The Fix (Carolina Connections #1) (10 page)

When
in Doubt, Choose Burgers over Sushi

Laney

Holy. Balls.

Nate Murphy has the power to make a
woman forget her name.
How does he do that?
It’s like his scruffy jaw
and his dimple are my kryptonite. One moment we were having a nice little
conversation and the next I had my tongue down his throat and was pouring soda
down his back. This was actually fortuitous since in addition to forgetting my
name I had forgotten that my five-year-old was twenty feet away! I had been
ready to tear my clothes off and beg him to take me right there by the front
door.
What was wrong with me?

Oh God, and then he’d asked me out!

Squee!

But not squee.

Shit.

There was Gavin’s job and there was
Rocco and the last thing we needed was some guy who was only in town
temporarily.

Ugh.

Not to mention it had been so long
since my last date I’m pretty sure dinosaurs had still roamed the earth. I
mean, a girl has needs and I’d been sort of satisfying them by myself for the
most part. I’d dated a couple guys since Rocco was born, but nothing had stuck
and the fact that I wasn’t all that disappointed about it just went to show
that those relationships were way wrong. But with the way I was reacting to
Nate right from the start, I was pretty sure this guy had heartbreak written
all over his too-handsome, too freaking perfect face. And arms. And ass. Jesus,
I was starting to sound like Fiona with all of my scattered thoughts.
Get a
grip, Laney.

I had to set this incredibly sexy
and tempting topic aside and focus on something else. Another date, in fact –
the playdate. I peeled myself off the back of the door and headed back to
Rocco. But I penciled in a good-old-fashioned phone gab with Fiona on my mental
calendar. I may have also penciled in a good-old-fashioned fantasy session with
my vibrator, but I’ll never tell.

***

Charlotte’s house was just as I’d
imagined it to be – warm, comfortable, and wholly Southern. There were fresh
flowers and sweet tea and, most importantly, welcoming hugs and greetings all
around. Rocco suctioned himself to my leg but gradually loosened up as he saw
some of the other kids organizing a few games. He eschewed the round of tag in
the backyard – which, unsurprisingly, involved plastic knives and guns – and
instead wandered over to check out the X-box battle that was launching in the
next room over. However, he made sure to maintain an open line of sight to me
the entire time. I considered it a small win anyway.

Once I got a moment alone with
Charlotte, I told her (mostly) about my visit with Nate on Friday and the
information he’d shared. I explained to the best of my ability the cause of his
rude behavior and told her he wanted to apologize to her. When I asked for her
permission to pass on her number to him she graciously accepted, as I knew she
would. It seemed all was already forgiven in her eyes and she turned them to me
speculatively.

“So, do I sense a little chemistry
goin’ on here?”

“What? No, of course not!” I replied,
totally unconvincing in my hasty denial.

She just smiled and raised her
eyebrows. “Even if he was a class-A jerk, I’d have to be blind not to see the
sparks lightin’ up the air around you two.” She was way too smug in her demeanor.

“Oh, shut up,” I told her, and she
just giggled. Damn her cute little ass.

My job was done. I’d shared my
pertinent information, my kid was slightly engaged with others his own age and
I had a glass of real Texas sweet tea.
Ugh, why do people like this stuff?

***

“Remind me. Why are you always over
here when you could have a totally awesome night life of hot guys and no
responsibility?”

Instead of the phone call, Fiona
had elected to come by my house for our girl gab. Seriously, she could be out
doing anything she wanted at any time. She had money to party or go on
vacations or buy out the entire SkyMall catalogue –
hey, some of that stuff
is cool
– but she chose to spend the majority of her time with me and my
dysfunctional little family.
To say she came from
money was like saying Ghirardelli double fudge brownies were
kind of okay
.
The bitch was loaded. Luckily, she was completely missing the actual “bitch”
gene.
She held rotating jobs mostly out of boredom and, I suspect, to
generate stories to share with me when we got together. That’s real friendship
for you.

Truthfully, though, I don’t think
Fiona knew what she wanted to do with her life so it was easier to just keep
busy and keep postponing life decisions. With her family’s wealth she didn’t
actually have to work if she didn’t choose to.

In direct contrast to all the rich
snob stereotypes, her parents were wonderful people who were in full support of
any decisions Fiona made – and I mean
any
decisions. She could decide to
move to some inner city to teach underprivileged kids, or tour Europe on a three-year
luxury excursion, or tattoo her entire body and pose naked for a magazine
spread. Nothing but love and encouragement would come her way. It was, in
effect, the simplest and most authentic relationship between parents and child
I’d ever seen.

When Fiona had been nine years old
she’d received a death sentence in the form of an aggressive leukemia
diagnosis. Through bottomless funds, prayer, and a wealth of medical miracles
she had survived, and not only that, she’d thrived beyond basic remission and
into adulthood as a healthy, happy, and wonderful person.

Sure, the aggressive treatments had
resulted in her short stature and a slightly increased risk of developing a
possible subsequent cancer during the course of her life, but she was our
shining star and everyone who knew her and her sunny spirit reveled in it and
called themselves lucky to know her.

Unfortunately for me, on this
particular evening, the sunny spirit was hiding behind the complete
exasperation in her expression.

“What?! It’s just not a good idea.
But believe me, I comprehend the sheer hotness of that man even more than you
do. I swear there was a moment when he was kissing me that I thought I’d
forgotten
to put on underwear this
morning.”

She
gave me a puzzled look. We both knew I was no commando girl. Not with my
generous booty.

“But
of course I’d remembered – they had just spontaneously combusted under the
force of his testosterone. Holy hell, he was that good!” I fanned myself at the
memory.

We
both giggled like idiots.

“Where
are Rocco and Gavin?” she asked after we settled down.

“They
went to the batting cages with Brett.”

“Aww.
That’s actually really sweet.”

Sometimes
I forgot to appreciate the time Gavin spent with Rocco and the experiences he
provided that a dad should be doing. It was definitely time to lighten up on
him.

“Yeah,
unfortunately Rocco has a pretty un-athletic mother and a musician for a father
so Gavin’s dreams of living through Rocco may be dashed early on,” I said.

Not
to be deterred from the main topic of the evening, Fiona persisted, “So you’re
really not going to go out with Nate?”

“Ugh.
Believe me, I’m totally tempted, but what happens when we get in a fight and
Gavin gets stuck in the middle? Or, more likely, what happens when Rocco and I
both fall in love with him and he takes off for his next adventure? Because he
will, you know. As soon as his dad is back on his feet, he’s gone. I can’t do
that to any of us. And even if, by some miracle, he decided to stay, why would
he want to saddle himself with a single mom and a kid? I’m sure he’s just
looking for a fun distraction to pass the time and I’m not up for that.” The
feeling of sadness that overtook me was disproportionate to the brief
involvement I’d had with Nate to this point. I could already feel myself
getting in over my head and we’d only shared one kiss. One earth-shattering
kiss, but still.

“But
you deserve an awesome guy and a hot sexy love life, Laney! Every guy I suggest
is all wrong – he’s too short, he has a weird accent, he wears a fedora, he
sweats too much –
whatever!
I can’t sit around here and watch you spend
another Saturday night watching
The Mentalist
on Hulu and fantasizing
about Simon Baker – he’s too old for you anyway. You need a real live date with
a real live penis - your penis fly trap needs a snack! No offense.”

Oh
my, it seems Fiona brought the big guns out tonight. “Wow, don’t hold back on
my account. First of all, did you stop by a bar for a shot or seven of vodka on
your way here? Second, you seem to have forgotten that one of the guys you
tried to set me up with was eighteen years old – his voice hadn’t even changed
yet. Enough said.”

Ready
for her rebuttal I thrust a hand out and intercepted it. “But, as it so
happens, dear Fiona, Annette is setting me up on a date with someone this week.
He fits all of your criteria and he even has a child of his own. I didn’t
specifically ask if he has a real live penis but I’m assuming that’s a given.
I’m expecting his call and, barring a disastrous initial phone call, I plan to
accept. So there!”

She
beamed back at me and I couldn’t help but be a little happy that I’d put a
smile on her face. “Well, if it can’t be hot construction dude, I guess we can
give this other guy a chance at snack time. Now, where’s the wine?”

***

My
phone buzzed with a text.

Nate:
I got an in at Hops and can skip the line. Just name the night.
By the way, when did that place become such a madhouse? It’s still just a
burger joint, right?

Laney:
I know! Ever since it got listed as “Best Burger” on some list
you can’t get in anymore.

Nate:
I noticed that still wasn’t a yes on the date?

Laney:
I’ve got Charlotte’s phone number for you.

Nate:
I don’t want to go out with Charlotte. I want to go out with
you. Besides, dating married women requires too much effort and I’m not big on
subterfuge.

Laney:
Smartass. I meant I had her number for the apology you owe her.
I haven’t forgotten.

Nate:
Neither have I. Now, about this date…

Laney:
I’ve got Rocco so it’s not that easy.

Nate:
You’ve also got Gavin and I am his boss after all. I can be
lenient if he needs to come in late…

Laney:
Exactly! None of that. I don’t think we should get involved.

Nate:
You think too much.

That was Tuesday and
I chose not to reengage or I’d get myself in trouble. That same night I got the
call I’d been expecting from Annette’s guy, Alex. He seemed nice enough on the
phone, although we did have the expected awkward moments one gets when speaking
to a complete stranger and trying to organize a date. We settled fairly quickly
on Thursday evening and I have to say I was somewhat relieved to get off the
phone. I forgot how stressful dating was – why do people do this to themselves?

***

Thursday arrived before I was ready for it and it was officially
date night. The only problem was that the date wasn’t with the guy I actually
wanted, no matter what the logical part of my brain said. Nate had continued to
text me since Tuesday and I couldn’t help but be charmed by him.
Dammit!

Determined to get me fired up for the date, Fiona showed up
early in the evening with a slew of dresses and heels. Since she and I were
nowhere in the neighborhood of the same size my look of confusion must have
been evident.

“So I stopped at a couple boutiques. Suck it!”

I would try to argue with her but there was no stopping Fiona
and her credit card. So I let her spend the next hour doing my hair and makeup
and dressing me up like a Barbie, except one with actual human dimensions. She
spent the majority of the time alternating between reveling in her own genius
and filling me in on useless gossip that was both totally frivolous and
completely entertaining. As only a best friend would do, she’d offered to
babysit Rocco during my date. I would have asked Gavin, but I was starting to
feel like I was taking advantage of him a bit and I knew he had his, well,
drinking or whatever to do in the evenings. Truthfully, I had no idea what he
was up to these days.

“This is definitely the one.” Fiona stood back and admired her
work, finger to her lips.

I looked down at the form fitting pink dress. It was sleeveless
with wide straps – because, come on, there was no way on earth I could forego a
bra – and a pencil skirt that ended just above the knee. Running down the
center of the dress was a pretty little vertical ruffle of sorts. I tugged lightly
at the ruffle. “You don’t think this is too much?”