Magic Hands (13 page)

Rachel couldn’t deny she felt better having Cort along.

“So,” she began, “up to your elbows in hands today?”

He laughed. “It was brutal.”

“Caressing girls’ hands, talking to them, yeah, sounds real nasty.”

“Seriously, I had no idea girls could be so…vicious.”

“Oh, yeah. They’re the mothers of cattiness. But then, you have a sister. I thought you knew that.”

“I don’t pay enough attention I guess. You have any brothers and sisters?”

She shook her head. “It’s just me.”

“Lucky you.”

“Oh, come on, Lizzie’s cool. I like her.” He shrugged. “So what were you doing down here, you never said.”

“Fol owing you.”

“Shut up.”

“No, seriously.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to…see you. Talk.”

“You could have cal ed me.”

“I don’t have your phone number yet.”

“Oh, that’s right.”

“You can give it to me.”

“Maybe. You could have messaged, saved yourself some time and energy, since the lions caught you in the den today.”

He liked that she made him laugh easily. “You know, you think you real y know someone and then – wham – you see them in another place and it’s like, this huge shock.”

“Bree?”

“How did you know?”

“Because girls that are two-faced are two-faced to girls as wel as guys.”

“I used to hang with her, you know? But lately I’ve just—

she’s changed.”

Rachel laughed. “She hasn’t changed, Cort. She’s always been that way. You’re just final y seeing her.” A point for you, she thought. “I stay away from people like that.”

“Smart. So, do you have a boyfriend?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t flirt with you if I did,” she said.

“But al those guys you hang with.”

“Al just friends. You have girls you’re friends with and nothing else, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but—”

“It works both ways, Cort.”

“But I know guys, and guys don’t spend time with a girl unless they’re hoping for something more—”

“Don’t disgust me.” She shoved at him.

“It’s true.”

“Wel my friends don’t want anything from me.”

“Oh, uh-huh. Okay. You just go on believing in fairy tales.”

“You don’t think girls are the same?”

“Logic tel s me they might think the same but I have no clue about the female mind.”

“You?”

“Jock, right?”

“Superficial jock,” she corrected.

“So, is that what you think? You don’t hang with girls unless you want something?”

He shrugged. “I’m no different than any other guy. But I have girls that I’m only friends with.”

“So do I, have guys that I’m only friends with.”

“And they surround you – constantly.”

It pleased her that he was annoyed by this. “They protect me.”

“Want you al for themselves is more likely.”

Playful y, she slugged him again. They turned down a street lined with large, picturesque houses sitting on sprawling lawns.

“Is this your street?” he asked.

She pointed to a house lit up with dreamy yard lanterns.

The place looked to be stone and brick, with bay windows and black shutters. “Nice house.” Cort let out a whistle.

He walked her up the curved drive around the back. He could see a deck, pool, and a yard disappearing into trees.

“Pool parties, cool.”

“You’l have to come hot tubbing,” she said, typing her code into the security pad that unlocked the back door.

“Want to come in?”

He’d gone from thinking she was a hooker to being invited inside her house in the matter of one hour. He wanted to laugh—at himself. But it was late, and he stil had a long walk back to his car. He shook his head.

“Just answer me this one question,” he started, leaning a shoulder in the door jamb. There was barely any light, but her skin was luminescent, like a sheath of pearls. Her large blue eyes looked black with wonder. And those lips—he so wanted to kiss them.

“Okay,” she said.

“Am I there yet?”

She tilted her head. “Close, but not yet.”

He smiled. Good, he thought, because I don’t want this to be over, not by a long shot. She reached out her hand and his blood skipped through his veins.

“Come on.” The next thing he knew, her soft, warm hand was around his and he was helpless not to fol ow her.

“So,” Rachel started.

“So.”

He looked hot lying there in the hammock. The way the moon lit his face, the breeze tickled his hair. He had on one of those striped shirts she’d seen him wear and the pink and brown made his coffee eyes deep and rich, his dark hair nearly black. And he had one arm up over his head like it was easy for him to be there. With her.

Was it like this for every girl who looked at Cort? she wondered.
Or am I getting fringed around the edges?
The sight of him made it incredibly easy to forgive and forget.

“I have a confession,” he said after a time.

“You?”

He looked over, one leg pushing himself into a lazy swing. “Yeah.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

I do if this is going where I want it to, he thought. She was gorgeous with her legs pul ed up to her chest, her long, dark hair messy around her face from the breeze. She looked thrown together, and Cort liked that she didn’t fuss about herself.

“When I ran into you on the street. It wasn’t an accident.”

“It wasn’t?” she laughed. “What, were you real y fol owing me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I was making sure of something.”

Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “That I wasn’t a prostitute?”

“Uh,” words left him. “How? I—”

“That’s an old rumor Bree’s been trying to pass around for a long time. She whips it out every now and then.”

“And you don’t care?”

Rachel shrugged. Her heart pinched with his honest announcement, even though she was pretending it hadn’t.

“I can’t even say the word.”

“Good.”

“I wanted to see for myself.”

“So you believed her.”

“No. I wanted to know for myself that she was lying.”

“I’l believe that. But didn’t you think for one second how absurd it was? I mean, if we lived in Hol ywood maybe but, dude, we’re in Pleasant View.

Campfire Girls sel cookies here, you know?”

Cort laughed. “I saw you walking and fol owed you to Countryside Manor.”

Rachel sat erect. “You did?”

“I heard you reading.” His foot stopped rocking the hammock. “You were awesome.”

She sat back, not sure if she should be flattered or annoyed. “I’ve never been fol owed before.”

“Then it was a first for both of us.”

“Oh, come on. I’ve seen girls tripping themselves behind you.”

He sat up. “You’re the one with the pack.”

“I told you, they’re just friends.”

“Yeah, right.”

Across the expanse of the deck, their eyes locked. A wind chime played in the air creating a mystic melody. Cort patted the emptiness beside him.

Rachel stood and crossed, looking down at him. She knew what he wanted; she just wasn’t ready to give it to him.

“We cleared this up. Good.”

His big brown eyes searched her face, heating her skin.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured.

His lazy tone made her smile, but she wouldn’t share the hammock with him—this was a practiced move for him, she was sure. Even though he was wracking up scores on his side like crazy, the hammock was dangerous too soon.

“You say that to al the girls when you’re sitting on a hammock, right?”

The dreamy intensity on his face changed. His jaw squared. He stood, looked down at her as if he wasn’t sure he should touch her or push her away.

“You ever going to cut me a break?” His voice was hard.

She blew it. But she didn’t want to be a victim of a trite cliché. “Maybe.”

He let out a huff. “Maybe?” Then he looked off for a moment. “You ever going to give me an answer besides,
maybe
?”

She lifted her shoulders, feeling the weight of ruining what had promised to be a nice night. Her mind scrambled with how to save it. His dark eyes flecked with disappointment but it wasn’t because he was leaving without getting something from her. She’d hurt his trust.

“See ya, around, Rachel.” He avoided touching her and started off the deck.

Pride kept her from stopping him. He’d believed Bree or he wouldn’t have fol owed her. That was a strike against him, even if he had said otherwise. This was probably better, she thought and she crossed back to the hammock, stil swinging from him. She lowered herself where he’d sat. The loopy fabric was stil warm from his body.

On his break, Cort met the guys at Minerva’s for drinks.

The sun was high overhead. They sat under the shade of a purple and green umbrel a.

“Ah.” Cort sat back in his chair, sipped from a steaming latte. “This is the life.”

Chad and Eric laughed. “It may be for you,” Eric told him.

“Yeah, women everywhere. How did you get so freakin’

lucky?”

Cort shrugged a shoulder. “Desperation.”

“See,” Chad said, “I don’t think I could rub girls’ feet al day.”

“I don’t think I could rub girls’ feet
any
day,” Ben bristled. “My mom has corns the size of knuckles on her toes and if al girls’ feet are like that then no way.”

“Jenn has hot feet,” John said. The guys al snickered.

“Yeah, yeah.”

John grinned at Cort. “I may need some massage pointers, dude.”

Cort couldn’t stop smiling. “You guys are missing the point. There’s psychology behind it.” He leaned forward, as if going to tel a secret and the boys fol owed suit. “Look at it this way. You’re sitting there and the room is fil ed with women—hot, gorgeous women of al ages, and they are waiting in line for you to take their hands and—”He demonstrated by grabbing Chad’s hand and slowly massaging his fingers. The guys watched, mesmerized.

“Then you take their feet, the grossest part of anybody’s body, right? And you’re, like, caressing them with fruity smel ing cream and oil. I’m tel ing you, females are putty in your hands.”

Eric sat back, shaking his head. “It could be kind of cool, I guess.”

“There are worse things than feet,” Chad agreed, looking at his hands with new admiration.

But Ben shook his head. “Not when they look like unicorns.”

Eric shoved him. “Unicorns are fairy tale horse things, dude.”

“And you gotta do girls like Bree,” John pointed out.

“She’d have hooves—like Satan.”

The boys roared with laughter. Minerva came out carrying a flat basket lined with a colorful plaid napkin. Smal scones were laid neatly inside. “You boys want to try some of these cranberry orange scones?” She set the basket on the table. “On the house, Cort. With al the business I’ve gotten since you started working at Miss Chachi’s, I owe you.”

Cort plucked one from the basket. “Thanks, Minerva.

They look great.”

“This your break?” she asked.

“Yeah. And I forgot lunch, so this is awesome.”

“Wel , then, enjoy.” The door to her shop jingled when she went back inside.

“Man,” John said. “You’re hot property down here.”

Cort chewed the dense, soft scone. “I’m doing what I can to further enterprise in our fair town.”

“Yeah right,” Chad slugged his shoulder. “You’re doing what you can to fil your wal et and find babes. What’s up with you and that Rachel chick?”

Cort frowned as he chewed. He hadn’t thought of Rachel in at least an hour and had been glad for it. “Nothing.”

After last night, he wasn’t sure he wanted to prove he was different than every other jock out there anymore. She seemed to chal enge everything he did.

“Hey, Rachel’s cool,” John took a drink. “You should go for it.”

“Bree says—”

“Bree’s a two-faced liar,” Cort snapped at Ben and chewed his last bite furiously. “She’s a viper.”

“A hot viper, though,” Ben said.

“Not if you know her.” Cort brushed the crumbs from his hands. “That’s one thing this job has done is open my eyes.”

“I’l bet she has hot feet, even,” Ben mused, adjusting his basebal cap backwards.

“You’d have to be a retard to like Bree,” Cort said in al seriousness. “I’ve seen her in action and she fires bul ets from that mouth of hers.”

Ben looked over Cort’s shoulder, down the street to the front of the salon where women came and went with the regularity of water down stream.

“Who needs to talk when you’ve got a bod like that?”

“You’re not hearing me,” Cort persisted. “She’d massacre you.”

“So I wear protective armor.” Ben stood, stretched. Cort squinted up at him.

“You’re serious about this?”

Ben shrugged. “Prom’s coming.”

The boys snickered and rose to their feet. Cort took one last drink from his cup then set it down on the table. “There are easier ways to get action on prom night, dude. And stil come out alive.”

“I want a sure thing this time.” Ben started toward the salon. “I’m sick of waiting.”

Nobody said anything. Cort was just as anxious as the next guy, but he wanted something special, something different. And where a lot of guys emphasized what happened after prom, he was too practical now, after working so hard for his money, to waste hundreds of dol ars on a one night thing with somebody disposable.

“You going to go?” Eric asked him.

“Maybe.” Cort thought again of Rachel. If he asked her she’d probably say “maybe” and drive him crazy. “You guys want to come in for a cuticle treatment?”

They playful y slugged at him and soon the boys were jostling with each other in front of the salon until Miss Chachi came out with her hands on her hips and a frown on her face.

“Break over now, Cort,” she snapped.

“Later, dudes.” Cort wrestled free of his grappling friends.

Ben stuck his hands in his pockets, a smile of mischief stil on his face.