Good Man, Dalton

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Good Man, Dalton Page 20

by Karen McQuestion


  “What?” she asked, noticing his stare.

  He wasn’t going to say anything stupid and ruin the moment. He’d planned on letting this thing, this attraction or whatever it was, just evolve naturally. But the evening was going so quickly, and he felt compelled to get his thoughts out while he still had the chance. Too soon the night would be over, and if he didn’t say it now, he might never say it. “Has this ever happened to you before?”

  “What?”

  People were drifting off the dance floor, but they didn’t move. He gestured back and forth between them. “This thing between us. I’m not sure what it is. Chemistry, maybe? It happened the moment I saw you across the street at the pizza parlor right before you went into Bellemont. We had a connection.” More than a connection. It was a recognition. He’d felt an attraction to her at first sight, something that confounded him. Even though they hadn’t known each other very long, he had a good sense of who she was. He knew her. Everything she said and did struck him as being just right. Even her worrying was adorable.

  Out of nowhere, he was hit with a sudden realization: Greta Hansen was his someone.

  She blushed and said, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  Her blush contradicted her words. Dalton was fairly certain she knew exactly what he meant, but he resisted the urge to press the issue. A moment later when the music started up, she stepped forward and put her arm on his shoulder, and once again they were dancing.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  When Dalton asked if this had ever happened to her before, she couldn’t believe it. For an instant, she couldn’t think straight and just blurted out, “What?” Then when he clarified what he meant, she was even more stunned, because he was describing exactly what she’d felt. It was like having a dream about someone and finding out they’d dreamed the exact same thing.

  Unlikely.

  Uncanny.

  Unbelievable.

  Things like this didn’t happen to Greta. She was the quiet girl, the one who didn’t like to be the center of attention. She never put herself out there, not if she could help it. Jacey once had asked why she always looked so weighted down. One winter night as they crossed campus, she’d made Greta practice walking with swagger. “Wear the coat! Don’t let the coat wear you,” she yelled as Greta did her best to strut with confidence. Both of them had laughed so hard, they had to stop to catch their breath. Greta could do it in practice, when just Jacey was looking, but in everyday life, she fell back into her old ways.

  Did she give off an unapproachable vibe? She thought that might be the case. When she went to bars with friends, sometimes she was the only one not approached by a guy. Or else she was the leftover girl in the group, the one stuck talking to the leftover guy. At times like that, she really thought she would die old and alone. Not that being single was so terrible, but the not knowing was killer. She could live fifty more years, and it would be nice to know what to expect.

  She was never one to believe in love at first sight, even for other people. Jacey loved telling the story of how she’d spotted her boyfriend on the other side of a crowded bar. They’d locked eyes, and that was it. She said he was the one. When Greta had asked how she’d known, she’d said she just did. At the time, Greta had thought it was drunken wish fulfillment, but now she was willing to concede it might be true.

  Oh, why had she been such an idiot? He’d taken a risk asking if she’d felt a connection too, and in return, she’d told him she didn’t know what he meant. She did know what he meant. She was just caught off guard because it seemed too good to be true.

  She clung to him as the music played, wishing and hoping that she hadn’t messed things up between them. On the strains of the violins, questions floated through her mind. How could she feel such a pull for a man she knew nothing about? What if he were really only interested in Cece and using her to gain access? It wasn’t that far-fetched an idea. Cece was a woman in demand, while Greta was her not-so-in-demand cousin. Maybe he’d noticed her noticing him and decided to play off her interest in order to get closer to Cece.

  These were the doubts running through her brain. She knew what she hoped to be true. She just didn’t know if she could allow herself to believe it.

  When the music stopped, they paused, waiting for the next song, and then when it started up, they continued dancing. With Dalton holding on to more than half of her worry, she let her concerns melt away. What the hell. Life was too short to overthink everything.

  After the fourth or fifth song, or maybe even longer, she glanced back at their table. “Where’s Cece?” She looked up at Dalton, who surveyed the room.

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  She let go of his hand and broke away from his hold. A second earlier, she’d memorized the feel of his hand resting on her waist and wished the song would last forever, but now she could kick herself for not being more vigilant. The dancing had been so wonderful, she’d let her guard down. She went to the table, looking for some clue as to where Cece might have gone, but there was nothing. She turned to a group of people nearby. “Do you know where Cece and Roger went?”

  A tall woman with silvery white hair cascading over her shoulders shook her head. “I didn’t see.”

  Dalton caught up to her. “Don’t panic. She probably went to the restroom.”

  Greta whirled around. “Both of them? What are the chances?”

  “You saw how Roger was with her. I wouldn’t put it past him to follow her into the ladies’ room.”

  She got out her phone and texted: Where are you? Before Cece could respond, Greta punched in her number to call, but she didn’t pick up. Greta listened to her cousin’s voice mail and scanned the room for signs of either of them, but they’d simply vanished. “She’s just gone,” she said to Dalton. She had one responsibility that night. All she needed to do was keep Cece safe, and she’d failed.

  “Let’s not panic,” Dalton said. “We’ll find them. They couldn’t have gone far.”

  They couldn’t have gone far. Famous last words.

  He suggested they each take half of the ballroom and walk through, searching and asking if anyone had seen Cece along the way. “They all know who she is,” he said. “And even if they didn’t, it would be hard to miss that dress.” After they got through the ballroom, he said they’d check out the bathrooms.

  “And then what?” Greta asked.

  “Then we can panic.”

  Greta covered every square foot of her half of the ballroom, asking about Cece as she went. Several people had witnessed Cece and Roger leaving the room, but no one knew where they had gone. When she reached the doors on the far side, Dalton was waiting for her. She could tell from his expression and the slow shake of his head that he didn’t have any luck either. They went silently to the bathrooms, each of them heading into their respective rooms. “Cece,” Greta called out, leaning over to check out the shoes in the stall.

  “She’s not here.” The voice came from behind stall number three. The door swung open, and out stepped a petite redhead with a tattoo of a phoenix across one shoulder. “She and that guy with the glasses left.”

  “Left the building?”

  “Yeah. I heard her say she was bored.” She snapped open her purse and pulled out a lipstick, then sashayed to the mirror.

  “Did she say where they were going?”

  “Not a clue.” She deftly applied her lipstick, then blotted her lips with a tissue. “I heard her say something about going wild, and then they ran out laughing. Believe me when I say Leah Ann will not be happy that her star guest ducked out so early.”

  Greta dashed out the swinging bathroom door, almost running into Dalton. “A guy overheard them talk about hitting some bars,” he said, all in a rush. “Fifteen minutes ago.”

  “A girl in there said Cece said something about going wild.” She checked her phone again. Still no response. “We need to find them.”

  “Let’s go down to street level and see if anyone saw them
walking or getting into a cab.” He touched the small of her back as they walked quickly down the hall. They heard piano music coming from the bar area. Someone was loudly playing a blues song. The double doors were wide open. Looking in, they saw the room was empty except for a bartender at each station, and Michael, who sat at the grand piano, fingers flying over the keys, his entire body getting into the music.

  He was, Greta realized with a start, an incredibly good piano player. She rushed to his side and tapped his arm. “Michael!”

  He shook his head and continued to play, giving the keys a workout. The expression on his face was pure bliss.

  “Michael!” Now she raised her voice, yelling over the music. “I’m looking for Cece. She left with a guy named Roger. Do you know where they went?”

  His brow furrowed, and he shook his head, but he didn’t stop playing.

  “Do you know where she’d go if she said she wanted to go bar hopping?”

  It was as if he hadn’t even heard her. He leaned in even more, merging with the music.

  Dalton stepped forward and slammed a hand on the far end of the keys, making a discordant sound and breaking the spell. Michael stopped and looked up in annoyance. “Why did you have to do that? I was almost done.”

  “Dude, could you stop for a minute and answer Greta’s questions?”

  Michael said, “What would you like to know?”

  She tried again. “Did you know that Cece left with some guy named Roger?”

  He nodded. “They came to me. I gave them the keys to the limo. They didn’t want me to drive. She said I should stay and enjoy myself.” He lifted a cocktail glass off the top of the piano and took a sip. “I don’t know where they went.”

  “Where did you park the limo?”

  “On the street. Down a block or two.” Michael squinted and pointed. “That way. Or maybe that way.” He put a fist to his chin. “No, wait, I’m pretty sure it was that way.”

  “Thanks,” Greta said, motioning to Dalton.

  They took the elevator down to the first floor. “Does the limo have a GPS that can be tracked?” Dalton asked as the doors opened.

  “Probably,” she said. “But how would we track it? I don’t think you can randomly track other people’s vehicles. And I think the vehicle would have to be reported as stolen or something, and we can’t do that. It doesn’t even belong to us.”

  “Maybe we can see them outside and catch up with them.”

  The doorman pointed down the street to the right when they asked if he’d noticed which way Cece Vanderhaven had gone, and the uniformed valet standing by the curb confirmed it. Dalton and Greta stood on the sidewalk, staring in that direction. The velvet ropes and red carpet from earlier in the evening were gone, and so were the admiring crowds.

  They walked in that direction, scanning the streets for the limo. When they’d gotten half a mile away, it seemed time to admit defeat. “This is where the trail runs cold,” Dalton said. “Unless we happen to see the limo drive by, I can’t think of any way we can find them.”

  Above Greta’s head, an imaginary light bulb flicked on and she said, “I know a way.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Greta whipped out her phone. “For years, I’ve been following Cece on social media. I know every account, every hashtag, every nickname.” She peered down at the screen, tapping away.

  “You think she’s posting?” It seemed to Dalton that Cece was more into laughing it up with Roger than updating her status.

  “Not her.” Greta tucked her hair back behind one ear. “Other people. Usually, you can literally follow her movements just by doing a search. It’s up to the minute, in real time. And then other people share or retweet or whatever.”

  Dalton stood so close, he could have rested his chin on her head. “What are you planning to do when you find her?”

  “Hopefully bring her home before she does anything to seriously mess up the Firstborn Daughter image.” She scrolled with her thumb, dismissing images taken earlier in the evening.

  Edging in closer, Dalton looked over her shoulder. “That’s a good one of you. You look gorgeous.” He pointed to a photo of her with Cece. It had been taken in front of the building, right after Cece had introduced her as her cousin and said, “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “Hmmm.”

  “You disagree?”

  Greta wasn’t sure if she agreed or not; she was too busy focusing on her current mission. “I found her,” Greta said, showing him the screen. “Someone who goes by Parky4U spotted Cece with a ‘cute nerd type’ at a place called Marcie’s.”

  Dalton hadn’t heard of Marcie’s, but from the photo, it looked like a dive bar. Roger and Cece were at a table in the corner, Cece sitting on his lap. There were shots of a cherry-colored liquor lined up in front of them, and Cece had one glass in her hand. Other people clustered around the edges of the photo. It looked like they were cheering her on.

  Two images later, Cece was dancing on top of the bar next to Roger, who appeared to be clapping. They’d packed a lot of fun into a short period of time. “I guess we’re heading to Marcie’s,” Dalton said.

  One cab ride later, Greta and Dalton were heading into Marcie’s, which turned out to be as classy as it looked in the photos. Going inside was like walking into a cave. They had to give their eyes time to adjust, and once they did, they could see the whole place at a glance. No sign of Cece and Roger, although the table in the corner matched the photos they’d seen online, complete with abandoned shot glasses. “Let me ask,” Dalton said to Greta, who looked distraught.

  “Okay.”

  Dalton went up to the edge of the bar. “Excuse me?” He waved to get the bartender’s attention.

  “Yeah.” He pulled down a handle to fill a beer mug.

  “Cece Vanderhaven and the dark-haired guy who was with her. Any idea where they went?”

  He shook his head, tipping the mug to crown it with the proper amount of foam. “A cop came in and said they couldn’t park the limo out front, so they took off. Too bad, because that’s the most excitement we’ve had in a long time.”

  He set the beer in front of a dark-haired woman. She took a sudden interest in Dalton. “Are you someone famous too?”

  “No.”

  “Huh.” She took a pull of beer. “Too bad. You look like a sexy penguin in that suit.”

  “Thanks.”

  He got back to Greta and said, “They left. You’ll have to do your search magic and see if you can find out where they went.” He hated that she looked so sad and guilty, but in all honesty, he didn’t care where Cece had gone. He just liked hanging out with Greta. He’d chase Cece all over the city if it meant he could spend more time with her cousin.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Eventually, Greta got a new lead on Cece’s whereabouts. According to soccermom685 on Instagram, Cece and an “unidentified geeky guy” had just arrived at the Crazy Night Karaoke Bar. Judging by the photo, Greta and Dalton agreed that the place looked like it was frequented by married couples out for date night. Greta had to give it to Cece; she was trying new things, the kinds of things Greta had never seen her do before. Slumming it at a karaoke lounge.

  With no cabs in sight, they decided to request an Uber. They stood outside on the sidewalk waiting for their ride, watching as cars whizzed past. Occasionally, someone would walk by, or go in or out of the bar, and they’d step aside to get out of the way. Even in her worried state, Greta relished being here. There was something about New York, an energy and diversity she’d never experienced anywhere else before. New York wasn’t her home, but it was an excellent place to be.

  She found herself looking at Dalton and admiring the firm line of his jaw, the wavy hair that fell past his collar. She committed his mannerisms to memory—the casual way he ran his hand through his hair, lips pressed together in thought, the tap of one foot. None of it was extraordinary, but combined in total, it made up who he was. Dalton caught her staring and told her, “You�
��re a good cousin and a great friend.”

  She felt her cheeks flush at the not-entirely-deserved compliment. As concerned as she’d been about Cece, she hadn’t been thinking about her for the last few minutes. “Thank you.”

  “You two must be really close. Did you grow up together?”

  “Actually, we just met the other day.”

  “No!” He seemed genuinely surprised.

  “It’s true. We’re second cousins, and we’d never met until recently. I only knew of her from her family’s Christmas card photos, and then when she became a celebrity, I heard about her like everyone else did.” Like everyone else if they were slightly obsessed with Cece Vanderhaven.

  He whistled in disbelief. “I never would have guessed. You seem like such close friends. She so clearly adores you.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” Sheepishly, her gaze dropped to her shoes, the expensive shoes that were on loan for the evening. They’d gotten more street wear than intended; they’d be wrecked before the night was through.

  “I do,” he said adamantly. “I can tell she thinks the world of you. Believe me, most of the time, gorgeous women are catty to each other, but you two aren’t like that. It’s obvious you care about her, and she’s definitely got your back.”

  Nice of him to say, except it was clear Cece didn’t have her back, or she wouldn’t have ditched her at the Forgotten Man Ball and made them follow her all around the city. If she were looking out for Greta, she’d have behaved herself tonight and saved her a lot of stress and worry.

  Her mind shifted from their conversation about Cece and went back to the compliment, the one he’d slid in oh-so-casually, the one that made her flush with pleasure even as she tried not to show it. She had to ask. “Do you really think I’m gorgeous? Because I know Cece is, but I’m more on the average side. You’re being nice, right? Be honest.” Some emotion Greta couldn’t place flashed across his face. Confusion? Pity? She wasn’t entirely sure.

 

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