Moore To Love (30 page)

“An enigma is interesting. I’m definitely not an axe murderer, and although I have a tendency to be shy, I don’t feel that way around you. It basically leads me back to my first point. There’s not much to tell.”

Bullshit.
Someone like Lane who left his humble beginnings and his entire family to move to a big city, start a career, and is sinfully good looking and sweet to boot . . .”You’re full of it. Everything about you interests me, from the top of your just-fucked hair to the tips of your runner’s toes.” At this point in our mindless walk, we’re stopped at a corner, so I nudge him as we wait for the crosswalk signal to count down. He bumps me back, prompting me to lean in and steal an innocent kiss. I may not have gotten much out of him, but I’m still happy to have him by my side. “I guess this is the purpose of a relationship. Getting to know each other? Peeling away layers?”

“I guess so. Although I don’t have much to go on.”

Now,
there’s
something. “Are you telling me you’ve never been in a serious relationship?”

“Would that surprise you?”

“Um, yeah!” I pause between easy strides, facing Lane with disbelief written all over my face. “
I’ve
never been in a serious relationship that didn’t include a dare or a dick, but that’s just me. But
you
? Lane, that can’t be. There’s no ex from Tuscarora who’s daydreaming by some willow tree, pining over you? No hot nursing student who ever asked you to help her study her anatomy notes? And what about Jenny from the block? The first time you mentioned her you seemed a little—I don’t know, scorned? I assumed you two had something going on at one point and you just didn’t want to mention it.”

Lane snorts through his nose and then spins me back toward the street ahead. He hooks his arm with mine and we continue walking while we talk. Maybe being stationary made him feel as if all eyes were on him. “I can’t believe you caught that with Jenny. I guess I don’t wear a poker face as well as I thought I did.”

“So there
was
something?”

Lane hesitates.

“Babe, you can tell me. I don’t judge. You let me tell you all about Alex. It’s the past. We all have one.”

Letting out another long sigh, Lane starts, “We went on a few dates after we met on the track.”

“Do you meet all your lady friends on the track?” I joke, arching a brow.

“I’m there a lot, what can I say? But it’s really not like that. You’re completely different. You know that, right?” His expression turns serious and there’s really no need. He doesn’t have to convince me that he’s not some Central Park stalker who preys on women in yoga pants.

“I know, I know. Continue.”

He shrugs, placating me. “You’re holding out for a letdown. There’s no story to tell. In the end, we didn’t have much in common besides the track. She wasn’t the girl I thought she was when I first met her. It’s why I trust that beauty is only skin deep. Sometimes the outside just doesn’t match the inside.”

“And vice versa,” I add, knowing precisely what he’s getting at.

“Exactly. And as far as any other relationships you might want to know about, there was never anyone special. No one who I clicked with. Not like you.” He kisses the top of my head and that gooey feeling returns.

So, maybe Lane isn’t a riddle to solve. Perhaps he doesn’t have notches on his bedpost to brag about. Maybe he is the gentleman he’s demonstrated to be, on all accounts. And it may very well be that as gorgeous and sexy as he is, he’s as inexperienced as I am when it comes to this relationship thing.

I mull over those theories as we cross the street and step onto another that’s lined with lively bars and pubs, and what looks like lots of fun waiting to be had.

Lane stops in front of one, and turns to me. “Now that I’ve endured a round of twenty questions with Madeline Moore, what do you say we grab a drink?” He points to a bar with strings of vintage Edison bulbs hanging from their awning to the streetlamp at the curb. A familiar song seeps out into the night through wood-paned windows. The sound is as tempting as Lane’s invitation.

“Oh my God, I love this song!” I look up to the stars and smile, swaying back and forth with Lane’s hands in mine.

“I’ve never heard it.”

At that, I pull him by the hand and into the music just as it reaches the chorus—my favorite part. “If you like me, you’re going to have to get to know the Lumineers. Come on, Fancy Pants. Buy me a drink and Karaoke Girl will sing you a song.”

A WEEK AFTER I SERENADED
my man and kind of made a fool out of myself with one too many beers, I’m freaking out over how little time is left to get everything done for Ashley and Reynold’s wedding.

“Len, did Ashley give you the final headcount for who’s getting what done the morning of the wedding?” Raven shouts from her office into the salon where my fingers are ready to fall off from weaving the intricate braids this kid requested for her Sweet Sixteen.

“No, not yet. I’ll get on that today,” I yell back, careful not to unclench my fingers or skip a row of plaiting in her silky, golden hair.

My brain loops in circles as I contemplate all the things I need to ‘get on’ before the week is up. And nowhere on my list of to-do items is my boyfriend. He’s pulled twelve hour shifts four times in the last seven days, and I haven’t had a minute to breathe myself. But I’ll be damned if the looming list of untied loose ends will interfere with us hanging out tonight. He’s invited me to his apartment for a home cooked meal and a relaxing night in. Since I haven’t been to his place yet and I need a night of nothing
but
Lane, I’m chomping at the bit. Unfortunately, relaxing isn’t in the cards for this maid-of-honor. Favor wrapping, hair accessory making, and church program printing are just the tip of my wedding task iceberg. Lane just might become acquainted with my glue gun tonight.
Real romantic.

“Ouch!” The girl in my chair hisses when I pull a little too hard on her hair.

“Oops. Sorry, hun.” I’m so distracted I don’t know how I even got as far as I did without scalping the poor girl.

I go back to my obsessing without so much as another uncomfortable tug and the rest of the day flies by, leaving me wishing for another hour to get more done before I head out. Tomorrow’s another day with a full schedule, so I lock up my station, tidy up as best as I can, and make my way to Raven’s office to say goodnight.

“Knock knock,” I say, since there’s not actually a door but a curtain separating her space from the salon.

“Come in.”

I plop down on the chair adjacent to her mess of a desk and rest my head against the wall with a long sigh.

“What’s the matter?”

“Too much to do, so little time.”

“Wedding crap?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Last I checked, you weren’t the one getting married, babe.”

I perk to attention and scowl. “I don’t need reminding, thank you very much.”

She clicks her tongue, shaking her head. “Seriously, though. Why is it all on you?”

“Because it was a rush and my brother is a dumbass. I can’t fault Ashley for that.”

“Tru dat.” She barely looks up from her scheduling notebook, her glasses slipping down her nose. She’s busy, too. She doesn’t need me complaining about trivial nonsense, so I just get on with it so I can get on with me.

“While you have the book open, Ashley got back to me. Five for hair and makeup, three just for hair. I’m going to get here early that day to do my Mom and Ashley, but you think you can get Marjorie to come in to do me up?” Other than myself, Marjorie’s the only girl I trust with my face. I can probably just do it myself, but with all the running around I’ve been doing, it’ll be nice to be pampered for a change.

“You got it.” She scribbles it down in the margin and pauses with her pencil in the air. “Lyla for hair?”

“Yes! Perfect. Seacrest out.” I stand, feeling the tiredness in my bones, and pull my bag onto my shoulder.

“You okay?” Raven doesn’t have to look up to show her concern.

“Yes, just stressed, but I feel stupid for saying that knowing how much you manage to do with all you have on your plate, so don’t mind me.” Seriously, she’s like Superwoman. I’m considering a crash course in all things Raven the Great.

“You’ll get it done, Len. You always do. Now, go treat yourself to some TLC with Lane. You’re cranky because you haven’t seen him all week. He’ll be the cure for your woes.”

I pat her on the back as I walk out. “Thanks for listening to me bitch and complain all week.”

“And this time, drug the boy if you have to. You need to get laid.”

I give her a thumbs up, laughing as I walk to my car. I haven’t even had time to obsess over
not
getting laid. That’s how you know I’ve been preoccupied. But Raven’s like my own personal Confucius—always insightful, minus the roofie suggestion. Hopefully all I need to refuel is waiting for me on the other side of town.

Lane’s apartment is a twenty-minute train ride from the salon. Rather than go home in the opposite direction and waste more time away from Lane, I packed a change of fresh clothes and something for tomorrow, in case I wind up staying over. The idea of finally getting a glimpse of Lane’s personal life without having to pry has me eager to get off this overheated subway and into his arms. Of course, I’m just excited for the change of pace since we’re always at my place or out.

When I mentioned it to Tatum, she thought it odd that I’d yet to be invited to his apartment, but that’s Tatum. Especially now that she and Paul are kaput. Two years on and off and everything you could imagine in between were draining for
me
—and I wasn’t even in the relationship. Paul wasn’t necessarily a bad guy, just not the guy for Tatum. She deserves to be happy, not to settle. And that’s exactly what she was doing with Paul.

Tatum swears she’s okay, ready to move on, time to sow more wild oats, but I still owe her the best friend shoulder to cry on if that’s what she wants to do. Before leaving the salon, I texted her a quick message asking if she needs me tonight. To my surprise, she made plans with some co-workers for dinner and drinks. Body’s not even cold yet, and I have no doubt her bed won’t be for too long, either.
Good for her.