Spring Romance: NINE Happily Ever Afters

by Tessa Bailey

  Even though her enthusiasm was adorable, Rory encountered a kick of unease. He’d never been in a serious relationship, but he’d gone out with a lot of different kinds of girls…once. There wasn’t much that could intimidate him. He’d grown up poor and served hard time. But people with book smarts? Yeah, he had the look memorized. That look. The one that said they pegged him as being uneducated with nothing in his future but answering to someone else and making a working man’s salary for it.

  On those extremely rare occasions Rory spent time with a book-smart girl, he didn’t really give a shit when she gave him the look. The one that said, I’m going to enjoy tonight and never tell a single one of my friends about it. What did he care? He wasn’t exactly planning on telling anyone, either. It was just a basic need being met. A diversion.

  Olive didn’t seem like a diversion. Not even a little bit.

  He really didn’t want her to give him the look.

  “Uh, right.” Rory winked at Olive, handed her the book and backed in the direction of the beach. “Look, no more walking without looking where you’re going, all right, sunbeam?”

  Her smile dropped.

  “Don’t study too hard,” he said, punching the crosswalk button. Damn, walking away from a girl wasn’t supposed to be hard, was it? His stomach felt like two stones grinding together. When he glanced back, Olive took a step toward him, then changed her mind and retreated. With a weird tightening in his throat, Rory faced the street again. The light changed and Rory started to cross—

  “Wait!”

  Chapter Three

  Too bad you couldn’t edit real life.

  Because she’d definitely just yelled, “Wait!”

  At the hottest guy she’d ever seen in person. A hot guy who’d saved her life.

  Good thing she’d sounded extra desperate.

  Olive Cunningham tried not to cringe at the note of desperation hanging in the warm summer air and watched Rory slow to a stop, glancing back at her over his muscular shoulder. Wariness danced in eyes she knew were translucent green and hardened the strong lines of his back, reminding her of an unbroken stallion. What had she said to make him throw up his guard? Olive was positive it could have been any number of things. Having been home schooled straight through the twelfth grade, her experience with the opposite sex was limited to neighborhood boys and the ones she read about in books.

  When it came time for her to start dating, she’d envisioned herself with a starter boyfriend. Someone non-threatening and endearingly awkward who was still developing the fashion sense that would stay with him throughout adulthood. Rory was the least awkward human being she’d ever encountered. His dark brown hair was finger brushed and somehow perfect, offset by his cut jaw and the beginning shadow of scruff. He was smooth and he lived inside his skin like a worn-in pair of jeans. Not a starter boyfriend. Not a boy anything.

  Sexual, bold, protective, funny. A man.

  A man with a black eye. And like, twenty-six tattoos, not that she’d tried to count.

  His sigh carried on the breeze as he returned to the sidewalk, planting his big hands on narrow hips. “Yeah, sunbeam?”

  Don’t just stand here and moon over him giving you a nickname. Think fast. “Public access television,” she blurted. “Rainstorms, Sting, callig­raphy…milk­shakes.”

  He raised a dark eyebrow.

  “You asked me what else I have a thing for,” Olive explained, clutching the book to her chest. When his mouth spread into a smile, she realized he had full, beautiful lips. Attached to his angular face, they made him look like an angel who’d spent some time in hell.

  “Sting? Isn’t he a little before your time?”

  “That’s the great thing about music. When you discover it for the first time, it might as well be brand new.” Since he didn’t seem inclined to come any closer, even though they’d practically kissed a few minutes ago, Olive braved up and took a few steps in Rory’s direction. Watched him plant his tongue against the inside of his cheek and breathe slowly. “If I ask what you have a thing for, will I regret it?”

  Rory didn’t respond. He was probably wondering why some random chick was on a mission to make him late for work. Honestly, she was pretty impressed by her own bravery. She’d only been living on her own in Long Beach for a week. In that time, she’d learned all about ordering takeout online, assembled a butt load of furniture and explored enough of the town to go out for a walk without getting lost. Apparently she hadn’t quite conquered the ability to avoid death by speeding bus. Baby steps.

  Everything she’d done since arriving from Oklahoma had seemed small. A tiny tick toward being a fully independent adult, out from under the thumb of her parents. Maybe they’d been more like leaps, though, because she was definitely flirting a little bit with a sexy lifeguard with no clue if she was doing it correctly.

  The longer Rory went without answering, though, the more her confidence started to wane. She wasn’t his type. He had a girlfriend. She’d shown too much interest. It could have been any number of things that made him back off. Best to chalk this conversation up to a practice run and go back to reading. While stationary this time.

  “Okay, um…” She shrugged her left shoulder. “Have a good day at work. Thanks again for preventing my early demise…”

  Olive trailed off as Rory relieved her of the book, tucked it under his arm and presented his hand. “Milkshakes, right? I got you.”

  “Wait. What?”

  “We’re going to get a milkshake.” They both watched closely as he wove their fingers together and sparks tickled the length of Olive’s arm. “And I’m carrying your books for you while we talk about Sting. We’ve been transported back to another time and place.”

  “Aren’t you going to be late for work?”

  “We’ll drink fast. Come on.”

  Just like that, Olive Cunningham of Muskogee, Oklahoma was being pulled along National Boulevard by a man who oozed excitement…and some definite danger. Shouldn’t she be more cautious? Yes. Certainly. But why would this man save her life only to kill her? He’d been the one to walk away, too. She’d called him back. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to have a milkshake with him in public in broad daylight.

  Reassured, Olive allowed her own excitement to take flight. She watched the flex of his back and triceps as they walked, puzzled over the speculative glances he threw at her over his shoulder. Overall, though, she was relieved they hadn’t parted ways back at the intersection. Something told her she wouldn’t have put Rory from her mind easily at all.

  They had only been walking for a few minutes when Rory pulled Olive to a stop in front of Mike’s Shakes. As she’d seen earlier during her internet search, the old-fashioned sign was faded, the windows were wallpapered in advertisements for local music gigs and milkshake specials. Rory opened the door to the sound of a tinkling bell, as if escorting her into a palace.

  “After you.”

  “Thanks,” she murmured, passing beneath his arm and feeling his breath on her temple. “Th-this is actually where I’m meeting my study date.”

  “Yeah?”

  She hummed. “It’s my first time here, though.”

  As always, when about to try something new or perform an out-of-the-ordinary activity, Olive heard her mother’s voice in her ear. Hello, YouTubers! Today we’re at Mike’s Milkshakes celebrating three million subscribers. Comment down below with your favorite milkshake flavor! Don’t forget to hit the like button.

  Olive gave a rapid headshake, trying to jostle the voice free. How long would she turn even the most basic event into a YouTube video?

  Rory, still holding her hand, led her to one of the few booths positioned in front of the window, sliding into the booth beside her. On the same side. He stretched his arm along the back of the seat as easy as breathing, and within those close quarters, his scent hit her stronger than it had outside. Menthol shaving cream, coffee, the faint smell of something sharp.

  “At least wait until after we o
rder to sniff me.”

  “Oh God.” She faced forward in a snap. “I didn’t realize I was doing it.”

  The tan column of his neck flexed as he laughed. “My turn now,” he said, sobering, leaning in. “Fair is fair.”

  The tip of Rory’s nose grazed her neck and Olive’s thighs audibly smacked together, squeezing, her lips popping open on a gasp as he breathed deeply in the space above her pulse. What was happening to her? Had this man reached inside her and found an on switch for her sex drive? As recently as this morning, she’d almost had to talk herself into being horny and exploring her urges, because grown women were supposed to be. Thoughts, fantasies, book scenes inspired her. Never someone in the flesh. Live and in person.

  Rory pulled back and locked glazed eyes on her, their mouths mere inches apart. “Jesus Christ. Barely touched you. Wonder what that body would do if I got my hands and mouth on it?”

  Faster than lightning, the seam of Olive’s shorts became damp, uncomfortable. Rory’s breaths came faster against her lips. They were going to kiss, right here in this milkshake shop—and even with precious little kissing experience, she wondered if they’d be able to stop.

  “All right, you two,” the waiter groused from behind Rory. “Ain’t it a little early for this?”

  Rory’s expression went from hot to cold so fast, Olive shivered. A muscle jumped in his cheek as he sat up straighter and slowly turned to face the waiter, hitting him with a stony look. “I don’t know.” His long fingers flexed on the table top, his fist coming down hard on the surface. Whap. “Is it?”

  The waiter was suddenly fascinated by his order pad. “It’s all good, man. Sorry. What can I bring you?”

  Another handful of seconds passed before Rory answered, the tension building further in the small restaurant. “Whatever your three most popular flavors are,” he said in a low voice. “We’ll take those.”

  “You got it.”

  Olive didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until the waiter loped off, disappearing through the swinging doors into the kitchen. She let it out silently, her awareness of Rory’s air of danger bigger and more unavoidable than before. What in the world had just happened? This man who’d pulled her out of the path of oncoming traffic seemed capable of mowing people down just as handily. As if reading her mind, Rory shook his head. “You’re one of the smart ones, Olive,” he said, pronouncing smart like smahht. “You weren’t supposed to call me back.”

  Her pulse skipped as she processed that. “You were trying to protect me from yourself?” He searched her face but didn’t answer. “Do I need protecting?”

  “God, no, sunbeam. Not from me,” he rasped, frustration shifting his body in the seat. “Look, you asked me if you’d regret it. Finding out what I have a thing for. The answer is yes.” He tilted his face toward the light, giving her a better view of his damaged eye. “Ask me how I got this.”

  It was so hard not to follow that command, considering she’d been dying to know the source of his injury since they’d crossed paths. She didn’t want to hear the answer now, though. Not when he clearly thought it was going to be a deal breaker. “Why don’t you just tell me when you’re ready?”

  That caught him off guard, but he recovered fast. “I was out being a fucking idiot. Looking for…” He trailed off, as if surprised by his own words. “I look for the fights. I go out and find them.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” He tapped a fist on the table. “And it doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t be around it. You’re the type of girl who’d realize it sooner than later, so I beat you to the punch.” The expression he turned on her was almost accusatory. “Turns out, it’s not that easy to walk away from you.”

  The waiter appeared at the side of the table with a tray, moving their milkshake trio one by one in front of them and setting down straws. In Olive’s periphery, she could see the waiter hovering as if wanting to ask if they needed anything else, but she couldn’t manage to rip her attention off of Rory and the waiter eventually left. “I didn’t want you to walk away.”

  He laughed under his breath. “You going to be trouble for me, sunbeam?”

  “Why don’t we just drink milkshakes?”

  Still looking troubled, Rory unwrapped three straws and stuck them into their own respective milkshakes. “Okay, let’s pick our favorite. You first.”

  “Wait, no.” Olive’s spine went ramrod straight. “This feels way too much like a YouTube channel challenge.”

  “I don’t know what any of that means, but it sounds serious.”

  “Oh, you have no idea. Subscribers hang in the balance.” When his confusion demanded an explanation, she blew out a long breath. “I moved here from Oklahoma a week ago.”

  “That explains the cute accent.”

  “I don’t have an accent. You do.”

  “Agree to disagree.” He picked up the chocolate milkshake, his fingers sliding through the condensation on the glass as he gripped it, held the straw to her bottom lip. “Taste, Olive.”

  Her thighs threatened to smack together again, but she narrowly avoided the action, drinking deeply of the thick, delicious shake, rich cocoa waking up her taste buds and making them sing. All the while, Rory’s gaze tracked a path from her lips to the hollow of her throat and back. “It’s amazing,” she managed, letting the straw go. “And this is nothing like a challenge.”

  “Good.” He set the shake down with a smirk. “I think.”

  Olive picked up the next shake—mint chip—took a sip and handed it to Rory, so he could do the same. “If you know nothing about the YouTube world, this is all going to sound utterly crazy. But here goes. When I was thirteen, my parents started a YouTube channel. Meet the Cunninghams. They filmed me and my siblings doing everything, during most of our waking hours. Getting ready for school, eating in restaurants, making slime—”

  “What? Why?”

  “It’s a thing.” Knowing uncomfortable feelings were about to surround her like cloud cover, she swapped mint chip back for classic chocolate. “People watch. Every day. They subscribe to our family.” She ran her finger vertically through the fogged glass. “But it’s the sitcom curse, you know? When kids hit a certain age, they kind of run their course. So the videos became mostly about my little brother and sister, Henderson and Pearl.” She forced a smile onto her face. “Eight million subscribers at last count, though. That’s…really impressive.”

  Rory had been sitting with the straw poised in front of his mouth for her entire explanation. “You said they filmed most of your waking hours. After they took you out of the picture, they kept filming your brother and sister?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you weren’t in the videos anymore, where did you go?”

  Oh wow. She’d severely underestimated what it would be like to tell someone out loud that she’d essentially been fired from her own family for getting older. “In my room.” She reached for the third shake—ugh, pina colada? Really? “I stayed out of the way.”

  “And they let you? They wanted that?” Her silence served as an affirmative and Rory’s outrage was palpable. “That’s extremely fucked up, sunbeam.”

  “It is, a little.” She sipped the pina colada even though it was gross. “Maybe a lot.”

  He leaned in and pressed his lips to her cheek. “They shouldn’t have done that to you. I met you fifteen minutes ago and I know you don’t deserve that.”

  “Thanks,” she whispered, trying not to be obvious about inhaling shaving cream smell.

  “That must have been a while ago…right?” Rory asked, pulling back and narrowing his eyes. “You said you’ve been here a week. Where were you before Long Beach?”

  “Living with my parents.”

  He set down the milkshake slowly. “Hold up, Olive. How old are you?”

  Uh oh. Was this going to be an issue? “Eighteen.”

  “Christ.” He dragged both hands down his face. “That’s young.”

  Olive re
ared back. “I’m renting my own apartment. My shower curtain matches my towels. There are serious adult decisions being made here.” Her comeback earned her a quirked male smile and she couldn’t help but return it. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-four.” He seemed to be chewing glass. “How do you have your own place at eighteen? Long Beach isn’t cheap, especially in the summer time.”

  She hesitated a moment. “The thing about eight million subscribers…it means advertisers will pay a ton to run ads on your channel…”

  He leaned away. “So you’re not only young and smart, you’re a rich girl.”

  “Hey, I earned it,” she deadpanned. “Sliming ain’t easy.”

  “Olive,” he groaned. “Please stop being so fucking cute.”

  Her stomach flipped. “Because you still want to walk away?”

  “I shouldn’t have to. You should be running toward something better.” Rory’s expression was the epitome of conflicted, but he was saved from having to elaborate when the bell dinged over the door and a girl Olive recognized walked into Mike’s Shakes. She looked around at the ancient décor and made a face, hefting her backpack higher on her shoulders. When Leanne spotted her, she waved. Olive’s arm felt like lead, but she managed to lift it and return the greeting.

  “Oh, um. My study date is here.”

  Rory hadn’t glanced once at the newcomer, continuing to study her face. “I have to get to work, anyway.”

  “Okay,” she murmured, reaching into her pocket for money. “Let me help pay—”

  He caught her wrist. “On me, sunbeam.”

  Leanne slid into the booth across from them slowly and Olive didn’t even need to glance over to know her study partner was watching with rapt interest. “H-hey Olive. I brought the Perspectives and Connections book you left in my car on Thursday.”