Speakeasy (True North #5)(19)

“Thank you.” Her eyes get red, and she turns away so I can’t see.

“Don’t cry, babe. Gonna make your super-hot makeup run. Can’t make the bitch jealous with raccoon eyes. Unless she has a thing for raccoons… Rawrrr.”

May laughs and carefully dabs at her eyes. “You kill me, Alec. Thanks for being such a good sport.”

It’s easy, though. Making her laugh feels like a victory.

“You know how some women say they aren’t criers?”

“I guess? Is that a thing?”

“Yeah. But I’m totally a crier. Always have been. I cry when we send the beef cow off to freezer camp or when Mom kills a chicken. I cry over babies and those sappy Super Bowl commercials with puppies and Clydesdales.”

“Buy stock in tissues?” I suggest. “There are worse habits.”

“Sure. But I had this boyfriend in college who hated it. Whenever I’d cry, he’d get really uncomfortable. It was part of why I stopped dating men. I had this idea that being with a woman would just be easier—that she’d understand me like no man could.”

“And?”

“Daniela couldn’t stand crying, either.” May pulls a tissue out of her purse and blows her nose. “Next time I won’t pick a super-bitch and it might turn out okay.”

“Good plan, babe.” I hold up a hand and she high-fives it.





Chapter Six





May


Alec Rossi wears a conspiratorial smile on his handsome face as we enter the walnut-paneled antechamber outside the Brookner Room at the law school. “Can your arm candy take your coat, Miss Shipley?” He gives me a cheesy wink.

“But of course.” I shrug it off and hand it over. It’s fun watching Alec, and not just because of his handsome, chiseled face. He’s a marvel to me, because he seems so comfortable in his own skin. He’s cocky, but in a fun way. Like both of us are in on the joke.

“Hot damn,” he hisses as I bare my shoulders. “The view just keeps getting better.” Then he gives a low whistle.

He’s laying it on a little thick, but I sure don’t mind. His flattery is a lovely distraction. In my peripheral vision I can see Daniela’s dark, wavy hair. And if I’m not mistaken, her bulldog ex is there with her, wearing the same leather motorcycle jacket she wore in the bar.

If only I could have landed one good punch…

“Hey,” Alec says, snapping his fingers. “Eyes right here.” He smiles at me and then drops my coat onto a coat tree. “Stay loose, okay?” He places a hand on the juncture between my neck and my shoulder. The heat of his palm brings me back into the present. I look up into warm brown eyes. “Good girl,” he says quietly. “Now tell me—what happens next?”

If only I knew. My mind takes a little vacation for a moment as I process the lovely sensation of his touch on my bare skin. “Um… There’s a little ceremony. Last year’s graduates give a rose to the incoming class. A dean gives a really dull speech. Then you’ll drink cheap wine, and I’ll drink water and pretend I’m not jealous.”

“Jealous of me with my wine, or jealous of She Who Will Not Be Named?”

“The first thing.”

He smiles, and then bends down to kiss my temple. And the feel of his lips on my skin makes me break out in goosebumps.

Holy cats! Shut up, body.

“Speaking of jealousy,” he whispers. “How high am I aiming here? Don’t look now, but she’s totally watching.”

We’re standing so close together that I can see the flecks of gold in his deep brown eyes. “I think you’re doing pretty well already,” I whisper back. “Let’s play it by ear.”

His smile is like a well-fed cat’s. “Okay. You lead this dance. I’ll follow.” He slips his hand into mine and squeezes.

Alec Rossi, ladies and gentlemen. Does he have the acting chops or what?

Feeling mildly self-conscious, I lead him over to the law school dean, Leslie Harper—or Dean Harpy to those on her bad side—and introduce him as “my friend, Alec.” No need to make this charade any more convincing.

“Lovely to meet you,” the dean says. “We’ll get started now, shall we?”

The law school is a tiny institution. Each class is only a hundred students, so this ceremony feels intimate. There are two rows of seats reserved for the graduates, and I lead Alec to the front and sit down at the end of the row, where I’m guaranteed not to have to stare at Daniela.

The dean takes the podium and welcomes everyone to this year’s rose ceremony. The speech that follows is just as boring as I’d promised. Or maybe I’m just distracted by the warmth of Alec’s palm against mine. He keeps our joined hands on his knee, his thumb stroking my palm occasionally. And every time he does that I lose my focus.

It’s…lovely. A little human contact, no strings attached. Instead of squirming my way through this experience, I’m enjoying Alec’s mildly inappropriate acting job. He clearly enjoys the game. Whenever I glance at him, warm brown eyes smile back.

The man should get an Academy Award. And I still haven’t baked him that pie I promised him for helping me move. Now I’ll owe him a second one at least.