“Fine, I’ll be navigator.”
Nico struggled to get himself back to baseline during the drive to town, but could still sense the sleekness of her hair between his fingers. What would it be like to run his hand through that smooth fall? How would it feel to kiss her head and feel it under his lips, or have it drag across his body as she worked her way…
“Nico, the turn!”
Shit. “Sorry.” He made himself think of multiplication tables, flowchart design, if squirrels really did talk with their tails. Anything but Valerie sitting with her legs slightly parted beside him in the car.
It worked, to a degree. He was able to carry on a conversation as they made the standard pre-party stops for snacks and local craft beer as a hosting gift for Dalia, but he could feel his attention sharpen whenever Valerie leaned over, or fixed her hat, or breathed. It didn’t help that she’d undone a few buttons on her shirt.
The multiplication tables weren’t working that well after all.
Luckily, dread of the actual party set in during the ten-minute drive to Dalia’s place and got his mind on track. Valerie perked up as they approached and she almost jumped in her seat when the music became audible. Nico didn’t recognize the song.
“This is going to be so fun,” she enthused. “We might be able to get some information about Yvette.”
“That’s doubtful.” He didn’t think many of the guests would be of Roger’s vintage.
“Doubtful is not impossible, and anyway, Dalia says her roommates are cool. It’ll be fun no matter what.”
Nico was less certain, but nodded. He’d said he’d come, and he’d do his best.
She touched his arm. “We can go any time if you’re not into it,” she said seriously.
He glanced over in surprise. “You’ve been looking forward to going to Dalia’s.”
“Sure, but I won’t have fun if you’re miserable.”
“I don’t want to wreck your day.”
She laughed as he pulled in beside a battered Corolla covered with bumper stickers, including one that said, “MS Chi-Cheemaun: 50 years of glorious service,” with a drawing of a ferry.
“Are we trying to out-polite each other?” she asked.
She was right. “How’s this: I can’t guarantee I’m going to love it because I’m not a party guy. What I can promise is that I’ll tell you if I’m hitting my limit.”
Valerie tilted her head as if that would help assess his truthfulness. “You’ll tell me?”
“Yes.”
“With words that come from your mouth?”
“I will literally say,Valerie, I would like to leave now.”
“You won’t sulk in a corner and expect me to read your mind and get mad at me when I don’t?”
“If I am in a corner, it will be because that is my preference at the moment, and not because I wish to passive-aggressively telegraph my desire to leave.”
“To confirm,” she pressed. “No getting upset because I’m not checking in with you enough to see if you’re having a good time because somehow that’s my responsibility? No worrying if theI’m fineactually meansI want to go?”
What was that Jake guy like, that she felt the need to monitor everything? Nico disliked him. “You don’t have to check in at all, and the same goes for you. If you wish to go, you will say so instead of constantly asking me if I want to leave as a hint that you do.”
She frowned. “Why would I do that?”
“Some people do.” Madison had preferred him to make the decisions so she never had to take blame for when things went wrong, but also had strong opinions on what should happen. Things were much easier when people said what they thought.
Valerie ran the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip. “Okay,” she said. “I trust you.”
This filled him with the same pleasure as getting a handle on a workflow. “Then let’s win Cottage Games XXI.”
