It’s my turn to blush, but I don’t understand why this is an issue, or a problem she deems worthy of discussion.
“So tell your friend we’re not dating. You can explain you were just messing with me.”
At least I’m reasonably sure that’s what she was doing. It makes the memory no less alluring, unfortunately.
Nora’s face pinches, as if she’s smelled something unsavory. Maybe it’s that vanilla perfume seeping into our pores. “She’s not my friend.”
“Probably for the best, if she wears that scent everywhere.”
She laughs, but her cheeks are still flushed pink, and there’s an unsettled air about her. Nora, who’s usually never uncertain, is uncertain about this. “I need her to keep thinking we’re dating, Cormac.”
“Why?”
She explains what’s going on with The Ginger Station, while I listen in stupefied disbelief. I’ve been around Nora at least a dozen times over the past year, and she’s never mentioned any of this. Not to me, and not even in front of me.
“This is a bad idea,” I finally say. “Maybe the worst idea anyone has ever had. What if our parents find out?”
She starts pacing the tiny space. “They’re not going to find out. Why would they? Pansy assumes it’s this big secret, and as long as she thinks she can hold it over my head, she will.”
“Why would you let her do that?” I ask, at a loss. The Nora I know wouldn’t give anyone that kind of power over her.
“Because of José,” she says at once. “I can’t let her pressure him into quitting.”
That’s when it clicks into place. Nora must be in love with her business partner. According to what I’ve reluctantly heard from my dad, they dated briefly a while back. She’s the one who broke it off, but she may have changed her mind.
“I’m not a good liar. Why don’t you tell this woman you’re in a secret relationship with someone else?”
She clenches her jaw before admitting, “I already told her you and I are together.”
I stride over to the desk and snatch up the flask, opening it and taking a deep pull on it. Whiskey. Good whiskey.I screw the cap back on and set it down. “I’m not just bad at lying. I don’t like it.”
“Don’t think of it as lying. Think of it as playing a part.”
My scowl deepens. I do that often enough. I’m always playing a part, wearing other people’s gestures and expressions so they’ll assume I’m one of them. “I like that even less.”
She huffs in frustration. “Come on. The worst she’ll do is wink and nod. And maybe we can pretend to be holding hands while she’s looking.”
“You can’t pretend to hold hands. Either you are or you’re not.”
She takes a step toward me. Alarm thrums through me, and I raise my hand. “For the love of God.Pleasedon’t get down on your knees again.”
A crease forms between her eyebrows. “I wasn’t going to. I was going to ask you what I can do for you. As a favor. You know…to make up for being a pain in the ass. Isn’t there something you need? Something I can do for you?”
“No,” I say, mostly because my mind is dangerously close to forming images of Nora getting on her knees in front of me for a different reason.
Her lips firm into a displeased line.
“I’m not saying that to be an asshole,” I say, suddenly desperate to leave the room. It feels like it’s getting a millimeter smaller every second we’re trapped in here together.
“So it comes naturally?”
“I suppose.”
She watches me as if she’ll find the key to her problem hanging off my face, and then her eyes brighten. “Hazel. You were watching her during the ceremony.”
“Who’s Hazel?”
“My cousin. The pretty woman who was standing next to me.”
