Frisky Business (21 page)

Brian clutched his throat and made a choking sound. Vicki whacked him three times on the back. The redhead rolled her eyes.

“He’s not choking, you idiot. He’s having an allergic reaction.”

“Does he need mouth-to-mouth?” yelled Carrie the hostess as she bustled back to the table. “I know how to do that.”

Brian gagged and clutched his throat.

“Shit,” Marley said, and surveyed the rows of gaping diners, none of whom had made a move to assist. “Doctor?” she yelled again.

A man with kind eyes and a white chef’s coat hustled over. He looked at Brian, then at Marley. “I already called 911,” he said. “Food allergy?”

“Yes, that’s what he said. Peanuts, I think.”

“Does he use an EpiPen?”

“What’s that?” Marley asked.

“A shot of epinedrine. It’s common for allergic reactions. Does he carry one of those?”

“I have no idea,” Marley said. “We only just met, and—”

“Yes,” Brian gasped, nodding frantically and pointing to his thigh.

The chef frowned. “You have your EpiPen with you?”

Brian shook his head and coughed again. “No!” Brian gasped, turning an interesting shade of blue. “At home.”

The man held a slender object out to Marley. “It’s mine,” he said. “I’m allergic to bees, so I always have one with me. I can’t give him the shot—liability issues and all—but you can have it.”

Marley took it, dumbfounded. “What is it?”

“It’s a measured dose of adrenaline designed to treat allergic reactions or the onset of anaphylactic shock.”

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Shot,” Brian gasped. “Stab. Thigh.”

Marley stared at him in horror. “I’m supposed to stab you on our first date?”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” the man in the chef’s coat said. “He should be able to do it himself, or—”

Brian slumped to the side and began drooling on the redhead’s shoulder.

“Eeew!” Vicki squealed, and launched out of her seat. Carrie and the redhead followed, retreating to a safe distance across the restaurant.

“Great girlfriends you’ve got there,” Marley muttered.

Brian snorted, but didn’t come to. Marley pressed her fingers to his throat to make sure he still had a pulse. It was steady, and he was still breathing fine, though his neck seemed swollen.

“I can quickly walk you through the steps,” the chef said. “My name’s Joe, by the way.”

“Marley,” she choked out. “Okay, I can do this.”

“Here, take the EpiPen out of the little safety tube,” Joe said. “Good. Don’t touch the tip; it’s sterile. There’s a spring-loaded needle that’ll pop through that membrane.”

“Wha—what do I do?” Marley stammered.

“Hold it there with the orange tip pointing down toward his outer thigh. Good. Now pull that blue safety release there.”

“Okay,” Marley said, not sure whether her voice or her hands were shaking harder. “Now what?”

“Stab it into his outer thigh, right through his shorts, and then hold it there for ten seconds.”

“Stab,” she repeated, coming to terms with the idea.

She started to close her eyes, then thought better of it. She should probably see what she was doing. Brian was still breathing, still drooling, which seemed like good signs.

She held the EpiPen over the spot Joe had indicated. “One, two, three—”

She jammed the device into Brian’s outer thigh with a warrior cry that startled her. She held it there, fascinated. “One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi—”

“We’re in Oregon,” Vicki chided from nearby. “Duh.”

Marley ignored her and pulled the EpiPen back. She looked up at Joe. “Now what?”

“Generally you want to massage the injection site—”

“I’ll do it!” squealed three female voices, as Brian’s fan club swarmed the table once more. Marley scooted back, happy to let them take over. She couldn’t see Brian’s face, but could tell he was stirring amid the cacophony of female voices buzzing around him.

“I’m rubbing, back off!” Vicki yelled.

“No, me!”

“Move it, bitch. You had him last night.”

“We should take his shorts off.”

“Oooh, he’s all smooth. Must’ve just shaved.”

“He always shaves before dates and bike races, duh.”

The redhead yanked Vicki’s braid, and Carrie pushed her out of the way. Marley took another step back and saw Brian’s eyelids flutter. He took in the pile of women surrounding him and gave a slow, lazy smile. He reached out and put a hand on Carrie’s butt.

“Hey, baby. What’s your name?”

***

Will was lying on his back on his living room floor surrounded by all three of his dogs. Rosco, the German shepherd mix, picked up a soggy tennis ball and dropped it on Will’s abdomen with a splat.

“No more,” Will grunted. “We’ve been fetching for an hour. Aren’t you done yet?”

Rosco whined in response, and Polly jumped up to join him, never one to miss an opportunity for whimpering. They began a lovely two-part harmony, and Will felt almost bad that deaf Omar couldn’t hear it.

Then again, Omar didn’t look distressed. He was hard at work chewing a beef marrowbone Will had given each of the dogs after dinner. Rosco had promptly buried his, while Polly had offered hers to the neighbor’s beagle.

Will sighed and turned back to Rosco and Polly.

“You guys, enough with the singing,” Will said. “How am I supposed to hear myself think?”

Like he really wanted that. He’d spent the whole day unable to get Marley out of his mind, and it was starting to piss him off.

Marley
and
her
secrets.

Marley
and
her
incessant
need
to
please.

Marley
and
her
beautiful
legs.

Marley
and
her
date
, he reminded himself, wondering how that was going.

He pictured the Plaid Neanderthal reaching his hand across the table to take Marley’s, his grease-speckled knuckles making her shiver with anticipation. Would things heat up between them on a first date? Marley wasn’t that kind of girl, was she?

Not that Will had anything against that kind of girl. Hell, he lived for that kind of girl. Lord knew he was that kind of guy, so he wasn’t one to judge.

Still, Marley wouldn’t get steamy with a stranger on a first date.

You
made
out
with
her
in
the
kitchen
the
day
you
met
, he reminded himself.
Her
father
caught
you
groping
each
other
in
the
foyer
a
few
days
later, and if it weren’t for her ex-fiancé showing up on her doorstep the other night—

“Stop,” Will said aloud.

Rosco barked, and Polly perked up her ears. Omar went on chewing his bone.

Will sighed and palmed the soggy tennis ball on his abdomen, barely noticing the dog slobber that squished between his fingers. He had to get his mind off Marley. Off the warm taste of her skin at the base of her throat, her sharp little intake of breath as his fingertips traced the edges of her ribs and slid beneath the lace of her bra. He had to stop thinking about the smell of blueberries and the way her eyes flew wide as he kissed his way between her breasts and—

“Quit whimpering, Rosco,” Will ordered. Rosco twitched his ears, and Will wasn’t sure whether he was annoyed at the dog for interrupting his fantasy, or at himself for having the fantasy in the first place.

“Sorry, buddy,” Will said, and reached out to scratch the big dog under his chin. “You’re right. We should definitely fetch again.”

Will rolled over and chucked the soggy tennis ball down the hallway. Rosco scrambled after it in a blur of paws and fur, with Polly trailing behind him. Will turned back to Omar.

“It’s just you and me for the three minutes it takes them to find that in the laundry hamper,” Will said.

Omar went right on chewing his bone. The phone rang, and Will heaved himself up off the ground. He began to hunt for it, locating it in his fruit basket on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Will, hey—it’s April.”

“You know, we were married for four years,” Will said, stooping to pick up the ball Rosco deposited at his feet. “Even if I didn’t have caller ID, don’t you think I’d know your voice by now?”

“Right, sorry. Look, Will, there’s been an incident here at the restaurant.”

Will froze with the ball poised for throwing. Rosco barked once sharply, then fell silent. “Incident? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s Marley.”

“Marley?” Will’s heart was in his throat. “Did her date do something to her? Is she in trouble or hurt or—”

“Will, stop. I’m trying to tell you.” There was a pause, and he knew April was giving him a minute to get a grip. He stayed quiet, though everything in his brain screamed for answers
rightfuckingnow.

“Marley’s fine,” April said, and Will waited for his pulse to slow down. It didn’t, and April continued. “Her date had an allergic reaction here at the restaurant. He seems okay now, but his
girlfriends
—” April paused at that, waiting for the words to sink in. “His girlfriends want to take him to the hospital as a precaution. That leaves Marley stranded here. She said she could walk, but I’m not sure she knows her way yet, and I guess I could call a cab but—”

“I’m on my way,” Will said, and he hung up the phone.

Will was breathless as he charged through the front door at 900 Wall. He scanned the room for Marley, but April caught his eye first, waving to him from her station at the edge of the open kitchen. April pointed to a table near the front of the restaurant, and Will turned to see Marley standing awkwardly beside a cluster of women fawning over a man on a stretcher.

A paramedic swatted one of the women away, but two more circled back like flies, not giving the medics more than a few inches of space.

Marley looked up then, her eyes going wide at the sight of Will. He raised a hand in greeting, before striding slowly toward her.

“Marley,” he greeted, then looked down at the Plaid Neanderthal on the stretcher. He had lipstick marks in two different shades on his cheek and forehead, and Will tried to remember if Marley wore lipstick. Pushing the thought from his head, he nodded at Plaid Neanderthal.

“How you feeling, man?”

Plaid Neanderthal gave a lazy smile as a redhead bent over him, fluffing the pillow behind his head. “Good,” he said. “Real good.”

One of the paramedics snorted and made another attempt at shooing the women away. “Come on, ladies. We’re heading to the ambulance now. Out of the way, please.”

Will stepped around them and reached Marley’s side, watching her for signs of how she was feeling. Worried over her date’s affliction, or embarrassed by the public scene? Will honestly couldn’t tell.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“Will.” She blinked, and Will noticed for the hundredth time how many shades of color made up the hazel in her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“April called. She said you might need a ride. What happened?”

Marley glanced toward the door where the medics were wheeling Plaid Neanderthal out onto the sidewalk. She sighed, then turned back to Will with a shrug. “Peanut allergy. I had to stab him with an EpiPen.”

“Penetration is the mark of any good date.”

Marley laughed, and Will felt something in his chest go warm and liquid. “Good date,” Marley repeated, still laughing. “Remind me again what that is. I haven’t had one for a while.”

“Did things at least go well before he fell unconscious?”

“A question I never thought I’d be asked after a date.” Marley paused. “Not so well, no. But I’d rather not talk about it. Are you really here to give me a ride?’

“That’s the plan.”

“In a car?”

Will frowned. “As opposed to the sort of ride a gentleman generally shouldn’t suggest on a first date?”

“That’s not what I meant. Brian brought me here on a tandem bike. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t planning to pedal me home on that.”

Will raised an eyebrow. “A tandem bike? On a first date?”

“It might be romantic in a certain context.”

“I’m sure it would. Well, at least the date is over.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Marley frowned and looked down at the table, where water glasses sat sweating and a half-eaten slice of bread was soaking in a golden puddle of olive oil. “You know, I never even got a drink. Stupid happy hour is over, and I never got a greyhound.”

“Regular price is only a couple bucks more than happy hour,” Will pointed out. “Why don’t you let me buy you a greyhound?”

Marley shook her head and looked around the restaurant. “I’d kinda like to get out of here, if it’s okay with you. Maybe some other time?”

“Sure, no problem. Did you get anything to eat?”

Marley shrugged. “I’ll find something at home.” She grimaced, then looked down at the table. “Damn. I’ll have to go home and deal with my dad trying very, very hard not to say I-told-you-so about the date.”

“Dad wasn’t a fan of Brian?”

“Not especially.”

“Your father might be a better judge of character than I thought.” He looked at her, considering. “Tell you what—why don’t I make up for your crappy date by making sure you get dinner, a good drink, and great company?”

Marley raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me out?”

“Are you implying you think I’m great company?”

She laughed. “Or that I think your ego is genuinely that big.”

“I can live with that. But it’s not a date. Consider this friendly charity.”

“Pity with a drink.” Marley nodded. “I can go for that.”

“Good. Just give me a couple minutes to talk to April.”

“I need to run to the restroom anyway. Oh, and I should probably talk to one of Brian’s girlfriends about getting his bike key back to him. Shall I meet you out front?”

“It’s a date,” Will said. “Only it’s not a date.”

“I’m glad we cleared that up,” Marley said, and headed off to the bathroom.

Will watched her go, then strode to the open kitchen where April was sautéing something over an open flame.

His pretty ex-wife looked up with flushed cheeks and smiled. “Everything okay with Marley’s date?”

“Seems to be. He was conscious, and the medics didn’t seem too worried.”

“Marley was a real hero. Not that the guy deserved it. You should have seen him reveling in all the women swooning around him before the allergy attack. I wouldn’t have blamed Marley if she’d stuck the EpiPen in his eye and walked out.”

Will felt a surge of pride and glanced back toward the restrooms where Marley had disappeared. “Any chance I could get some sort of gourmet dinner for two to go in the next five minutes?”

April smiled. “You happen to be in luck tonight. I just wrapped up an order for a rehearsal dinner and I have a bunch of extras. How about peel-and-eat shrimp with peach curry dipping sauce, heritage beets with goat cheese and arugula, caprese salad with basil and tomato, baby purple potatoes with—”

“I’ll take it,” Will said. “All of it. I owe you one. Got anything good in the wine cellar to go with all that?”

“I’ll throw something in the basket and put the whole thing on your credit card.”

“You’re the best.”

April smiled and got to work packaging up the food. Will watched her work, wondering how many divorced men trusted their ex-wives with their credit card numbers or meal preparation for a date with a new woman.

“It’s not a date,” Will said aloud.

“I didn’t say it was,” April said, tucking a white box into a large brown basket and turning toward the walk-in cooler to grab something else. “Can you see if Bethany’s double-parked in the alley? I need her help loading the rest of the food into the car for the wedding reception.”

“Sure thing,” Will said, and ambled out the back door. His sister was idling in the alley, so he motioned her to roll down her window.

“Hey, Will. What are you doing here?”

“Long story. April needs a hand loading up the food.”

Bethany hit her hazard lights and popped open the door. “Let me guess—does your long story involve Marley?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you have that flushed look you get every time you’re around her.” Bethany grinned. “It’s either that, or you’re developing typhoid.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s typhoid.”

Bethany followed him back into the restaurant, and they each made two trips loading food into the back of the station wagon.

“What’s in the picnic basket?” Bethany asked on their last run.

April smiled. “Dinner for Will and Marley.”

Bethany rolled her eyes at Will. “Typhoid, huh?”

“Highly contagious,” Will said, and he pushed past her to take the last box of food to the car.

When he got back to the kitchen, April held out a large wicker basket with a white linen cloth folded over the top. “Here you go, Will. I need the plates and silverware back tomorrow. The wine’s tucked in the bottom with a chill sleeve around it. Chardonnay okay?”

“Perfect. Thanks, April. Good luck with the wedding.”

Bethany grinned and hoisted a pile of tablecloths off the counter. “Good luck with Marley. By the way, have you talked to Aunt Nancy today?”

“I try to avoid doing that unless someone in the family dies or has a really bad case of stress-induced canker sores.”

“Do conniption fits count?” Bethany asked. “Because that’s what Nancy’s having since Cheez Whiz lost her rock dicks.”

Will froze, his hands on April’s basket of food. “What did you say?”

“The figurines. They’re gone. At least that’s what Aunt Nancy thinks.” Bethany shrugged. “I guess she went to see them and Marley opened up the safe, but there was nothing inside.”

Will realized he was clenching his fists and forced himself to loosen them. “What did Marley say?”

“She and Susan told some story about the figurines being sent out for cleaning, but Nancy isn’t buying it. She said the look on Marley’s face made it pretty obvious something’s up.”

Will frowned. “Why do you seem so calm about it?”

“Because I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation. Why don’t you ask Marley what it is?”

“Right. Because Marley’s always so up-front with me?”

Bethany gave him a look. “I’m glad you’re keeping an open mind about this.”

“I’ll see if she brings it up herself. Let me know if you hear anything new?”

“Will do.”

Will strolled out the door with a little less spring in his step than he’d had before. He stood in the sunlight for a few minutes, gathering his thoughts. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe the figurines really were being cleaned. Maybe Aunt Nancy misunderstood. Maybe Marley would volunteer details about the whole thing.

Sensing her behind him, Will turned to see Marley emerging onto the sidewalk. Her hair looked slightly less rumpled than it had a few minutes before, though her expression was still guarded. She smoothed her hand down the front of her capris and gave him a weak smile.

“Please say we aren’t going anywhere fancy,” she said. “I’m dressed for a bike ride and happy hour, not champagne and canapés.”

“I don’t even know what a canapé is, but it sounds sexual.”

“You were married to a chef and you don’t know what a canapé is?”

Will grinned. “I lied. I just wanted to say ‘sexual’ and watch you bite your lip.”

Marley laughed and looked at the picnic basket. “That’s dinner?”

“No, it’s your date’s decapitated head. You ready to go?”

“I’m ready to follow you pretty much anywhere if you’re willing to feed me.”

“Let’s start with my car and work from there. Right this way.”

He led her down the street to where he was parked in front of the bank. He unlocked her door, then opened the door to the backseat and set the basket on the floor. Marley buckled her seat belt as Will moved around and opened the driver’s side door.

She looked up at him as he swung into the car. “Thanks so much for coming to get me, Will. I would have been fine walking, but there’s something a little humiliating about going home from a date on foot.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he said. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

He let the words and the questions hang there for a moment, gauging her mood. “Friends,” she repeated. “Exactly. So where are we going?”

“You’ll see in a minute.”

Will started the car and steered them onto the parkway and headed south. He kept one eye on the road and one on Marley, who was latching and unlatching and re-latching the clasp on her bike helmet.

“You okay?” he asked.

She hesitated, and Will held his breath. Maybe she’d mention the figurines. Maybe she’d confess to something, and they could get everything out in the open.

Instead, she shook her head. “Bad dates always shake me up a little. Especially ones where someone gets hauled off to the hospital.”

“You’ve had more than one of those?”

“I guess not.”

“What’s the worst date you’ve ever had?” Will asked, trying to keep things light. Trying to distract himself from his own mistrust. “Besides any of the ones you’ve had since you moved to Bend.”

“You’re eliminating some of the best ones, but okay.” She thought about it a moment. “Probably the guy who forgot to mention he was married.”

“No kidding?”

“His wife showed up at the restaurant and hit him over the head with a candelabra. It was a pretty good sign things weren’t going to work for us.”

“Wow. You pick some real winners.”

Marley raised an eyebrow at him. “And you’re batting a hundred?”

“A thousand,” Will said. “The expression is
batting
a
thousand
.”

“Are you dodging the question?”

“Nope, just making sure you don’t disparage the game of baseball.”

“Because that’s the point of this conversation,” she said, smiling a little. “What’s your worst date?”

Will thought about it as he changed lanes and merged left. “That would be my first date with April.”

“Oh?”

“I spit a piece of gristle into my napkin at dinner and forgot about it. When I picked up the napkin five minutes later, the gristle fell into her purse.”

“You’re kidding.”

Will grinned and dodged a pothole in the road. “I tried to dig it out when she went to the bathroom, but she came back and found me rifling through her purse. She accused me of being a pervert and a snoop, and I accused her of being a lunatic for having a concealed handgun in her bag.”

Marley snorted. “And you ended up getting married after that?”

“Well, not the same day. We did wait a couple years.”

“Hard to believe that didn’t work out.”

The words hung there for a few beats, and Will opened his mouth to blurt a smartass comment. But Marley leaned closer and put a hand on his.

“I’m sorry, Will. I didn’t mean to sound harsh. I sometimes open my mouth without considering if I’m about to say something insensitive.”

Will glanced at her hand on his, and he was suddenly a lot more focused on the feel of Marley’s fingertips against his knuckles than he was on her commentary about his divorce. Her hand was small but warm, and the way she leaned toward him made the neckline of her top gape open.

“You can open your mouth around me anytime,” he said. “For any reason.”

“Pervert.” Marley gave a small smile and looked out the window. “Anyway, I apologize. I don’t want to joke about inappropriate things like divorce or heartache or anything hurtful like—”

“My lesbian ex-wife leaving me to rub-the-wombat’s-whiskers with my sister?”