Her Inconvenient Groom by Niomie Roland
Chapter 13
Several times, Chantelle had to remind herself that she wasn’t excited about the fact that she was attending the convention with Dustin. No, not at all. She was excited about the fact that she was about to experience something new. She’d been to countless conventions, but certainly never one that thronged with so many eclectic and unusual characters.
The moment the driver let them out before the Centre des Congres, she could feel that palpable frisson of electricity that buzzed through the air. She’d half expected a crowd of unwashed hippies with more piercings than anyone could count, but instead, most of them looked like anyone you’d encounter strolling down the main street of any town. Except maybe with a few more tattoos than average.
“This way,” he said, after signing her up for a day pass. “There’s lots to see.”
“I’m sure,” she said mildly, trying to look only vaguely interested… trying not to gape at the sea of booths and the throngs of people. Everywhere she looked, there was color and noise—
“Spencer!”
They spun around in unison, and Chantelle watched as a fine-boned Asian woman in a pleated plaid miniskirt and a bustier came bounding excitedly up to them. Her shiny black hair was pulled into two careless ponytails, her eyes rimmed with thick kohl, and peacock feathers dangled from her ears.
Before Chantelle could process the uniqueness of this new arrival, the woman launched herself at Dustin, kissing him on each cheek with loud smacks. “Salut, mec!” she squealed.
Why is she still hugging him? Chantelle wondered. And is she planning on letting him go?
Eventually, when he was finally released from the woman’s eager grasp, Dustin turned to Chantelle and made the introductions, explaining that Onyx was an artist he was teaming up with for a tattoo competition.
The women exchanged cool handshakes, and then Onyx turned her shoulder to Chantelle, as if trying to shield Dustin from view. Possessive, Chantelle thought, which was amazing, considering they had only met yesterday.
She listened as the two had a quick conversation about their plans for the competition and agreed to meet up later, after the convention closed for the day to hash out the details. Throughout, the little dark-haired woman kept throwing Chantelle the side-eye. Her pretty little mouth curling whenever she did so.
Chantelle didn’t know whether to laugh or be irritated. Obviously, the girl was smitten, and had decided Chantelle was a threat. She wondered if he’d mentioned that they were married… probably not, because this little hussy seemed to think she had a chance.
Be my guest, honey, Chantelle telegraphed. And yet the idea still rankled.
The girl huffed away once Dustin explained that he was spending the day with Chantelle. He threw her an apologetic glance and began their tour, pointing out booths of interest and explaining different techniques and materials. She listened, impressed at the scope of his knowledge.
She surprised herself by buying a small, framed, hand-drawn abstract tattoo design, even though she had no idea where she would place it in the house. But she could feel herself being sucked into the crackling atmosphere, infected by its spirit.
“I was thinking of getting a tattoo to commemorate the baby,” she surprised herself by admitting.
He turned to her, lifting his brows. “Really? You were against the idea yesterday. Besides, I didn’t figure you for a tattoo type of girl.”
“There’s more to me than you can see,” she retorted.
His gaze was slow, taking in the fact that she was wearing jeans and a simple white cotton blouse, rather than her usual executive wear. “Evidently,” he said softly.
Chantelle felt a wave of warmth flow over her. She stopped at a booth that was selling sterling silver hand-crafted bracelets and earrings, focusing her attention on those rather than his proximity.
He asked, “What were you planning to do?”
She shrugged. “The baby’s name, I guess.”
She wondered if he was going to ask whether she had chosen any names yet, but instead he said, “You could also do the baby’s footprint. That’s pretty popular. Or a spectrogram. It’s a visual representation of any sound, expressed in waves and lines. A lot of new moms use the sound of their baby’s heartbeat on the ultrasound, or its first cries….”
She stared at him, unable to conceal her delight. “What wonderful ideas! I’d definitely try that.”
He looked almost surprised at her approval, as if he’d expected her to dismiss his ideas out of hand. Did she really radiate such negative energy towards him? she wondered.
“Better to wait until after you have the baby,” he advised. “Although with modern sterilization techniques, the risk of infection is very low, it’s still best not to give your body yet another challenge to deal with… on top of manufacturing another entire human being.”
She nodded, taking his advice. “Thank you.”
They began walking again, and Dustin once again fell naturally into the role of guide, patiently explaining the contents of the different booths. A couple of hours later, as they headed for the steps of the hall, Chantelle’s arms loaded with art books, drawings, brochures, and giveaways, she realized that she enjoyed her time. “This is why I chose you, you know,” she blurted.
“Excuse me?”
“Your love of art, your talent. You mentioned it extensively in your profile at the clinic. This is why I chose you—or at least, your sperm.”
His smile was surprised, perplexed. “That’s an awesome compliment. Thank you.”
She hastened to brush it away. “Well, it’s only because I’m so analytical, you know? I figured I’d get some more artistic genes to balance it out. It’s not personal.”
“Uh-huh,” he said agreeably. But he was smiling.