just working for my demanding boss,” I joke.
“Better you than me. Have you noticed how pushy my mom’s gotten lately?”
“Are you referring to how she pushed you into a fabulous relationship with Tara?” I ask, not feeling sorry for him in the least.
James laughs. “I’m certainly not mad at her about that.” Then he says, “I never realized it until now, but when you meet the person you’re meant to be with, it feels totally different than anything before.”
“How so?” I ask, hoping he’ll say something that will help me make sense out of my current dilemma.
“I’m not sure how to put it into words. You know how Tara and I butted heads when we first met?” I nod, so he continues, “We didn’t get along, and she made me crazy, but I felt let down every time we parted ways. I couldn’t wait to see her again.”
“Glutton for punishment, huh?” I tease.
Staring off into space, he answers, “We were like two pieces of a puzzle fitting into place.” He looks at me and says, “That must sound totally sappy, huh?”
“Not at all. It sounds nice,” I tell him, realizing that’s exactly how I feel around Claire. Every other woman I’ve been involved with has had some edge that didn’t seem to fit me, and that was okay, good actually. But Claire is so much more than a beautiful woman. She’s fun to be with, vulnerable, and relatable. She’s a breath of fresh air.
Yet, I can’t help but wonder how I can feel so strongly about her when I haven’t even kissed her yet? Maybe I’m making more out of my feelings for her because I’m anxious about going home. Maybe it has less to do with Claire and more to do with the upcoming change in my life.
James breaks into my thoughts. “Tara wants to ask you out to the farm some night when you’re free.”
“Why?” It’s not that I don’t like Tara, but we see each other a lot at work.
“I think she wants to set you up with her friend Claire.” He laughs. “Now that she and I are together, she wants her friends to be just as happy.”
“Your mom has been hard at work trying to do the same thing,” I tell him. Then I add, “I think there’s something I need to talk to your mom about before I accept Tara’s invitation.”
He looks confused by my answer but doesn’t ask for clarification. Instead, he says, “Keep Tara posted.” Then he walks back to his truck.
I don’t go in through the kitchen door like I would if I were going to work. Instead, I use a side door that’s a shortcut to the front desk. I need to talk to Ruby and give my notice before things get more complicated than they already are.
Once I do that, I’ll tell Claire. No one expects to start a serious romance with someone who’s about to leave the country, right?
Chris is at the front desk checking in a young family when I get there. I walk around the two kids tossing a ball back and forth and go through the door that leads to the offices. Ruby’s not there.
When Chris is free, she asks, “You looking for Rubes?”
“I am. Do you know where she is?”
“She drove over to Salem to do a little shopping.”
“Oh, okay,” I say disappointedly. “When she gets back, please tell her I need to talk to her, okay?”
“Sure thing,” Chris says before asking, “Anything I can help you with?”
“No, thanks, Chris. I need Ruby for this one.” As I walk down the hallway that leads to the kitchen, a strange energy passes through me. It almost feels like I’m walking into a storm. The hair on my arms stands on end and my heartbeat begins to accelerate. If I were a superstitious person, I’d be worried.
I reconfirm to myself that I have to avoid Claire. I can’t go out with her tonight because I can’t be trusted around her. As far as she’s concerned, I have zero willpower, so the best thing I can do is stay away.
Chapter Nineteen
Sharon
Sharon bolts out of bed and grabs the notebook she always keeps on her nightstand. With the moonlight pouring into her room, she clicks her pen and writes:
You may not belong to me,
I may not be your kind.
But darlin’ we were meant to be,
it’s right there in my mind.
My spirit knows you well.
Your presence helps me remember,
Another time, another world,
When we were both together.
Honey, sugar, pumpkin pie,
You are my other half.
Why can’t you see that is so?
What can’t you remember that?
Closing the notebook, Sharon rolls over in bed and listens as the melody of the song introduces itself to her. Long ago, she realized her musical talent was not hers alone. It was a gift from the angels who whispered into her ears at night. The angels who are conversant in country-music-speak like cheating hearts and dongs falling off.
She wonders if maybe Patsy Cline is continuing her career on the other side by giving her some tips.
Claire
Ruby sent me a text this morning telling me she wants to do a dry run of her Speed Date idea with the staff on Friday afternoon. That way we can get a feel for what it will be like and we can work out any kinks before the real deal.
She signed off with:
Tell Geoffrey for me. Maybe the two of you can have a meeting and discuss the initial menu. Talk to U later, R.
I haven’t been able to get Geoffrey off my mind since he left my house last night and, truth be told, I was planning on telling him that I can’t go out tonight. I’m messing with fire with that man and no good can come from it.
Instead of going to the kitchen to find him right away, I head toward the events room where most of the wedding receptions are held. Flipping on the lights, I realize the tables are designed for large groups and are too big for a two-person dating concept. While we could rent smaller tables, that will only add expense to my limited budget.
Sitting down at one of the tables, an idea starts to blossom. What if we had twelve tables, six with one woman and three men, and six with one man and three women? Then we could give each table ten to fifteen minutes instead of two or three. That way, when it’s your turn to be the one with three members of the opposi
te sex, you can see how they react in a competitive environment.
For instance, if someone tried to talk the others down, or talk themselves up too much, you might question whether they were the right one for you. If I’d seen Jack in a similar situation, I might have passed him up entirely.
Jack is not a man who enjoys the company of other men when he’s trying to impress a woman. I’ve got to think on this idea a bit, but I’m going to see if we can play it out on Friday to see if it’s got legs.
I don’t head into the kitchen until after the lunch rush. Geoffrey is talking to Tara, so I stand back and watch him for a minute. There’s a confidence about him, a comfort in his own skin that makes him seem almost like a general going into battle. I briefly wonder how he would act in my dating concept for Friday night.
An idea pops into my head, but I don’t have a chance to explore it because Tara catches my eye. “Hey! We were just chatting about tonight’s specials.”
When Geoffrey turns his head to see who Tara is talking to, his eyes bore into me like he’s trying to see into my brain. He doesn’t smile, he doesn’t say anything, he just stares. Is he rethinking getting together tonight, too?
Uneasy under such scrutiny, I avert my gaze and announce, “I got a message from Ruby. She wanted me to talk to you about it.”
“Which you? Him or me?” Tara asks. It’s no wonder she doesn’t know as I’m looking at the cappuccino machine.
“Him,” I tell her. “Although, I’m sure we’d appreciate your opinion as well.” Maybe if Tara joins us for this meeting, it won’t be as weird.
“I’ve got some things coming out of the oven,” she answers. “Why don’t you guys go sit down and I’ll join you when I can.”
Geoffrey continues to stare at me like a jungle cat plotting his attack. I force myself to look right at him and ask, “Are you free for a few minutes?”
“I am,” he answers plainly. “Have you had lunch yet?”
“No.”
“Go find a table and I’ll bring something out for us.” Then he turns his back and walks over to the grill.
Before I leave the kitchen, Tara asks, “Are you and Geoffrey fighting or something?”
I don’t confirm or deny. Instead, I say, “Why would you think that?”
“The energy around you guys is kind of explosive, like you’ve had a disagreement.”
“No, nothing like that.” I try to sound as normal as possible. It was more a difference of classification than a disagreement. There were also feelings—so many feelings—and, dare I say, anticipation?
I startle when the timer goes off in Tara’s hand. “Gotta go,” she says.
Walking back into the dining room, I focus on taking deep breaths and trying to calm myself. I find an open table tucked in the corner and make my way toward it while continuing to force a feeling of Zen. Yet, I’m pretty sure even the Dalai Lama wouldn’t feel peaceful in my shoes.
I check my phone while I wait for Geoffrey and find two texts from Jack. The first says:
You moved to Oregon? Doesn’t that seem a little extreme?
The second reads:
Please call me so I can explain about Megan. It’s not what it looked like.
After nearly a month of no contact with the man, all of a sudden he’s trying to wheedle back into my life? If Jack wasn’t fully making out with Megan Shiner, what was he doing? Giving her CPR? Trying to dislodge a chicken bone from her throat with his tongue?
I put my phone down and take a sip of the water the busboy dropped off. I watch as Geoffrey glides out of the kitchen carrying two plates with him. Seriously, it’s like watching a panther in the wild.
He stops to ask one of the servers for something and then scans the dining room looking for me. When he spots me, he maintains eye contact the whole way. He puts down both plates in the middle of the table and announces, “I thought we’d share.”
“What did you bring?” My voice breaks, making me want to crawl under the table. Why can’t I be cool and collected around him?
“A salmon and goat cheese quesadilla and a grilled meatloaf sandwich.” He doesn’t sit across from me. Instead, he sits right next to me, causing my stomach to roll over like a dog playing dead. There’s no way I’m going to be able to eat with him so close.
He picks up a quarter of the quesadilla and takes a bite of it. I’m instantly hypnotized like a magician is waving a shiny watch in front of my eyes. Please don’t let me cluck like a chicken, I silently pray.
“Try it,” Geoffrey says.
“Do you think we should talk about last night?” I ask out of nowhere. I’ve got zero game around this man.
“What about it?”
Was he not there? Didn’t he feel the same sexual tension I felt? Suddenly nervous I was being delusional, I go with, “I thought maybe you might want to talk about what we’re going to do tonight. Did you want to eat out or go to the movies?” I sound pathetic.
“Oh, right, we were going to get together tonight. I forgot.”
He forgot? I feel like I did when I was a kid and got picked last in gym class. Anger builds in me and robs me of the ability to speak. I just sit there with my mouth hanging open like a dead fish.
“I can’t make it tonight,” he says.
“Oh, okay. Why not?” I should have left well enough alone, but I want some answers. Last night he could barely keep his hands off of me, and now he’s acting like it was no big thing.
“I forgot I made plans with someone else. Maybe we can do it some other time.”
Who is this man? Geoffrey is sounding like a real player. This is the first time I’ve seen this side of him, and I don’t like it one bit. Is he acting like this because I didn’t jump at his offer to have a casual fling? If that’s the case, don’t let the door hit ya where the good lord split ya, buddy.
He breaks into my thoughts and asks, “What does Ruby want us to discuss?”
“The menu for her dating event,” I manage to say. “She wants us to throw a practice round on Friday afternoon with the staff so we can work out any kinks.” My voice sounds so flat and devoid of emotion, I could be a robot. I cannot let Geoffrey know how much his attitude hurts me. I will not give him that power. I won’t give anyone that power over me ever again.
“What are you thinking?” he asks while picking up half of the meatloaf sandwich.
“How is that any of your business?” I snap. How dare he ask my inner thoughts after being so cavalier with my feelings.
“Because I’m the chef and you’re the event manager and it’s both of our business?” Of course, he was talking about work and not about us.
“I think we should serve heavy hors d’oeuvres instead of a meal. That way people will have an easier time relocating to the next table.”
Nodding his head, Geoffrey says, “Sounds good. Do you want me to put some ideas together for you?”
“Please.” I feel so brittle right now I’m surprised I don’t break in two. This, right here, is why rebound relationships don’t work. The person rebounding is such a fragile mess, they can’t tell what’s real from what they want to be real. After being battered against the rocks of mistreatment, you always want to believe true love is waiting. Unfortunately, thoughts like that often lead to yet another bad decision.
Geoffrey continues to eat like there’s no tension between us. He doesn’t say anything, he just chews and swallows. My throat is so tight with emotion, I can barely breathe, let alone accomplish something as complicated as eating.
When I stand up to leave, Geoffrey grabs my hand and pulls me back down. “I need to go back to work,” I tell him.
“You haven’t had your lunch yet.” His tone changes to something softer.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Claire …”
“What?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he closes his eyes and squeezes my hand gently, effectively keeping me from pulli
ng it away. “I do want to talk about last night.” Why is he toying with me like this?
“What about it?” I want him to say the words, so I know we’re on the same page and I’m not the victim of some fantasy.
“I was serious when I told you I couldn’t get involved. But I still like you and I still want us to be friends.”
“Sure, Geoffrey. Whatever.” I’m channeling the petulant seventh grader I once was.
“I don’t have plans with anyone tonight,” he offers.
“Then why did you say you did?” The unexpressed thought being, quit playing with my head!
“Because I’m drawn to you and I’m afraid the line between friendship and something more could easily get blurred. I don’t want to hurt you.”
I stand up and grab my notes before saying, “Good. I don’t want you to hurt me, either.”
“It sounds like you don’t want to be friends anymore,” he says, sounding almost sad.
“It would probably be best if we keep our relationship strictly professional,” I tell him coldly. “That way your lines won’t get blurred and my heart won’t get broken.” My tone is one hundred percent pure sarcasm. How dare he think that he has the power between us?
“I’m not just worried about your heart,” he says quietly.
My knees practically buckle, forcing me to either sit back down or fall to the ground. I opt for the more dignified of the two. “Who else are you worried about?” Say it, I silently command him.
“I’m worried about me. I really like you, but nothing other than heartache can come from starting a relationship.”
“Why?” I demand heatedly. “Are you already married? Are you hiding a family away somewhere?”
Instead of answering my questions, he jumps to his feet and says, “I’ll message you a preliminary menu.” Then he walks away.
What was that all about? Does Geoffrey really have a family he’s hiding? If so, he’s certainly not the kind of man I want to be in a relationship with. But if he has a family, why is he flirting with me? Nothing makes sense right now.
It's My Party: A Royal Romantic Comedy (Seven Brides for Seven Mothers Book 3) Page 10