Roadside Assistance

by Marie Harte

  That earned a laugh from them both. Before Sanders could draw her into conversation, she left them to return to the back, where she planned to try to get some work done away from temptation. And she didn’t mean the food.

  After half an hour dithering online, looking at memes on Facebook, she gave her spreadsheets a disinterested glance and yawned. It had just passed noon, and by the sounds in the shop, the crowd continued to remain steady.

  She’d finally delved into progress on a small candy store in Issaquah she’d invested in when someone knocked at the door.

  “Yes?” She didn’t glance up, finishing her calculations. Awesome. They’d finally turned a profit.

  “So you busy?”

  Having expected Gino or Nell, she jerked her head up to see Foley Sanders occupying her doorway. “Um, what?”

  He tucked his hands into his front pockets, filling out a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt like the clothes had been made just for him. “I really am sorry about yesterday.” He grimaced. “And about Sam.”

  She grinned. “Yesterday’s over. And Sam is fine. I appreciate honesty.”

  “You do?”

  “Actually, yes. Why? Does that surprise you?”

  “Not really.” The look on his face unnerved her, because she couldn’t read him. “You seem like a smart woman. I already know you’re not afraid of confrontation.”

  “True enough.” Her palms felt sweaty. Waiting for him to get to the point while trying to seem blasé took energy. Man, he was good-looking. And way out of her league.

  “So you want honesty. Okay. You’re beautiful. I want to go out with you. How does dinner sound?”

  She blinked. Talk about direct. On the one hand, she liked him the more for it. On the other, now she had to respond in kind. “I thought I told you yesterday I don’t date.”

  “I didn’t ask for a date. I asked you out to dinner. I don’t see why we can’t be friends who happen to eat together.”

  He looked awkward, standing in an odd way. “Are you hunching your shoulders for some reason?”

  “Do I look smaller? Less threatening? Sam said you’re probably scared of me, so I’m trying to look easygoing.” He sighed and straightened to his full height.

  She snorted. “Yeah, right. And for the record, I’m not scared of you. I just don’t know what you want. I told you before. I’m not into one-night stands. Or sex of any kind.”

  “Now that’s just a shame, but okay. I get it. Look, I’m not into forcing women into anything.” He shrugged. “Frankly, I don’t have to.”

  “Nice ego you have there.”

  “Hey, you want honesty. There it is. I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot yesterday.”

  Shoot. He sounded sincere. Nothing cut through her defenses faster than a real apology. It took a person of worth to recognize his or her fault and atone. Especially when she’d been the one with the “attitude,” as Sam had said.

  Her cheeks heated. “I am too. But I don’t want to lead you on in any way. No sex. You want to be friends. That’s what you’re saying.”

  “I’d like a lot more than friendship. But if friendship is all you’re offering right now, sure, why not? Never hurts to have a friend who makes killer cocoa and muffins.”

  She had to hand it to him. Despite not looking the least bit smaller or less threatening, he’d disarmed her. “How about lunch next week instead of dinner?”

  “Lunch works. And I understand. Seriously. No sex, no hint of sex, not even a glimmer of it on the horizon.”

  She wished he’d stop saying “sex,” because she kept envisioning him without his clothes on. In bed. Right next to her. So much for her bid for celibacy.

  Cyn cleared her throat. “Right. Okay. Lunch. And we’ll go dutch.”

  “My treat. I’ll probably end up annoying you, so at least if I’m buying, you’ll feel like you have to be nicer than normal to me.” His sly grin made the temperature in the room rise. “I know it’s tough. But I’ll grow on you.”

  “Like mold?”

  “I prefer to think of myself as a creeping vine. And hey, if after lunch you haven’t changed your mind about jumping my bones, at least you’ll like me by then. I’m a charming guy.”

  She had to a laugh. “Persistent and honest. Okay. Lunch it is.”

  He winked. “Talk to you next week, Cyn.” Sanders turned on his heel and left.

  Cyn stared blankly at her monitor until Gino interrupted with a question about their new scones’ ingredients. Pulled back into reality, she dealt with allergy issues and a few finicky customers, all the while wondering if she was woman enough to withstand Foley Sanders’s lethal charm.

  * * *

  The following Tuesday afternoon, Cyn sat across from Foley—she couldn’t very well keep thinking of him as Sanders now that he’d insisted on paying for her lunch—at a small café in Fremont. Foley had asked her to pick the place, and considering he planned to pay for it, she’d chosen a decent, normally priced café she usually visited when she wanted a tasty yet healthy meal.

  “I’ve been here before.” Foley smiled at her across the small table, which felt smaller by the moment.

  If he shifted his knee, they’d touch.

  “Me too. I come here when I can. I like the food.”

  “Yeah.” He stared at her. “You always look pretty.”

  She flushed. “Uh, thanks.” She sipped her water, hoping he didn’t realize she’d taken extra care with her appearance today. Jeans and a sweater. Nothing fancy, though she’d often been told the deep burgundy weave complemented her coloring. “So…”

  “So…” He grinned. “Funny seeing you without something to say.”

  “Hey. You’re the one who wanted lunch. Talk.”

  He seemed pleased. “You first. Tell me about yourself.”

  “What’s there to tell?”

  “How come you’re not already married with kids?”

  She paused, but he didn’t seem to realize his rudeness. “Men are assholes. Why aren’t you married with kids?”

  “I scare people.” He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a big guy, and I’m not as smooth as some guys out there. So, back to your ‘men are assholes’ comment. Explain that.”

  “Seriously? You don’t think that’s a little personal?”

  “Sure it is. But I want to know about you. Hey, you’re the one who wanted honesty.”

  She did. Kind of. “You’re a very literal guy, aren’t you?”

  He laughed. “Pretty much. I don’t like games.” His grin faded. “Last woman I dated seriously confused me. We agreed to be casual, then, because I followed her rules, I was the bad guy.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. I mean, you say up front what’s what, then you’re damned because of it. What’s the deal with women who do that?”

  “Not knowing the specifics, I can’t say. But maybe she thought you wanted something else.”

  “I was pretty clear on what I wanted.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  He raised a brow. “I’m detecting a judgmental tone. Hmm.”

  She hated that she now felt like her mother. “Sorry. It’s just… Sometimes guys think they’re saying one thing, but they’re actually saying another.” She frowned. “My ex kept trying to change me. Hey, I am what I am. You don’t like it, don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out.”

  Foley nodded. “Yeah, that. Same here. So this chick I’m talking about. I just wanted to be friends with her. Well, friends with benefits. I told her that—in those exact words. She wanted the same thing, or so she said. Next thing I know, she’s wanting to hang out all the time and going on and on about babies.” He paused. “Far as I know, FWB stands for Friends With Benefits, not Friends With Babies.”

  She felt for him and tried not to laugh. Friends With Babies. Yik
es.

  “I’m thirty-three. Old enough to start thinking about kids, I guess. But I’d kind of like to have them with someone I’m serious about, you know?” he said.

  “I get it.”

  “As if the baby lady wasn’t bad enough, my mother is constantly on my ass about grandkids. Jesus, it’s not like I have an expiration date. Or do I?”

  She laughed with him. Their food came, and they ate while agreeing about the complexities of dating.

  “But since we’re just gonna be friends and all,” Foley interjected, “I want to know about you.”

  “What about me?”

  “Just pick a topic and run with it. Don’t be difficult, Red.”

  “Red? Really? I’ve been called so many nicknames over the years. Red is the most unoriginal I can think of.”

  Foley frowned. “So Firecrotch would be better?”

  She’d been taking a drink and had to swallow, so as not to choke, and still ended up coughing.

  After shoving her water at her, he watched with concern as she cleared her throat. “Ah, so that’s a no on Firecrotch.”

  She coughed and shook her head. “That’s not only offensive, it’s sexist.”

  “How so? A dude can be a firecrotch. I mean, technically, he’s got hair—”

  “No. Okay? Just, no.” She finally caught her breath and glared. “Hell, Foley. Warn a girl next time.”

  He smirked. “Sorry.”

  “No you’re not.”

  “If you’d just tell me a little bit about yourself, I’d probably be on my best behavior.”

  The twinkle in his eyes drew her. Handsome, funny, and naughty. She was liking him more and more—against her better judgment. Slowly but surely, her desire to remain free of male entanglements was shifting in favor of giving Foley a chance. She liked the guy, and she hadn’t genuinely liked anyone of the male species—not a relative—since her ex.

  “Fine,” she gave in. “I’m thirty-four and come from an overbearing Italian family. I co-own the bakery with my brother and Nina. Recently bought into it since I decided to move back to town. I also invest in other smaller companies, which I do smartly thanks to a business degree I earned from the University of Washington.”

  “An intelligent woman. Nice. What else?”

  “What else?” His approval warmed her. A lot of guys seemed to be put off by her admission of college and financial success. “Um, well. I’ve dated my share of men, but nothing ever clicked.”

  “Men are assholes. I heard you before.”

  “About time.”

  He grinned. “No wild stories about your exes?”

  “That would take us way past lunch.”

  “I feel you.” He took a drink and pushed his empty plate away. “What about your family?”

  “We’re close, and we all live in town.” Not so close to her mother, but she refused to go into that with him. “You’ve met Matt and Nina, and they have two boys I’m crazy about. My nephews are a handful. Then there’s my mom and dad. I have a bunch of relatives in the Portland area too, but we only gather for reunions or major life events. Graduations, stuff like that. And that’s all there is to know about me.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Why?”

  “Suspicious much?” He sighed. “I’m curious. I’m not asking for an address. Just a general location.”

  “North Beacon Hill.”

  He nodded, looking pleased. “Me too. My mom manages properties, and she got me and Sam a great town house.”

  Time to learn about him. “You and Sam live together?”

  “Yep. He’s as tight as a brother can be, even if we’re not biologically related.”

  “And? Keep going.” She pushed aside her empty plate. “You wanted to learn about me, now it’s your turn.”

  “I knew you’d be interested.” He grinned.

  She rolled her eyes. “Well?”

  He shrugged. “My mom and I are tight. My dad died when I was a kid. Now it’s just me and her and Sam.” He frowned. “And some guy she’s apparently interested in.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, some dentist. She says he’s a decent guy. But we’ll see.”

  Protective of his mother. She liked that. “No ex-wives? Clingy girlfriends?”

  “Nope.” He stared into her eyes. “I’m all yours.”

  “Friends, remember?”

  “Sure. I’m all yours…as a friend.”

  He continued to just stare at her, making the temperature rise. Somehow he made her feel indecent in a sweater that covered her from chin to waist. She cleared her throat. “What about work? You’re a mechanic, right?”

  “Yeah. I’ve had my share of schooling, for tech though. Not business. Emissions, A/C, trade stuff. I love my job. Fixing things, especially cars, that’s my wheelhouse.”

  “Nice to do what you love.”

  “I know.” He nodded. “Hmm. What else?”

  “How long have you worked for Del?”

  “I’ve worked for Liam for four years.” He leaned back from his chair and linked his hands behind his head. “Del joined him as a partner a couple years ago. She’s great, even if she is a hard-ass. I like her.”

  “I don’t know her well, but Nina and Matt speak highly of her.”

  “She’s good people. All the guys are, really. We went through some bumpy roads with the crew until Del and Liam weeded the losers out. Now it’s Johnny, me, Sam, and Lou. Us and the Websters. We’re a good crew.”

  “Sounds like it.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, but she didn’t find it uncomfortable. Foley was so much more than she’d expected.

  He glanced at her plate. “You sure put it away.”

  She followed his gaze, confused. “Excuse me?”

  “Your food. I like that.”

  She went from liking him to being unsure. It was like Jon, Mitch, Mike, all of them all over again.

  “You like that I eat my food?” Was this some weird way of mentioning her weight? Men hoping for a chance with her typically waited until they’d at least slept with her before trying to slim her down.

  “Yeah.” He dropped his hands to the table. “Some women pick at their food like rabbits—ordering salads and skimping on eating. Like faking it’s going to impress me.” He huffed. “I like a real woman. You eat meat and bread and don’t skimp on an appetite. I like your size.” His gaze wandered over her. “You’re friggin’ hot.”

  Cyn blinked. Her size? He was really going there on the first date? “So you’re saying I’m big, and you like that I’m fat?”

  He finally looked up from her breasts, apparently realizing she didn’t sound thrilled with him. “Huh? You’re not fat.”

  “Thanks for that.” Now she felt embarrassed, because she’d drawn attention to her size—which didn’t need to be pointed out to anyone with a pair of eyes.

  “I mean, you’re tall. Stacked. A big girl. You have meat on your bones. Something to hold on to.”

  Oh hell. She’d found a guy who seemed somewhat decent, one she wouldn’t mind dating even. But instead of just liking her for her personality, he wanted her because of her assumed fat rolls. A chubby-chaser. Joy. Could she just once find a guy who’d look into her eyes, think her pretty enough to want to get to know better, then fall for what was inside the outer package?

  “Foley, thanks for the meal, but I’m done.”

  “No dessert?”

  “I think this ‘big girl’ ate enough, don’t you?”

  He groaned and closed his eyes. “I knew I’d say something stupid. Come on. You’re supposed to forgive me for being an idiot, right? I think you’re hot as hell. You have to know you’re sexy, pretty, built—”

  “Like a tank of Jell-O. Thanks so much.”

  “Cyn—”
>
  “I think it’s great you’re into big girls,” she told him, not wanting to be a complete bitch again. She liked the fact that there were men in the world who saw a different standard of beauty in women than what the magazines advertised. All her previous boyfriends had wanted to change her. Foley didn’t seem to want that, yet instead of feeling flattered, she felt…disappointed.

  Damn it, she was more than numbers on a scale.

  He looked embarrassed, and she felt worse, because he shouldn’t be shamed for being attracted to a type. “I’m not into—”

  “Big girls need love too.” She meant that. But just once she wanted to be desired for her sparkling wit, her laugh, her opinions. “But I’m more than a big girl. Thanks for lunch.”

  Cyn left before she succumbed to the burning in her eyes.

  She’d had her share of boyfriends throughout the years. She’d dieted, exercised, and starved herself until she’d lost weight to please them. But she’d never been and would never be thin or small. A six-foot-tall woman, she’d last fit into a size fourteen in high school.

  Men liked her face and her breasts. They loved her hair. But they seemed to differ when it came to her body. They either wanted her thinner or more athletic, but never as she was. Foley, at least, had been honest.

  Hell, she’d told him she hadn’t wanted a relationship. So why did his attitude make her feel bad? They could be friends. No problem.

  She left in her car, pleased she’d insisted on them driving separately.

  Yeah, she and Foley could be friends—distant friends.

  Time to get back to work and focus on what really mattered. Making a living so she could retire in peace in another thirty-plus years—alone and lonely, with no one but her imaginary cats to keep her company.

  * * *

  Foley didn’t know how he’d shoved both feet in his mouth so fast, but yeah, he’d done it. He stared at her empty chair, sincerely confused about how their lunch date had gone from awesome to shitty in the span of seconds.

  They’d been doing so well. She’d shared details about herself. He’d told her how close he was to Sam and his mom. She seemed to have no problem with him—until he’d mentioned what she ate. He still had no idea why that should be a big deal. The woman was gorgeous, and she obviously knew she’d never be a stick. But who the hell wanted that?