Driving Her Crazy Page 17

  “Your lips,” she hissed.

  He lifted a hand and wiped, assuming there must have been traces of her lipstick on them. There wasn’t time to do anything else. A moment later, an elegant woman in a deep blue dress rounded the corner with an older gentleman in tow, and a younger, much less snooty version of the man close behind them.

  Oz straightened, holding himself up to his full stature. These had to be Cher’s parents. And her twin brother, maybe. Judging by the general pleasantness and happy twinkle in the guy’s eyes, Oz guessed he must take after some distant relative because he certainly didn’t act like the rest of the family.

  “There you are. We’ve been looking all over for you. People have started to notice your absence.”

  Her mother’s glare switched to Oz and he was hard pressed not to squirm. Ten seconds in her presence and he understood Cher a whole lot better. It was a wonder she didn’t have more issues growing up with this woman as a mother.

  “Who is this?” she asked.

  Cher jumped. “I’m sorry. Mother, this is Nathaniel Oserkowski. He was kind enough to share his rental car with me. Nathaniel, these are my parents, Jacqueline and Claude Debusshere. And my brother, Elliot.”

  Her voice softened a bit when she introduced her brother, but as for the rest, she could have been introducing some random cab driver to the queen of England. She didn’t betray by so much as a glance in his direction that he meant anything more to her than that. She stood rigid, her gaze not meeting anyone’s.

  Elliot stepped forward to shake his hand with a smile. “Hey man, thanks for driving her. She’s terrible at driving. I swear, she’d get lost—”

  “Elliot,” her mother said. “Will you please find your grandmother and tell her it’s almost time for the toast? She’s probably wandered off again.”

  Elliot gave his mother a confused look and Oz was willing to bet his Christmas tips that the woman already knew good and well where Grandma was. Elliot didn’t argue, though. He gave Oz and Cher a sympathetic smile and left.

  Mr. Debusshere looked Oz up and down, gave him a curt nod, and then walked away, pulling his phone from his pocket to answer a call. Her mother looked back and forth between the two of them, her face growing harder if that were possible, at the sight of Cher’s mussed hair and faded lipstick. He resisted the urge to wipe his mouth again and stared back at the woman. No wonder Cher was so terrified of her. He wanted to pick Cher up and carry her away from these awful people, protect her from them.

  But they were her family. And she’d shown no sign that she wanted him to do that. Hell, she was acting like she didn’t even know him at all.

  Mrs. Debusshere’s delicate nose wrinkled like she’d just come across something foul. “Thank you for your service, Mr. Oserkowski. If my daughter hasn’t already done so, I will see to it you are adequately compensated.”

  Cher cringed but said nothing.

  Oz frowned. “I do not require any compensation, Mrs. Debusshere.”

  “Very well, then. I believe you can find your own way out. Cherice, it is time for the toast. We’ve kept our guests waiting long enough.”

  She took Cher’s arm and led her away. Oz watched, helplessness warring with outrage in his chest. He’d been dismissed, no mistaking that. And he would be happy to leave. But the thought of abandoning Cher to these people made him want to upchuck all over the bitch queen’s azaleas.

  But they weren’t some criminals holding her hostage. They were her family. If she had shown any sign of wanting to go with him, he’d rip that woman’s claws from Cher’s arm and hide her away where they could never get to her again.

  Just before they turned the corner, Cher looked back at him. That fiery light that had shone from her eyes was gone. Snuffed out completely. And he finally understood. It was over. That kiss hadn’t been a promise of all the things to come. It had been a goodbye. Not just to him, but to everything she truly wanted out of life. She’d given up. Game over.

  His Cher was gone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Oz sat on the hood of his car, his phone in his hand. He needed to call his sister and tell her how the interview had gone. She’d been texting him non-stop for the last two hours and had called twice. He also needed to get his ass in the car and get on the road. He’d been planning on staying the night nearby and leaving in the morning, but now he just wanted to put as much distance between himself and New York as possible.

  He climbed into the car and dialed his sister.

  “Nathaniel Leopold Oserkowski, I’m going to kick your butt when you get home! Tyler and I have been on pins and needles all afternoon waiting to hear, haven’t we, buddy?”

  “Go Uncle Ozzy!”

  Lena laughed. “See? So, how did it go? They loved you right? Of course, they did, who wouldn’t? Tell me!”

  Oz waited until his sister ran down. There was no getting any word in edgewise when she was hyped up about something. Which, under normal circumstances, was kind of great. Nobody could cheer you on the way Lena could. But when things didn’t go so well, it sometimes made the disappointment that much harder to deal with.

  “Well…” he said.

  “Oh, no. Really?”

  “I wasn’t what they were looking for, but they wish me the best of luck.”

  “Those idiots don’t know what they just let slip through their fingers.”

  Oz sighed. “I’m sorry, Len. I knew it was a long shot, but I thought I had at least some kind of chance.”

  “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Oz. Not a thing. Don’t you worry about it. Something else will turn up. And if it doesn’t, we’re doing just fine. I just wanted this for you. I hate to see you working so hard all the time.”

  “Yeah. Well. It’s for a good cause,” he said with a slight smile.

  “You’re a good man, Oz. Don’t you ever forget that.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “When are you coming home? You going to hang around out there for a while? Do some sight-seeing? Maybe see some more of that woman you rode with that you refuse to tell me anything about?”

  He knew she was just teasing him but her words slammed into his gut like a sledgehammer. “No,” he ground out. “I just want to get out of here. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” she said, sounding faintly surprised. “Well, travel safe and make sure you check in. Don’t make me start calling the hospitals.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Love you, Oz.”

  “Me too! Me too! Love you Uncle Oz!” Tyler shouted from the background.

  Oz laughed. “Love you guys, too. See you tomorrow.”

  He hung up and leaned his head back against the headrest. There would be other jobs. Sure. There probably would be. Maybe even better jobs with more money and more along the lines of what he wanted to do. But with his lack of experience, it was pretty safe to assume those opportunities would all end the same way. He was just a blue-collar guy from a middle-of-nowhere town and that is all that people saw when they looked at him. No matter what kind of fancy clothes he was wearing.

  He looked down at the passenger seat, frowning when he spotted something on the floorboard. He reached down and snorted. The damn hand sanitizer. He chucked it into the backseat, but couldn’t get rid of Cher’s image so easily. He could still smell the light jasmine scent of her on his shirt.

  He understood the whole sanitizing episode now. Good God, did he. If that woman had been his mother he would’ve dipped himself in battery acid to avoid a confrontation with her. He’d overreacted and he’d been an ass to not let Cher explain. And, with his last thoughts still on repeat in his mind, he realized he’d also been the worst kind of hypocrite.

  He’d spent nearly their entire trip razzing her about not going after what she wanted, being too afraid of what her family would think. Letting that fear stop her. And what had he been doing his whole life? What had he just made up his mind to keep on doing because of one disappointment? How could he expect
to deserve an incredible woman like Cher if he couldn’t even believe in himself first? And how could he just give up and walk away from her without a fight?

  She made him feel like he could take on anything. In fact, not once had she ever actually said he wasn’t worthy of her, or of a better job, or of anything. In fact, she was the one who had encouraged him while they had prepared for his interview. She was the one who had cheered him on. And here he was, ready to give up, because of one stumble. Sure, he and Lena were making ends meet just fine in the meantime. But he was tired of just making ends meet. He was tired of working three jobs so they could just manage to get by.

  That wasn’t living. That was surviving. It never really bothered him before, but now? Now he wanted to live.

  And he didn’t just mean his career.

  He wanted Cher.

  The incomparable, irritating, irresistible Cherice Buchanan Debusshere. More than anything he’d ever wanted. Including that damn job. And he was pretty sure she wanted him, too. She’d said that they’d made love, and she’d been right. It hadn’t been just some cheap one-night stand, no matter what he’d said in the heat of his anger. He wanted her. The whole package. He wanted to see if they could build something together. Wanted to at least give them a chance to explore whatever they’d been feeling. He wanted her.

  The disgust on her parents’ face ate at him. He was not good enough for their daughter. Not by a long shot. But he got out of the car anyway. Though he had about as much chance of getting his girl as a one-legged chicken in a horse race, he wasn’t leaving without at least making an attempt.

  …

  Cher sat at the head table, watching her father deliver a toast to the happy new couple. Of course they were happy. They were the perfect couple, with the perfect jobs, who’d married the perfect people their perfect families approved of, who were about to start their perfect lives together. Living in the perfect house in the perfect neighborhood raising their perfect 2.4 kids. It was the life Cher had been raised to want. The life she could have if she just followed her parents’ perfect plan, married the perfect doctor they had picked out and lived perfectly ever after.

  But she didn’t want that. Had never wanted it. And now that she’d seen what she could be missing, the thought of having anything less destroyed what little of the real her was left. She didn’t want perfect. She wanted messy, and annoying, and inappropriate, and so unbelievably passionate it made her tremble just thinking about it. She wanted happiness. But she’d left happiness, or at least the promise of it, standing alone in the bushes, her kiss on his lips and her parents’ unspoken insults ringing in his ears.

  A tear slipped down her cheek and she ducked her face to hide it. Elliot reached over beneath the table and took her hand, squeezing it gently until she looked at him. His face was creased with worry. He’d never seen her cry. No one had. She didn’t cry. Ever. She’d always seen it as synonymous with exposing her jugular. It was a weakness that she’d refused to indulge in. But now, she couldn’t help it. Another tear followed the first. And another.

  Elliot handed her a napkin so she could dab at her face. He slung an arm around her shoulders and dabbed at his own pretend tears, eliciting some chuckles from those seated nearby. She gave his hand a squeeze in thanks and held her breath to stop the floodgates from opening.

  She managed, barely. She kept the tears at bay, but not the miserable thoughts that wouldn’t stop running through her mind as her father droned on about what was truly important in life.

  He had it so wrong. What difference did it make that they were getting a good start in life because they had their careers well in hand? All the thinly veiled jokes about the country club and promotions and how they could go on their honeymoon later because they were too busy right now were just…rubbish. Depressing.

  Her sister and her new husband laughed politely, but Cher wondered how they truly felt about how they were starting their lives together. She knew they loved each other. Oh, they’d never be so crass as to actually indulge in any inappropriate public displays of affection. Like playing tonsil hockey in the bushes while their guests danced on by. But she could tell by the way they looked at each other that there was genuine love between them.

  Lucky them. They’d managed to fall in love with someone from the right gene pool. But there they sat, at a huge wedding that neither of them had any hand in planning, postponing a honeymoon so they could get right back to work building their empires, instead of taking some time to focus on each other, on their new lives together.

  That was so sad. And the thought that the same fate awaited her? Only without the benefit of actually loving the man she’d be shackled to for life? The lump grew in her throat again and she took a deep breath, trying to pull herself together. This was what her family had reduced her to. A blubbering mess with a broken heart and shattered spirit.

  No, not her family. Herself. She’d allowed it. Everything they’d done. She’d sat back and just let it happen.

  The lump in her throat faded away and she sat up a little straighter. She was responsible for her own happiness, not them. They’d never been concerned about what would make her happy. Despite their dictatorship over her life, she knew her parents did care about her, were trying to ensure her future the best way they knew how. But it wasn’t what she wanted. Not by a long shot. And they were never going to understand or support that.

  If she wanted something, no one else was going to give it to her. She was going to have to go after it herself. Go after him. And if she hurried, she might just catch him before he crossed the state line and she never saw him again.

  There was a sea of tables between her and the exit. There was no way to just sneak out. But she couldn’t wait. Oz was getting further away with every second. Cher squeezed her brother’s hand again.

  She leaned over to whisper in his ear. “I love you, Smelliot.” She kissed his cheek.

  He looked at her, his eyes questioning. She just smiled. “I have to go.”

  She didn’t know what he saw in her face, but whatever it was had him beaming with approval.

  “Yeah you do. I’ll deal with the fallout. Get out of here.”

  She didn’t hesitate any longer. She pushed away from the table and got to her feet. Her father stopped mid-toast to stare at her open mouthed.

  “Cherice,” her mother hissed. “Sit down!”

  “I’m sorry, Mother. But I have somewhere I need to be.”

  She ignored the gasps and muted giggles and wound her way through the tables, one single thought burning in her mind.

  Oz.

  …

  Oz’s heart pounded in his chest but he didn’t stop to reconsider. He knew what he wanted and no one was going to stop him. He marched into the reception tent and stopped short. Gasps and whispers erupted all around him. Cher’s father stood at the head table, a champagne flute half raised. Her mother sat beside him, her face a shade of red Oz had never seen before. Elliot looked like he was ready to jump up and applaud. The bride and groom were…stunned, for lack of a better word.

  And in the middle of the room, pardoning her way through the sea of seated guests, was Cher. What in the world was she doing?

  She looked up and saw him standing there. That sunshine smile of hers spread across her face, her eyes shining with such a radiant glow his heart nearly stopped at the sheer beauty of her. That smile was for him. Because of him. And suddenly he knew, knew, that he’d just found his future.

  She pulled up the hem of her dress and pushed her way through the crowded seats. He barreled toward her, meeting her halfway. She opened her arms and he wrapped his around her waist, sweeping her off her feet. Their lips met and he kissed her for all he was worth. Her hands clutched at him like she couldn’t believe he was really there. She pulled away, laughing, then kissed him again.

  Oz put Cher back on her feet but kept his arms firmly around her. He stroked a hand down her cheek.

  “I didn’t get the job.”

&
nbsp; She pulled away so she could look full into his face. “I don’t care.”

  The hope smoldering in his chest burned a little brighter. He smiled down at her. “You don’t?”

  “Not in the slightest. I just want you to be happy.”

  “Hmm,” he said, running a thumb along her bottom lip. “I can think of a few things that might accomplish that.”

  She rubbed against him. “Hmm, I’m sure you can.” She leaned in like she wanted to tell him a secret. “I applied for the mba program at unc Chapel Hill. That’s near you, isn’t it?”

  His heart was a burning blaze now. “You did what?”

  She shrugged, a sly smile on her lips. “I’m going to get my business degree and open my own center for disadvantaged women.”

  What the hell was she talking about? “Center for disadvantaged women, what?”

  “Yes, like I told you about. An expansion on what DressHer does.”

  DressHer? He’d heard of that place. It helped women who were reentering the workforce. A lot of them were either single moms, or women leaving abusive relationships. Some ladies just needed to find something better but hadn’t had the chance before. DressHer helped them with appropriate clothing, setting up job interviews, all kinds of things. Suddenly, all the comments Cher had made about her job made sense. “That’s where you work?”

  “Yes.”

  He wrapped his arms around her even tighter. “Personal shopper, my ass.”

  He felt her shrug but didn’t let go.

  “It’s sort of a personal shopper.”

  He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “What does your family think?”

  “To hell with my family. I’m finally going after what I want. And Oz…I want you.”

  Before he could question her again, she rose on her toes and pressed her lips to his. His hands cupped her face and he poured every ounce of joy coursing through him into his kiss.

  To his surprise, a few of the guests around them started to clap. Cher looked around and laughed. Eventually the whole tent’s inhabitants, minus her parents, of course, were cheering. Elliot whooped loudly from his spot back at the family’s table.