“I like helping people. That’s why I’m here. I mean, apart from the money. I want to help Roger.”
Her sincere expression dissolved any lingering negative feelings, but he was curious. “Why? You barely know him.”
“Helping is my thing,” she said. “Now you. Give me your coat of arms.”
There had to be more to it than that. He frowned, recalling Valerie’s anxiety when Roger had come to discuss Malcolm’s event disaster. “Did you say yes because you felt you owed Roger?” He tread carefully for his next question. “As if you didn’t have a choice?”
“Who can say why any of us make a decision?” she asked. “I wanted to help. It’s a lot of money. It’s a trip to cottage country. It’s support for Ad Astra if I relaunch. You’re here. These are all factors. Now, your coat of arms?”
He wanted to press her, but a cagey Valerie gave him pause. She usually seemed so transparent. He decided to try later, when he had time to consider what her casual mention of his presence meant, and why she’d saidifabout Ad Astra and notwhen. “A cell phone, to-do list, and laptop.”
She groaned. “Nico. You must have a hobby outside work.”
“Not really.” That never bothered him, until he thought of Valerie’sbags of crafts and her interest in everything around her. She was so engaged with life that she crackled with it. It made him feel like a boring old man.
They hit the highway and soon the gray expanse of warehouses and logistics centers gave way to green fields dotted by the occasional lone tree or farmhouse. Valerie amused herself by trying to name the crops, but could only reliably identify corn. Traffic was slow and her guesses trailed off as the summer sun slanted through the windows.
When she went completely silent, Nico glanced over to see she’d fallen asleep with her hands clasped in her lap, head tilted to the side. He wished he had a blanket to tuck around her shoulders and had to be content with turning down the air-conditioning vents so they didn’t blow directly on her.
This summer had the potential to be a shit show of gargantuan proportions, and although it wasn’t his circus, it sure felt like his monkeys. Inevitably, and for better or worse, someone was going to close out August with some pretty big feelings.
Roger would find his daughter and have a second chance to rekindle love with Yvette, or not.
Someone would have a secret revealed that would cause serious repercussions through the Badgerton family, affecting Malcolm’s reputation and possibly the business, or not.
Valerie would have the time of her life or, more likely, would not.
As for Nico? He was going to have his heart broken. He could see it coming already, like a patch of ice on a winter road when it was too late to lift his foot off the brake. The only reason he hadn’t dismissed Roger’s story of instant connection with Yvette was because he’d felt the eroding cliff of something similar the second he’d set eyes on Valerie. A more poetic man might say something like his soul craved her spark. Nico simply thought he’d never met anyone quite like her. For once, he didn’t try to reason the inexplicable reaction away butsimply let himself feel. When she met his gaze that first time, he knew he wanted Valerie to be part of his life.
If he was far, far luckier than he deserved, he might have a chance to make that happen.
That being said, last night he’d stared in the mirror (wondering if she preferred men with longer or shorter, or lighter or darker hair and stretching his neck to make his jawline more prominent) and swore he wouldn’t do a thing to make her uncomfortable. She was going to be in potentially hostile, if luxurious, territory, and she would need a friend without worrying about getting hit on. That was gross, and his sisters, for all of their faults, had taught him better than that.
Valerie opened her eyes as they came into Orillia. “Are we there?”
“Not yet, but I need to grab some groceries at the market.” He pulled into a conveniently located parking spot on the main street and pointed to the store.
She bounced up and swung open the car door. “It’s adorable.”
He knew she’d like it and followed her inside. The Mariposa Market was a traditional stop on the way to the cottage and packed with people stocking up on hosting gifts, baked goods, and an imposing array of jarred foods. Long lines formed at the counters for those ordering coffee and sandwiches and more baked goods. Valerie looked around, fascinated, as he took a basket to collect what Roger needed.
“Pickled asparagus?” she asked, pulling down a jar. “This looks amazing.”
He looked doubtfully at the yellowish spears, but held out the basket, filled with two packs of butter tarts (one caramel, one chocolate drizzle), a sourdough loaf, and Skor cookies. Roger’s philosophy was that if you didn’t indulge on a holiday, you might as well be dead, and Nico expected Valerie to subscribe to the same ethos. Instead, she hesitated.
“What if no one else likes it?” She put it back and picked up some strawberry jam. “We’ll get this.”
He frowned, looking down at her bent head. “You want to try the asparagus.”
“Sure, but it’s selfish to get something only I want. Others might not enjoy it.”
“If other people want jam, they can get jam. You get what you want.”
“Will you try them with me?”
He looked at the asparagus again and steeled himself. “Sure.”
He waited until she put the jar in and went to pay as Valerie went to the other counter to grab them each a latte for the road. In the car, he handed over a pink sprinkle doughnut that was, no exaggeration, the size of Valerie’s head. He knew she’d love it and was pleased to see her face light up. She put the hole to her eye and winked at him.
