by Noelle Adams
“Hey!” Carol objected, closing the shirt over her tank top again.
“You’ve got great boobs,” Ginny whispered. “You need to show them off.”
Carol wasn’t convinced of the greatness of her boobs, but they were certainly big. “It just feels weird.”
“I thought you wanted him to notice you.”
“I do.”
“So make use of your boobs.”
Carol sighed and looked down at herself again. She was wearing a bra—there was absolutely no way she could go braless the way Ginny sometimes could—and she could see the outline of her bra, as well as the shape of her nipples, through the fabric of her pale green tank top. “It doesn’t seem decent.”
“It’s perfectly decent. It just feels different because you’re normally more covered up.”
Swallowing hard, Carol stopped arguing, but she kept pulling her overshirt closed over her chest as she worked.
Maybe other women were comfortable showing off their boobs, but she wasn’t one of them.
It took about an hour and a half for them to finish loading Nan’s stuff. Then they had to drive over to Noah’s house to unload it.
Ginny jumped in before Ryan could and organized people into cars. She managed to casually suggest Carol ride over with Patrick.
It was well done. If Carol hadn’t already known what she was doing, she never would have realized that Ginny was trying to get them together.
Carol was feeling ridiculously nervous as she got into the front seat of Patrick’s old Volvo. She’d known Patrick most of her life, and they’d always interacted in an easy, casual way. But now she was feeling all this pressure—the need to engage him, interest him, attract him.
And she just wasn’t any good at it.
“How’s work going?” she asked as he pulled the car onto the street. Nan’s house used to be in the country, but Blacksburg had grown in the past ten years to encompass it. Noah’s house was in a new subdivision on the other side of town.
Patrick glanced over at her, looking surprised by the question. “Fine. Good.”
Carol waited, but he added nothing more to the conversation. So she tried again. “Nan is kind of sad about moving.”
“Yeah. I guess so.” This time he didn’t even turn his head to look at her.
She waited, but he didn’t say anything else.
Had he always been this hard to talk to?
She knew very well he was smart and funny and kind at heart. It came through even when he was being grumpy or antisocial. Just a few months ago, he’d gone out in the middle of the night in his pajama pants to help her when Ginny had been drunk in the bathroom of a bar, and he’d never once questioned her calling him for help. Surely he could rouse himself enough to have a conversation with her—if only for basic politeness.
And surely he could look at her occasionally, notice that she was a person, a woman, and not just a lump sitting in the front seat of his car.
She tried one more time. “I wonder how quickly they’ll be able to sell Nan’s old house.”
“It’ll go quick.”
That was a little bit more of a response than she’d gotten before, so she pursued it. “It is kind of outdated.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s the location. Someone will snap it up.”
“Oh. That’s good.”
Silence.
She wanted to scream in frustration. It had never been this hard to talk to Patrick before—or maybe it had always been this hard and she’d never thought about it in the past.
Because she was exasperated and wanted to make the man talk—no matter what topic it was on—she heard herself asking, “How’s dating going?”
That got his attention. He blinked and glanced over toward her. “What?”
“Dating? That site you joined? I just asked how it’s going.”
“Oh. Oh. Fine, I guess.”
“What do you mean, fine, I guess?” Normally, she was a sensitive person and wouldn’t force a conversation if someone didn’t want to talk, but Patrick was being particularly stubborn and annoying right now, and she was going to make him talk if it killed her.
“I mean I guess it’s going fine.” He slanted her a little look as if he were getting annoyed too.
Strangely, she was pleased to see it. At least it was a real response to her. “Have you met anyone yet?”
“It’s just been a week.”
“I know that. But have you met anyone yet?”
“A couple. Just for coffee.”
She didn’t like the idea of his having coffee with other women, but she had absolutely no claim on him, so she had no grounds for her disapproval. She made sure to sound casual and friendly as she asked, “So how was it? Did you meet anyone interesting?”
“Eh.”
“What do you mean, eh?”
The look he slanted her this time was more than a little annoyed. He clearly didn’t appreciate her extended interrogation.
“So are you going to go out with any of them again?” she asked when he didn’t answer in words.
“Probably not.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t think they were really interested in me.”
That surprised her enough to distract her from her previous annoyance. Her eyes widened and her mouth turned down as she asked, “Why wouldn’t they be interested in you?”
He arched his eyebrows and didn’t answer in words.
“Why are you making that expression?” she asked. “Of course women would be interested in you.”
He cleared his throat and kept his eyes on the road. “Believe it or not, I’m not exactly most women’s idea of Prince Charming.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Her outrage was real. She couldn’t believe he was actually saying that, actually believing that women wouldn’t jump at the chance to be with him. “You’re exactly what women are looking for. You’re smart and funny and nice and good-looking, and you have this whole sexy geek thing going for you.”
She’d gotten carried away with the topic and said more than she’d intended. She stopped abruptly as she realized she’d just blurted out how attractive she found him.
His expression was absolutely unreadable as he said, “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she responded lamely. Nothing else she could do now. “Of course you do.”
He didn’t answer for a long time. Then he muttered, “Thanks.”
She waited to see if he’d say anything else, but he didn’t. She was usually pretty good at reading other people’s feelings, but she had no idea what he was thinking.
Finally he said, “I guess I’ll keep trying then.”
“Yeah. You should.”
As Patrick pulled into the driveway of Noah’s house, Carol had to conclude she was the worst seducer in the history of the world.
Not only had she failed to get Patrick to see her as a woman, she’d also managed to encourage him to keep dating other women.
Just perfect.
Her plan wasn’t going very well. She’d have to confer with Ginny and Emma and see if they had more ideas.
She was going to have to take more drastic action if she was ever going to open Patrick’s eyes.
***
The next evening, Patrick knocked on the door to Carol’s apartment, hoping that, whatever she was wearing, it wouldn’t show as much cleavage as she had the day before.
The top she’d been wearing yesterday had just about killed him, and he’d had to spend most of his time keeping his eyes away from her neckline.
It wasn’t right.
Here he was trying to be a decent person and a good friend and not leer at Ryan’s little sister—something that neither Noah nor Ryan had managed to do themselves—and Carol had to wear an outfit like that.
She wasn’t normally in the habit of showing off her body, so hopefully it had just been a fluke.
He’d agreed to go to the movies with Noah, Emma, and Carol because Emma had guilted him into it, but he didn’t want to spend
all evening trying not to look at Carol’s cleavage.
There was only so much a man could take.
He was hoping she was wearing a heavy sweater—with a turtleneck under it, if he was lucky—when Carol swung open the door.
His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw she was wearing a silky bathrobe that was barely staying closed.
“Hey,” she said with a breezy smile.
His whole body had clamped down over a helpless wave of attraction at the sight of her, all lush curves, tousled hair, and flushed cheeks. He managed to say, “Am I early?”
“No, no. It’s my fault. I’m running late. I’ll just be minute. Come on in.”
They’d agreed to meet at Carol’s apartment since she lived closest to the movie theater, but Emma and Noah weren’t yet there.
So as he stepped in, he was brutally aware of the fact that he was all alone in the apartment with Carol. Whose bathrobe was slipping down one shoulder. Who would be completely naked—warm and gorgeous and perfectly touchable—if he reached over and loosened the tie.
He gulped and fought a battle with his body to keep it from reacting to this knowledge.
She smiled at him. “Have a seat. I’ll just be a minute.”
He sat down on her couch, reaching into the leather saddlebag he always carried to grab his computer.
“Do you want something to drink?” Carol asked.
“No,” he said, keeping his eyes resolutely on his computer screen. “Just go get dressed.” He sounded bad-tempered, but it was the best he could do. If Carol didn’t get clothes on very soon, he was going to do something bad.
Really bad.
Really, really bad.
Unforgiveable.
To his relief, she disappeared into her bedroom, so he could relax slightly.
It would be a lot easier to be her brother’s best friend if she wasn’t quite so pretty, quite so curvy, quite so sweet.
He had almost gotten himself under control when her bedroom door swung open once again and she reappeared, still wearing that sexy little bathrobe that only came down to midthigh.
“What are you doing now?” he muttered, sounding impatient because his body had immediately jumped to attention yet again.
“You don’t have to be so grumpy about it,” she said, giving him a little glare as she hurried through the living room and over to the dining room table, on which was set a laundry basket full of clothes. “I just need a pair of socks.”
She needed to put on more than a pair of socks. He could see from the way the fabric was clinging to her rounded ass that she wasn’t even wearing underwear at the moment. He stared fixedly at the lush curve of her bottom, the dip of her waist, the swing of her long hair.
He wanted to take that robe off. He wanted to see that luscious body bared to his view, to his touch. He wanted to trace his hands along every curve and line and dip of her.
He wanted it so much he was breathless, hot, hard.
He moved his laptop strategically to make sure she wouldn’t see how much he wanted it when she turned around.
“Got them,” she said with a little smile over her shoulder.
He’d never seen anything prettier or more mesmerizing than that little smile.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
He wanted her so much he could taste, hear, feel the lust surging through him.
“What are you working on?” she asked, sounding casual and friendly as she stopped right in front of him, a pair of socks in her hand.
He grunted, unable to form a complete word at the moment.
“Was that an answer?” She had stepped even closer, and she leaned down slightly, causing her robe to dip just enough for him to see the swell of one breast.
One perfect, perfect breast.
“Patrick?” she asked, frowning at him. She was evidently completely unaware of the effect her body was having on him. If anything, she looked annoyed because he wasn’t answering her questions. “Are you in a bad mood or something?”
“No, I’m not in a bad mood!” he burst out, needing only for her to get out of his sight before he could no longer restrain himself. “I’m getting tired of waiting, and you’re just flittering around like a ditz instead of getting ready.”
He’d thought he might sound like his normal slightly grumpy self. But he hadn’t. He hadn’t at all.
He sounded mean. Just mean. Mean in a way he almost never was, certainly not to anyone as sweet and generous as Carol.
She blinked in surprise, and after a moment her flushed cheeks went pale. Her expression and voice were both stiff as she said, “Okay. Sorry.”
She turned around and went into her room without another word.
His arousal had faded with the wave of guilt and concern. He was an asshole. A total asshole.
Only an asshole would speak to Carol that way.
He couldn’t believe he’d actually done it.
Groaning, he slid his laptop back into his bag and got up. He walked to Carol’s closed door and tapped on it.
“I’m getting dressed,” she said. She was trying to sound normal, but he could tell she was upset.
She was really upset, and he was the one who had made her so.
“I’m sorry, Carol,” he called through the door.
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not fine. I never should have talked to you that way.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay. And you shouldn’t say that it is. No one has the right to talk to you that way. I’m an asshole. You can say it.”
There was a moment’s silence. Then the door opened just a little. She was looking at him through the crack. “You’re an asshole,” she said.
His heart melted. It just melted. There was no one in the world like Carol. He smiled at her like a fool. “I’m sorry for being an asshole.”
She sniffed, still looking at him through the cracked door. “I forgive you for being an asshole. Just don’t do it again.”
“I won’t.”
They smiled at each other, and Patrick was washed with a wave of affection every bit as strong as the wave of lust he’d experienced earlier.
This wasn’t good.
It wasn’t good at all.
He cleared his throat and turned away before he pushed the door open all the way and stepped into Carol’s bedroom.
Just then his phone beeped with a text, and he heard Carol’s chirp from inside her room.
When he glanced down at the incoming text, he groaned out loud.
Emma and Noah weren’t going to be able to make the movie after all. Emma said the two of them should just go without them.
“Oh,” Carol said, evidently reading the same text. “Well, that’s kind of… What do you want to do?”
He wanted to go to the movies with Carol. Of course he did. But he knew very well if the two of them went alone it would feel like a date.
And his stupid body—and his stupid, stupid heart—would very likely get confused.
He couldn’t let it get any more confused than it already was.
“Eh,” he said. “Maybe we should just call it a night. I’m not really good company tonight.”
“Okay.” Her voice sounded small, and he wondered if he’d hurt her feelings. Maybe she thought he didn’t want to hang out with her.
It was very far from the truth, but there wasn’t anything he could do to address it.
Carol would have no way of knowing the direction his thoughts had been drifting lately, and he couldn’t risk her ever finding out.
Three
On Thursday evening, Carol stayed late at Tea for Two.
Although she usually left midafternoon, one of the women who attended the counter was pregnant and had an appointment that afternoon and no one else was able to cover the shift, so Carol stayed late to help out.
She was tired and blah at five fifteen. It felt like she’d been working forever and had nothing to show
for it except aching feet and a clouded mind. Plus Ginny had been gushing all day about plans for her wedding.
Carol was happy for Ginny and Emma and their upcoming marriages. She really was. She didn’t feel the slightest bit of resentment over their relationships or their giddiness. She was definitely happy for her brother, whom she loved more than anything and whom she’d never seen so nakedly happy.
But still…
It was sometimes hard. Everyone around her was so romantically satisfied, and here she was still on her own—with nothing but a succession of failed attempts to woo one very stubborn and clueless swain.
One day she’d have to accept that Patrick was never going to think about her that way.
But that day wasn’t here yet.
When she’d served the last customer in line, she went to collapse in a chair in the corner of the shop, leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes.
Maybe she could get ten minutes’ rest before another customer came in.
She almost groaned when she heard the bell on the front door jangle.
The last thing she wanted was to let anyone think that serving them was a chore, however, so she opened her eyes and jumped up. She was halfway to the counter when her eyes landed on the man who had just walked in.
Patrick, wearing jeans and a wool jacket, his brown hair messy, and needing to shave. He looked adorably mussed and just a little tired.
“Hey,” she said with a smile. “Aren’t you normally still at work at this time?”
“Emma kicked me out.” His brown eyes were as clever as always, although they seemed to be unusually heavy.
“Why?”
“She said I was too grumpy to be around, so she’s closing up the office and sending everyone home.”
“Good. You should give your staff a break every now and then and let them leave at five like normal people.”
“They can leave at five if they want. I’m not some sort of unreasonable dictator.” His tone was tinged with a hint of resentment, as if she’d insulted him instead of teased him.
Carol frowned as she studied his face, realizing that whatever mood Emma had sensed in him had been real. This wasn’t his normal absentminded grumpiness.
He was in a real slump.
“I know you’re not,” she said quietly. “Everyone I’ve ever talked to loves working for you. I was just teasing.”