YOUR GETAWAY CAR has arrived.
Nichole sent a thumbs-up reply to Brooke’s text, stuffed her phone in her jacket pocket, grabbed a pair of boots from her entryway and peeked into the front yard one last time. Still inaccessible. Thanks to the news van parked in her driveway and the two news vans crammed in front of her neighbor’s house. Another news van crawled along the street, marking the latest addition in the last fifteen minutes.
On the sidewalk, a dark-haired reporter smoothed her blouse down, adjusted her wireless microphone and spoke to the cameraman as if Nichole and Chase’s marriage required live coverage. A hysterical laugh crawled into Nichole’s throat. Nonna hadn’t exaggerated about the press.
Forty-five minutes ago, Chase had tried to drop Nichole off after they’d set the last tray of gnocchi in Nonna’s freezer. Nichole and Chase had surveyed the news crews gathered around her house, then decided to take Nonna’s advice and leave that afternoon for their so-called ski-moon. Worried Chase’s truck would be identified, Nichole had gotten out two blocks from her house and sneaked into her backyard through a forgotten side gate. She’d crammed clothes in a suitcase and waited on her backup.
Brooke and Dan had finally arrived. Nichole picked up her suitcase, scanned her backyard for lurking reporters and raced to the side gate. Thankful for once she hadn’t had the funds or inclination to tackle her overgrown backyard. She tugged ivy and weeds out of her face and squeezed through the rusted gate into an alley wide enough for skateboarders to ride in single file.
Two blocks later, she spotted Dan’s truck, opened the back door and climbed onto the back seat. “I owe you guys.”
Dan started his truck and frowned. “I still don’t know why I couldn’t have parked in Nichole’s driveway and yelled ‘no comment,’ then ‘go away.’”
“That would’ve incited the reporters.” Brooke shifted in her seat and touched Dan’s knee. “And that’s not the low profile that Chase and Nichole want to maintain right now.”
“That’s why you’re meeting me in an alley blocks away from my house.” The truck rolled away from the curb. Nichole scooted lower on the bench seat. “So, we can get out of the city without the press knowing.”
“So, you really are married to Chase Jacobs.” Dan looked at Nichole in the rearview mirror.
She held Dan’s gaze, refusing to blink and forcing herself to nod. Was it less of a lie without words spoken?
Brooke supplied the words for her. “Of course, she is married to Chase.”
“The news gets it wrong sometimes.” Dan let the truck idle at a stop sign and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as if debating which direction to turn. They’d arranged to meet Chase at a grocery store on the way out of the city, then Brooke and Dan would pick up Ben and Wesley from school.
“But best friends don’t get it wrong,” Brooke argued. Certainty and complete faith thickened her tone. “Nichole knows if she got married or not.”
Nichole knew alright. But Brooke’s loyalty deflated her. Nichole was the worst type of friend. Her mounting guilt pressed her into a slouch against the bench seat.
Worse, she’d lost track of time inside Nonna’s place this afternoon, working beside Chase. Lost a bit of herself after she’d kissed Chase’s cheek. After Chase had offered to reveal the truth and accept the full blame to protect her. He’d even vowed to ensure In A Pinch sold. But Nichole had given her word too. They hadn’t made a one-sided deal. So, the ruse continued.
“Besides, no one gets a ring like that for no reason.” Brooke peered over the seat at Nichole’s hand.
There was a reason: to bolster the farce. The diamonds captured the daylight and the deception, splintering it across the seat in a brilliant display of sparkles. There was nothing flawed about the ring, only Nichole’s continuous dishonesty. Would her friends ever forgive her? Would she ever forgive herself? A chill swept through her. She rubbed her cold palm against her leg.
“And Nichole cooked with Chase and his grandmother earlier today.” Brooke grabbed Dan’s hand and laced their fingers together.
Their connection was effortless. Sincere. So very genuine. Once Nichole sold In A Pinch, she’d have something real too. Nichole glanced out the window, away from diamonds that hugged her finger as if custom-made for her and vintage wishes.
“That is a big thing.” Dan nodded and slanted a soft smile at Brooke.
“It’s no big deal really.” But Nonna had wanted to meet her first great-grandson. That was a big deal. Now Wesley had a supposed stepdad and another very interested great-grandmother. That chill burrowed into her bones. But the time for cold feet had long since passed. Now Nichole worried only regret waited at the end of the aisle.
Dan shook his head. “Cooking with family matters.”
“Wait.” Nichole straightened and leaned forward. “You were skeptical of the marriage until Brooke told you that I cooked with Chase and his grandmother. How does that work?”
“Chase Jacobs is protective of his family. He’s admitted it in interviews.” Dan shrugged. “He’d do anything for them. A guy like that doesn’t just invite anyone into his home to meet his family.”
“We’ve known each other since high school.” You were the only girl I ever invited home. Nichole tugged on her sweater, pulling the too tight collar away from her neck. Still, she struggled to swallow around the lump lodged in her throat. “It’s different.”
“If you say so,” Dan said.
She’d said it, but she knew the truth. She’d skewed their business arrangement into something more personal. Trespassed across family boundaries that should’ve remained intact. She never should’ve put on that apron. Or kissed Chase. She never should’ve started any of this.
Chase had moved around Nonna’s kitchen as if he’d always belonged. As if cracking eggs into flour mounds on the table came as naturally as throwing a thirty-five-yard pass downfield. From Nonna’s approving squeezes on her grandson’s arm to Chase’s awareness of his grandmother and her tired hands, the blend of love and joy had elevated the morning into an experience.
Nichole had wanted to linger until she’d figured out the recipe and the right combination to belong. But Nichole was frozen pizza, takeout and microwave savvy. Chase was fresh herbs, gourmet and five-star polished.
Brooke leaned forward in her seat and pointed out the window at a navy sedan driving in the opposite direction. “I think we just passed another car with a cameraman lurking in the back seat. Surely that’s the last of them. We’re out of your neighborhood.”
Nichole tried for upbeat. “You’re a brilliant getaway driver, Dan.”
“I had to be.” Dan’s easy laughter flowed around the truck. “I was afraid you’d take back your invite for us to crash your Tahoe ski-moon.”
“Dan hasn’t stopped talking about spending an entire weekend with Chase Jacobs,” Brooke said.
Dan grinned. “This is like bucket wish–list big.”
Never had Chase appeared on any of Nichole’s wish lists. Until now. Chase and she had to remain friends. Friends were rarely replaced and forgotten. Not like love. Love was temporary, easily set aside and too often one-sided.
“But this ski trip might be an even bigger deal for Ben and Wesley,” Brooke said.
Wesley. Nichole needed caution tape to mark off all the boundaries she couldn’t risk being crossed. Wesley required his own set of boundaries. The ski-moon was simply a getaway with friends. It could not become something more. Something meaningful that involved more than a business partnership. Nichole pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to hold on to her conviction.
Ten minutes later, Dan parked his truck at the back of the grocery store parking lot beside Chase’s truck. He jumped out, left his door open and hurried to shake Chase’s hand.
Brooke opened her door and peered back at Nichole, laughter in her gaze. “I got everything on your shopping list and added something extra, in case you want to celebrate tonight.”
Nichole wanted to turn back the clock. Reverse time and start over before she’d called Chase her husband. Before boundaries got blurred.
Chase walked over, brushed his fingers across her shoulder. His touch and his gaze gentle. “You’re still covered in flour.”
And Nichole’s heart tumbled right back into the game.
The iced-down cooler with the perishables and the shopping bags loaded with snacks and fruit stashed behind their seats, Nichole climbed into the passenger seat of Chase’s truck. She waved goodbye to her friends, wrapped that caution tape around her heart and committed to keeping her distance to business appropriate.
“Any problems with the press?” Chase buckled his seat belt and started his truck.
“As far as I know, no one saw me enter or leave my house.” Nichole slipped on her sunglasses, adding another barrier between her and Chase.
“Travis will issue a statement requesting our privacy.”
“Will that work?”
“Not for the more aggressive reporters.” Chase frowned.
“But you’re used to this.” How many interviews had she read about Chase? How many news reports had she watched featuring Chase?
“Doesn’t mean I like it.” Chase adjusted his sunglasses. “Usually it’s just me I have to worry about.”
“That’s what you prefer, isn’t it?” To be alone. One more reason Nichole must keep Chase in the friend zone. He only looked out for himself.
He nodded. Tension tightened his jaw, his stiff shoulders and his grip on the steering wheel as if he guarded himself from her and any more probing questions.
Nichole preferred to be alone too. Yet Chase’s loneliness drew her in and became impossible to overlook. Not my business.
“Sorry about Nonna’s ambush today.” Chase rested his right hand on his thigh, his fingers curled into a weak fist. The edges of his grin tensed. “I really had no idea.”
“I had fun.” That was a suitable answer. Coworkers were allowed to have fun together.
“Me too.” He glanced at her, surprise on his face.
“We need to go over our stories about the wedding.” And she needed to pretend she never noticed his wince of pain with every shift of position. Not my business. She had to focus her concern on the practical things.
“I told Elliot and my agent we got married in Vegas,” Chase said.
“I told Brooke and Josie we went to Reno,” she said. “It’s closer to drive.”
“I figured we’d taken a private plane.”
Nichole latched on to their differences like a scientist gathering evidence to prove a theory. Clearly Chase and she were too opposite to attract. “I also told them we got married in a chapel and I had a rose bouquet.”
“Really?” He glanced at her. “But lilies are your favorite flower.”
“You remembered that?” No big deal. She remembered minor details about him too. They were even. That her heart flipped over in one of those forbidden cartwheels was not relevant.
“I also remember that you had questionable music taste in high school,” he teased.
“I was in a soundtrack phase.” Nichole shifted in her seat, opting to keep the conversation in the easygoing lane. “And Broadway musicals would’ve definitely been playing in the Hearts Forever Chapel in Reno.”
“What music would you play at your real wedding reception?” Curiosity lightened his tone. His fist relaxed, his fingers flattened against his leg.
Had she distracted him from his pain? Nichole leaned into the back seat and rummaged through a shopping bag. “Jazz band. What about you?”
“Live cover band.” His eyebrows arched above his sunglasses. “Is that red licorice?”
The hope in his tone reminded her of a younger Chase. The one who’d started every tutoring session with the same impractical question: Don’t suppose we can skip today and have fun instead? Nichole had quickly discovered food represented fun for Chase. She opened the bag of licorice and pulled out a candy rope. “Is it still your favorite?”
“Haven’t had it in too long.” Chase reached across the console, wiggling his fingers. For the moment, his face masked in happiness. “But yeah. It is.”
“Good thing I bought several packages.” Fact: food still distracted Chase. Fact: she hadn’t forgotten his favorite things. Fact: he kept his guard up and she wasn’t interested in breaching his defenses. She knew all she needed to about Chase: he was a bachelor and wanted to remain one.
He waved the licorice at her. “Destination wedding. Where do you go?”
“Vineyard in Napa.” She settled back into the seat and prepared to tally more differences to prove they didn’t belong together. “You?”
“Island.” He smiled and bit into his licorice. “Add in a private yacht equipped with all the toys—Jet Skis, speedboat for waterskiing and tubing.”
Nichole wanted a beach chair under a shady palm tree and a good book. “Guest count at the reception?”
“Island-wide, open invitation.” He laughed and added, “It’d be a week-long celebration. What about your guest list?”
“Friends and family only.” Quaint and intimate versus rowdy and crowded. How much more proof did she need? “Your wedding sounds exhausting.”
“Let’s head back to your vineyard.” His chuckle released his grin. “What else is happening? An insider tour. Wine-making classes. Horseback rides.”
“Strolls through the vineyard. Simple wine tastings. Long, casual dinners.” She straightened, added a defensive edge to her tone. “What? When do we get to relax and enjoy each other’s company at your wedding festival?”
“Simple. At night under the stars on the yacht deck,” he said. “No other guests allowed.”
She liked that image. Too much. Nichole curled her fingers around the licorice package. The plastic crinkled into the silence.
Chase changed his grip on the steering wheel and remained quiet as if he too lost himself in the idea.
Annoyed his words made her consider more than she ever should, she yanked out another licorice rope, intending to distract him. She waved the licorice around. “These are not my favorite.”
“Don’t waste it.” Chase snatched the candy rope from her. “You must have chocolate truffles or a chocolate bar back there too. You were never without chocolate in high school.”
“I’ve upgraded to dark chocolate now that I’m an adult.” And she’d upgraded her standards. Recalling her favorite things would not make her heart tumble.
Nichole pulled out a package of sea salt truffles, her vendor call list and concentrated on the practical.