Frisky Business (20 page)

Will straightened and tossed the stick, then caught up with the girls. “Why don’t you let us take you to dinner,” Will said. “Since you’re missing out on your meal with Josh.”

“That’s a lovely idea,” April said.

“Burgers!” Bethany shouted. “Pilot Butte Drive-in.”

Marley laughed, a warm and musical sound that made Will want to keep her laughing forever. “Sure, I’m game. But I’m buying. Seriously, thanks for rescuing me, guys.”

“No problem,” Will said. “I’m sure you’ll find we’re much more amicable dates than Josh, though slightly less likely to put out.”

“Speak for yourself,” Bethany said as she looped her arm through Will’s again, pulling him close enough to smell blueberries in Marley’s hair.

***

Marley wasn’t sure how things had gone so wrong on her date with Josh, but she was glad about one thing.

“So we saved you from having dinner with the plumber’s parents?” Bethany asked, popping a fry into her mouth. “Seriously? The guy was taking you to meet his mom on a first date?”

Marley shrugged and took a bite of her burger. The patty was thick and juicy and tasted like heaven coated in bleu cheese. “His mom was making meatloaf,” Marley said. “It seemed like a reasonable idea at the time.”

“If that’s your idea of reasonable dating behavior, remind me to invite you to help repave my driveway,” Will said. “It’s romantic, I swear.”

“Be nice to her, you two,” April said, daintily dipping a fry in a perfectly round pool of ketchup. “She said she’s spent most of her adult life dating a different sort of man. She just didn’t know what to expect.”

Marley felt a rush of gratitude toward April and wondered, not for the first time, what her marriage to Will had been like. Did she regret those years of being someone she wasn’t, or did it take a relationship with the absolute wrong person to recognize right when you saw it?

She smiled at April, who smiled back and gestured to Marley’s ears. “Those are lovely earrings, Marley. Where did you find them?”

“My mother made them,” Marley said, squelching a pang of sadness by popping a tater tot in her mouth. “She used to be a jewelry designer. She owned a jewelry store in Portland for almost twenty years.”

“Where does she live now?” Will asked, shifting on the bench seat to lean back into the corner. The movement tipped Marley toward him, and she shivered as she felt her thigh brush his.

“My mom lives in Guatemala,” Marley said. “She and my dad divorced years ago.”

“How is your dad, anyway?” Will asked, shifting the subject from one subject Marley didn’t want to discuss to another she wanted to discuss even less.

“He’s fine,” she said, and took a bite of her burger.

“How’d he feel about your date with the plumber?” Will asked.

“He didn’t send me to my room and ground me, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Will grinned and reached out to steal a tater tot off her plate. “You do seem like you could use a good spanking.”

“Time out!” Bethany yelled, waving her arms. “If you two are gonna do it on the table, can I at least move my food out of the way?”

Marley felt heat creep into her cheeks, and April looked equally uncomfortable. She was struggling to come up with a good way to change the subject when a waitress approached the table with four large takeout boxes. She set them on the table in front of Will, who thanked her and handed one to Marley.

“I took the liberty of ordering an extra burger for Magoo,” he said. “I hope the bacon cheeseburger is okay. That’s what my three are getting.”

“Thank you,” Marley said, taken aback. “That’s very sweet of you.”

“I can be sweet when I try.”

Across the table, April sipped her diet Coke and smiled at Marley. “How was work for you today, Marley? Are you settling in okay?”

“Work is… well, mostly fine.”

Not
a
word
to
the
family
members.
Susan’s warning echoed in Marley’s ears as she reached for the saltshaker.

“I’m settling in really well,” Marley amended, adding an extra note of perkiness to her voice. “I really enjoy working with donors.”

“Even Aunt Nancy?” Bethany snorted.

Marley felt a chill slither down her spine, and she forced her smile to stay in place. “I get to work with a very diverse group of CHSWS supporters, and Ms. Thomas-Smith certainly keeps me on my toes. I spoke with her today, as a matter-of-fact.”

“Did she tell you about the new study she’s doing on the long-term health effects of nipple clamps?” Bethany asked.

Marley grimaced. “I tried to change the subject, but she just kept talking.”

“Welcome to our childhood,” Bethany said, taking a sip of her strawberry milkshake. “I’m having lunch with her tomorrow. She wants me to go with her to New York next week to meet with her attorney.”

“New York is lovely this time of year,” April said.

Bethany smiled and turned back to Marley. “Is she making you nuts with demands about the rock cocks? Honestly, those things have been her pride and joy for decades. I couldn’t believe she finally decided to donate them.”

“Wanting to leave a legacy is a lovely gesture,” April said. “I admire her for doing it.”

“Any word yet on what they’re worth?” Will asked.

Marley swallowed hard, wondering if it was a piece of sesame bun or just her conscience lodged in her throat. She looked down at her plate and began to dissect a piece of tomato with her fingernail.

“We’re taking our time and making absolutely certain we handle this donation correctly,” Marley said, ignoring the twist of guilt that grabbed hold of her small intestine. “Finding the right appraiser, having the figurines properly cleaned and handled—”

“Of course,” Will said, shifting again on the bench seat so Marley fell against him. “Because nothing’s worse than a granite wanker that’s dirty or improperly handled.”

Marley flushed and looked up at Will. His mismatched eyes bore into hers, and for a horrifying moment, she worried he knew everything. About her mother, about the lost figurines, about the way she imagined tearing off his shirt and sinking her fingernails into his chest as he devoured her throat with his mouth.

She swallowed and scooted back on the seat. “I have everything handled,” she said, knowing nothing could be further from the truth.

Friday evening, Marley was standing by the door ten minutes early waiting for Brian to pick her up. She glanced at her watch, not sure why she felt so nervous. True, her date with Josh hadn’t gone very well.

But she had high hopes for Brian the bike guy and his delightfully sexy smile.

“What kind of car does he drive?” her father asked, joining her in the foyer and peering out the window.

“A bike,” Marley replied with another glance at her watch.

“Is that a joke?”

Marley shrugged. “The restaurant isn’t too far away, and Brian lives less than half a mile from here. He offered to pedal his tandem bike over here by himself so we could ride together to dinner.”

Admittedly, Marley had been surprised at the suggestion. How many first dates involved both parties riding the same bicycle? But she told herself it was a quaint and charming notion, not to mention practical. This way, no one had to operate a car after a couple glasses of wine.

“Tandem bikes are romantic,” Marley told her father, pretty sure that was true.

“So is not fracturing your skull on a first date. Promise you’ll be careful, Marley.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise. See? I have a helmet and everything. I even left my hair down so I don’t end up with helmet head.”

“Please say this man at least owns a motorized vehicle.”

“He owns a motorized vehicle. Now cut it out, Dad. How do I look?”

“Very beautiful,” her father said, studying her from head to toe as he took a sip from his glass of bourbon.

“Thank you. I wouldn’t normally go for capris and sturdy sandals on a first date, but I’ve never had a first date on a bike. It’s nice to be fun and casual for a change.”

Her father sighed. “In my day, a man wouldn’t ask a woman out and expect her to dress like she’s going hiking.”

“I asked
him
out,” she informed him. “And I’m paying, too. It’s a thank you for a speedy repair on my bike.”

Her father frowned. “You’re positive this is a date?”

“Yes,” said Marley, not entirely certain.

She smiled as Brian came wheeling up the driveway, his magnificent—albeit, hairless—legs pumping the pedals. He braked at the top of the driveway, pulled off his aviator sunglasses, and gave her a slow, sexy smile as she walked down the front steps.

“Marley,” he said. “You look hot.”

“Thank you,” she said, stealing a glance at his legs. “You too.”

He laughed. “Looking at my legs?”

Marley flushed. “I just—”

“It’s okay. I’m used to it from non-cyclists. Competitive bike racers keep their legs shaved.” He turned one calf to the side to give her a better look. “It’s a safety thing. Makes wounds easier to clean if you crash and end up with road rash.”

Marley strapped on her helmet, delighted by the invitation to stare openly at his legs now. “But competitive bike racers don’t shave their arms? Aren’t they just as likely to get road rash on an elbow or forearm or something?”

Brian laughed. “Good observation. You’re quick, Malory.”

“Marley.”

“Sorry. See, the truth is, cyclists like to claim they shave their legs for aerodynamics and wound cleaning, but the most likely reason is they just want to show off their toned calves.”

“Can’t say I blame them. You’re a competitive cyclist?”

“I do a few USA Cycling events from time to time, sometimes cyclocross in the winter. Keeps me out of trouble.” He flashed a mischievous smile and nodded to the back of the bike. “You ready to roll?”

“Sure. Is there any trick to this? I’ve never ridden a tandem bike before.”

“No trick. If you’ve ridden a regular bike, you’ll be just fine with this. I’ll hold it steady and you hop on.”

“Got it.”

“Let me know if the seat doesn’t feel right and I’ll adjust it. I went off the measurements for your other bike, so it should be pretty close.”

Marley did as instructed, seizing the opportunity to catch her balance once by latching on to Brian’s shoulder.

Nice,
she thought.
Toned, muscular, nice smile, fun-loving. This could work.

“Ready?” he called, flashing her another sexy grin.

“Let’s roll.”

They set off peddling down the street, with Brian calling out warnings about turns and potholes. Marley felt herself start to relax as she studied the scenery and Brian’s backside, bracing herself each time he announced a bump in the road.

Kind, considerate, great ass,
Marley mused.

It occurred to her she was spending an awful lot of time categorizing Brian’s strengths, talking herself into seeing him as the perfect guy.

He
could
be
the
perfect
guy.

He turned the bike onto a car-lined downtown street, signaling as he merged into the left lane and pedaled toward a tall brick building. He steered them up a curb and into a glossy red bike rack.

“Here we are,” he called, hopping off the bike and holding it steady so Marley could do the same. Marley followed suit, unhooking her helmet as she glanced down at the bike rack. Someone had crocheted duck feet for it, and the effect was whimsical and goofy. Marley hooked her helmet over her arm as Brian locked up the bike. She fluffed her hair, trying to catch a glimpse of her reflection in the restaurant window.

“We’ve still got plenty of time for happy hour,” Brian said, reaching over to tuck the key to the bike lock into the breast pocket of Marley’s shirt. She jumped back, surprised, and Brian laughed.

“Hope that’s okay. I don’t have any pockets.”

“Oh. Right, sure. No problem.”

“Come on, let’s get inside. I recommend the greyhound and the carpaccio if you’re ordering off the happy hour menu.”

“Sounds good,” she said, following him inside as she made a mental note that he’d held the door open for her.

A
gentleman,
she mused.
With
good
culinary
taste
and
a
frugal
sensibility
that
doesn’t sacrifice a quality meal.

Shut
up, Marley.

“What?” Brian asked.

“Nothing.”

He grinned down at her and touched her elbow to steer her toward the hostess station. Marley smiled at the familiarity of the gesture, pleased things seemed to be starting off on the right note.

“Hey, Brian!” Marley looked up to see the hostess sidling toward them, thrusting her breasts toward them like cupcakes on a dessert tray. “It’s soooooooo good to see you again. How’ve you been, honey?”

Brian smiled with a hint of a grimace as the hostess grabbed his arm.

“Hey, Shari,” he said. “Good to see you.”

“Carrie.”

“That’s what I said.” Brian cleared his throat. “We need a table.”

Carrie looked at Marley, not even trying to pretend she wasn’t performing a head-to-toe appraisal. She sniffed and looked back at Brian. “For how many?”

“Two. A table for two.”

“How cozy,” Carrie said. “Right this way.”

She flounced ahead of them, putting an extra wiggle in her walk for Brian’s benefit. Marley resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Carrie led them to a table next to one of the windows overlooking the sidewalk. “Here you go. You want the happy hour menu, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Enjoy!” she said, and sashayed off.

Marley watched Carrie go, then turned back to Brian.

He flashed her an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem. Friend of yours?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah… friend, right. She’s a friend.”

Marley took a deep breath, chiding herself for feeling jealous. They barely knew each other, and obviously he dated other women—

“Brian!” squealed a female voice.

Marley looked toward the bar, where a muscular-looking blonde in a sundress was hurtling toward them. She had a killer tan, and sandals that laced up her well-toned calves. Marley glanced at Brian, who was drawing out his slow, sexy smile as the woman approached.

“Hey, babe,” he called. “Good to see you again. Did you have fun Friday night?”

The woman trailed a finger up Brian’s arm and giggled. “I sure did. We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

Marley looked away, intent on scanning the menu for dairy-free options.
Scallion
and
tofu
fritters, Caesar salad, lamb sausage and rosemary—

“We’ll totally have to do it again,” Brian said as Marley kept her eyes on the menu. When he touched her arm, she looked up to see him extending the same sexy smile to her. “Marney, this is my friend Tasha. Tasha, Marney.”

Marley frowned. “It’s Marley, actually.”

“Sasha,” the other woman said, and stuck out her hand for Marley to shake.

“Right,” said Brian, picking up his menu. “We’d probably better order before happy hour ends. It was good seeing you.”

Sasha sniffed and turned on her heel, returning to the bar at the front of the restaurant. Marley watched her go, then returned her gaze to Brian.

“You’re a popular guy.”

He flashed her his million-dollar smile. “Yeah, I guess so.” He squeezed Marley’s hand, and she tried to let go of her discomfort. After all, this was a fairly small town, and Brian was bound to have plenty of friends.

She picked up her menu and began studying it again.
Carpaccio, portabello sandwich, peel-and-eat shrimp—

“Sasha’s a cool chick,” Brian said.

“Oh?” Marley glanced up from the menu, pleased at Brian’s conversational attempt—awkward though it may be. She waited for him to say more, but apparently he was done. “Carrie too?” she prompted.

“What?”

“Carrie. She seemed like a cool chick.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, she’s cool.”

Marley waited for more, but Brian had said all he needed to. Marley lowered her menu. “What makes a cool chick?”

“Huh?”

“Just curious what separates a cool chick from… um, well, an uncool chick.”

Brian stared blankly at her for a few beats, then grinned. “We should order.”

Marley frowned. “Okay.” She looked back at her menu, trying to put her finger on what was so annoying about Brian.

You’re just being picky
, she told herself, and focused her energy on deciding what she wanted to eat.

French
onion
soup, stuffed piquillo peppers, oysters on the half-shell—

“Hey, sexy,” purred a female voice disturbingly close to Marley’s ear. She snapped her gaze up to see a woman with a long dark braid down her back and her coral-manicured fingertips covering Brian’s eyes. “Guess who?”

“Um—” Brian said.

“Just start at the beginning of the alphabet,” Marley suggested helpfully, taking a sip of her water. “Alison, Amanda, Amy, Angie—”

“It’s Vicki,” the woman snapped, giving Marley a dirty look as she uncovered Brian’s eyes and put a hand on his shoulder.

“In that case, I’m glad you said something,” Marley said. “It would have taken a long time to get to the Vs.”

Vicki ignored her and began to stroke her fingers across Brian’s bicep. “A bunch of us are getting together Thursday night if you want join us. Barbecue at Jill’s house. You remember Jill?”

“Yeah, sure, of course,” Brian said, his expression suggesting he had no idea who Jill was. “Jill’s great. A really cool girl.”

“Awesome, so you’ll be there?” Vicki cooed.

“Sure, sure, baby. How about we—”

“Brian!”

Marley resisted the urge to kick Brian under the table as another woman approached. This time it was a petite redhead whose hurried pace made the contents of her T-shirt jiggle pleasantly.

“Baby, so good to see you!” the redhead gushed, draping herself across Brian’s lap and bumping Vicki out of the way.

Vicki bumped her right back, and the two women spent the next few seconds jostling each other, making it evident neither was wearing a bra. Brian edged back, giving the ladies more room for their impromptu wrestling match.

“What are you ordering, sweetie?” the redhead cooed to Brian. “I know you love the greyhounds. Hey, let me buy you one.”

“He’s with someone, you idiot,” Vicki said, and Marley started to thank her. Then Vicki draped herself over Brian’s lap, and Marley considered shoving her butter knife up the woman’s nostril. Instead, she picked up her menu again.

At
least
Brian
is
well-liked
, she mused. That said something about him, though it was clear Brian was a bit too well-liked for her taste.

“Have you ordered yet?” the redhead gushed, waving a martini glass so it sloshed on the table in front of them. “You have
got
to try the new drink the bartender’s mixing. It’s a pad thai martini. Here, try a sip.”

She thrust her drink—and her breasts—in Brian’s face in an impressive display of agility even Marley had to admire. Brian sputtered a little, but took a sip and nodded.

“Mmm, it’s good,” Brian said, nodding approvingly. “Rory made that?”

“Uh-huh. Brand new drink he’s mixing special tonight.”

“Mmm,” Brian said, licking his lips. “What did you say that’s called?”

“It’s a pad thai martini,” the redhead announced. “It’s made with basil, coconut milk, peanut-infused vodka—”

All the blood drained from Brian’s face. He blinked at Marley. “Peanut? Did she say peanut?”

Marley frowned and looked at the drink, then at the redhead. “I think so. That is what you said, right?”

The redhead nodded. “There are also some spices in there. Curry, maybe, and I think some tamarind and—”

“I’m allergic to peanuts,” Brian gasped. “Shit, I don’t have my EpiPen. Does my throat look red? Is it getting hot in here?”

Marley jumped up, alarmed. She didn’t want to date Brian anymore, but she didn’t particularly want to see him drop dead on the floor beside their table. She surveyed the restaurant, not entirely sure what to do.

“Doctor!” she yelled. “Is there a doctor in the house? My friend is having an allergic reaction and needs a doctor!”