“No, it isn’t,” Reese said.
Actually, it was. Nolan was pressed warm against her, and if she forgot everything that had happened and repressed all her common sense, it was almost like they were together again, and that felt good. Pathetic, she thought, but she didn’t move away from him.
“What’s in the other bag?” Nolan said, looking into her first shopping bag. “Is that a cow?”
“Yes,” Trudy said. “It says, ‘Eat chicken,’ when you pull its string.” He looked at her in disbelief, and she said, “Well, earlier in the evening that was hysterically funny.”
“It is funny,” Reese said, tightening his arm around her. “It’s very funny.”
Nolan frowned. “I hadn’t figured you for the stuffed-animal-giving type,” he said, taking the lanky spotted cow out of the bag.
“Really,” Trudy said coolly. I hadn’t figured you for the grave-disappointment type.
“More the educational-toy-giving type. You seem so … practical.”
It was embarrassing to think what she had figured him for. He’s smart, he’s funny, and he’s got swivel hips, she’d told Courtney. Just imagine. Yeah, that was the kind of statement that came back to haunt you.
“You know. You seem pretty … straight,” Nolan said. “Being a librarian and all.”
“I’m the assistant director of library sciences,” she told him, trying to crush him with disdain.
“Right.” Nolan nodded. “A librarian.”
“Yes,” Trudy said, giving up. “I’m a librarian.”
Reese tightened his arm around her. “I never thought of you as a librarian. I think that’s a terrible thing to call you.”
Well, yeah, except I am a librarian, Trudy thought, and then her cell phone rang and she answered it.
“Three toxic wastes,” Courtney said, her voice much looser now. “I want to bury Evil Nemesis Brandon in the stuff.”
“There’s no need to be unpleasant,” Nolan said to Reese over her head. “It’s Christmas Eve. Goodwill to men.”
“Not to you,” Reese said.
“Here’s the situation,” Trudy said to Courtney, putting one hand over her ear to shut out the cab radio—gimme gimme gimme—and the two guys bickering over her head. “I met one of Dad’s old research assistants in the toy store, and he says he knows where they have this year’s MacGuffin, but it’s out in some dangerous deserted warehouse on the edge of town.”
“He can get one of this year’s? Yes. Go!”
“Good to know you’ll sacrifice me for a homicidal toy,” Trudy said. “But that’s okay; I’m already on my way.”
“What’s this guy’s name?”
“Reese Daniels.”
“Did you check his ID?”
“No, Courtney, I did not check his ID.”
“Always a good idea,” Nolan said. “You never know with research assistants. They can turn on you like that.”
“Who’s that?” Courtney said.
“Nolan.”
“Still?”
“Yes,” Trudy said repressively.
Reese took his wallet from his jacket, flipped it open, and showed her his driver’s license.
Trudy squinted at it. “His driver’s license says ‘Reese Lee Daniels.’ Born 1982.”
“A younger man,” Courtney said, distracted. “Is he cute?”
“Sort of,” Trudy said. If you like surfers. Dude.
“I really think you and I should go out again,” Nolan said. “Let’s give us another chance.”
Trudy closed her eyes in the dark and thought, No, it will not work out, he’ll just forget you again.
“Do you mind?” Reese said. “She’s with me.”
“Forget cute,” Courtney was saying on the phone. “Does he have a job? Does he look like he’ll be faithful?”
“No,” Trudy said to Nolan. “No more faculty, no more film.”
“Okay, we’ll go to the Aquarium.” Nolan put the cow back in the bag. “It’ll make you calm. You can taunt the sharks.”
“I bet he won’t be faithful,” Courtney said.
“What kind of person taunts sharks?” Trudy said to Nolan. “They’re trapped in a tank.”
“Okay,” Nolan said, the voice of reason. “Where do you want to go? Your choice.”
“Do you mind?” Reese said to him again. “This is my cab. Stop putting on the moves.”
“I’m not asking you,” Nolan said to him.
“He’ll betray you,” Courtney was saying gloomily. “Younger, older, they’re all rats.”
Trudy ignored the two guys to answer her. “That’s the gin talking, honey. I thought you were going to ice gingerbread.”
“I swear,” Nolan said to Trudy. “No more film festivals.”
Trudy waved her hand at him to get him to shut up so she could hear Courtney.
“I am icing gingerbread.” Courtney sounded more depressed than ever. “But I broke more arms off. So I switched to the gingerbread house, and I got it together, but now the gumdrops won’t stick.” She sounded ready to weep.
“Why don’t you wait until I get home and I can help you,” Trudy said, trying to make her voice cheerful. “You probably just need thicker icing.”
“Damn.”
“What?”