Nora Delaune is now taken. At least for the time being.
We had no further time alone together. There was no more kissing. I even had to say goodnight to her in front of an audience. Nora having a boyfriend is big news, and this town clearly has no understanding of privacy and boundaries, but while I would have liked to take the kiss further—a lot further—Nora obviously did it to get exactly the reaction we got.
So the plan is in motion.
I’m still going to be kissing her a lot more in the future. And I think she knows it. And I don’t think she’s upset about it.
I also don’t think there’s very much fake about her liking me or agreeing to spend time with me. Maybe the motivation is a little unconventional. And we both already know how this ends. But that’s a good thing. Nobody’s hopes get up, nobody’s making long-term plans, and nobody’s upset when in April, I kiss her goodbye at the airport, get on a plane, and head back to Portland. And then don’t call her.
I frown at myself in the mirror.
It would be silly to call her. You’re not gonna have a long-distance relationship with the small-town sweetheart in Louisiana,I tell my reflection. That’s ridiculous.
You’ll be working for the Grays. You’ll be busy, traveling, back in your penthouse apartment.
That shower in Portland is definitely big enough for the two of you.
Would Nora come visit me in Portland?
As out of my element as I feel here in Rebel, I can’t imagine Nora in Portland.
She hosts a thing called Otter Club.
I don’t even know if there are otters in Portland.
I grab my phone from the counter, and look that up.
Huh, there are otters in Portland.
I look back to my reflection.Nora Delaune is not going to visit you in Portland.You can’t have a long-distance relationship with a small-town girl from Louisiana.
I haven’t even taken her out on one date yet.
I blow out a breath, push all of those stupid thoughts out of my head, and get ready for my day.
Which proves difficult, considering I’m not sure what I’ll be doing today.
I don’t have practice till six tonight.
I guess I’ll explore the town.
That’ll probably shave about thirty minutes off my day.
As I descend the steps, the scents of cinnamon, sugar, coffee, and vanilla grow stronger, and I take deep breaths.
Living above a coffee shop and café is not going to be all bad.
I decide to head to the kitchen first to ask Bruce if it’s okay if I replace the bed and the showerhead. And the TV. It’s way too small, and if my teammates have jobs that are going to keep them busy all day, I am probably going to be watching TV more than I’m used to.
I may need to get a hobby.
I’m looking up furniture stores in New Orleans when I realize that the sound around me has changed.
I look up. And once again, every pair of eyes in the establishment—there are many since we’re right at breakfast time—is trained on me.
I give them all a smile and lift my hand. “Morning.”
“Good morning,” a chipper voice greets.
