Noah’s eyebrows shoot up and he and Tom jump into animated chit chat about the Ivy Leagues and their West Coast sisters. I take the break in attention as an opportunity to peruse the offerings and figure my way around engaging Cheryl in conversation. She seems integral to the way Tom handles business, and if this plan has a chance at working, I need her on my side.
“This all looks incredible,” I muse. “It’s really too much.”
“Nonsense,” she says. “What sort of hostess would I be if I didn’t make sure there was adequate lunch for our guests?”
I bite my tongue against a sarcastic response towards our different definitions of the word ‘adequate,’ as she reaches for a bowl of fruit and offers it to me. I take it, eager to scoop a helping of fresh berries and colorful melon balls onto my plate.
“You mentioned your daughter. Will she be joining you for the festival?”
“Yes,” Cheryl answers, “Trinity will be home this weekend, but only just in time. It’s been strange gearing up for everything without her. She loves Lavender Days.”
I nudge Noah, offering the bowl, but he barely registers, taking it from me while still engaged with Tom’s animated story. I miss whatever the punchline is, but the two of them burst into deep belly laughs. I’m pleased they seem to be getting along. Cheryl shakes her head with an eye roll that reads “men, am I right?” and pushes yet another salad bowl into my hands.
“You have a wonderful set up here, Tom,” Noah says, his smile sweeping to me and then Cheryl. “Your home and the warm welcome you and your wife both offer speaks highly of the type of man you are. The kind of man we want to partner with at Flourish.”
Tom raises his hands to stop him, but Noah surprises me by insisting. “Please. I know my partners at Flourish have made some mistakes, but I want you to know that we’ve taken this seriously. While he’s always been a little bit on the wild side, this was unexpected even for Brad, and he is seeking help for the problems that led to his front page adventure. I want you to know that my being here”—he pauses, flashing a smile my way and my stomach flips—“ourbeing here is more than a show of good faith. I hope it is the beginning of a long and fruitful partnership.”
Tom regards Noah with a look I can’t quite read, almost like he’s also unsure about the man spouting on about the future of their companies. I can’t say I blame him; I’ve had the same kind of reservations. Then, he turns to me.
“Is he always full of such flattering and laudatory praise?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You think he would have landed me if he wasn’t?”
Tom bursts out into another boisterous laugh and I breathe a sigh of relief. He seemed like the type to appreciate a well-timed joke, but it wasn’t until this moment I confirmed it. Noah’s hand slides to my thigh and he squeezes once, twice, three times. My insides explode—confetti bursting from my belly and along the length of my spine.
What happened to no PDA?
Then, as quickly as it appeared, his palm lifts and he reaches for his wine. My insides continue to flutter, my focus harder to manage with his handprint seared into my skin. Noah Graves just touched my thigh. No, hegrabbedmy thigh. We’re at a fucking luncheon with our business partners and now all I can think is how much I wanted his hand to stay, and maybe inch a little higher . . .
“Charlotte,” Cheryl’s voice cuts in, interrupting my daydream.
I huff out a stiff breath and stab at a grape rolling around on my plate. “Yes?”
“I know the boys will have plenty to discuss and while you may want to join in a little, I did hope you and I might get some girl time in. It’s a tradition for me to visit the spa before the festival kicks off. It’s a little self-indulgent reward for all the prep that goes into this wild week. Would you like to join me tomorrow?”
Stunned into silence at both her forethought in thinking to invite me as well as the offensive misogyny, I chew the single grape into pulp while I think. This would be a perfect time for me to impress Cheryl and maybe even learn a little more about Scented Acres without the pressure of a business meeting. But it’s all so self indulgent and sexist. Let the boys talk shop while we play spa day? Gross.
“Noah,” Cheryl calls. “Help me convince Charlotte to visit the spa, and maybe even do some shopping in town tomorrow.”
Noah looks right at me and either doesn’t see my hesitation or ignores it. “You should go. I know you were worried about how to fill tomorrow,” he lies. “You can find a dress for that dinner on Saturday.”
I narrow my eyes, sending every ounce of my frustration through the glare. Part of the itinerary we received before our trip was a dinner at some fancy winery with Tom and Cheryl, as well as a few other Scented Acres executives. I hadn’t mentioned needing a dress, but Noah’s lie sounds so reasonable, I’m afraid of countering. Realizing they are all still waiting on my answer, I break into a beaming smile.
“If you’re sure it wouldn’t be any trouble.”
“No trouble at all. I admit, I have been anxious for a spa buddy since Trinity left for school. It’s just not the same without someone to chit chat with while we get our nails done and she won’t be back in time to join us.”
I actually hate the idea of spending an afternoon gabbing and primping with a stranger, but in the name of closing this deal, I lie my fucking face off.
“That sounds wonderful. I’d love to join you.”
The rest of lunch passes with plenty of conversation and soon Cheryl and Tom have disappeared for more wine, leaving Noah and I alone to soak in the view. Double checking that our hosts are out of earshot, I round on him.
“I can’t believe you threw me under the bus like that with ‘I’m not a regular mom,’ Cheryl.”
Noah chuckles and leans his elbows against the balcony, his wine glass balancing precariously between his fingertips. “I think it would be good for you. You should be pampered while you’re here.”
I scoff. Noah’s push for this frankly bullshit narrative runs acidic in my veins and the urge to assert my value pulls myreproach forward before I have a chance to remember with whom I am speaking.
