The proposal, p.8
The Proposal, page 8
“Good one,” he muttered, but I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure the thought hadn’t crossed his mind—it would get me out of his hair, and he could have the account to himself.
We went over many of the other items we’d need for the event. I had confirmations from five vendors by the time Leo pulled the car in front of a white two-story house in a quiet suburban neighborhood. There were colorful flowers lining the walkway up to the house.
I set my tablet down on my lap and angled myself in my seat. “We don’t have to be enemies.”
“You’re the one who started things off this way. You’re trying to steal the account for yourself.”
My jaw hung open. “I’m...It’s…”
“You think I didn’t hear all your ‘I’ talk? Or how you keep trying to shove everything down my throat to get your way.”
“I need this to go well. I need my job. This is my one shot to prove myself. I have bills and responsibilities.
“Plus, I wasn’t the one who slammed into me, spilling coffee all over my clothes, stepped on my one chocolate croissant, and offered it to me from the bottom of a shoe.” I jammed my tablet into my bag, dreading how much a taxi would cost back to the city. Maybe I could take one to the closest train station instead. That would be cheaper.
A small knock broke through the seething tension in the car.
Leo looked over his shoulder and his entire demeanor changed. He opened the door and a small voice filled the interior.
“Leo, you’re here! You’re here!” A little girl with big black curls under a conductor’s hat jumped onto his lap, wedging herself between the steering wheel and his chest.
I stared at her and back at him. Did he have a daughter? There wasn’t a resemblance. We hadn’t delved into anything personal, but wow, I’d have thought he’d have mentioned it. Not like I’d given him much of an opportunity.
“Teresa Amelia Asher.” A man with thick-rimmed Clark Kent glasses stood at the top of the steps with a kitchen towel slung over his shoulder. “What did I tell you about leaving this house?”
The little girl who looked no more than four jutted her bottom lip out. “Sorry, Jamie.”
He came down the steps with a big smile.
Confusion whirled in my head. Who the hell was he? Who was she? Was Leo gay? Was this Leo’s boyfriend or husband? Mind bombs were exploding left and right.
Leo climbed out of the car with Teresa. “Happy birthday, Birthday Girl.”
She laughed and giggled as he blew raspberries into her neck.
I sat in the car. I had so many questions, smoke was probably rising from my ears.
Leo ducked down through the open doorway with Teresa’s arms wrapped around his neck. “You coming or what? I can drop you off back home once we’re finished here.”
“Sure.” I needed answers; I couldn’t have stayed away.
“You must be Zara.” He covered his laugh with a cough into his fist. “Leo’s told us all so much about you.”
“Us? Yes, I’m Zara. And you are?”
“Jameson.”
He ushered us all into the house and I took everything in in wide-eyed fascination, not wanting to pry, but dying to know what was going on. This was the meeting Leo had to get to? Somehow, it made his adamancy that we not debrief right after our presentation less annoying. I knew all about not wanting to let down people who were important to you.
Inside, there were two other guys, each armed with baking staples. Chocolate, flour, sugar, baking pans, vanilla. Everything was out all over the countertops. A heady punch of testosterone filled the room. It was like an Avengers poster, but they were all wearing regular clothes and somehow hotter when sprinkled with flour.
Leo swung around like he was looking for something. “Zara, I want to introduce you to someone. Where’s Teresa?”
The little girl in his arms giggled and tapped him on the shoulder. He jerked like she’d appeared out of nowhere. “This is our conductor extraordinaire and birthday girl Teresa.”
I held onto the strap of my bag and shot them a small wave. “Hi, Teresa. Happy birthday, I’m sorry I didn’t get you a present.”
He’d been in a hurry not to miss her birthday. The last of my simmering anger was zapped away. From how wide her smile was, Leo was important to her and he’d shoved aside his other responsibilities to be there for her. Finally, something we could relate to.
“You can help with my cake. It’s the only present I asked for.” She beamed. Leo set her down and she ran off to a trunk beside the couch and pulled out a wooden train.
“Guys, this is Zara.”
“Zara, this is August and Everest.” He said the second name like a swallowed curse. “And you’ve already met Jameson.” Each one waved when Leo said their names.
Everest had on a blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His black hair made his striking blue eyes stand out even more. And from the way he and Leo kept glaring at one another, he was The Nemesis.
“Your ring is so pretty.” Teresa grabbed my hand and rubbed her finger over the stone. “You’re engaged.” With everything going on, I’d been distracted from the engagement ring strangling my finger. Strange how quickly that had happened.
“Yeah, today.” I laughed, but no one else did. The air had been sucked out of the room.
August with the tousled brown hair and deep green eyes, which skittered over the ring. So, Mr. Commitment, he wasn’t. The ring seemed like his kryptonite—he couldn’t even look directly at it.
Their gazes bounced from me to Leo.
He stepped in front of me waving his hands. “Not now. Not ever. It’s stuck on her finger. We had a few things to go over, so Zara had to ride over with me.”
There was an exchange of skeptical looks, but everyone went back to their spots in the kitchen.
“Teresa, are you sure you don’t want a smiley face cake or a sun cake?” Jameson with the glasses leaned out of the kitchen doorway.
“I want Thomas the Tank Engine,” she singsonged, and sat down at the center of an elaborate wooden train track set.
“Of course you do.” Jameson and the rest of the guys ducked back into the kitchen.
Teresa seemed totally content with her trains and the door was locked with the top chain on.
I slipped into the kitchen where all the action was taking place. “Can I help?”
Jameson looked up from the tablet on the counter, playing through a cake decorating tutorial. “Do you have any experience making a 3D Thomas the Tank Engine cake? It says we need dowels. Anyone have dowels?”
Leo patted himself down before snapping, “Damn, I left them in my other pants.”
The sink was already overflowing with dishes, abandoned batter in bowls, and utensils, even though from as far as I could tell, nothing had made it into the oven.
Everest followed my gaze and his cheeks pinked up. “We had some a slight confusion with the salt and the sugar on the last batch of batter.”
So The Nemesis wasn’t a good baker.
“Twice.” Jameson held up his fingers. “Two times.”
“What? No culinary expertise from the help growing up, Master van Konig?” Leo bowed with a flourish.
“F—” Everest peered out the open kitchen doorway, substituting the words for a double barrel single finger salute.
“I’m happy to clean dishes.” Lifting my non-ring ladened hand, I broke into the volley of barbs and banter. They were all so comfortable and at home with each other, enough to insult and tease. I’d never had a group of friends like this before. Growing up had all been about keeping my head down and not drawing attention to myself.
There had been no sleepovers or nights out on the town. In college, everyone seemed to have had a much different childhood, so once again, I was focused on doing my work, graduating, and starting my real life. And I’d never thought about what I’d missed out on until now. I guess hanging out with a total of three people ever meant I’d missed a lot.
“Sold to the lady who doesn’t want to be responsible for crushing a five-year-old’s dreams of a Thomas cake on her big day.”
The four of them crowded around the tablet, stopping and starting the video, and moving the reorganizing the cake pans into various shapes before Leo shoved them out of the nest.
“We jump in. It’s the only way we know. Let’s get started on the batter—again.” He pointed to Mr. Clark Kent Glasses and Mr. Commitment, whose gaze still drifted to my hand every so often.
“Everest can make the chocolate icing.”
“I’ll butcher the abomination that will be these fondant flowers.” Leo stared at the multicolored lumps of fondant on the counter like he was trying to morph them into petals and stems with telekinesis.
I turned on the faucet and sorted out a good soapy needs-a-long-soaking side, and a to-be-cleaned-now side—which was more of a pile that overflowed onto the counter.
Working quickly, I washed and dried the dishes to the sound of tutorial videos overlapping one another from three different phones. Recipe books were multiplying on the counter.
Leo was hunched over looking ridiculous with tiny pieces of colorful fondant, shaping and molding them with his giant man hands.
I took a deep breath. Maybe we’d gotten off on the wrong foot. Maybe he wasn’t a condescending and clueless asshole who kept trying to steer my boat straight over the waterfall to my untimely demise. Maybe there was a way we could work together on this project and not rip each other’s throats out. And maybe he looked kind of cute rolling out fondant leaves for a five-year-old’s birthday. Maybe…
12
Leo
“Yes! That’s it. You did it.” Jameson ran his finger across the top of the bowl of frosting and Everest beamed like he’d run his first 100m in under 14 seconds.
“Leo, how are the flowers coming?”
My flowers weren’t half bad. After the first five video tutorials, I’d gotten the hang of something that could have been mistaken for a flower. But the buttercream roses? Those were dicey.
Zara had finished washing every dish in what seemed like the entire neighborhood, and hadn’t complained one bit. Out in the living room, she sat on the floor with Teresa, helping her rework the tracks.
When she wasn’t overbearingly controlling, she wasn’t half bad.
“So, what’s up with her?” August whispered over the cake pan with a steaming, golden brown cake inside.
“I’ve told you all there is to tell you about her. We’re stuck working together on the Winthorpe events for Felix’s company.”
“What’s the deal with the ring?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. She said it’s not hers, it got stuck on her finger and she couldn’t get it off. During the presentation, the decision-maker’s face lit up when she spotted it, so we’re stuck playing fake fiancées for a while.”
“Fake.” Some of the tension in August’s body relaxed. He set down the cake pans and picked up another empty set.
“Do you think I’d get engaged and not tell you guys? That I’d show up like, ‘Hey guess what? I’m getting married?’”
August’s hand jerked and he spilled some of the vanilla batter onto the counter.
“Only an asshole would do that.” He didn’t look up, but kept pouring into the next pan.
Everest and Jameson shot me looks and my mistake became crystal clear.
“Shit, that’s not what I meant,” I sputtered, trying to recover.
“Don’t worry about it. I was, indeed, an asshole.”
“Was?” Jameson threw out, nudging his glasses up higher.
August laughed and set down the bowl. “You’re right. It’s still in here.”
“But we love you, man.” I handed him a tiny, half wilted, half misshapen fondant flower.
“Like you guys could get rid of me.”
The front door banged open, stopped by the chain. “What’s going on? Did I miss it?” There was an almost hopeful hint to his voice.
Zara looked up from her seat on the floor to me.
Hunter had his face smooshed in the open door, lips first.
Teresa jumped up and down, spotting the bit of gift wrapping paper through the gap in the door.
“Move your freaking face and I can let you in.” I shoved Hunter’s head back and opened the door.
“Hey, Teresa.” Hunter crouched down and Teresa flung herself at the present in his hands, wrestling it away and bounding back to her train set.
Hunter’s lips creased into a frown and he shook his head. “Always about the gifts?”
“When it comes to a wrapped present on her birthday, it seems so.” Jameson walked into the living room with batter splatters all over him and the lenses of his glasses.
Hunter half whispered out of the side of his mouth. “Who’s the gorgeous lady playing with Teresa and wearing an engagement ring? Did August pull an August again?”
“No, that’s Zara. The one I told you about.”
Hunter’s eyes widened. “I was expecting some sort of troll-like creature with a hunchback and oozing pustules, not a surprise engagement.”
Zara looked up at me.
I expected daggers in her eyes, instead she laughed. I’d never seen her laugh before. It suited her. Her eyes sparkled.
She picked herself up off the floor. “No surprise engagement. My neighbor wanted me to try this on. It’s a long story.” She waved her hand as though questions about that part of her story could be as easily waved away. “But we got to our meeting and Leo blurted out we’re engaged. So now I’m stuck with this ring on my finger that I have to give back, and a fake fiancé with no ring.”
“Then it’s good I showed up when I did. I can solve both your problems. First, I need my tools.” Hunter shot his finger into the air. “To the bathroom.”
Everyone hesitantly followed him with slightly concerned looks. He took Zara’s hand and led her to Jameson’s upstairs bathroom. He rummaged through the medicine cabinet until he found what he’d been looking for.
“Dental floss? You’re going to clean your teeth?” Jameson held Teresa in his arms, so she could see between our heads.
“You have no imagination.” Hunter held Zara’s hand in his. Putting the stopper down in the sink, he ran her fingers under the cold water. “You only make that mistake once. Always. Always pull the stopper.”
Zara looked to me and I shrugged. If I’d had an idea on what he planned, I’d have done it myself.
Pressing on the metal and turning the ring around, he slipped the floss under and wound it around her finger. Slowly, he wrapped the floss down her finger past her knuckle like a mummy. The tip turned a little purple.
I reached for the floss. “What the hell are you doing? Look at her finger.”
Hunter shot over his shoulder. “Shhh, I’m working.” He turned back to Zara. “How do you work with him? Isn’t he a total pain in the ass all the time? Thinks everyone is part of his defensive line.”
Zara’s forehead crinkled and she chuckled, wincing as the floss was tightened around her finger. “He’s mainly a pain in the ass, but he has his moments.”
Wow, I’d expected her to go all-in on the Leo bashing. Had that been a compliment? A real live one? Was I a real boy now?
“And voila.” Hunter unwound the floss from behind the ring and dragged it along the dental floss mummification of Zara’s finger. The smooth floss squeezed down the swelling of her finger and made for a track for the ring. It clattered into the plugged sink.
“You’re a genius.” She threw her arms around Hunter’s neck. A small bolt of jealousy shot through me, like the one I’d felt when she’d shown up with that ring on her finger, which was stupid.
I didn’t even like Zara—what was with not wanting someone else to slip a ring on her, or have their arms around her?
She massaged her hand. The combination of the ring being stuck and the dental floss, had done a number on her skin. At least the color was returning to normal.
I wedged myself between her and Hunter. “Did you want some ice?”
She looked up at me. “I’d love some.” Picking up the ring from the sink, she stuck it in her pocket. “What do we do about the ring? Kathleen will have questions if I’m ringless the next time we see her.”
“You’re on board the engagement train now?” I looked at her over my shoulder as we walked down the stairs. “You’re not pissed anymore?”
“You teed up the ball and I hit it out of the park, Kathleen thinks we’re engaged and we need to use it to our advantage. We can’t exactly show up at our next meeting and tell her it was a joke. You heard her today. We’d be dead in the water.” Her lips pinched together like all those memories of why she couldn’t stand me were flooding back.
“I can get you a ring.” Hunter walked beside Zara and looped her arm through his.
“You can? How much will it cost?” The skepticism dripped from each word.
He patted her hand resting on his arm. “Don’t worry about it. I—”
“He knows a guy,” everyone chorused as we walked into the kitchen.
Everest set down his bowl of frosting. “You’ll learn, Zara, that Hunter has a particular set of skills. And we don’t ask how he things get done, but they get done. He has connections even money can’t buy.”
Hunter pulled up a stool. “Can I see the ring?”
Zara fished it out of her pocket and handed it over.
Hunter took a few pictures from different angles with his phone.
He tapped out a few messages with the intense look he got whenever he ‘fixed’ things. With a sigh, he slipped his phone into his pocket. “It’ll be here by the time we sing ‘Happy Birthday.’”
“A ring? You ordered a ring through your phone to be delivered here.” Zara pointed her finger at the floor between us.
He shrugged and swiped his finger through the vanilla frosting. “No big deal.”
“He’s also the one who told me about Kathleen’s previous job as a wedding planner.”
“Even without that piece of vital information”—her lips pinched together—“ we stumbled onto this.” She held up the ring by the band between her two fingers. “Can he really get us a ring?”
