My Nora (22 page)

Read My Nora Online

Authors: Holley Trent

Tags: #romance, #contemporary

BOOK: My Nora
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Spence sidled up between Nora and Bennie and whispered, “I’m hearing talk about some pretty big dollar signs for all five paintings. There’s one woman who wants the whole lot.” He tipped his head in the direction of an older woman in a black lace dress who was leaning in close to “The Swamp Is His Moat” and studying the small details with a magnifying glass. “I believe she’s from Raleigh. She collects North Carolina art.”

“Of course she does,” Nora whispered back. “That’s the governor’s wife.”

Spence and Bennie both whipped their heads back in the woman’s direction.

“If you’ll excuse me, cash cow, I need to go schmooze,” Spence said, giving Bennie a tap on the rear end and walking off.

“Did he just … ?”

“Yes,” Bennie said blandly as she scrolled through the messages on her phone.

The gallery closed late that evening, and toward the end of the show Nora had taken to hiding on her little bench again. Ann was running up from the back to lock the door when a deep familiar voice said, “Wait, please.”

Nora poked her head around the column she was hiding behind and gasped at the sight of the visitor. One she didn’t expect. It was the one man who would drive nearly five hours after a long day of work just to spend five minutes in a gallery.

“You’re the man in the painting,” Ann said, wearing a lecherous grin and guiding him in by the arm.

“I’m sorry?” he asked, looking confused, and shifting the bouquet he was holding to the other arm to avoid having Ann crush it with her enthusiasm.

“No need to be sorry, dear. Half the women here tonight went home with wet panties. Good thing you weren’t here sooner or you may have caused a riot.”

“Huh?”

“Matt!” Nora intercepted the duo before they rounded the corner to Nora’s North Carolina series.

“Hey, baby.” He offered Nora the bouquet of tulips and an “I’m an asshole” smile.

“I take it he’s not just your model,” Ann intuited.

“No. Not just that,” Nora said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Damn it.” Ann sighed and jiggled her key ring, retracing her footsteps back to the front door to lock it.

“Sorry I’m late,” Matt said, wrapping an arm around Nora’s waist and pulling her close. “I didn’t think I’d make it.”

“I thought you weren’t coming at all.”

“Well, I wasn’t until this afternoon and then I realized that the scads of people who’ve been telling me that I’m really stupid are probably right.” Matt lowered his voice to a whisper. “I missed you. I always miss you.”

“I’m glad you do. Knowing so makes me feel less like I’m on a flying trapeze without a net.”

“I’m not Elvin, Nora. Your popularity scares me a bit. I don’t feel like I can keep up.”

Nora shook her head furiously. “You don’t need to keep up. You were the one who said that this is our normal. That changed things for me. If you’ll take me the way I am for all my inattentiveness and downright boringness at times, I’ll take you the way you are.”

“And how am I?”

“You’re protective. Hard-working. Practical. Flexible.” Nora wrapped her arms around his waist and gazed up at him. “And since meeting you, I’ve never been less lonely.” She giggled. “And prone to unpredictable circumstances.”

Matt bent down to kiss her tenderly on the lips, making her go weak in the knees as she thought about how far he’d come to make things right. To build a bridge. Elvin would have never done that. Nora didn’t know men did that at all. Matt was constantly surprising her. She thought perhaps she should get used to being surprised.

“So, where’s this painting I’m not sure I want to see?” he asked when they finally pulled apart.

About the Author

Holley Trent grew up in rural Chowan County, North Carolina. She didn’t have cable growing up, so her enrichment included a lot of PBS and staticky old sitcom reruns. She blames her sense of humor on 1970s BritComs and old Eddie Murphy movies.

When she’s not writing or reading romance novels, she’s chasing kids, yelling at incontinent cats, or trying to match mated pairs of her husband’s multitude of gray socks. Like Nora, she has questionable taste in clothing and regularly hides her wild hair under scarves. She’s a member of Colorado Romance Writers: a Romance Writers of America chapter.

Find her online at
www.holleytrent.com
.

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