I nuzzled her forehead. “Finally. I knew you couldn’t resist me forever.”
She yawned and curled into a ball like a small kitten. “Good job. Night, Oscar.”
I passed my hand gently over her head. “Night, Beaker.”
I left quickly, wondering why it was bothering me so much to do so.
I must be overtired.
My head would be clearer in the morning.
It was past noon when I stumbled out of bed and into the shower. Regardless of being up late, I knew Shelby would have risen far earlier and already been productive. I loved sleeping in, and when I was working, it wasn’t a luxury I had—my calls were often early ones, so when I was home, I indulged a lot—and Shelby let me.
I got dressed, feeling decidedly off. My stomach ached and I felt tense, but I was unsure why. I felt a strange sense of foreboding I couldn’t shake.
I was probably hungry.
I’d find Shelby, she’d make me something to eat, and I’d feel better. I had no idea what time her date was, but I was sure she had enough time to do that for me.
Funny, simply thinking about her date made my stomachache intensify.
Maybe I was coming down with something.
I paused at the entrance to the kitchen. Shelby was sitting at the table, staring absently into space. Behind her, playing quietly from her computer was Air Supply.
Shit. She only played Air Supply when she was feeling sad and melancholy.
Why was she sad? I racked my brain. Had I done something again? Did Douglas cancel?
She glanced up, and seeing me, she smiled, although her eyes remained sad. “Well, look who woke up. I thought maybe today was one of your write-offs.”
I strolled in, shaking my head. “No, just a late start. What time did you get up?”
She shrugged, walking over to the coffeemaker. “About eight.”
I took the coffee she offered, winking at her.
“Lazy wench.”
Sipping the hot beverage, I sat while trying to find a way of asking her if she was okay. Or figure out a way of taking the sadness from her eyes.
“I heard from Lily. I texted her last night. She’ll come over this week with some dresses for you to choose from for Saturday. She says it’s a big night—she’s pulling out all the stops.”
If anything, her eyes got sadder. “Sounds like fun.”
“I told her to keep the heels low. She said she couldn’t make that promise.”
Shelby shrugged and I took another sip of my coffee, stalling for time.
What was wrong? Didn’t women like to try on dresses?
“You, um, still out for the night?”
“Yes.”
Shouldn’t she look happier? Was she nervous? I tried to think of what I felt like when I went out on a date.
Shit. First, I had to remember when the last date I’d gone on had been. A few months? More? I couldn’t remember.
Maybe she was worried about being alone with Douglas. Or thinking about what she should wear. Women stressed over stuff like that.
A thought hit me, and without thinking it through, I spoke up. “Shelby?”
“Hmm?”
“Wanna go shopping?”
She looked at me, confused. “What?”
“I could take you.”
“For what?”
“A dress, you know, for tonight. For your date.”
She stared at me. When she spoke, her voice was nowhere near as enthusiastic as I thought it would be.
“You want to take me shopping. For a dress. To wear on my date.”
I nodded. “You said you didn’t have any dresses, so I’ll buy one for you. Would that make you feel better?”
“Make me feel better?”
“You seem off. I thought a new dress would cheer you up. I’ll buy it for you,” I repeated.
“Why would you want to do that, Liam?”
Bollocks. I didn’t like the tone she was using.
“I thought, ah, maybe you needed one?” I offered. “You know the other night, you said you didn’t have any…” My voice trailed off as I took in her expression. Now she was looking pissed off. This wasn’t going well, and I regretted my idea.
“I meant long gowns. They aren’t something I keep on hand, being a housekeeper and all. I do, however, have a few outfits I am sure will be acceptable to wear in public with your cousin. I’ll be sure not to embarrass him by wearing my everyday clothes.”
I tried to make her smile. “Yeah, my shirts might not make the best date attire.”
Her voice was deceptively low. “Is that what you’re worried about, Liam? That I’ll leave the house looking bad and embarrass you or your cousin? Maybe you think I’m not suitable to go out on date with Douglas?”
What?
I started to shake my head when Shelby stood quickly, her chair making a loud noise on the floor. She crossed her arms over her chest, and I could see she was beyond pissed. I had somehow insulted her again and now she was angry.
I liked Shelby pissed off and spitting at me like an angry kitten. She was adorable.
I hated angry Shelby; it was a side of her I rarely saw. She was downright scary. And it made my stomach ache more.
I stood. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought you’d like a new dress. I thought I’d buy it for you. Save you some cash.”
Her face got even angrier.
I should not have said that.
Jesus, what was wrong with me?
Her voice was measured. “If I wanted a new dress, Liam, I could buy it for myself. I don’t need you to buy it for me. I certainly don’t need you offering to dress me for my date. I don’t need anyone to buy me anything. I can look after myself.”
I held up my hands. “I know you can. Look, I was an arse, again. I didn’t mean it.”
“You said it. I think you meant it.”
I shook my head. “I wasn’t thinking. You looked sad, and I wanted to cheer you up.”
“By buying me a dress to wear for someone else.”
“Ah, yes,” I said, although I had a feeling I shouldn’t be agreeing to that statement.
She regarded me coolly.
“I’m taking the rest of the day off. I have things to do. Alone.”
So, no dress shopping, then. At least not with me.
“Sure.”
She swept by me without another word.
I sat, staring at the table, Air Supply lamenting some sad song in the background. I resisted the urge to pitch my mug at the computer to shut it off.
That would only make Shelby angrier.
Bloody hell. That went well. Maybe offering to buy a woman a dress to wear—to go on a date with another man—was against the rules.
Dammit. I needed to get my hands on that rule book and save myself a lot of grief.
Now the ache in my stomach was a huge, tight knot, and the only person who could make it feel better was so angry I couldn’t ask her to help me.
Somehow when I woke up, I’d known this day was going to be crap.
I was right.
I decided the best, most mature course of action was avoidance.
At all costs. Give Shelby a chance to cool down.
I heard her moving around upstairs, so I ran to my room, grabbed my gym bag, and left the house.
I wasn’t sure my trainer got over the shock I’d voluntarily appeared for one of his torture sessions. He was especially cruel and relentless today, reminding me why I avoided going to the gym. By the end of his session, I was a shaking, sweat-soaked mess. I hit the shower, groaning as the hot water poured off my shoulders and down my aching back and legs.
I should have snuck off to a movie.
I felt better when I left the gym, and even better once I stuffed an In-N-Out burger down my throat, hiding my face under a baseball hat and sunglasses as I went to the drive-through. I was good and didn’t get any fries, but I couldn’t resist the milk shake. Then I stalled for more time and
stopped by my favorite music shop. It was small and off the beaten track, so I knew I was safe. They were a throwback and still stocked actual music and movies, and I killed some time browsing through CDs and DVDs for a while. I bought a bunch of new selections, some of which I knew Shelby would enjoy. We liked the classics and ones you couldn’t find on Netflix, so I liked to keep them on hand. We’d watch them when she’d forgiven me.
Because she would forgive me. She had to.
Another thought occurred to me, which put a damper on my burgeoning hopes.
What if she and Douglas hit it off so well that she spends all her free time with him instead of me? I mean, how could he resist her?
“Hey, Liam, you okay, man?”
I looked up at the voice interrupting my thoughts. Ron was staring at me, concerned, and I realized I was standing there, rubbing my chest at the strange ache that had formed in it. I shook my head to clear it. “Yeah, I’m good.”
I took my purchases to the counter and paid for them, then bravely headed for home.
After dropping my gym bag in the laundry room, I walked into the kitchen, the room strangely quiet without Shelby’s music and presence filling it. I went to the den and unloaded the movies and music, then sat at my desk. I could hear Shelby upstairs, the occasional sound letting me know she was still home. I glanced at my watch, seeing it was almost six, which I thought was the time she said she was leaving. I remained seated, unsure what to do.
Should I go find her and apologize?
Should I stay here and let her leave, so she didn’t go out upset?
Would she let me apologize?
Should I know why I was apologizing?
I heard Shelby’s footsteps on the stairs and glanced around, panicked. I didn’t want her coming in and finding me mooning about. I grabbed the script I’d been looking at the day before and slouched down in my chair like I was absorbed in the words in front of me. A few minutes later, I heard her voice. “Liam.”
I glanced up, hoping to appear casual. “Hey, Shelby.”
“I’m off in a few minutes. Your dinner is in the kitchen.” She hesitated, then smiled softly. “And, Liam?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s usually easier to read the script when it isn’t upside down.”
I looked at the script in confusion. “Huh. I thought it was just badly written.”
She chuckled, but the sound was sad. “Have a good night.” Turning, she walked away.
I sat stock-still, staring after her retreating form for a moment.
She was angry with me, and still she made me dinner. She came and wished me a good evening. She even teased me. She wasn’t ready to say it, but I was forgiven.
I couldn’t let her go without saying something.
I shot out of my chair, calling her name. She stopped in the hall and turned to look at me as I raced toward her. My breath caught in my throat as I got a look at her. She was in a deep-purple-colored blouse and a black skirt that was all jagged and sexy, swirling around her ankles. Her hair was up, pieces of it hanging in curls over her shoulders, and she looked, well, amazing.
Bloody amazing.
I skidded to a stop in front of her.
“I’m sorry.”
She held up her hand. “It’s fine, Liam. I’m sorry as well. I overreacted. I know you were just trying to be nice.”
“You look amazing. Beautiful. Douglas is a lucky man.”
She blushed, and it took all I had not to lift my hand and run the tips of my fingers over her cheek to feel the heat beneath her skin. I swallowed hard. “Thanks for dinner.”
She nodded and turned away again.
Suddenly, I couldn’t bear the thought of her walking away. “Nice shoes,” I called out.
She winked over her shoulder. “Nice and flat. I don’t think Douglas would be willing to rub my feet so soon in our relationship.”
My heart stuttered at those words. I didn’t want him touching her feet. Or any other part of her.
“Wait. Is Douglas picking you up?”
She paused at the door. “No, I’m meeting him.”
I stepped forward, frowning. “Not much of a date. He should pick you up.”
She wrapped a silky shawl around her shoulders. “It was what I wanted.”
“I’m here if you need me.”
“I know. Goodnight, Liam.”
It was hard to get the word out. “Goodnight.”
I stared at the door long after she had left.
But she didn’t come back.
An hour later and after downing a rather large glass of whiskey, I felt the stirrings of hunger. I had eaten a light lunch after all. A single burger and a shake. I slapped my forehead. I forgot to tell Shelby that—she’d be proud. Picking up my phone, I texted her.
Liam: Hey—I forgot to tell you something.
Shelby: ?
Liam: I went to In-N-Out. Only had one burger and a shake. Proud?
I waited patiently for her reply. No doubt I had blown her away with my restraint.
Shelby: I’ll alert the media. Go away.
I chuckled. She was impressed. I was sure she was just being polite.
I made my way to the kitchen and opened the fridge door, pulling out the plate Shelby had left me. I grinned when I saw my favorite turkey sandwiches waiting for me. I took the plate and another whiskey into the den and sat at my desk, downing the whiskey first. I ate half a sandwich and paused. Something was missing. I looked at the plate, realizing there were no pickles. Shelby always gave me pickles with my sandwich. I loved pickles. I went back to the kitchen and opened all the cupboards, searching. No pickles.
Dammit.
I returned to the den and picked up the other half, chewing away thoughtfully, wondering where Shelby would keep the pickles.
Without thinking if it was a good idea, I shot off a quick text.
Liam: I think you forgot something.
Her reply was fast.
Shelby: I think you should forget my number for the next few hours.
My eyebrows shot up. That was rather rude. I only had a question. I glanced at my sandwich. I needed to find those pickles, and I had no idea which cupboard she kept them in. I had looked in all of them.
Oh well, only one way to find out. Since I wasn’t allowed to text, I called.
She answered before the second ring, her voice concerned. “Liam?”
“Hey.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t find the pickles.”
“What?”
“The pickles,” I explained. “You always give me pickles with my sandwich.”
“I don’t understand.”
She didn’t understand? I knew I was well on my way to getting drunk, but how much had she had to drink?
“I want pickles, Shelby,” I stated slowly. “You always give me pickles with my sandwiches.”
There was a brief silence. “Liam, are you ill?”
I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it. She must be drunk.
What kind of question was that? Obviously if I were ill, I wouldn’t be asking for pickles, would I?
I brought the phone back to my ear. “No.”
“Is the house on fire?”
Bloody hell. If the house were on fire would I be calmly asking for pickles?
She was drunk. An hour into her date, Douglas had her bladdered. That wanker.
“No.”
“Unless one of those two things occur, don’t call me again.” Her voice lowered to almost a hiss. “I’m on a date, for God’s sake.”
Then she hung up on me, leaving me blinking into the dead phone.
Huh. Another rule, it would seem. No calls about pickles.
Except now, I was worried; if she was drinking, she shouldn’t be driving. I texted her again. It wasn’t about pickles, so it had to be acceptable.
Liam: I’ll pick you up if you’re too drunk to drive.
Then I looked at my empty glass and realized I
probably couldn’t drive. I sent another message.
Liam: Or send a car for you.
Her reply was swift.
Shelby: I think you’re the drunk one. I am turning my phone off now. DATE, Liam. I am NOT drunk—I am on a DATE!
Dammit, how did she know I was drunk?
I sulked a bit as I picked up my sandwich. I was just trying to help. And the sandwich wasn’t the same without pickles. I grabbed my phone again and called Everett.
He answered, sounding impatient. “What, Liam?”
“Hey.”
“What do you need?”
“Do you have any idea where Shelby would keep the pickles?”
“What? How the hell would I know that?”
“She’s your sister.”
“We don’t often discuss pickles, Liam.”
I could hear noise in the background, the clink of china and the sound of music. “Where are you?”
“I’m out.”
“Out where?”
His voice lowered. “I’m on a date. Which you are interrupting.”
Bloody hell. Was everyone out on a date tonight but me?
“Are you out with Shelby and Douglas? Are you doubling?”
“What? Shelby is out on a date? With Douglas?” His voice was shocked.
Bollocks. He didn’t know. Shelby hadn’t told him, and now I had ratted her out.
“Never mind,” I mumbled. “I’ll eat the sandwich without pickles. Have a good night.”
“Don’t hang up, Liam.”
I did.
Then I turned off the phone.
Shelby was gonna be pissed with me. Again.
I ate my sandwiches, without pickles, and carried my plate back to the kitchen. I grabbed the bottle of whiskey to save myself the trip back. I had a feeling it was gonna be one of those nights.
For some reason, I walked around the house, pausing in the different rooms, looking around, not sure what I was searching for but unable to settle. I even ended up outside Shelby’s bedroom door. I flicked on the light, looking around her room, but not entering. Its warm colors and light furniture suited her well. I knew she was comfortable there, and I wanted her to be. I wanted her to feel at home. I stood looking for a while, feeling closer to her somehow, before shutting off the light and turning away. Finally, I ended up back in the den and at the desk. I sat down heavily and stared at the wall, not understanding the strange feelings or the restless, uneasy twinges I kept having.
Changing Roles Page 7