CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

 

A sunny morning, some chirping birds, a flippy skirt, bouncing curls, a skip into town. I'm behaving like a damn Disney princess, and I don't even care. My heart's too big for my chest today, and all the extra happy is leaking out of me in odd ways.

I'm heading for Deep Brew C because Conn asked me to. "Come for breakfast. I want to see you first thing in the morning," he said last night. A sweet sentiment made incredibly hot. Because he was saying it with his lips against my neck. Punctuating his words with sexy little swipes of his tongue. How could I refuse?

My pulse starts fluttering the closer I get to the commercial district and DBC. I've only been away from Conn for several hours, but I'm desperate to see him again. Yes, I managed to kick him out of my apartment late last night before any under-the-robe exploring took place—well, not much, anyway—and we established some ground rules so we don't mess up this delicate operation: we agreed to set a modest pace when it comes to anything physical, and we decided to keep our new status quiet for now. This is going to be a shock for our friends and relatives. If they don't approve, it might derail us completely before we get a chance to even get comfortable with each other.

The one exception is Hannah, whom I called before Conn was even out of sight down the sidewalk. Yes, I stood at the window and watched him go. One should never miss an opportunity to watch that man's backside in motion. I forgot it was the middle of the night, but when I told her the news she was so excited it didn't matter what time it was—she insisted on getting all the details. I had plenty for her, like his answer when I demanded to know how he came to this sudden conclusion we should be more than friends.

"Sudden?" he repeated, looking at me like I had two heads. "It wasn't sudden. Do you think I just decided I was hot for you, like, last week? I told you, I've felt this way for a long time."

"Which is so weird to me. Why didn't you tell me you've been carrying a torch for me for a while?"

"Who says 'carrying a torch' anymore?"

"Don't mock. It's a perfectly legitimate expression."

"If you're a time traveler from 1894."

"Stop avoiding the question."

Conn looked at me steadily, which stirred up a butterfly colony in my stomach, then said, "I didn't think you felt the same way. So I kept it to myself."

"For how long?"

"Ages."

"Ages?" What constituted an age, let alone more than one? I didn't know. "You'd better not mean when we were kids. Because, you know—ew."

"No, of course not. You were a pain in the ass when we were kids. And I was only interested in football anyway."

"And not when I was a teenager, because to you I was jailbait. Double ew."

"Definitely not," he agreed emphatically. "You were still a pain in the ass then—just a bigger one."

"You're running out of years," I cautioned him.

That familiar grin spread across his face, and he reached out to curl a lock of my hair around his index finger. "Later," he murmured. "When I moved back to town after my divorce."

"I find that hard to believe. You were in such a dark place then, you despised every individual with two X chromosomes."

"You're right, I did. Well, not despised, but I was perfectly happy avoiding the female half of the species for a while. I couldn't avoid you though. You wouldn't let me."

"Hey!"

"Admit it—you showed up whether I wanted you to or not. Repeatedly."

"Of course I did! I couldn't let you waste away by yourself."

 "I was grateful. You were there for me, and I let you in because you were my friend. You were safe…I thought. But when I got my head straight, opened the restaurant, started over…there you were, in a really different way."

I felt my cheeks flush at his simple words that said so much, at the shrug of one shoulder that told me he realized we were an inevitability, coupled with a hungry look in his eye making it quite clear he welcomed the inevitability.

"I didn't appear in a puff of smoke," I demurred.

"It felt like you did. Suddenly you were a grown-up, self-possessed woman. At the same time the old Melanie I'd always known was still in there. That was a dangerous mix. Look what it did to me."

"I'm not sure I'm buying this. You bitched at me constantly!"

"Smokescreen. Deep down, I wanted you around. I needed you around. You were a light at the end of the tunnel. One I always looked for, because you made me happy. It's…you're…"

"What?" I whispered, thrumming from head to toe as he leaned forward to kiss me once again.

"Perfect," he whispered back before giving me the gentlest of pecks on my lips.

Which, of course, didn't stay gentle for long.

Needless to say, last night was pretty much everything I always dreamed of. Why, then, am I hesitating on the sidewalk across the street from DBC? Maybe I'm afraid it was all an ice-cream-induced hallucination, and when I walk into Conn's place, I'll be facing His Royal Grumpiness, as usual.

However, the pull of wanting to see Conn is stronger than any worries I can conjure up, so I force my feet off the curb and across the cobbles. I fling open the front door with my usual flair, even though my knees feel like they're made of Jell-O. There's no sign of Conn, which ratchets up my panic level. He could pop out at me from anywhere, at any moment. Or he's not even here though he said he would be.

This is ridiculous. I'm being ridiculous. Summoning the old Melanie—and holding her by her collar to keep her here—I march up to the counter.

"Beebs, my love, how are you?"

"'Morning, Melanie. You look nice today."

"Aren't you sweet."

"Triple espresso?"

I do not need that much caffeine. My nerves are already practically piercing my skin. "How about a latte instead? I feel rested today."

"You sure seem happy about something."

I smile coyly at him and move over a few steps to wait for my drink. Some movement in the kitchen, which I can see through the pickup window, makes me jump. It's not Conn though. It's Ornette, the cook. He waves me over.

"How's my favorite chef today?"

He smiles brightly—when he does that, the skinny man seems to be all teeth, brilliant white against his rich, dark skin—and rests the heels of his hands on the open ledge. "You got a minute, Melanie?"

"For you? Always."

"Meet you in the back hallway?"

When he joins me, his smile turns self-conscious. "I, uh, was wondering if you had some time to help me out. Professionally. I…"

"Need a friend?" I try to focus on him, but I'm also on high alert for any sign of Conn. It's hard not to be distracted.

"Yeah. Do you…find dates for people?"

Now he has my full attention. I have done a few matchmaking jobs, but they've been fewer and farther between than I expected. Petey Fagle is probably my greatest success, although because he already had someone in mind, I didn't have to find him a date. If Vernon and Zoë become a couple, they'll be another success story, albeit accidental. Still, I think I'm pretty good at putting people together, and the way I'm feeling right now about my own love life makes me want to find someone special for everyone.

"I don't even know where to start," Ornette confesses.

Fortunately, I do. "Ornette. Buddy. Don't tell me you can't see the obvious."

"What?"

I glance around—still no sign of Conn, but that's not who I'm looking out for this time—before I lean in and whisper, "Beebs has had a crush on you forever."

Ornette draws his head back in surprise, but he's smiling again. "You think so?"

"Oh, I know so. You should go for it. You won't be turned down. I guarantee it."

"Wow, just like that? I mean, I didn't think you'd have an answer for me this fast."

"Just like that." I don't tell him I've had this gut feeling about him and Beebs for ages.

"Thanks!"

"My pleasure."

"Do you bill me, or—?"

"If you two get together, it's all the payment I need." I pat his arm reassuringly. "I want to see you both happy."

"Thanks," he says again then hesitates. "Wait. What does Conn think of—"

"Coworkers dating? I'll bet you anything he'll be okay with it."

"Are you sure?"

"If he has any doubts, I'll convince him." I have skills. And recently acquired special influence. "In fact, I'll talk to Conn about it right now. Do you happen to know where—?"

"Melanie?" I whip around to find Conn leaning out of his office. "Hey. Can I talk to you a second?"

I'm not sure if I should be happy or alarmed. His face is a blank. I gulp and nod. He opens the door wider. I walk into the office, head high, giving no sign I'm suddenly grappling with my deepest fear: what if he's going to tell me last night was all a mistake and we should go back to being just friends?

The minute he slams the door and sandwiches me between it and his body, so tightly I can barely move, that fear vanishes. He kisses me hungrily, like I have the only supply of the air he needs to breathe.

"Where have you been?" he demands, teeth grazing my skin.

I shiver. "Did you miss me?"

Nodding, he says, "Maybe my leaving last night wasn't the best idea."

"You know it was," I say, even though I don't believe it.

"I almost called you when I got home."

"So why didn't you?"

"I was busy."

"Doing what?"

"Thinking about you."

The way he says "thinking" implies something quite different. I give him a shove. "Pervert."

"Your fault. All your fault. You left me with too much to…think about."

"Wait a minute. You definitely should have called me." He swings me around effortlessly, leaning me against the edge of his desk. I laugh, but it's more breathlessness than anything else. "Oh my God, stop."

"Stop what? Talking? Or this?" He slips a hand under my skirt, runs his palm over my ass, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to faint.

"Never mind. Carry on."

Moving his hand down the back of my thigh, he tickles the inside of my knee and lifts my leg, wrapping it around him. I don't fight this either. It all feels too damn good.

"So. Talk to me about what?" he asks.

"Mm?" I'm too distracted by the line of soft kisses he's placing on my skin, one after the other, from my neck to my shoulder, to comprehend what he's saying.

"I heard you tell Ornette you were going to talk to me about something."

"Oh. Right." I let out a huge sigh as he moves the fabric of my sleeveless shirt and bra strap aside to continue the line of kisses. "Ornette wants to…oh God." Conn has reversed direction. His kisses are coming back along my collarbone and heading down the V of my shirt, turning my brain to mush.

"To what?"

"He wants…to ask Beebs out, but he's afraid you have some rule against employee…um…" I've actually lost my ability to form words.

"Fraternization?"

"Yeah, that."

He tickles my sensitive skin with another light kiss. "Did you have anything to do with it?"

"S-sort of. I told him to go for it."

As a particularly shaky breath escapes from me, Conn looks up from under devilishly arched eyebrows, but he doesn't lift his head from the top edge of my breast. He's got to quit. He can't go any lower.

I need him to go lower.

"Good. It's about time those two got together."

I start to say, "I'll tell him—" And Conn goes lower. I cut off my own comment with a rather loud, involuntary yelp.

He's back at my lips immediately. "Shh." His whisper flutters over my cheek. "People are going to wonder what's going on in here." And to make sure I don't raise the alarm, he covers my mouth with a captivating, all-consuming kiss.

When I can catch my breath again, I pummel his shoulder. "Quit it. I've got to go to work."

"You're going to leave me like this?"

"Lock yourself in here and…do some thinking."

"You're cruel."

But he does step back. I can barely stand as I make a business of straightening my clothes and smoothing my hair.

Conn brushes a few stray strands back from my eyes and, hands on the sides of my face, kisses me one more time. "Can I see you tonight?"

"Can't. I'm teaching Aurelia Hoffstader proper social media etiquette and how to take a selfie. She wants to start internet dating."

"Seriously?"

"Hey, no disrespecting my clients. All their needs are important."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'll call you after I'm done."

When I present myself for review, turning to one side then the other, he looks me up and down and nods. "Squared away," he says, opening the door.

He reaches for me one more time, but I hold him off with a hand to his chest. It has the opposite effect. He yanks me back inside, completely messes up what I just straightened, then pushes me out into the hallway…right into Beebs, who's standing there, fist raised to knock, his mouth open in shock. I blush violently. He smiles. Delightedly.

I doubt Conn and I are going to be able to keep this a secret for very long.

 

*   *   *

 

Beebs catching us doesn't dampen my mood in the least, however. If I thought I was floaty and stupid earlier this morning, I'm even more so as I make my way to the real estate office. The bell over the door sounds like the sweetest church chimes, Eric the Red doesn't look as coked up as he usually does, and even Maude's pinched expression doesn't bother me. Is this place cheerier, or is it me? I suspect it's the latter.

Then I have the biggest surprise of the morning: my father is in his office.

"Daddy, what in God's name are you doing at work?"

"I brought donuts!"

"That explains Laura's white mustache. Maybe. Anyway, this isn't like you. Have you had a stroke?" Maybe a fever has set in and he's delirious. I toss my things onto the leather sofa and round the end of his desk to put my hand on his forehead. "What's wrong?"

He pushes my hand away, but gently. "Nothing's wrong. Can't your old man come into his own place of business? And bearing donuts, no less?"

"Why are you not following the advice of a doctor for once and taking it easy for a couple of weeks?"

"I'm sitting at my desk. It's just like sitting at home but less infuriating. Have you seen the state of daytime TV lately?"

"Don't change the subject."

"It is the same subject. You asked why I'm here. I'm answering you. It's because Maury drives me up a wall."

"Dressing, driving, and sitting here are all stressful. Aren't your incisions hurting?"

"Magda dropped me off, and I have wonderful painkillers. Now, I want to talk to you."

He sounds almost serious. I wonder if he's had some complications. Or maybe the pre-op tests found something wrong, something more serious than his appendix. "What is it?"

"You think I should take it easy," he begins.

I nod. I did do some thinking about this while he was in surgery. "Absolutely. You're not getting any younger, and—"

"I beg your pardon!"

"What I mean is, maybe you should take a look at how you're living your life. All the unneeded stress. Like running for office. Maybe you should consider withdrawing from—"

"Not on your life."

"Okay." I'm prepared for this. I have a backup plan. "Then how about letting me take care of your appearances from now till November?"

"No."

"Charles, you're pissing me off."

"That's not very ladylike."

"Look, old man—"

"Let me talk, offspring," he commands. "I have done a bit of soul searching lately, but not about backing off or taking it easy. Quite the contrary, in fact."

"Dad—"

"Listen. Please. Before I found out all this was just my appendix, I came up with at least a dozen different deadly diseases and conditions that could be causing me all that pain."

 "Of course you did." No need to wonder where I get my overactive imagination from. It runs in the family.

"Anyway, I realized I've spent half my life trying to find something wrong with me. Physically. You know."

"I do know. Very well."

"But once something actually turned out to be wrong with me, I realized what a waste it's been, worrying about nothing all these years. It's kind of a sick hobby, isn't it?"

"I'd go with 'weird pathological behavior.'"

"I'm sixty-five years old. I have decades ahead of me if I play my cards right. Why should I spend any of it looking for illnesses I don't have? I know this is a cliché, but life is short, isn't it? We should be living it instead of spending our entire time on earth afraid of it."

"I agree."

"Good."

"Does this mean you're turning the real estate office over to me now?"

"Nice try."

Oh well.

"This goes for you too," he continues. "You've got that lovely new business of yours. Make the most of it. It could really be something."

"Oh, I don't know," I demur. It started off as an accidental opportunity to get paid for doing what I usually do: be too free and easy with my advice. Without a practical business plan, I can't see this thing having a very long shelf life. The summer people will be leaving in a few short weeks, and I'll be back to helping out the locals, which I've always done anyway, as part of my noblesse oblige.

"Keep your options open, is all I'm saying."

"I will. I promise. So how are you going to live your best life then?"

"Enjoy it. Not take it for granted. Not try to hasten my trip to the burying ground. Stay healthy enough to enjoy my grandchildren."

"Hey. Don't go thinking too far ahead, mister."

"I suppose not, considering you haven't even dated anyone in…how long has it been? Months? Years?"

"Okay, you can stop right there."

"Don't make me wait too much longer, that's all."

I kiss my father on the top of his white head and say nothing, absolutely nothing, about Conn, even though I want to. For the first time in my life, I can actually envision that sort of a future. I don't want to jinx it.