Page 206 of The Havenport Collection

Nora

“ W hy did I agree to volunteer again?” I whined.

Nonna shot me a glare. “Because you are single and therefore have no plans, and you are my granddaughter, and you love me so much.” She fluffed her hair and smiled at the incoming guests.

“You don’t have to chair the social committee every year, Nonna.”

She turned and arched an eyebrow at me. “And let Trudy McGee have it? Fuck, no. That bitch has wanted to usurp me for years. I’m not giving her the satisfaction.”

I chuckled. My Nonna drank and swore like a sailor, and it never failed to amuse me.

She straightened her red sequined jacket.

She had a very particular style. In fact, I’d say I got my love of clothes from her.

She was always dressed and made up with her hair set.

Most of her clothes involved loud colors, sequins, or animal print, and she rocked them.

Tonight, she was wearing black pants with a white silk blouse, topped with a red sequined jacket.

Her lips were the same shade of red, and her jet-black hair was teased to perfection.

But beneath the sweet old lady exterior? She was a stone-cold savage.

She patted my hand. “I’m so thrilled you wore the dress I suggested. I’m so sick of seeing you in black.”

I tugged on the skirt of the dress I was wearing. It was scarlet, tight, with long sleeves and a bateau neckline. It hit primly below the knee, but the back scooped low, exposing my back. I enjoyed a sexy dress now and again, but I hadn’t been in the mood to get all dolled up tonight.

But then Nonna called me this afternoon and read me the riot act. So here I was, blow dried, made up, and stuffed into this sexy dress for the evening. She insisted on driving too— picking me up outside my house, so I couldn’t even leave early.

Many of the old men were eyeing me like a piece of meat.

Since Nonna would force me to dance with anyone who asked, I knew I’d be fending off roving hands all night long.

I had been volunteering at this dance with Nonna for several years and was still too chickenshit to say no.

My brothers managed to get out of this every year, but not me.

I was the chump who always ended up spending Valentine’s Day with Nonna.

The woman had basically raised me after my parents divorced, getting me through high school and helping me apply to fashion school.

When it was time to leave Havenport, she insisted on driving to New York with my dad and moving me into my first college dorm.

I wouldn’t have opened my store if it weren’t for her, and although she was a serious pain in my ass, she was probably the only person on this planet aside from Cece who has always had my back.

So here I was, ready to dance, take photos, and do whatever needed to make sure this event was a success.

The dance was held at the Senior Center, in the gymnasium where they held fitness classes and set the tables up for bridge tournaments. My grandmother and her committee had decorated the place to the nines, with red, white, and pink decorations and lights everywhere.

A DJ was setting up in the corner. On closer inspection it was Mr. Kelly, the deli manager at the supermarket. He moonlighted as a DJ, and usually played excellent music, so that would at least be a plus.

There were small bistro tables with red tablecloths set up around the dance floor, as old folks do need to be able to sit. And a bar took up most of the space. If there was one thing about Havenport seniors, it was their love of the sauce.

I headed over to the bartender, the only other person within twenty years of my age.

“How are you?” I asked. He was young, really young, and looked a bit shell-shocked. His nametag read Miles.

He shrugged. “I’ve never bartended at a senior event before. I thought it would be easy money, but a few of the ladies have been stuffing my tip jar and promising that things will get rowdy.” He shuddered.

“Oh, Miles. You have no idea what you’re in for. Just keep the drinks flowing and keep your wits about you. Mrs. Jenkins gets a bit handsy after too many White Russians.”

I studied the framed specialty cocktail menu.

I scrolled down and rolled my eyes. The elderly of Havenport were out of control.

“I Like It Dirty Martini?” I laughed to myself at the ridiculous drink name.

“Ooh, that sounds good. Do I want that or a Love Potion No. 69?” Jackie mused, standing next to me. I gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Don’t you look lovely, darling,” she said, taking me in. “And everyone here is too old to appreciate it. Pity.”

She leaned over the bar and winked at Miles. “Hello, dear, I’ll have a Bend Over Shirley and a Binnacle IPA for my husband.”

She fluffed her teased hair and patted me on the arm. “Have fun tonight, dear.”

I looked at Miles. “She’s one of the well-behaved ones.” He gave me a weak grin.

I was deciding between a Golden Shower and a Tight Snatch when I heard a collective female intake of breath. I turned toward the door and was met with the stupidly charming face of Luke Kim.

What on earth was he doing here?

My Nonna rushed forward, kissing him on both cheeks and taking his coat.

He was wearing a three-piece charcoal-gray suit. It was cut impeccably; it had to be custom. And seemed to highlight his broad shoulders, tapered waist, and strong thighs. That suit. It was…doing things to me.

He had on a crisp white shirt open at the neck, no tie, and a dark red pocket square. I was used to seeing Luke in jeans and hoodies, and this was…something else. If I was honest, it was suit porn, plain and simple, but I couldn’t admit that to myself.

I turned back to Miles. “Give me something with a lot of alcohol.”

Thankfully, Nonna tasked me with taking photos. “Here, allow me.” I took the phone out of Mr. Fielding’s hand as he awkwardly tried to take a selfie with his wife.

I arranged them in front of the nauseating heart backdrop and started to click before noticing his hands.

“Mr. Fielding!” I shrieked. He was blatantly squeezing Mrs. Fielding’s breast, and she was into it.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” she said, “we’re having fun.”

I shuddered. Mrs. Fielding had been the lunch lady at my elementary school. I associated her with chocolate chip cookies and hair nets. Seeing her husband feel her up in public was a bit much.

I handed him the phone back. “Best night of the year,” he said, giving me a wink.

I was thankfully saved by Burt, our former mayor and all-around Havenport mascot, who asked me to dance. “Thank you,” I said, grateful to have been excused from photo duty momentarily. “Also, this is gorgeous.” He was wearing a dark red velvet smoking jacket.

“Tom Ford.”

“Of course.” Burt was famous for his impeccable taste. “How did you get roped into this event?”

“As a favor to your Nonna, of course. I owe that woman.”

“Unsurprising. She has a tendency to collect favors and intimidate people into doing her bidding.” He twirled me around expertly as another Sinatra tune blared over the speakers.

“You’re lucky to have her. Trust me, don’t ever get on her bad side.

Did I ever tell you about my first campaign for mayor?

” Burt had served as Havenport’s mayor for over twenty years before retiring.

He was also the first openly gay mayor in the United States.

We were immensely proud of him, and he was beloved in the town.

“This was in the early eighties, so you may not have even been born yet. But there were a bunch of homophobic assholes trying to force me to drop out of the race. Saying all sorts of hateful horrible things.”

I was shocked. “I’m so sorry.”

He patted my hand. “This was over thirty years ago; the world was a different place. But your Nonna, oh my God. She fought fiercely for me, once even threatening a bunch of drunk fools at the Tipsy Whale. She is a warrior.

I laughed. Of course she did. No one messed with Nonna.

“Why do you think we’ve been friends for forty years?” His face shone with admiration. “I was worried when your grandfather died. But she hasn’t lost her sparkle. So take good care of that woman, Nora. She is a treasure.”

Chastened, I nodded politely as we continued to twirl around the floor, saying hello to various people.

“Do we need to talk about how the only other young person in here has been staring at you all night?” he asked.

“Miles the bartender?” I trilled. “We’re friends. He’s been mixing me strong drinks all night. I’ve tipped him so much it’ll probably pay for a semester of college.”

“Not the bartender, Nora.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “I’m talking about Lucas Kim. You two are like an atomic bomb. I expect I’ll see a mushroom cloud over Havenport tomorrow when I take Coco Chanel out for her morning walk.”

I swatted him gently. “Stop exaggerating, Burt.”

“You could do a lot worse. He’s devastatingly handsome.”

“I’m aware. Keep dancing, old man.”

The song ended, and I headed over to check on Nonna and give her a hug for being such a badass.

I was chatting with some of her friends when I saw Luke out of the corner of my eye.

He was dancing slowly with Mrs. Waterson to “Luck Be A Lady Tonight,” and she was giddy.

He caught my eye and gave me an exaggerated wink that sent a shiver down my spine.

Stupid parasympathetic nervous system. How could my body possibly respond to him like this? I was thirty-three years old, and I’d like to think I had at least a bit of control over myself.

It was moments like this that I immediately flashed back to high school. Lonely and confused, and lacking affection, I lived and died by the smiles of the cute boys. I had braces, huge boobs that I had no idea how to dress around, and horrific acne.

All I ever wanted was to be liked. To be desired. For some boy to validate my existence with his attention and affection.

Unsurprisingly, this did not work out well. While the boys were super happy to try and cop a feel behind the bleachers, no one was interested in dating me, as I was too loud, too bossy, and too chubby.

So I spent almost every high school dance on the sidelines, watching the pretty, popular, and generally sane people have fun and make all sorts of memories.

Nonna used to tell me I was a late bloomer and that things would happen for me in college. While I appreciated her attempt at kindness, it didn’t do much against my mother’s constant assault on my body image and self-esteem.

But thankfully, I had Cece, and we survived together on a steady diet of Red Vines, eighties teen movies, and sarcasm.

The thought made me smile. This dance was a long way from my high school days, and hell, all the guys wanted to dance with me here, even though they were all well over sixty.

I was going to embrace it and have a great time.

So when Mr. Wordsworth, my former high school gym teacher, asked me to dance, I grasped his hand with a smile.

Sadly, I had temporarily forgotten that he was a lech back in high school and apparently still was.

He kept pulling me too close, and I had to adjust the placement of his hand off my ass and onto my lower back.

I was one minute from punching him in the face when I felt a presence next to me.

It was Luke. He had shed his jacket and was wearing his vest with his shirtsleeves rolled up. Shit. Did I have a vest fetish now?

“Do you mind if I cut in?”

Mr. Wordsworth grumbled, but Luke put his broad frame between us and grabbed my hand, twirling me toward him where I ungracefully bumped into his chest.

“You’re welcome for the save.”

“I had the situation under control.”

“And by under control do you mean you were getting ready to roundhouse kick him in the head? Because that’s what your face was saying.”

“You can read my facial expressions now?”

“I can read all your body language. And you were thinking get this pervy jerk away from me . I want a real man’s hands all over my body.”

“Wow, you really can read minds then. Where is the real man at?” I made a show of craning my neck around the dance floor. “I’m ready for him now.”

“Very funny.” He turned me masterfully as the song changed to “My Funny Valentine.”

He was a great dancer, even I could admit that.

“Please don’t breathe fire on me tonight, Nora. Let the old folks have their party; you can kick my ass later after they’ve all gone to bed.”

His arms were strong, he smelled amazing, and the vest was making me dizzy. Why couldn’t I get this guy out of my head? Most men were pretty forgettable, but not Luke Kim. He had lodged himself, and his scent, and his fucking shoulders, into my prefrontal cortex and wouldn’t leave.

“Why are you even here, Luke?”

“Your grandmother invited me. Said there were never enough male dance partners. And it just so happens I know how to dance. And I had nothing else to do.”

“Sure.”

“And she may have mentioned you generously volunteered your time.”

I looked over at Nonna, who was sitting, drinking a vodka tonic and grinning at me widely. She totally set me up. That’s why she insisted on the sexy dress.

“I need another drink,” I announced, walking away and leaving Luke on the dance floor.

As I nursed another drink, I got annoyed.

Luke was an excellent dancer. The old ladies certainly seemed to think so. He was breathlessly twirling them around, complimenting their outfits, and fetching drinks all night. It was nauseating.

Everyone, including my Nonna, was under his spell. Even the DJ seemed to be into him. I got irrationally angry. Was everyone making fun of me? Poor spinster Nora, let’s throw her at the handsome rich guy and see if it sticks.

They had all been living in Havenport too long if they thought Luke Kim was interested in me. Interested in making me crazy? Most definitely.

But interested in dating me? No fucking way. He was probably meeting up with some models later to enjoy some designer drugs and an orgy. Granted, everything I had learned about Luke indicated that was probably not his speed. But I didn’t trust him.

I would stay the course, keep my heart and my vagina locked down.

I had goals, I had dreams, and I had a lot of shit to do.

I couldn’t get distracted by Luke. He wasn’t some prince who would sweep me off my feet and make all my problems disappear.

He was just like any other man, someone who would monopolize my time and thoughts and then leave me disappointed and alone.

I could get depressed. I could feel bad about myself. But what would that accomplish? I was here, I looked great, and I was going to have fun, dammit. But first, I needed another cocktail.