Nervous Flier (3 page)

Noel nodded her head. The need to feel at home was definitely something she understood. Her old house in Australia was something she greatly missed. It had been a rental, but still, she felt as if the old yellow house with blue shutters was home. She even missed the stray cat, Pudding, who came for her leftovers every night. A tingle of homesickness danced down her spine, but she fought it down. This was the time for strength, not homesickness.

"So I'm a little too drunk to drive you back to your hotel like we planned, but I think I can get us a taxi to take us back from here." Dawson patted her shoulder. "Do you feel comfortable coming inside for a moment? I promise I won't do anything."

The words were so similar to Peter's on the first date that she almost cringed. Of course, the moment she had walked through the door of the hotel room Peter had pushed himself against her like a dog in heat, and with all of his handsomeness, she had responded with equal fervor. It wasn't like she could blame Peter for sleeping with her if she had let him do it and enjoyed it just as much as he did. The thought that he had a girlfriend on the side at the time—or even several girlfriends—made her cringe. She didn't know how she would react if Dawson tried something. Though she found Dawson to be even more attractive than Peter, she didn't want to make the mistake she had before all over again.

"Are you okay?" Dawson drew her from her thoughts with his concerned words.

After nodding, Noel turned her attention toward the house again. Dawson's smile slipped from his face and he headed for his front door. After she followed him up to it, Dawson dug around in his pocket and pulled out a copper key. He inserted the key into the door and then stepped inside. Noel hesitated at the threshold as she gazed into the darkened hallway. Her heart thundered in her chest as she strained to breathe. In front of her, Dawson headed deeper down the hallway. He turned on the light, then turned around to grin at her. When she did not come inside, he raised an eyebrow in silent question. After taking a deep breath, Noel stepped inside the house, feeling as though she was knowingly diving into an active volcano.

As Noel followed Dawson down the hall, she examined the sky blue walls hung with ocean paintings. When she entered the kitchen which adjoined with a spacious, carpeted living room painted ivy green, she noted once again that this place didn't have the feel of a bachelor pad. As she took in the dark green leather couch, she did notice, though, a layer of dust which blanketed the material. A wave of relief washed over Noel. Maybe Dawson was just a guy with artistic décor. The man owned a travel magazine, after all. That called for creative zeal.

"Sorry it's so dirty." Dawson took her examination of the dirt as a bad thing instead of as a good thing. "I haven't gotten around to getting it cleaned yet. I might bring in my regular cleaning lady to do it."

"I wish I could afford a regular cleaning lady." Noel pouted, then straightened up.

"I get a discount. My sister owns a cleaning company."

Dawson beamed at her as if discounts on cleaning were all a man could ever want and then leaned down and opened one of his drawers and pulled out a phone book. On the lemon yellow kitchen wall, Noel saw an off-white house phone. She was shocked that a man with obvious wealth would have to use a house phone and a phone book when he could easily afford a new phone with internet access.

"Not much of a phone guy?" Noel asked. "I
’m used to everybody having a cell phone search engine."

"Not really. I like to enjoy nature. I get too addicted to texting and forget the world exists. You would think I would love phones with the amount of technology I use to produce my magazines, but nope." Dawson flipped to the right page of the phone book and ran his finger down the lines of text. "Plus, everybody calls me on my house phone. You did."

"I see."
Good thing I didn't text him.
"I guess that makes sense."

"Don't worry. When I get a cell phone, you'll be the first person I'll tell." Dawson grinned at her, then once again began to examine the phone book. "Which sounds better? Ralphy Mendez Taxi Service or Driving with Mr. Michael's?"

For a moment Noel didn't say anything. She was shocked. When she had gone into Peter's hotel room, this was when he had shoved her against the wall and pawed at her shirt. Maybe Dawson didn't find her attractive enough to do that. Maybe he wasn't into bigger women and found her ugly. Her stomach sunk in disappointment.
You idiot,
she chided herself.
Why are you disappointed? You didn't want him to attack you.
But her stomach sunk anyway. As much as she imagined shoving Dawson away, she had wanted him to approach her. The fact made her feel dirty. After all, she had just been broken up with. She should have been in mourning, not feeling hot, bothered, and grumpy that a man didn't want to rip off her clothes.

"I think Ralphy Mendez Taxi Service sounds better," Dawson continued as if she had spoken. "Driving with Mr. Michael's sounds a bit creepy to me, for some reason. I'll be going with you to make sure you get home all right, but let's not take any chances, shall we?"

Noel blinked as she tried to recover. It was ridiculous how hurt she felt about the fact Dawson hadn't pawed her breasts. "Right. Ralphy Mendez it is."

"Great." Dawnson's brows furrowed as he gazed at her with open-mouthed concern. "You okay? Your eyes got a little squinty. Would you like to know where the toilet is in case you need to throw up?"

"No. I'm fine." Noel frowned.

Right now, the only thing she wanted to do was throw a plate.

Jackpot,
Noel thought as she sat in the back office of the coffee shop she had eaten chocolate cake with Dawson at the night before. Sure, the dusty back office made her eyes water, but that was okay. Maybe working a coffee machine wasn't worthy of her art degree, but she thought it was far better than scrubbing out grease vats. She could save painting portraits by the Rhine river for another day. As Noel squirmed in excitement as the manager—an old, feeble man with a bald head—gazed down at her with intense eyes, she tried to fight down her smile. The man had a nametag that said, 'Mr. Smithfield.'

"So you've never worked in a coffee shop before?" Mr. Smithfield asked.

"Never, sir." Noel shook her head. "I'm open to learning, though."

"I'm sure you are." Mr. Smithfield had a deep, raspy voice that was not unpleasant. "And you had perfect timing with approaching me about a job. One of my boys quit. I'm glad you aren't a high school student. They work three months out of the year, then pack in their bags the moment you tell them they can't go to a party because they didn't ask for the night off in the schedule book."

Noel didn't say anything. She had met plenty of responsible high school students who wouldn't do that, but she didn't feel it was best to antagonize the boss just as she was hired. Plus, she had the distinct feeling that she wouldn't be dealing with Mr. Smithfield much on the floor of the coffee shop. Half of the coffee shop was outside, and Mr. Smithfield's bleach skin suggested that he might use an umbrella to protect his head from the sunlight as he walked to his car.

"All right." Mr. Smithfield glowered at some paperwork on his desk. "I'll put you into the schedule and will have you trained with Lisa Clark. Can you come in Thursday night?"

"Yes." Noel had to fight down the excited squeak in her voice at the thought that she wasn't going to be living in a cardboard box by the side of the road. "Thursday night will be great."

"Good. I like you already. I'll see you then." Mr. Smithfield grinned at her.

Beaming, Noel stood up, then offered her hand for Mr. Smithfield to shake. After he grabbed her hand and shook it with a firm grip, he released her. Noel left the back office and stumbled into the main part of the coffee shop. The smell of coffee greeted her, a pleasant but not overwhelming scent, and she breathed in deep, enjoying it. A dark-haired girl with a blue streak in her bangs grinned and waved at her, and Noel waved back. At least the people here were pleasant, way more pleasant than anybody she had worked with at her last job at an art firm. She had been the secretary under the CEO, and the man had been as crotchety as a horse with a thorn in its rump.

As Noel whistled as she hit Main Street, the feeling of her phone buzzing in her pocket caused her to pause and dig in her pants. For a moment her mind flashed to Peter and all of the joy she felt depleted like a pool with a hole at the bottom of it. When Noel saw it was Dawson, not Peter, who called her, her heart picked right up but then fell again. It felt as though her heart was on a roller coaster. She couldn't not think about the fact that Dawson hadn't made a move on her last night. Dawson had not even given her a single peck. She was probably barking up the wrong tree, but she answered her phone anyway, just to share her exciting news.

"Hello, Dawson," Noel said.

"Hi, Noel." Dawson's voice sounded as bubbly as ever. "Do you want to hear something idiotic of me? Last night, we spent the whole evening together but I completely forgot to ask what the favor you wanted was. That was the point of the whole night, wasn't it?"

"Not the whole point, exactly." Noel smiled. "At least, not at the end. I had a great time."

"Well maybe next time I take you on a date, it won't be because you need a favor." Dawson had a teasing edge to his voice, but she noted a hint of seriousness in his tone.

A date? It really was a date?
The last time Noel had been on a date with a man who didn’t try to stick his tongue down her throat had been when she was fifteen years old. Yet the thought of it being a date regardless of that fact—and that he had said
again
—still made her want to skip. Her thoughts immediately jumped to Peter again. She was definitely fickle. What kind of woman started dating days after she found out her boyfriend of two years was actually a royal asshole? Though most of her brain produced silence, a small voice said, "A smart one, because no matter what he said, he never really was your boyfriend at all." Pinching hurt filled her, but she shook her head and focused on what was important. Dawson.

"You can take me out tonight without it being because of a favor." Noel tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I took care of the problem myself. I was actually looking for a place to get a job, and I found one."

"Really?" Dawson responded with such enthusiasm it almost made her laugh. He sounded more excited than she felt. "And if that doesn't work out, I do have some great connections. But we must go out and celebrate. How about I pick you up at eight o'clock at your hotel? I know just the place we can go for a situation like this."

****

The restaurant was French, fancy, and expensive. Even sitting in a plush red chair while clutching a goblet of red wine made Noel nervous. Classical music played as a waiter in a suit wandered around taking orders. A dessert tray of glistening delicacies taunted her from the corner. But all of those extras were nothing compared to the man who sat across from her. Dawson, gorgeous as ever, was far more tempting than all of the desserts in the world, even if he looked like a kid playing dress-up in his suit. He had even attempted to slick back his golden blond locks, but his hair sprung out and framed his face, refusing to give in to the assault. Noel wanted to laugh, but she didn't because she was touched Dawson had gone so far to please her. Peter had never done anything like this.

"I'm glad you came out with me tonight," Dawson said. "I wasn't sure where we stood after last night."

"To be honest, I wasn't sure either." Noel sighed in relief that Dawson had brought up last night so she could clear the air about her worries. "It felt like a date, but…you know…you didn't make a move or anything."

"Well, I was sure you were going out with somebody else." Dawson shrugged. "No woman flies from one country to another to visit a platonic friend. I'm not an asshole. I wouldn't want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable, either. I didn't want to rush something that had the potential to be really good."

For a second Noel didn't say anything. Dawson's hammer struck the head of the nail. Bringing up the topic of her dating someone else reproduced the sting, but if she was going to date Dawson, he had to know the truth. He had to know about Peter and the fact she was worried about dating so soon. It was only fair to him to know. Maybe he would go running in the opposite direction, but she had always valued honesty, even if it meant losing something in the process. Unfortunately, in this case she could be losing Dawson. Guys hadn't exactly stuck around for long, even before the time of Peter-the-dickhead.

"I should probably tell you what happened
…" Noel sighed.

"I would like to know," Dawson said, "but it won't be a big deal to me. I promise."

"I find that people who promise things like that are usually the worst offenders when it comes to running for the hills." Noel grinned weakly. "But okay."

Telling Dawson everything was both relieving and frightening. After she had finished, she stared at Dawson, attempting to gage his reaction. It wouldn't have surprised her if he threw in the towel and got up then and there.

Finally, Dawson said, "That guy sounds like the biggest asshole in the world. No offense."

"I feel like he is, but then I feel like the stupidest woman ever for believing him." Noel groaned into her hands. "I mean there were probably thousands of tell-tale signs that showed he was just using me. Two years of my life wasted."