Page 10 of Neat
“So, how did it go with Mallory this week?” Noah asked me, kicking his feet up in the empty chair Michael usually sat in. “Seemed like you two were ten seconds away from ripping each other’s throats open in that tour run through on Monday.”
Mom’s face screwed up with worry, but she didn’t speak, just sipped on her tea while she waited for me to answer. Something told me she was just as concerned as my brothers and I were that I was training a Scooter — especially one with a reputation like Mallory’s.
Still, just the mention of her made my blood warm — and not in the way that my brother thought. From the moment she walked into my office that first day, I’d been fascinated by her. Hell, I’d been fascinated by her my entire life. But, that fascination was balanced out by my need to protect myself, by the fear that crept in every time I had a second to think and realized I could very likely be training the woman who would take the job I was rightfully owed in the end.
She infuriated me with her gum popping, her sarcastic remarks, her blasé attitude about being at the distillery — and yet, she still made my pulse race, made my hands ache with the desire to reach out and feel that silky, platinum blonde hair between my fingers.
“It was… fine,” I said, deciding that was the best word to describe it. “She definitely had an attitude the first day, but by the time she left, she was playing nice. She was in orientation the rest of the week. I saw her briefly yesterday, and took her around for her first shadow tour earlier today.” I shrugged. “It’s weird. It doesn’t seem like she wants to be there, but Mallory Scooter has never been one to do something she doesn’t want to do. So, I can’t really figure out why she’s all of a sudden starting a career at the place it seemed like she’d been avoiding her whole life.”
Jordan leaned back from his now-empty plate, his hand resting on his stomach now that he was up for his first breath of air since he started eating. “I saw her and her father checking out that empty shop at the edge of the Main Street shopping center on my way to the field today,” he said. “I wonder if that has something to do with it.”
“The spot where Rita’s dress store used to be?” Noah asked.
Jordan nodded, reaching for his whiskey. “That’s the one. They were walking around with Tracy from the real estate firm in town.”
I frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would she be buying a store when she just started this new job?”
“Maybe it’s Patrick who’s buying it, and she was just hanging out with him?” Mom suggested.
“I don’t know. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of girl who would just hang out with her father willingly,” I mused, running my fingers over the stubble on my chin. “Anyway, I feel like she’s going to give me some trouble, but she’s nothing I can’t handle.”
Mom laughed bitterly. “Oh, I have more than a feeling she’s going to give you trouble. That whole family is just… just…” She shook her head, lips pursed together and face turning red. Mom was always a lady first, and I knew she was biting her tongue to keep from saying a whole string of curse words and other foul things about the Scooters.
Jordan reached over and squeezed her wrist, which brought her a new breath. She smiled, patting his hand and sipping her tea again without another word said.
“I’m sorry you have to work with her,” Noah offered, sipping on his own glass of whiskey on the rocks. “I wouldn’t be able to do it, work so closely with a Scooter. I get amped up enough when Patrick walks through the warehouse. I can’t even imagine if I had to train Malcolm or something.”
Malcolm was Mallory’s younger brother, and a giant pain in our entire family’s ass. Whereas most of the Scooter family held it together around us, playing nice and pretending like we all still got along after the death of my grandpa and Robert J. Scooter, Malcolm thrived in the drama. He loved to push our buttons — especially Noah’s.
He was one stupid remark away from having his nose broken, if he didn’t watch it.
“I agree,” Mom said, her face souring. My mother didn’t speak ill on anyone, but with the Scooters, evenshehad a grudge. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be upset if both youandyour little brother got out of that distillery altogether.”
“We can’t do that, Mom,” Noah said gently, reaching over to squeeze her wrist. “Dad helped build that distillery, that brand… hell,thisentire town. We’re honoring him by keeping the Becker name alive in this company’s history.”
“I know,” she said, brows folding together as sadness creeped in. “I know. And I know he’s looking down on every single one of you, and he’s so proud.” She patted Noah’s hand where it held her. “I just worry, is all.”
“That’s your job as our mother,” Noah said.
“And we make it an easy job to do,” Jordan added.
We all chuckled at that.
“Thanks, guys. But no need to worry. I’ve got it under control.” I said the words as if I, too, was bothered by the fact that I had to be around Mallory Scooter. I’d avoided her my entire life, knowing I couldn’t get caught up in a girl who was so off-limits it wasn’t even comical to consider a world where I could try my luck with her. I still lived in that world, and I knew there was still no way in hell I’d ever have a chance… but being forced to spend time with her, to get to know more about the girl who’d always been a mystery to me?
It wasn’t theworstthing I could think of.
It would, however, have been easier if she was as rude all the time as she was when she first walked into my office that Monday. Part of me wished we could live there — in the place where I annoyed her and she infuriated me. Because when she asked about my books, about my family, aboutme… I liked it.
And I wanted to know about her, too.
“Well,” Mom said, smoothing her hands over the napkin in her lap before she placed it on the table and stood. “I think it’s about time for a dance.”
Noah and Jordan smiled as I stood, rounding the table and offering my hand to Mom. “I think you’re right, Momma. May I have the honor?”
She placed her hand in mine with a warm smile, and Noah crossed the living room to the old record player Dad had bought before we were even born. There was a moment of fuzz and static, and then the first notes of Eric Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight” sparked to life, and Mom released a breath, closing her eyes a moment before we both began to dance.
I wasn’t even a thought in the universe on the night my mom danced with my dad to this song, her in her long, cream wedding dress and dad in his blue jeans and white button-up shirt. But, I’d seen the video, the photographs, and I knew that the smile my mom wore each time one of my brothers or I danced with her was the same one she wore that night.
