Unfinished Business (15 page)

She scoffs. “You work for the temp agency. If you want to keep being stubborn about it, look at it this way—you do what I tell you, right?” After an annoying know-it-all silence, she adds, “See? So you do work for me.” She laughs, the first time I’ve ever heard her laugh really loud, then says, “So start working by calling around and coming up with some prizes.” She turns away, chuckling.

Oh. My. God. What. A. Bitch.

Caroline reaches for her door handle but the door flies open and smacks her forehead. The thud and her swearing are music to my ears.

“Oh, sorry, Caroline,” Tony says as he curves around the door. “I didn’t know you were about to open the door.”

“What were you doing in my office, Tony?”

He glances over at me. “Um, hi, Hayley.”

I can’t decide which might be funnier, if I were inclined to find something funny which at the moment I am not, the strained look on Caroline’s face or the slippery way Tony’s features keep readjusting themselves.

“What were you doing in my office?”

His face settles into an all-purpose blank expression. “Looking for you?”

She puts her hands back on her hips. “I wasn’t in there. How long did it take you to figure that out?”

“Not long.”

“What did you want?”

“Uh…it’s about that one unit.”

“Which one unit?” Caroline eyes him skeptically. “You know what”—she struts past him—“I don’t have time for this. Get a unit information slip from Hayley, fill it out, and put it in the maintenance memo box. I’ll look it over later.”

With that departing order, she slithers around her door and shuts it.

Glad to have something to take my attention off The Horrible Bitch Event, I get out of my chair and prop myself on the edge of my desk. “So what were you really doing in there?” I ask softly.

“I forgot something.”

I lean forward and lift an eyebrow. “You left something in Caroline’s office?”

“I got it back though.”

“What did you leave in there?”

He moves away from the desk and scans the walls of the office. He stares at the cheap oil painting of Belle Isle hanging by the door. “What was Mr. Neville here for?”

“That anniversary thing.”

He looks from the discount art to me. “How’s that going?”

I get it. You quit asking me, I’ll quit asking you. To finish the circle of let’s pretend, I dig out a unit information form from my desk drawer. “You want one of these?”

“Yeah, I guess I better.”

Chapter Seventeen

Keeping the Friend in Friendship

Five days later, it’s Saturday morning and Nick and I are staring at Pastry Pete donuts.

“You taste these three and tell me which is best.” Abdul points at Nick. “You too. I need someone to taste them, tell me which is best.”

I look over the three donuts, each on its own plate. One has blue frosting with white and red sprinkles, one is a red donut with white frosting that’s striped with blue glaze and one looks like some little kid made it. I point to the third one. “What’s the deal with that one?”

“My niece, she made it. Cute, huh?”

“Would you want to eat it?”

He throws one hand in the air and waves at the plates with the other. “Who cares what I want to eat?”

“You know what I want to know,” Nick says, sitting up and leaning toward Abdul.

“What? What you want to know, big man?”

“Why you call this place Pastry Pete’s when your name’s Abdul?”

This time Abdul waves both his hands. “You want to go to Pastry Abdul’s?”

Nick nods and his gaze shifts back to the row of donuts. “Okay. I get it. Eat one, Hayley.”

Abdul’s little brother steps up to refill my coffee cup then stares at me.
What is this, the Pillsbury Bake-Off?

I tap the plate holding the one with the multi-layered frosting and mounds of sprinkles. “Are you serious about that one?”

“You don’t think so?” Abdul frowns. “You don’t think I am serious with that one?”

“With that one?” I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Okay, no. I’m not serious about that one.” When Abdul’s little brother grabs it and takes a bite, Abdul says, “There. Now you try the others. They are good, you’ll see. But which is best?”

I take a bite of the red one first, rinse my palate with coffee then try the other. Poor Abdul. “They taste the same.”

“Okay, the food coloring for the red one, it makes no difference. But you tell me, which looks better? More American?”

Nick rubs his chin, his hand grazing over his sexy weekend stubble. “Go with the red one. That you won’t see anywhere else.”

“Yes! We go with that one. It’s the best, yeah?”

Abdul reaches out to scoop up the plates, but I stop him by swooping them aside. “We’ll finish eating and let you know for sure.”

The brothers laugh as they head back to the counter.

I push the red donut toward Nick with a smile. “You like it, you eat it.”

“Haven’t really talked to you in a while. You haven’t even posted anything on Facebook. It’s like you’re in exile.” He takes a bite then talks around it, “How was the dance? Have a good time with the hometown fellas?”

Does he care if I danced with other guys? Or is he simply teasing me, trying to give me a hard time for fun? I stare at him for a minute but can’t tell which it is. There’s nothing there except that same steady brown-eyed gaze. When he brushes some crumbs from his lower lip, I look at his fingers and mouth and a thick flicker of lust curls through me. I look away as I answer, “The dance was postponed. Rescheduled for April twenty-first. Mix-up with the VFW hall scheduling.”

He kicks my foot under the table and keeps at it until I look at him. “They rescheduled an April Fool’s Day Dance?” He drinks his coffee with mock thoughtfulness. “You going to take Clifford to the non-April Fool’s Dance?”

“What?” Honestly, it takes me a minute to even remember who that guy is. “Oh, no.”

He kicks me under the table again. “Clifford’s busy?”

My face feels so hot, I know I’m blushing like an idiot. “I have no idea what he’s doing,” I say, trying to sound casual but not pulling it off. That lust is melting my mind.

When Nick keeps staring at me, the images of those dirty dreams drifting through my mind get so vivid I swear he knows what I’m thinking.

I look longingly at the door. This would be a good time for Riana to show up. This thing Nick and I are doing, pretending that nothing ever happened, is getting more and more difficult because I keep looking at his hands and his mouth and getting all hot in the face.

When I don’t add anything more about Clifford, he smugly pops the last of his red donut into his mouth. We eat in silence until both our donuts are gone and the only evidence of the All-American Taste-Off are the empty plates dotted with crumbs. Silence hangs over the table, unwelcome and uncomfortable. I try to chase it away. “How’s work?”

He shrugs then shoves his plate toward the edge of the table.

I cast a sideways glance at him, thinking maybe I ought to come right out and say something about that night, and all the awkwardness that’s followed, but Riana walks through the door.

Or is she limping?

“Hey there,” she says, sliding in next to me.

I point at her sweaty self. “I thought we were going to ride bikes together.”

She frowns and nods at Abdul’s little brother when he asks if she wants coffee. “We are but I wanted to do two laps at Kensington first.” She pulls a sheet of crumpled paper out of her pocket, smoothes it out then puts it on the table.

I pick it up and read the training schedule outlined in neat columns. “You get it off the race site?”

Her mouth flattens and she shakes her head. “Peter sent it to me. I think he might be trying to make me quit.”

“You’re kidding,” I reply, letting more disgust sound in my voice than I meant to.

Riana doesn’t say anything, she fiddles with the salt and pepper shakers.

I try to fold the sheet up but it’s too rumpled so I slide it over to Nick.

“Why would he want to make you quit?” he asks.

Riana scowls. “It turns out he was training for a bike rally a couple years ago. It wasn’t a charity thing like mine. It was the same distance and he, um, didn’t finish.”

“What does that have to do with you?”

Riana grabs the paper, wads it up then stuffs it into the pocket of her fleece vest. “He doesn’t think I’m in good enough shape. He says I’m going to end up making a fool of myself because I won’t be able to make it to the end.”

Nick cocks his head. “That’s crap.”

“He’s wrong,” I say softly.

After a pause, Nick shakes his head. “Sorry to be so blunt— What’s his problem?”

Riana pushes her coffee cup around. “He’s just trying to help.”

I offer an explanation to Nick, “Peter is competitive.”

He nods and says, “Maybe if you explained again why you’re doing it, he’d get it and support you.”

I’m pretty sure that it wouldn’t make any difference to a guy like Peter but I don’t see the point in going on with it. He’s a part of Riana’s life and she has to deal with him in her own way.

“Speaking of competitive people.” Nick looks at me. “You take care of Caroline yet?”

Riana picks up the thread. “Yeah, what’s up with that? That girl could use a good square smack in the face.”

They’re both right but I don’t say that. Instead I say, “I got some good prizes for the raffle. Tanning packages, a free dinner at that French restaurant over by the Fox Theatre.”

“She’s still going to get credit for your
idea
.”

“I’ll come up with something else. Besides, it isn’t such a big deal.”

Even after the words are out in the open I’m still not buying them. I’ve been trying to sell them to myself all week—it’s not working. Nick looks right at me and smiles. Not a smug or a cocky one, but a sweet one. It takes some of the sting out of Caroline’s horribleness.

I smile back then toss money on the table to pay for our coffee. “You ready to go?”

“I guess.” Riana slides out and wobbles toward the door. “You coming, Nick?”

“No. I gotta go help my mom paint her garage.”

“I’d rather do that,” she says.

“No, you’d rather pedal yourself into even better shape so you can beat all those other bikers’ asses.”

“I just want to finish,” Riana replies a little too quickly.

I quirk my eyebrow at her.

“I only want to do the ride to raise money for kids. And for the challenge.” She pushes against the door.

Nick steps over to assure Abdul that the red one is the best then catches up with us at the door. “Riana, has it ever occurred to you that you don’t have to prove anything to anybody?”

Nick’s right. Unable to keep my mouth shut, I cut in with, “Peter is
important
. He’s worried about his
reputation
. If his girlfriend looks stupid, then he looks stupid.”

Riana defends him, as usual. “He’s not really like that. You don’t know him like I do.”

Something I am really glad about.

“When is the ride again?” Nick asks.

“May twenty-sixth and twenty-seventh.”

“Let me know where the finish line is because I want to be there to see you streak across it.”

“What if I don’t?” she moans.

“You will,” he says firmly.

A pleased smile lifts Riana’s mouth. “Thanks, Nick.”

Nick lingers by the door. “See ya, Hayley.”

I feel all goofy and girly and for a second it’s normal between us. “Bye, Nick.”

Electricity skitters through me as I grab Riana’s sleeve. “Come on.”

* * * *

Three hours later, Riana and I are flopped on our backs gazing at a cloudless sky. Expansive stretches of blue are damn unusual in Michigan, so even though it hurts our eyes to keep looking up, we do. It’s a Michigan thing. Londoners would understand.

“You can do it, Riana. You could win that race on determination alone.”

“I don’t care if I win! It isn’t supposed to be a race,” she grumbles.

“I know that and you know that but he doesn’t know that.”

“Let’s not talk about it anymore.”

After a while, Riana breaks our quiet. “Do you think if I wasn’t with Peter—not that I’m not going to be with him—but, do you think that if I wasn’t, Josie would set me up with her dating thing?”

Interesting line of thinking.

Even though I could take a guess at the answer to her question, I sidestep my hunch with, “Did you ask her?”

“No.” She weakens and drops her arm across her face to block out the eye-piercing rays. “I didn’t want to put her on the spot.”

“You’re too nice.”

“Even if I were, which I’m not, what would that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing, I guess.” I give in and fold my arm across my face.

She smacks my shoulder. “If you’re so un-nice why don’t you expose Caroline? Tell that Mr. Neville she stole your
idea
.”

Even though it’s a lie, I say, “It doesn’t matter.”

“If it were me, it would matter.”

“You’re driven. Me, I don’t care about that stuff.” Either I don’t care or I’m not woman enough to stand up for myself.

Chapter Eighteen

Give Him What He Wants, Maybe

Saturday night, I’m at my place, on the couch with Nick and I’m so tense I could snap.

“Really, Nick, you do not want to go. It’s an April Fool’s Day Dance on April twenty-first. What does that tell you?” I wave my hands. “That you don’t want to go.”

Nick nudges me with his foot. “I want to meet your parents. I want to see all the people you’re always complaining about.”

I groan and put my hands on my head. Why doesn’t he let this whole thing go and grab me the way he did the other night? What is keeping him from kissing me? Didn’t he like it? Doesn’t he know that I did?

“Are you taking another video guy?”

My nervousness spills out as a laugh then I fall silent when I see the way he’s looking at me with his eyes all dark and serious.