Tell Me Something Good (7 page)

A woman who’d obviously had too much to drink stumbled into Noelle, jolting her back to reality. What was she doing? It had been a long time since she’d acted without thinking and been selfish. Now wasn’t the time to alter her life path. Noelle made a move back to her table, but Tate’s hand landing on her arm stopped her.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

She blinked up at him. “The song’s over.”

“Come on,” he said with a wry twist of his full lips. Lips she shouldn’t be noticing. “I don’t think that thirty seconds counted as a dance.”

“I should go check on Shannon.”

“She’s a big girl. She can survive without you for a few minutes. It’s okay if you relax for a while. Have some fun.” A raised eyebrow issued a challenge.

Which she couldn’t resist. “Fine.”

He grabbed her hand and twirled her around. She laughed at the formal move. Laughed harder when she spotted his wide grin. He was having a good time. And why wouldn’t he be? He lived life on his own terms and, unlike her, wasn’t worried about whether or not he deserved to be happy. She could use some of his confidence and unrestrained joy in her life. She blinked at the realization that she was enjoying the moment. The music. Tate.

They danced until sweat pooled on her skin and her limbs were pleasantly heavy. He looked like he’d taken a leisurely stroll across the beach. Amazing how much nonstop energy he possessed. She stopped moving and pressed a hand against her heaving chest. “I need something to drink.”

“I could use something, too.” He held out his hand. “Ladies first.”

She nodded and headed off the dance floor. She tried not to concentrate on the fact that he’d placed a hand at her waist. For the second time that night. He’d only done it so they wouldn’t get separated in the crowded room. Knowing that didn’t prevent little tingles of pleasures from radiating from the spot he touched to every corner of her body. She breathed a silent sigh of relief when they reached the bar and he dropped his hand.

“I’ve got it,” he said. “What do you want, a vodka tonic?”

Her good mood evaporated in a flash, darkness settling over her soul. “I don’t drink.”

“You don’t?”

“I have my reasons.” Avoiding his gaze, she caught the bartender’s attention and ordered a ginger ale. She took a hasty swig of the drink and coughed as the liquid went down the wrong pipe. She held up a hand when Tate moved closer. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” His eyes searched hers.

His concern was almost too much for her to take. She pushed her lips upward. “Yeah.”

What else could she say? She certainly couldn’t say she didn’t drink because alcohol had cost her the two most important people in her life and it was all her fault. Talk about TMI. Instead, she looked around his right shoulder. “Do you see Mike and Shannon or Caitlin? Maybe we should call it a night. We have a long day tomorrow.”

She glanced up at him. He studied her for a few seconds, his eyebrows drawn into a deep vee.
Don’t look away
. Finally, he nodded. “Okay. Let’s call it a night.”

“Great. I need to find Shannon and Caitlin.” She turned to scan the crowd, only to jump back in shock when Shannon suddenly appeared right in front of her face. The woman dodged around Noelle and shook her finger in Tate’s face. “This is all your fault. The bet is off!”

Not waiting for a response, she whirled and darted through the crowd. Tate shrugged at Noelle, his face stamped with confusion.

“What did you do?” Noelle didn’t wait for an answer. She went after her charge, who smoothly weaved through the masses of people. Noelle wasn’t quite so graceful, dodging flailing limbs left and right, barely keeping Shannon in her sights in the dim lighting.

Disappointment rained down on her. Frustration. Anger. She was going to kill Tate. Shannon disappeared behind a couple making out in the middle of the dance floor. Crap.

Oh, there she was.

Noelle quickened her pace as Shannon slipped through the front door. She wasn’t leaving, was she? Noelle had driven, but Shannon could grab a taxi. She strode out the door and scanned the parking lot, finally spotting her leaning against the brick wall about twenty feet away. Noelle’s shoulders collapsed in relief until a nearby streetlight threw Shannon’s features in sharp relief. Tears slipped down her round cheeks.

Noelle’s heart stuttered in sympathy.

God, Tate was impossible. Right when she’d started softening toward him, he had to ruin it. But she wasn’t going to let him sabotage Shannon’s relationship. Whatever he’d screwed up, she’d fix. And then she would set him so straight about his insensitivities he’d never think to interfere with Shannon and Mike again.

Noelle carefully approached the other woman. “Shannon, what happened? What did Tate do?”

Shannon wiped the tears away with both hands. “This is all his fault.”

“Yes, you said that, but why?” Noelle leaned against the brick wall.

Shannon sniffled. “Because…because he wants to keep Mike and me apart. He wants Mike to hate me.”

“What makes you think that?” Tate could be clueless, true. But heartless? She’d seen no signs of that.

“Mike got mad when he saw a guy trying to give me his number. He yelled at me and said that Tate was right, that he shouldn’t have come.” Shannon hitched a breath. “Tate said that if Mike really wanted to feel what it was like to be single, then he needed to stay away. He said seeing me talk to other guys would be too hard for him.”

Noelle waited for her body to fill with outrage. It didn’t. She gave it another second just in case. Still nothing. “Um, Shannon?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think Tate said that to get Mike to hate you. It sounds like he was trying to protect Mike’s feelings. After all, this night was supposed to be about each of you experiencing the single life. How would feel if you walked into a club and saw Mike dancing with another woman?”

Shannon’s reddened eyes widened. “I would hate it.”

“Exactly.”

She wiped her cheeks. “But I didn’t even like that guy who I was talking to.”

“You know that doesn’t matter. The fact that you looked like you were thinking about accepting that guy’s number hurt Mike.”

“Oh.” Shannon stared at her shoes. “That makes sense, I guess.”

Noelle laughed, recognizing a kindred soul. “Admitting you were wrong is hard for you, I take it.”

Shannon looked up. “Yeah, it is. I guess I won’t kill Tate.”

Maybe she wasn’t the only one. Crap. Noelle had welcomed the outrage. Because then she could deny that the absolute last man who should’ve gotten to her made her feel more alive than she had in a long time.

Noelle took a fortifying breath. It didn’t matter. She had a plan. She wanted a long-term relationship filled with love with the right man. Tate wanted twenty minutes with the nearest woman. She didn’t know if she’d ever find what she was looking for, but she knew she wouldn’t find it with Tate Grayson.

Which meant her unruly hormones and feelings could go back into hibernation.

Chapter Seven

“Are you freaking kidding me?” Noelle glared at the flat tire on her way-too-new-for-this car. “This is the last thing I need.”

She looked at her watch. Only thirty minutes till she was supposed to be at the bridal show. Probably enough time to change the tire and still make it on time. If she knew how to change a flat. Which she didn’t. And she didn’t have time to learn, even with the trusty internet on her side, or to call her roadside assistance service.

She dug her phone out of her purse. What were her options? Call Caitlin? A cab? Yeah, a cab would work. She didn’t want to bother Caitlin.

She heaved a sigh. But first she needed to call Tate.

She scrolled through her contacts until she reached his name. Her thumb hovered over the call icon. “Get a grip.” Calling him was not the end of the world. She pressed her thumb down on the screen.

“Hello,” he answered after two rings.

“Hi, it’s me. Noelle,” she added because why would she expect him to know who “me” was?

“I know. What’s up? Were you getting lonely not hearing my voice?”

She rolled her eyes. “You wish.”

He laughed softly. “What’s up?”

Just say it
. She gripped the phone tighter. “I’m-I’m going to be late.”

“Late? You’re never late.” He sounded thoroughly confused.

“I know,” she muttered.

“You sound weird. What’s wrong?”

Say it
. “I have a flat tire.”

He hooted. “Are you telling me the always prepared Dr. Noelle doesn’t know how to change a tire?”

This was why she hadn’t wanted to call him.

“You are correct,” she said stiffly.

“Sooo…because you don’t know how to change a flat tire, you’re going to be late. Hey, didn’t you get on me about being late not too long ago?”

No,
this
was why she hadn’t wanted to call him.

“Dr. Noelle, I don’t
hear
anything,” he said in a singsong tone of voice.

She laughed at his teasing. Something she did a lot around him. “Okay. You’re right. I deserved that. I’m going to call a cab. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Where do you live?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Where do you live? It might be faster if I swing by and pick you up. I’m about fifteen minutes away from the show.”

“Oh. I live in Uptown off Central Expressway.”

“I’m driving south on Central as we speak. Text me your address. I’ll put it in my GPS.”

Did she have a better option? No, she didn’t. “Okay. Thanks. Bye.” Noelle ended the call, sent the text, and went back inside her house to wait. A few minutes later, when she heard a car pulling into her driveway, she jumped off her couch and hurried outside. “Hey,” she said, walking toward Tate, who was stepping out of his SUV. “Thanks again for picking me up.”

He continued around the car to the passenger side. “No problem. You’re in my debt now.”

“Yeah, right. In your dreams.”

“How did you guess?” He grinned and opened the door. She climbed inside, stopping midway to stare at the light blue piece of cardstock in the seat. Looked like a wedding invitation.

Tate reached around her and picked it up. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She settled against the plush leather seat and watched Tate walk around the car. He hopped inside, scowled at the invitation, and tossed it in the cup holder in between seats.

She stared at the seemingly inoffensive piece of paper. Should she ask him about it? No, it wasn’t any of her business. She turned to look out the passenger-side window as Tate backed the car out of the driveway and headed toward the freeway.

“How many of these bridal shows have you been to?” he asked, breaking the silence a few minutes later.

She shifted toward him. “A couple. How about you?”

He made a disbelieving noise. “You’re kidding, right? None.”

“Poor Tate. You’ll be okay.” She patted him on the thigh. A mistake. The hard muscle flexed under her palm as he accelerated the car. The contact sent a bolt of electricity through her palm. Casually, she hoped anyway, she returned her hand to her lap.

“You going to protect me, Doc?”

“You don’t need my protection.” But she wasn’t sure she didn’t need protection from her wayward desires.

“You sure about that? I have these visions of crazy brides running all over the place, screaming because the wedding dress they want isn’t available or something.”

“You’ve been watching too much reality TV.”

“I will have you know I only watch the highest caliber of reality TV.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, like what?”

“Sports.” The “duh” was implicit.

“Eh.” She knew the shrug in her voice would get to him.

The glance he sent her way was full of astonishment. She bit her lip to stop a laugh from escaping.

“You don’t think a World Series game seven, winner takes all, is exciting?” He sounded disgusted.

Noelle shrugged.

“Or a last-second pass to win a Super Bowl?”

This was too much fun. “I suppose it is.”

She listened, amused, as he launched into a detailed overview of the Cowboys’ last championship and their futile, but entertaining, attempts to win another one.

“So yeah, sports are way better than those wedding reality shows,” he finished up.

At the word “wedding,” her eyes slid to the invitation again. Should she ask him about it?

Tate made a turn into the market hall parking lot. “Well, we’re here. Let’s do this.”

Too late now.

…

“Hi, what’s your name?” Noelle asked, holding her pen poised above the publicity headshot.

“Dawn,” the woman standing in front of the table answered.

While Noelle signed the photo, Tate took a look around. He was really here. At the Tenth Annual North Texas Bridal Show. And what a show it was. Lace, silk, flowers, and some material called tulle covered every available surface. He only knew the word “tulle” because a handful of it had hit him square in the face on the way to their table. The perpetrator, a vendor in a hurry, had issued a hasty apology and continued on his way. It had been left to Noelle to charitably inform him of what had happened.

Thousands of women packed the hall, scouring booths for the perfect gown, invitations, limo, garter belt, flowers, and anything else remotely related to weddings.

A blonde, who looked to be in her forties, stepped up to their table. “Hi, I’m Rae. I’m so happy you’re here, Noelle,” she said. “I’ve wanted to tell you forever that you saved my relationship.”

“That’s so nice of you,” Noelle said with a wide smile. “Thank you. I’m glad I could help, but I’m curious about what I said.”

“At the time, my boyfriend and I had been together for three years, but things had gotten stale,” Rae said. “We’d fallen into a rut of the same old, same old. One day you suggested having sex every day for thirty straight days.”

Tate’s chair scraped across the concrete floor as he scooted forward.

Noelle turned toward him, frowning.

“What? There’s no way I’m missing this,” he said. She whipped around to face Rae again, but not before he noticed the red coloring her cheeks.

“Tell me more,” he said, grinning, to Rae.

“A few months ago, a woman called in, saying she was on the verge of asking for a divorce. They’d tried counseling, but things hadn’t improved. Noelle said in order to restore intimacy outside the bedroom that maybe they should try to restore the intimacy inside the bedroom first.”

Tate’s eyebrows soared. “For thirty straight days with no time-outs?”

“Yep,” Rae supplied, nodding vigorously. “So I decided to try it, too. It worked like a charm. We’re getting married.”

“Doc, I didn’t know you had it in you,” he murmured. But he’d started to wonder. Last night at the club, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

“I’m sure you didn’t,” she said, keeping her gaze trained on Rae. She held the photo up. “Here you go. I’m glad I could help. Thanks for stopping by.”

Damn, she had that instant-dismissal thing down cold. It only intrigued him more, especially now that he knew there was a ton of warmth underneath the chill. What would it take to melt the ice?

“Hi, can I have your autograph?” A young woman stepped in front of him, stopping him from wandering down the perilous path to nowhere.

Forty-five minutes later, he and Noelle had signed a slew of autographs and taken a ton of photos. It never would have occurred to him to attend a bridal show, but he had to admit it wasn’t a bad way to connect with listeners. He knew he had plenty of female listeners, but he hadn’t known that many of them were getting married. Or that they would drag along their husbands-to-be, who all expressed joy and relief at finding another male in the vicinity.

He flexed his cramped hand and offered a smile to the woman approaching the table, but she marched right past him like she didn’t see him.

“Hi, Noelle. I love you. You’re a saint, but seriously, how do you put up with him?” she said, pointing her thumb at him. “He’s such an asshole.”

An asshole who happened to be sitting right there. Stunned, he stared at the rude woman. Not everyone liked his strong opinions. He had the emails and Twitter messages to prove it, but to insult him to his face was an unfamiliar situation. And he couldn’t even call the woman out on her behavior. She was a listener, and he was representing the station, which meant no public arguments.

She didn’t look happy in general. Deep frown lines bracketed both sides of her mouth. Her arms were crossed, giving off a negative, stay-away vibe. Wasn’t she supposed to be happy? She was at a bridal show, which presumably meant she was about to get married, a dream come true for too many women.

He tried his most charming smile. “Come on, now. I can’t be that bad.”

“He’s so negative,” the woman continued like he hadn’t spoken.

Tate frowned. He wasn’t negative. He loved life, but he was realistic about a certain part of it. His parents had turned marriage into a sport. He’d never been in love. Not really. He’d tried to play the game once, but she’d dumped him for a pro athlete when he made it clear he had no intention of living off his trust fund or joining the family business. After that experience and few others that hadn’t ended well, he’d learned his lesson.

“Ma’am, I don’t agree with everything Tate says, but I assure you he’s not an asshole,” Noelle said. Polite, but firm. “We’re a team. I don’t appreciate your language or your tone. I certainly don’t appreciate you insulting him.”

Wait? Was Noelle defending him? Her no-nonsense expression said yes. He raised his eyes to the ceiling. No, no pigs.

The woman’s frown deepened. “Well, maybe you aren’t the person I thought you were if you’re standing up for him.” She stomped off.

Noelle turned to him, an affronted look on her face. “Can you believe her?”

Warmth spread in the area close to his heart. Despite their differences, they’d started to build a bond. His relationships were usually so temporary he’d forgotten what that was like. If he’d ever known.

He liked it. He liked her.

…

Noelle hoisted herself into Tate’s SUV. He shut the door behind her, and she settled in the seat. The wedding invitation again caught her eye. The font was too small to see the names of the couple. She recalled the annoyed look on his face when he’d picked up the invitation earlier. He’d made it clear he didn’t believe in love, but he didn’t strike her as the type to begrudge other people, especially those he was close to, their choices.

She couldn’t help herself any longer. She picked it up when he got in. “What’s this? Going to a wedding?”

“Apparently.” He didn’t sound happy about it.

“Want to talk about it?”

“I’m not one of your patients,” he bit out.

Noelle flinched. “I’m sorry. I was only trying to help.”

Tate rubbed a hand across his face. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take my frustration out on you.”

“Apology accepted.” She touched his arm. He glanced her way. She offered up a smile. “I’m asking strictly as a friend, not as a therapist. Do you want to talk about it?”

He stared out the windshield and gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles strained against his skin. “My parents are getting married.”

“They’re renewing their vows?”

“No. They’re divorced.”

“You’re not happy about them remarrying.”

“Got it in one.” He looked her way, shaking his head. “They’ve each been married three times. Lucky me, I got to be a front-row witness to their drama.”

Ohhh
. Now she got it. Why he was so adamant monogamous love didn’t exist. “So you don’t think it’s going to last this time?”

“Let’s just say I have my doubts.”

“I can see why you would, but maybe they’ve grown up and are finally ready to put their family back together.”

“That’s what they say.” He shrugged. “But I’ve heard it all before. Why should I support the farce?”

“Because they’re your parents?” Noelle wanted to say more, but didn’t. She didn’t trust herself to speak without her voice trembling. Didn’t he understand how lucky he was to still have his parents, parents comfortable with showing and expressing their love? What she wouldn’t give to say the same about her own. She stared out the passenger-side window, wrestling her shaky emotions under control. This was about Tate, not her.

Silence filled the air for a few seconds, while Tate started the car and exited the parking lot. He glanced at her. “Thanks for defending me earlier.”

Happy to move on from the turmoil swirling inside her, Noelle said, “She was out of line.”