Shannon, irritated to be dragged from her stack of assessments that had continued to pile up, exited the back door behind CeCe and stopped short in shock. “What the? That’s not mine,” she protested, but the big giant red bow on top of the car with her name blazoned across the ribbon was hard to refute. The team started to file out amid plenty of murmured chatter. The coach, Jonas Mickle, appeared and stared, his hands on his hips.
“What’s going on?” he bellowed, equally irritated that such a fuss had interrupted his practice. He squinted and read the ribbon, turning to Shannon. “Says it’s yours. Well, is it?”
“I don’t know,” she stammered, going to the ribbon and plucking the large card on top of the windshield, embarrassed beyond belief to have everyone staring at her as if she’d just won the lottery. She ripped open the envelope and pulled out the card to read, “A more befitting ride for my two favorite girls…” Her cheeks burned and she bit her lip, unsure of how to explain such an extravagant gift showing up at her work. She looked to Jonas but he’d already lost interest and gestured, barking, “Show’s over. Back to the ice.”
While Shannon could only stare, CeCe had no trouble going to the beautiful monstronsity and checking it out with open delight. “This…is one helluva a ride,” she said in breathy wonder. “Oh! And the keys are in the ignition. Should we take it for a spin?” she asked Shannon.
“No.” Shannon shook her head adamantly, almost afraid of scratching or dinging it in anyway. She had no idea where it came from — well, she had a good idea — but wherever it came from, it was going back. She couldn’t afford such a luxury and besides, it didn’t look carseat friendly. “I wonder if the receipt is in the glove box.”
At that CeCe whirled around on Shannon, frowning. “What are you talking about? You can’t take the car back. It’s probably paid for and it’s a helluva lot better than that broken down piece of crap you insist on driving everyday.”
“It’s very pretty,” she acknowledged, wincing a little at the idea of parting with it but she continued, “But I have a toddler. Look at that backseat. It’s more of an afterthought. There’s no way I’ll get Aubrey’s carseat into that thing without ruining my back.” And the upholstery.
“Carseat? That gorgeous car is not meant for sticky toddler fingers or carseats of any sort,” CeCe snorted. “That car is meant for cruising in style to the best clubs. That car is easily $75,000.”
Shannon gulped, feeling faint. “And that’s exactly why it’s not staying with me. I’d be robbed blind in my own neighborhood if I showed up in something that ridiculous. What was he thinking?” she muttered, mostly to herself but CeCe caught it and laughed.
“Who cares? Whatever he did, he’s forgiven. If he showed up with a ride this sweet for me I’d be willing to forgive him, too.”
Shannon frowned. “Forgive who?”
“Nolan.”
“You know Nolan?” Shannon asked, completely confused. “How do you know Nolan?”
“I wouldn’t say I know him, per se, but I know him well enough in a certain way, if you catch my drift.”
Suddenly Shannon felt ill. “And why would you need to forgive him?”
“We met at the club the other night and we spent some time together but then he straight up rejected me. Not cool. He totally led me on. But,” she said, trailing her fingers along the import’s sleek lines. “I’d forgive him in a heartbeat if this were mine.”
“So you and Nolan hooked up?” she asked, her voice somewhat strangled.
“Sort of. If you count oral as hooking up.”
Nolan’s tongue had been in her intern’s crotch. Yep, Shannon definitely felt ready to hurl. So much for all that naïve hope that Nolan had changed. She’d let him sleep in her bed last night. She rubbed her forehead as a vicious headache threatened to crack her head in two. How could he have failed to mention that he’d been hooking up with other people while he was in town? Why would he? He was Nolan Buchanan and he could do whatever he wanted, right? Her rage percolated beneath her breastbone and she stomped away from the car and back to her office while CeCe followed.
“A word to the wise, CeCe, anything that comes from Nolan Buchanan is bound to come with strings attached,” she warned her intern, still seething that Nolan had messed around — eww, stuck his tongue in another woman’s crotch — while professing his earnest desire to be a better person. What a crock of shit. And she’d fell for it.