Shopping for Love (BookShots Flames) Page 3

  Caroline nods. I keep my car pretty clean in case I have to drive around clients, but I momentarily panic for a moment and go through a mental checklist: Are there fast food containers littering the floorboards? Does it smell like my gym clothes? Oh, God, those ballet flats in my trunk stink to high heaven.

  “That sounds good,” I finally say, because regardless of what smells might exist there, the idea of Blake driving my car excites me, for some reason.

  “Sweet. I’ll get you ladies some wine then run my bike up,” he says before strutting off to the bar.

  As soon as he’s gone, Caroline starts complaining. “He knows I hate that motorcycle.”

  “Why do you hate it?”

  She opens her eyes wide as if it should be obvious. “Because he loves it.”

  Uh, that is not the answer I was expecting. “Who is Charlie?” I ask.

  “He’s a friend of Blake’s from art school. I think he was with him tonight. I’m not sure.”

  I find it odd that she doesn’t know where Blake was earlier. Maybe they’re the kind of couple that doesn’t keep constant tabs on each other, which actually sounds pretty healthy to me. “Why did Blake clam up about the Hampton summers?”

  “I think it makes him sad. His mom died in our vacation house there,” she says.

  “Oh, no. Of what?”

  “She had ovarian cancer and it spread fast. She raised Blake on her own—he was really close to her. He doesn’t have any siblings so we’re kind of it for him.”

  I think she means her family. It must be a complicated relationship. “When did she pass away?”

  “Two years ago. Shh, here he comes. We don’t like to talk about it. I hate when he’s sad.”

  Caroline and Blake seem to care for each other, but they’re so different. Like I said, I know not to judge a book by its cover, but this isn’t about looks. It’s something else. They act almost like brother and sister—there’s been no sense of romantic affection between them so far.

  Blake hands us our glasses of wine, then leaves to take his bike to his friend’s place and is somehow back in less than five minutes. There’s a glowing sheen from sweat on his skin. I imagine licking his jawline. Geez, I’m really losing it. I shake the thought away.

  “So you two started dating in high school and now you work together?” I say, once Blake is sitting in the booth again. As Caroline sits there, sipping her wine, Blake and I continue chatting. This time he doesn’t have his arm around Caroline. He’s leaning over the table. His body language is telling me he’s interested in talking to me.

  “Yeah, since about junior year,” he says. “Do you have a boyfriend, Hayden?”

  I notice a faint scowl appear on Caroline’s face. Bit of a weird question.

  “No,” I reply.

  “I have a lot of friends who live in Decatur.” He grins, genuine and sweet, a tiny dimple playing on one cheek. He wants to set me up, which means he thinks…oh, my hormones…is he actually flirting with me? No, of course not, he’s trying to set the poor, sad single girl up. He’s just being nice. Settle down, Hayden.

  “He does have a lot of friends by you,” Caroline adds. “He’s always hanging out over there.”

  There’s something in her tone that makes me feel like she thinks Decatur is a dump.

  “I’m gonna go use the ladies’ room,” Caroline says as she stands. Blake stands up with her and leads her out of the booth by taking her hand. They’re called manners, and the guys I’ve dated in the past didn’t have them.

  As soon as she’s out of earshot, Blake leans in and says, “I thought she was gonna lose it over the whole motorcycle thing.” He laughs.

  I let out a nervous giggle. But underneath I can’t help being concerned that Blake, with such a vastly different upbringing than Caroline, has only stuck around for two reasons: her money and a job at Daddy’s company. I have no reason to think the worst of him, but I know how hard I’ve worked to get ahead and earn my own money. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to take the easy way out. But regardless, the worst part is that I’m flirting with him. “It does beg the question, why’d you bring the motorcycle if you knew she didn’t like it?”

  He smirks. “Well, sassy, that is because I was already down here when she texted me to meet you guys.”

  “So that’s how you got here so quickly.” I sound like an idiot.

  “Yep.”

  “What were you doing down here?”

  His eyes crinkle at the corners. “Aren’t you nosy? I was at a gallery showing for my friend. He’s a painter.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Caroline said you went to art school in New York.”

  “I did. I should have stayed there, but CC wanted to be close to the Crompton compound. I couldn’t leave her here alone with those animals.”

  “Seriously? Is her family that bad?”

  “Well, you’ve met Diana.” He pauses for a moment, looking thoughtful. “Actually, they’re not bad people. I was mostly kidding. Her dad was good to me…to us, when my mom got sick. I didn’t have a father to help us out.”

  I want to tell him I don’t have a father, either, but I don’t want it to seem like we’re clicking even more than we already are. I don’t know how Caroline would react to that, and I don’t want to jeopardize this job and a potential friendship.

  He continues speaking while he stares down the bottleneck of his beer. “Ben, Caroline’s dad, took on that role, in a way. But Ben can be controlling and Caroline doesn’t know how to stand up to him. I do. Diana’s actually not bad. I make jokes about her, but she’s probably the most normal one besides Caroline. After all, she introduced you two.”

  “Thanks, I think.”

  He nodded, straight-faced. “It’s a compliment.”

  I can feel my face flushing bright red just as Blake stands up to let Caroline slide back into the booth. Even though he was teasing Caroline and throwing compliments my way, he still seems innately protective of her.

  “That bathroom was filthy,” Caroline says.

  “Are you ladies about ready to go or should we grab one more drink?”

  “It’s up to you guys. I’m cool either way.”

  Caroline seems to assert herself more when Blake is around. “I’m ready,” she says.

  We all stand up, and Blake takes Caroline’s hand and motions for me to walk ahead of them. “After you,” he says, his voice low and smooth. I’m instantly turned on. I’m frozen where I stand.

  Caroline is looking at me like I have two heads. “Go, Hayden, we’ll follow you.”

  I don’t understand why I’m incapable of moving at the moment. I feel like all the blood is rushing to my head—and someplace else. I look to Blake…bad idea. He’s wearing a sexy smirk. He motions again for me to walk, but this time he winks, too. I nearly fall over. Instead, he takes my hand and leads both of us out of the restaurant.

  I’ve never been that girl: the damsel in distress or the lust-struck type. But my degree of swooning and ogling just now was borderline criminal.

  Blake turns to me on his right and cocks his head to the side. I’m looking up at him and he’s staring down at me. He’s at least six-one, thin, but built. His proximity is intoxicating. I inhale. He smells like man: sandalwood, moss, earthy, but there’s a hint of cigarette smoke, too.

  “Little too much wine?” he asks.

  “Something like that,” I reply, though the truth was that I was drunk off his good looks and smooth voice. I blame my hormones.

  Chapter 5

  We walk out to my car, and all the while I’m chanting in my head, I will not ogle Caroline’s boyfriend anymore. She is my client. I think I can even call her my friend after today and I am in desperate need of friends. But I also want to get to the bottom of this relationship. Why would these two stay together all these years when they seem so opposite? When there doesn’t seem to be any romantic attraction between them?

  I get a grip and say, “Here she is,” pointing to Frankie, my
purple Honda Civic hatchback.

  Blake looks at Frankie peculiarly. “She?” he says.

  “Yeah, Frankie.”

  I give him the keys and he opens the passenger door and guides Caroline by the hand into the backseat. Once Caroline is in, he turns toward me. “You named your car?”

  We’re looking into each other’s eyes. There’s a small smile playing on his lips. “Her full name is Frances Pea Civic. She used to be green.”

  “Ha!” He laughs once and then boops the front of my nose with his index finger. “You’re a funny girl, Hayden.”

  Why couldn’t he have said “beautiful” instead? I guess that would be wrong.

  He has to move the seat back before he even attempts to get in because his legs are so long. Once he’s in the driver seat, he adjusts the steering wheel and starts her up. Caroline is quiet in the back and I’m still giddy over how close he is to me. “I didn’t think this was a factory color,” he says as he’s pulling onto the road.

  “No, I got sideswiped by some beef-head driving one of those tractor trailers.”

  He glances over and makes a horrified expression. “You were okay?”

  “Yeah, I was totally fine. Terrified, but fine.”

  And then he says, “Poor Frankie,” and I’m practically ready to declare my everlasting love for him.

  Caroline chimes in from the back. “It smells like a dead body back here.”

  Trying to make light of it, I joke. Because what else could I do but own the embarrassing moment? “The smell of my favorite and also very old ballet flats can easily be mistaken for a rotting corpse.”

  Blake laughs out loud. He thinks I’m funny. Caroline’s not amused.

  “That’s disgusting, Hayden. You should just buy a new pair.” The urge to say, “Money doesn’t grow on trees, Caroline” is strong in me, but I stay quiet.

  Blake looks over and smiles. “CC has hypersomnia. Don’t sweat it.”

  I turn around, look at Caroline, and say, “What is hypersomnia?”

  Caroline laughs a little and then says, “It’s a hypersensitivity to smells. Blake thinks I have it because he threw away a piece of fish once in my trash can and I complained about it.”

  “No, C, tell her the truth.” He’s looking at her in the rearview mirror.

  She relents. “I smelled it for six months after we had basically bleached the trash can and my entire kitchen.”

  It occurred to me that Caroline’s condo seemed sterile when I was there. But now she’s in the back of my old smelly car after having just eaten a Coronary Bypass. I’m making progress with her.

  It’s only after several moments on the road that I wonder if the two of them are going to drop me off and then take Frankie to Caroline’s. I’d have to get another Uber tomorrow to get her. These Cromptons are starting to cost me a lot in Uber charges.

  Before I even have a chance to ask, Blake says, “CC, do you want me to take you first or we can take Hayden and Uber to my place and stay there tonight?”

  “No, just take me to my place, Blake. I wanna sleep in my own bed. I have to catch up on some work tomorrow.”

  “I can Uber from Caroline’s, if you wanna stay there with her?” I offer, though that would mean two trips for me.

  Caroline speaks up, “Blake, do you mind running me home first? You can Uber from Hayden’s, right? It’s not that far from your place.” It seemed like she wasn’t offering for him to stay at her condo. Kind of awkward for a young couple in love on a Saturday night to not be sleeping next to each other…But who am I to judge—I’ll be sleeping alone tonight anyway.

  “It’s fine,” he says hesitantly. A few seconds pass and we’re at a stoplight. He turns to me and asks, “Is that okay with you?”

  I guess he must think it’s weird to be driving another woman’s car. Then, on top of it, to have to drop off his girlfriend and take the other woman home…alone.

  “Really, I’ll probably be totally sober by the time we get to Caroline’s. No need to take me.”

  “Don’t be crazy,” Blake says. “Better safe than sorry. I don’t mind at all.” He glances over. Dimple, wink, oh my god, he’s going to be the death of me.

  “Okay,” I stammer.

  At Caroline’s, she bolts to the security gate while Blake and I follow her, lugging her shopping bags and boxes. Inside the condo, she points to her bedroom and says, “Can you leave them in there?”

  We follow her orders, and before I leave the bedroom I say, “I’ll meet you back at the car, Blake.” I want to give them a moment to smooch or whatever.

  From where the car is parked I can see Caroline’s front door. I wait about ten full minutes before I finally see Blake leave her condo. He turns and pecks her on the cheek. I wonder what they were doing in there. She closes the door before he even gets down the steps.

  He jogs to my car. His running form is perfect. I wonder what other physical activities he’s good at…I. Must. Stop. Now.

  As he opens the door and sits, he’s already speaking. “Sorry ’bout that. CC asked me to hang up a shower curtain for her.”

  “No problem. It must be nice to have a big tall guy around.” Did I just say that out loud?

  He ignores the slinky tone in my voice and starts the car, pulling away from Caroline’s building. “I’m rarely ever there. Caroline and I have been together for a long time, and we work together. We see each other almost every day anyway. I asked her to move in together a long time ago, but I think she likes her quiet time. I wish we could both quit working for her dad, find something we both really love doing, and spend more time together just having fun.”

  “She doesn’t seem too happy about working there, either. Why don’t you guys quit?”

  “Caroline is locked into these ideas that she has to carry on the family business. I don’t know. She’s probably right. I love her, but wish we were more on the same page. I don’t know—I don’t want to bad-mouth her choices. I know she’s in a tough spot when it comes to the company. She’s basically been groomed to take it over.”

  “No, of course not,” I say. I feel so bad for Caroline. What must it be like, to feel like your whole life has been planned out for you, without any of your input or desires being taken into consideration? I briefly wonder if I should suggest to Blake that Caroline reevaluate her decision to stay at the company, but the situation is uncomfortable enough. His arm is practically touching mine.

  “She’s just used to having a lot of money and she’s afraid her dad will cut her off if she quits,” he adds.

  The need to change the subject is strong. I’m not going to get into a crap-talking session with my client’s boyfriend because I think he’s cute. “What was your life like growing up?”

  “I grew up poor. That’s basically it. I paid my way through art school with the money I’d made during the Hampton summers. I met Caroline and we stuck it out, even though we went to college in different places. We both went to work for her dad the day after we graduated. When my mom got sick, Caroline’s dad let me take a leave of absence to care for her out at their vacation house in the Hamptons. That was a gift I can’t take for granted.”

  I thought he didn’t like talking about it? “I’m really sorry about your mom.”

  “Thank you. It’s hard, the grieving, you know? It waxes and wanes.…She was the best…my mom. She had a great sense of humor, just a total bright spot in the world. She was such a down-to-earth and loving woman.”

  I get hung up for a moment on the fact that one of the qualities Blake liked most about his mom was her sense of humor. And he thinks I’m funny.

  “Turn here,” I say. I notice how effortless everything seems for him. He can drive, hold a conversation, listen to directions, and still look extremely cool doing it all. “Is it hard for you to talk about your mom?”

  “No, I love talking about her.” He looks over and smiles.

  “Oh, Caroline made it seem like—”

  “Honestly, I think Caroline was
a little jealous of the relationship I had with my mom. She felt neglected while I was caring for my mom in New York.”

  I’m not quite sure what to say. “Well, it seems like Caroline really loves you.”

  He nods without looking over. “I love her, too. She’s a good person, but she’s just struggling to find herself. You’ll learn that about her very soon.”

  “I think I already have.” I can already see that the way to help Caroline isn’t just going to involve shopping for her and putting together cute outfits. She needs a total lifestyle change if she really wants to be happy. She has to learn how to become her own person, one who will follow her own dreams and passions—and I can help her. Time to put those sociology classes to good use.

  “Here’s my place, just up there. Park here.” I point.

  We get out of the car and Blake instantly orders an Uber on his phone. “You want me to walk you up?” he says.

  “No, I’m good. You want me to hang out down here until your car comes?”

  “Nah, I’m good, too.”

  He smiles and we hold each other’s gaze for a second too long. “Well, good night,” he says.

  I reach my arms out to hug him like we’ve known each other for years. He hugs me and then plants a chaste kiss on my cheek. I jerk away. Emotions, hormones, and thoughts of Caroline are all swirling around frantically in my body and mind.

  “What?” he says and then instantly realizes. “Oh, the kiss. Sorry, it’s a family habit. My mother was French.”

  Of course she was. “No worries,” I say. His kiss was a little too similar to the one he gave Caroline on her stoop. It seems like it’s natural for him, like a handshake, and it surprises me that he didn’t give his own girlfriend a more passionate kiss. Or at least a loving hug with more physical contact. Ugh. I need to stop obsessing over their relationship!

  “Well, good night.” I turn awkwardly and head for the door.