Nervous Flier (2 page)

If Peter hadn't thrown her heart into a fire before, then he most certainly had now. It was like she had found out that Peter was a cheating, lying scumbag all over again. The phone fell from her hand and onto the bed, then bounced.
No. No way.
Tears filled her eyes as she tried to catch the breath Peter had stolen from her. She began to feel as though the past two years and all of the lovey, dovey emails had been some sort of illusion. Noel, shivering, picked up her phone and entered her online mailbox. There was an email from two nights ago she hadn't opened yet because she had been getting ready to surprise Peter.

Dear honey,

I just wanted you to know how much I missed you today. I walked by a flower shop and wished I could bring home a bouquet for you. I hope you thought about me as much as I thought about you.

Love,

Pete

At first, the email caused Noel to be hit with a wave of confusion again. That email was from two days ago. It sounded like all of the others. Sweet and romantic. It most certainly didn't sound as though Peter had had any intention of giving her the slip like he had said on the phone message. She began to check the history of their emails and read through Peter's one at a time, no matter how much re-reading each one was like a kick to the chest. That was when the sadness began to slip away and anger became the pre-dominant emotion.

Noel understood what had happened. Each message had a vague though romantic pet name addressing her. She was always called honey, sweetheart, flower, or some other clique title. Peter traveled all of the time. He had said so himself. When they were in bed during his last visit, he had told her that he traveled at least once a month. The man probably had a different girlfriend in each country, and instead of spending the time writing actual emails to them, he put them on a mailing list. When she showed up at his doorstep, she had almost revealed him as the cheating dingbat that he was to his poor, unknowing fiancé.

Nostrils flaring, Noel stared at the messages before her and had to fight down the urge to squeeze the phone and shatter it. No matter how much her insides felt as though they had been trampled by an elephant, she was glad she had come. She was glad she had found out just how evil the person she was "dating" was. Two years, wasted. All of those men she had turned down just so she could waste her time on an asshole who was probably sleeping with half the women in the world. She should have herself tested for STDs.

As Noel groaned, then banged her head against the bed in frustration, she realized something else, too. As sad as she was about what had happened and as angry as she was at Peter, she wasn't going to let him get to her. Her heart may have screamed in agony, but she wasn't going to let an asshole's actions control her life. She wasn't going to slink back to Australia like a kicked dog either. She was going to stay right here in Chicago and prove to him she could live in America or anywhere else she pleased.

Three days later Noel stood in the middle of a large office building as she stared down at the secretary who sat behind the front desk. The secretary had auburn hair tied back into a prim and proper bun and wore a bright red business suit with golden hoops in her ears. The woman was one of those skinny, size two types that Peter apparently adored. At the thought of Peter's name, her fists tightened and she replaced every ounce of hurt with pure, unadulterated determination.

"I was wondering if you have any positions available?" Noel asked.

"I don't think we do," the secretary said.

The news caused Noel's stomach to sink for the tenth time that day. The secretary looked Noel up and down, her nose wrinkling. This made Noel feel like she was a hobo who had wandered in from the street corner. She gazed down at her clothes. She wore a pink button-up blouse and a white skirt. As far as she was concerned, she appeared presentable.

Feeling downtrodden, Noel turned around and trudged out the door, her newspaper and purse tucked underneath her arm. She had called half the ads in the newspaper which might be a good fit for her. Half of the ads required complicated engineering or marketing degrees, when she had gone to a simple community art college back in Sydney. She didn't feel desperate enough to work at a fast food chain and knew she wouldn't last long if she did. Back in high school, Noel had attempted working at a burger place and had made it two weeks until her supervisor demanded she clean out the oil vats. They were so disgusting she had quit on the spot. She shook her head to clear the image of the shimmering pots of grease from her mind and focused on the task at hand.

Unfortunately, it appeared that she was out of leads for the day, and she didn't feel like walking into anymore big businesses to enquire about a job. The secretary had looked at her as if she was sludge on the ground.

As Noel headed toward the coffee shop on the corner feeling depressed, she buried her hand in her pocket and pulled out Dawson's number which she had picked up that morning and stared at for five minutes before taking it with her. As she gazed at the number, she wondered whether he had really meant what he'd said when he told her to call if she needed help. He was still a stranger to her, and she had been only looking for a job for one day.

When Noel reached the coffee shop, she seated herself in the outdoor section and sighed as she continued to study Dawson's number.
I should be spontaneous. I should just call him. The worst that could happen will be that he doesn't answer or that he says no, and that's not too bad. It's not like you can be any more humiliated.
Squaring her shoulders, she pulled out her cell phone, then dialed Dawson's phone number. It rang once and then a bright, bubbly male voice said, "Hello. This is Dawson Weiss."

"Dawson?" she said breathlessly in relief.

"Oh. Hi." Dawson's voice immediately grew happier. "It's Noel from Sydney. I hoped you'd call. How is your trip going?"

"To be honest, not so good." Noel groaned. "Is there any way I can meet with you to talk to you about something? I think it's better to ask for a favor if you're looking somebody in the eye."

"A favor, huh?" Dawson's tone didn't change and maintained the same bubbly enthusiasm. "That's fine. What are you doing now?"

"Now?" Noel glanced around the intimate coffee shop in surprise, taking in the red umbrellas and baristas in prim white shirts and black slacks. "I'm sitting at a coffee shop, being depressed."

"Well it's best not to be depressed alone." Dawson's voice revealed he was grinning because of his tone. "What's the name of the coffee shop?

Noel swiveled in her chair and caught sight of a sign. "Mark and Anna's Daily Addictive."

"Ah. Okay." Dawson chuckled. "I'll be there in a few minutes. I'll look up the address on my computer."

The sound of dial tone filled her ears, leaving Noel staring at the cell phone with large eyes.
Is he always that full of energy? 
Noel wasn't sure if she should give Dawson any coffee. The man had so much vigor already that anything extra was likely to have him careening around the shop like a rubber bouncy ball in a cement room. Yet the thought of meeting with Dawson pushed Peter truly from her mind for the first time in days.

****

As Dawson sat across from her, Noel was shocked she hadn't accurately remembered just how good looking he was. He was tall and lean with lots of muscle and a bright face. Maybe her memory was poor and hadn't done him justice. Maybe Peter, the pig, had kept her from fully checking out Dawson. Maybe Dawson just kept getting better looking by the day. As Noel studied him, Dawson met her eyes and then gazed down at himself with his brows furrowed.

"Do I have ketchup on my shirt or something?" Dawson asked.

"What?" She blinked. "Why?"

"You were staring at me for quite a long time there." Dawson cocked his head.

"Oh. Sorry." Noel would have blushed, but she must have used up her allotment of embarrassment on Peter because all she felt was numbness in the face of her ogling. "You're very attractive. That's all."

Dawson eyes widened with shock. "And you're extremely honest."

"I think that's how the world should be." With a sigh, Noel stared at her fingers. "Unfortunately, that's not the way it always is."

Dawson didn't say anything. Instead he stood up, turned around, and headed inside the clear glass door of the coffee shop. Noel stared after him as he approached the counter and wondered what he had planned. Had she frightened him off with her depressed behavior or her honesty? Not everybody liked honest people. Most wanted to hear what they liked and preferred to keep it that way.

As Noel wrung her hands in anxiety, Dawson came back out again with a plate of chocolate cake and two forks in his hand. The cake had six layers and lots of thick, creamy icing. The top of the cake was covered in light brown milk chocolate frosting and what appeared to be raspberry gel. The smell of chocolate wafted over to her as Dawson placed the cake in the middle of the table and handed her a plastic fork. Dawson then sat down.

"What's this?" Shocked by Dawson's actions, Noel stared at her fork as if she had never seen one before.

Dawson speared a bite of cake while grinning. "Chocolate cake."

"I mean, why chocolate cake?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Would you prefer something else?" Dawson's fork hovered between plate and mouth with a gob of chocolate ecstasy at the end of it. "They have some great soups too. I always eat when I'm depressed."

For a second Noel didn't say anything. The bite of succulent chocolate cake flopped off the end of Dawson's fork like a demented diver from a diving board and landed on the table with a splat. Eyes wide with surprise, Dawson glanced down at the chocolate cake on the table, appearing shocked that he had had cake on his fork at all. Suddenly, Noel couldn't help herself. She broke off into a fit of laughter. Dawson was a strange mixture between cute and masculine sexy, not at all like Peter who was Mr. Mysterious all the time. As Noel laughed, the look of shock on Dawson's face disappeared and he smiled at her.

"That's better." Dawson cocked his head. "I like the happy you much better."

His words immediately made her stop laughing and start flushing. "What? Really?"

"Sure." Dawson shrugged. "You have a cute smile. Did anybody ever tell you that you have dimples?"

She clapped her hand to her cheek as if her dimple was a fly. "It was my nickname during primary school, actually."

"I'm not surprised." Dawson placed his fork on the plate. "They really are something."

"What are you saying?" Noel placed both hands on her cheeks now.

"I thought you said you liked honesty?" Dawson chuckled.

"I'm not sure this is honesty as much as flattery." Noel shook her head.

"It's honest flattery." Dawson put his chin on his hand. "So tell me, are we going to eat this cake or just decorate the table with it?"

With a snort of laughter, Noel plunged her fork into the cake and then took a mouthful. As the succulent, rich flavors of chocolate and raspberry tangoed on her tongue, she shut her eyes and sighed in ecstasy. Over the past couple of days, depression had kept her lingering in her hotel room. She hadn't even gone on her usual melancholy binge of snack cakes and salty chips. This cake, with all its many layers of delicacy and flavor, was just what she needed. And so was Dawson.

****

Noel plastered herself against Dawson's front as they stumbled up the sidewalk off Main Street. She was full of succulent prime rib, baked potatoes, and carrots. The wine she had drunk gave her a happy buzz. To think she had started the day in a bad mood. Peter still entered her mind fleetingly, but she was having way too much fun with Dawson to care. Was she fickle for getting feelings for another man after a two year relationship so quickly? Maybe she was. But then again, most of her and Peter's relationship had been online anyway. Some part of her wondered whether she should even consider it a relationship anymore.

As they walked, Noel felt Dawson grab her hand. His palm was warm and soft. She knew she should not let him hold her hand. With Peter, she had had a whirlwind romance too, but look how that had turned out. Peter had been somebody she hadn't even known; a mask which hid the shadowy demon beneath the surface. Yet Dawson was so different from Peter, even now at the very beginning. Peter wouldn't have tried to calm down a frightened woman in an airplane. In fact, the first time they had met, it had been the opposite. Peter had been lost and had needed her to calm him down. The irony was not lost on her.

As they headed up the street, Dawson came to a sudden halt in front of a large, two-story house with bay windows and a green garden. Tulips danced along a pure white fence. The house was red with black shutters and the inside curtains were faint ivy green. A thick flower bush was in the corner of the yard by the fence. The house had a feminine touch which made her uneasy. She reminded herself that Dawson was not Peter and that he likely didn't have a hidden fianc
é somewhere, but still her anxiety did not go away.

"Nice house," Noel said, brows furrowing.

"Thanks." Dawson scratched the back of his neck. "I love it. I probably shouldn't have bought a house when I go abroad so much, but it's nice to have the same place to come home to after traveling. It still feels like home no matter how long I've been gone. Luckily, my sister, Kendra, is a great person and helps keep up the garden while I'm gone."