Chapter Eight
To redirectmy momentary blip of attraction to my neighbor, I tasked Gilly to come up with a guy to distract Nora. She came through, fast.
Four days later, I was at a Throwback Thursday night at a coffee shop watching Gilly’s friend, Victor, fawn over Nora. According to my sister, he loved the farmer’s market and liked short-haired women. I didn’t want to know how Gilly knew that or how my sister convinced me to dress up in a retro 90s shirt, but I was here and had a cold beer in my hands.
Nora wore oversize overalls, platform shoes, and a crop top that ended up showing a lot of skin—all courtesy of my sister—and Victor leaned onto the bar next to her. She smiled a lot, but I hadn’t seen her laugh or heard her singsong voice.If she starts talking about marriage, I swear to God.
“Why the pink hair? I gotta ask. I love it. But it’s not what I pictured when Gilly told me about you,” Victor said, lowering his voice in a way that made me cringe.
Was this how he flirted? Deep voice? God, men were idiots. Myself included.
“It’s after my favorite plant, actually. It’s my favorite color, and when I was a kid, my aunt bought me this charm. It’s of a petal and bright pink, and it was the only girly thing I let myself keep.”
“You’re not much of a girly-girl then? Could’ve fooled me.”
Barf. His lines were cliché. She couldn’t fall for that shit. She was smarter than that. I chugged half my beer and eyed the exit. Thoughts of her lips, and body, were in my head too often for me to sit here and listen to her flirting. She didn’t need a babysitter, and I didn’t have to sit through this.Why am I here then?The unsettled feeling in my gut had me rooted in place as Victor excused himself to the restroom, and before I could even think about analyzing why I hadn’t left, Nora walked up to me with wide eyes.
“Okay, he’s fun. He eats organic!” She clapped and ran a hand through her hair. “He mentioned the farmer’s market. What is it? I nodded like I knew, but is it like a store where farm people go to the market and hire them? Or do we go to the farm?”
“No, but that’s an interesting idea.” I snorted into my glass. “It’s every Saturday morning, where local farmers get together and sell fruits, vegetables, bread. You name it.”
“Wow. Plants, even?”
“Yeah, and all the natural and organic items you could think of. Chocolate, milk, coffee. You’d lose your mind and spend your entire savings account there.”
“I wouldn’t. I don’t have access to it all yet.”
Oh God, was she teasing me back? Her face slowly shifted into a grin, and she elbowed me in the side like we were buds. It was adorable.
“There’s one this weekend, actually.”
“The market?” she said, her voice going up three octaves too high. “Could we go? Please?”
“Yeah,” I said before thinking it through. It was probably the absolute joy and wonder on her face. The last time I was that excited about something was…a decade ago. “We definitely can go.”
“Oh my God, Fritz, I’m so excited. Okay, yay!” She reached over and squeezed my forearm hard and shimmied. The movement of her made my throat tight. “He’s coming back. He’s interesting. I like him. Okay, I need to act cool.”
“You’re not cool at all.”
“Hey,” she said, smirking at me before swatting at my chest.
Her touch lingered for a second, and my skin tingled at the warmth of her fingers. She blinked up at me, her long lashes fanning over her cheek, and a lone piece of her hair fell over her forehead. Without thinking, I brushed it off her face. She sucked in a breath, and just like that, she stepped back. We stared at each other, the air thick with tension, but before I could say anything, she ducked her head and returned to her date. She turned her back to me, cutting off our conversation andtouch, and I used the break to scan the room for any potential people to blow my cover. I went out often enough it wouldn’t be crazy for someone to recognize me. My shoulders relaxed when I didn’t recognize any familiar faces.
I’d finish my beer and head out, but I’d make sure Nora felt safe. That was the plan. It was reasonable, and I could go home and continue living the life of a seventy-year-old man.God, what is wrong with me?
Another bout of self-doubt, confusion, and annoyance crept up my spine, making me replay every regret I had, but before I could enter a full mental breakdown, Victor’s question caught my attention.
“So you have millions of dollars?”
“Yes.”
“Like, right now?”
“Not right now. I have this card that pays for things. Like I could order thousands of drinks this second, and it would go through.” She pulled out the card and waved it in the air. “It’s crazy.”
“Yeah, right on.” Victor’s voice changed just a bit. “Your credit card.”
“That’s what it is, right? Fritz told me that. Credit card.”
