Better Deeds Than Words (The WORDS Series) Read online

  “I’d say that sounds pretty damn appealing, sweet knees.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. Do you have a bikini?” he asked.

  “I’ll add it to the shopping list.”

  He cast his eyes downward, moaning quietly.

  “You okay?” I whispered.

  “Yeah, just desperately trying not to get a visual.”

  I couldn’t help laughing. “So, how’s business been this week, anyway? Lots of jobs on the go?”

  “Oh, you have no idea the number of jobs I’ve had to do all by myself. I’m seriously considering hiring some help. You know, a right-hand gal. Can you think of anyone who might be interested?”

  “What if she’s left-handed?” I asked.

  “Nope. She has to be right-handed. Part of the terms of service.”

  “Well, I happen to meet that particular condition. Do you suppose I should apply?”

  “I don’t know. When can you start?”

  “How does tomorrow sound?”

  Now it was his turn to laugh. “Aubrey, you’re a corker, you know that?”

  “I’m going to choose to be flattered by that comment.”

  “As you should be.”

  “Good. I’m sorry, Daniel, but I really have to get going.”

  “Yeah, me too. I need to get the oil changed—in the car,” he added, shaking his head self-consciously. “Patty. Jesus.”

  I smiled. Neither one of us moved.

  He licked his lips meditatively. “I really wish I could kiss you right now.”

  I stared longingly at his mouth. “I wish you could too.”

  The air between us crackled.

  Daniel sighed, breaking the tension. “You have a class to get to.”

  I nodded reluctantly.

  “I’ll call you tonight,” he said. “You can tell me all about your shopping trip.”

  I stepped backward reluctantly. He leaned against the shelf, his hand in his pocket as I left. When I turned to look back at him, he flashed his lovely dimpled smile, and I grinned before hefting my knapsack higher on my back and finally escaping into the crisp afternoon air.

  I’d never have thought I’d be able to shelve my frugal tendencies and treat myself to a frivolous spending spree, but women obviously have an innate talent for shopping, because several hours later, I was back at Jackman, packing a sexy dress, fantastic new shoes, and a killer bikini in my small suitcase with everything else I thought I might need for an overnight stay up north with Daniel.

  Taboo. The irony of the resort’s name didn’t escape me.

  After packing, I studied for the following day’s test and waited for Daniel’s good-night phone call. I was glad I took the time to read through my notes because I stumbled across a word I couldn’t even remember writing down.

  Apocryphal.

  What the hell did that mean? Apparently I’d been daydreaming about Daniel during that lecture. I flipped back and forth a few pages, and then I found the definition and an example:

  Apocryphal - Authorship of doubtful origin. For example, Hecate’s speech in Macbeth, possibly not attributable to Shakespeare: Excerpt from speech:

  “...you all know, security is mortals’ chiefest enemy.”

  Wow, I really didn’t remember writing that. I threw myself into studying with renewed vigor. Obviously I wasn’t as comfortable with the course content as I’d initially believed. I continued to read through my lecture notes and didn’t give the meaning behind the excerpt from Hecate’s speech another thought.

  In retrospect, I suppose I should have. Whoever had written those words was very wise indeed.

  Chapter 9

  Accidental Things

  But all these poor forbiddings could not stay him;

  He in the worst sense construes their denial:

  The doors, the wind, the glove, that did delay him,

  He takes for accidental things of trial…

  (The Rape of Lucrece)

  FRIDAY MORNING, I WOKE UP with that strange feeling I got when I wasn’t sure what day it was. I pulled the sheets over my head and groaned when I remembered I had to go to work. But it was Friday, and Daniel was taking me away for a romantic retreat! I squealed and threw the covers back, doing a little happy dance in the bed. A three-hour shift, a test which I had studied my ass off for, a tutorial—with Daniel, and therefore not a chore at all—and then off to paradise. TGIF.

  I stretched and yawned as I scrolled through my phone messages. Julie had sent me a text.

  You’ll NEVER believe what Jer and I are doing

  this weekend. Can’t wait to talk to you! -J

  I smiled. Those Grant boys sure knew how to make their women spin. I typed out a quick reply.

  Can’t wait to hear all about it, bun-head.

  See you in a few…-A

  Next, I opened my Yahoo account. There was an email from someone I’d never heard of named Jung Willman. I considered deleting it, but I opened it to scan the contents, just in case. And thank goodness I did because it was one of the most amazing emails I’d ever received.

  From: Jung Willman

  To: Aubrey Price

  Sent: Fri, Mar 20, 6:37:06 AM

  Subject: Almost definitely…

  Good morning, my lovely. I’m sure you’re surprised to hear from me like this. I’ve had your email address since the course began, but you must be wondering what my pseudonym is all about. Last year I got rid of all social media accounts that would allow Nicola to contact me using my real name. I created this one, and only my best friends know the address. I didn’t think it was advisable to use my university email to send you this message. I’m sure you understand.

  I’ve been wide awake since five a.m., and I don’t know what to do with myself. (I know exactly what you’re thinking, by the way—always straight to the gutter.) After lying in bed for an hour thinking about you, I had to get up and write. I hope you don’t mind that I’m emailing you rather than writing to my flash drive.

  I can’t wait to take you away from Toronto, away from prying eyes, away from the obstacles keeping us apart. I know we’ll enjoy sharing some quality time, and I want to treat you to some much-deserved fun.

  I don’t think you understand how much I admire your work ethic. I wish there was something I could do to ease the burden of responsibility in your life. I’m amazed at how prepared you are to meet challenges with so little support from your parents. I’m in awe of your strength.

  I’m counting the minutes until we’re alone again. I hope you’re excited, too. You sounded a little more enthusiastic when we spoke on the phone after your shopping trip. I can’t stop thinking about how sexy your dress sounds.

  Tonight we’ll go out for dinner and drinks. Then afterward we’ll curl up in bed and watch a movie. I can’t wait to kiss you and fall asleep with you in my arms. I’m even looking forward to you drooling on me!

  Tomorrow we’ll go skiing, and then when we get back to the chalet we’ll sit in front of the fire and drink hot chocolate with Bailey’s. Winter’s great, right?

  I wish you could see the smile on my face as I write this. Even Sisyphus can’t ruin my mood. I suppose I shouldn’t hold you up any longer—you have to get to work.

  I’ll see you in a few hours. Until then, please know that on a scale of “maybe” to “definitely,” I’m getting awfully close to the latter.

  Your sailor,-D

  xo

  P.S. Please pack some very conservative PJs and make sure they’re warm. I’ll be leaving a window open tonight. Pajamas must stay on! Having said that, I’m stoked to see you in that bikini.

  I had to read the whole thing twice, afraid I’d missed something important the first time as I’d scrolled through it quickly. This email—it epitomized Daniel. His confession about trying to hide from Nicola after her betrayal was poignant and distressing, but then the tone of the email changed as he regained his playful flirtatiousness and took great pains to communicate his feelings. I didn’t have
a hell of a lot of time, but I had to answer him. I wanted him to know I shared his excitement about our escape up north and that I felt just as strongly about him as he seemed to feel about me. I didn’t bother turning on my laptop, opting to type out my quick response on my phone.

  From: Aubrey Price

  To: Jung Willman

  Sent: Fri, Mar 20, 7:31:36 AM

  Subject: Most definitely…

  Good morning, sunshine. What a wonderful greeting to wake up to. I could get used to that. I am so excited to go away with you, Daniel. Sounds like you have a fantastic getaway planned for us. I can’t wait.

  I studied hard for the test today. Good thing I did—I didn’t remember half the notes I took. There must have been something awfully distracting in that classroom while I was trying to listen to lectures.

  I wish I could write more, but I have to get ready for work. My boss is even more uptight than his son, if you can believe it. ;) Can’t wait to see you.

  Your poppet

  P.S. Now, those are some mixed messages, Mr. Grant. I guess I’d better unpack my silk negligee and try to find some flannel PJs. Do they make flannel bathing suits?

  P.P.S. As for “almost definitely”? I’ll do you one better. Most definitely.

  By eight twenty, I was smiling to myself as I quickly got my things together for the day, leaving my suitcase at the bottom of the bed so I could grab it and run when I came home after class. I crossed the quad quickly, still on cloud nine.

  I stomped my feet on the mat inside the doors of Northrop Frye Hall and went up the stairs and into the darkened office. Dean Grant hadn’t arrived yet. Hopefully he was okay. The roads were probably gross this morning. I flicked on the lights, logged in to my email, and got to work sifting through messages. About fifteen minutes later, I was in the middle of sorting the mail when Dean Grant finally came in. His face was drawn and pale.

  “Good morning, sir,” I said hesitantly.

  He didn’t return my greeting. “Gwen will be here shortly. Tell her to come right in, would you?”

  He pulled his door office closed with a resounding click. That wasn’t good. Some sort of marital turbulence, perhaps? Should I take him a coffee or leave him alone? I opted for the second course of action. I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that simmering temper.

  I was printing off envelope labels for people staying in residence over the summer when Gwen rushed in. She smiled at me, but it was forced. All the warmth she’d exuded when we’d first met had dissipated.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Grant. Your husband said you should go right in.” I couldn’t bring myself to call her by her first name.

  “Thank you, Aubrey,” she said, heading straight into the office and closing the door behind her.

  I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. Something was certainly going on. A momentary flutter of panic swept through my stomach as I wondered if it had to do with Daniel and me. But then I remembered how I’d gotten myself all worked up when Dean Grant had called me in to speak to me the day he’d found out about Mary, and I’d wrongly assumed he’d wanted to confront me about Daniel. My conscience was making me paranoid.

  I shook my head resolutely to chase away my gnawing anxiety. It was difficult to distract myself from the unnerving silence of the office. If Daniel’s parents were arguing, they were sure making quiet work of it.

  When Daniel crashed through the door, my anxiety roared back.

  “Daniel!” I rushed over to the counter to meet him.

  “Hey,” he said quietly. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My dad called half an hour ago demanding I come in to see him. He hung up on me before I had a chance to ask any questions. I dropped everything and bolted. Is he in there?” he asked, motioning to his father’s office.

  “Yes, he is. So is your mother,” I whispered.

  “What? Christ. I hope everything’s okay. Why do I have a bad feeling something’s happened to Patty?”

  “I don’t know, Daniel. Something terrible has happened, for sure. You don’t think—”

  Before I could finish, the office door opened, and Dean Grant stormed through it.

  “Oh, good, Daniel—you’re here. Come in, please. And Aubrey? Can you lock the front door? We’d like to speak to you too.”

  Daniel set his mouth in a grim line as he held his hand up to me. “I’ll get the door.”

  Daniel met us in the inner office and stood in the doorway, facing his father.

  “What’s this all about, Dad? You could have elaborated a little more on the phone. This wasn’t exactly a great day to be driving with the fear of the devil in me.”

  “I’m sorry about that. Your mother just called your cell phone to tell you to take your time. Obviously your phone isn’t on.”

  “I don’t even have my phone. I dropped what I was doing and ran out of the condo like a bat out of hell.”

  “I’m sorry. That was careless of me. But you’re here now.”

  Panic and dread mingled in my stomach. Someone must have seen us somewhere together and reported us. Dean Grant sat behind his desk. Daniel anxiously looked at me as we moved to sit side by side in the chairs across from his father.

  Gwen was perched against the low shelf behind her husband’s chair, her arms crossed. She didn’t walk over to greet her son but simply stood there, her expression weary. Daniel leaned forward in his chair, eager to get to the bottom of things.

  “Is Patty okay?” Daniel asked.

  “Patty’s fine, to the best of my knowledge,” his father said. “I was at her house this morning, in fact. The high school kid who normally clears the driveway is away for spring break. I didn’t want to wake her, but I swung by to shovel after last night’s snow.” He looked at each of us in turn. “I came across the strangest thing on the driveway.”

  He opened his desk drawer and pulled out my striped glove.

  “I believe this is yours, is it not?” he said, turning to me and holding up my lost glove. He placed it on the desk.

  My heart dropped into my stomach. I looked over at Daniel, who had his head in his hands. There was no mistaking the fact that this was my glove. And his father knew it.

  “I, um, I don’t know…” My head was spinning. “Daniel?” I whispered.

  He glanced at me quickly before turning to his father. “Yes, that’s Aubrey’s glove,” he said flatly.

  He offered no further information. The two of them just stared at each other.

  Gwen stepped forward and placed her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “What does this mean, Daniel?” she asked. “What’s going on here? Why on earth would Aubrey’s glove be at my mother’s house? Help me understand.”

  Daniel raked his hands through his hair. “I gave Aubrey those gloves,” he said simply.

  Dean Grant gaped at me. “So, this gift? These gloves, Aubrey? They were from my son? You’ve been hiding this from me?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, shame coursing through me.

  “I see.” He paused for a moment. “You didn’t answer your mother’s question, Daniel. How did this glove get lost at Patty’s?” Dean Grant’s tone was growing steely. “I’d appreciate it if you could shed a little more light on what’s going on here. Please.” This last word was spoken through clenched teeth.

  Daniel sighed in frustration and, ultimately, in defeat. “Aubrey came to Patty’s with me last Sunday for dinner. She must have dropped her glove on the ground at some point during the evening.”

  Gwen’s mouth popped open, and she steadied herself on the desk with her free hand. I thought for a second she might faint. I stared down at my lap, Dean Grant’s words from Monday replaying in my mind, a mocking refrain:

  “Well, you’re the Shakespeare expert, but I don’t think any of the tragic heroes spiraled to their downfall as a result of a lost mitten.”

  Apparently there is a first time for everything.

  “So, let me understand this,” Dean Gr
ant said. “Despite my warnings. Despite my clear request, Aubrey,” he said, looking at me pointedly, “the two of you have embarked on what can only be described as a clandestine friendship—a friendship close enough to warrant gift giving and at least one family dinner—without our knowledge? Is there anything else we need to know? Are you going out socially? Completely flouting all regard for university guidelines about fraternizing? Or, worse still, are you spending time together in private?” His mouth hardened. “Well?”

  Though he was angry, his voice was barely raised. It was this quiet rage that frightened me the most.

  “Aubrey and I have become close,” Daniel said. “It’s not Aubrey’s fault,” he clarified. “I forced the issue. I enjoy her company. We’re very…compatible. It’s been next to impossible for me to ignore…my feelings for her.”

  His feelings for me. As of two hours ago, he was almost definitely falling in love with me. They would never understand—never condone this.

  Gwen covered her mouth with her hand, shocked speechless. Her husband, however, was not.

  “Good God, Daniel. What are you thinking? Perhaps you’ve lost all regard for your reputation, but you could at least give your mother and me some consideration. Your behavior is beyond childish and immature. It’s utterly selfish in the extreme.”

  He shook his head in disbelief.

  “I can’t believe you’d be so naïve to think you could get away with something like this. I’ve thought for a long time that you two would be well-suited for one another, but really, Daniel, to jeopardize your name—your standing here at the university—simply because your hormones are raging and you can’t wait a few months?”

  “David, really,” Gwen said, her tone reproving.

  Daniel glowered at his father. I kept waiting for him to say something, but he was completely silent. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

  “No, he needs to hear this,” Dean Grant said. “He’s living in a dream world, behaving like a spoiled, petulant child who wants his Christmas presents in October. But this is not a game. And I’ll be having a word with your mother about this too, Gwen. I have no doubt she’s encouraged him in his pursuit of Aubrey.”