No Bunny But You (Holiday Romance Series)

by Carol Rose

  “Hey, Drake.” The producer he’d talked with earlier came over, followed by another guy in a casual shirt, open at the collar, who appeared to have several people trailing him like satellites. “This is our director Silvio Sanchez.”

  “Hi, Drake.” A dark-haired man with a quick smile, he reached out and shook Drake’s hand. “So, we’ve got the bathroom set and a toilet, of course. I think they’ve set it up to have the problem you described, so you can fix it. Right over here.”

  Feeling awkward and like a total idiot, Drake followed him into the small space.

  “You see the guy with the hand-held camera?” Silvio gestured toward a guy with a camera. “He’s going to be shooting and you talk directly to him as you fix the toilet. We have another camera over here—see? But you just ignore him. He’s doing supplemental shots that will be edited in for viewer clarity.”

  “And the tools are?” Drake tried to act like he knew what he was doing.

  “Over here. That’s right. We put them in this tool box. It’s made by one of our sponsors. Their name is on the side.” Silvio turned to talk briefly with one of the assistants following him.

  Taking the moment, Drake waved at Mike—standing off to the side—giving his visibly-nervous boss the thumbs-up signal. Mike couldn’t be any more nervous than he was. He was just grateful he’d never really shown his feelings much.

  In a moment of panic, he’d decided all he could do was fake his way through the situation. His stomach felt like he’d swallowed nails and Drake wondered how he’d gotten himself into this mess.

  But what choice did he have? He needed to keep the blog going, since it was currently paying his bills.

  “Okay, Drake,” Silvio said with another encouraging smile, “let’s try this. Just talk right at the camera guy as you fix the toilet and don’t forget to explain what you’re doing step-by-step. Think of this as if your viewers are going to DVR this and watch it before they attempt to fix their own toilet.”

  He’d gone over the steps to fixing the toilet at least a hundred times, conning his notes and rehearsing the directions Molly had given him. Trying to ignore his desire to throw up, he took a deep breath and told himself again that, even if he sucked—which he thought he would—all that could happen was that the people at House Today declined to have him appear on the show. Not the end of the world and not the end of the blog. Even if his bosses did decide to can him, he’d find another way to make a living.

  Maybe even go back to writing about serious journalistic subjects. He’d thought about that with longing.

  “Just start talking when you’re ready,” Silvio said, standing behind the camera guy. “Do a little intro—keep it brief—mention who you are and then launch into how to fix the toilet.”

  Drake had seen the home improvement shows. He’d studied a number of them when Mike told him about this possibility. Even though just thinking about it made him nauseous, he’d done whatever prep work he could to keep from looking like a total ass.

  Presenting himself like an “expert” seemed silly—even though he did that in writing on the blog—so he’d decided to just try to be regular. A regular guy.

  He still wanted to throw up, even having that plan. Drake drew in a breath, forcing himself to smile as if he were happy to be there. Shifting to kneel by the toilet, he glanced up at the lights and the camera guy and—just beyond all the tangle of wires and people holding microphones—he saw Molly standing off to the side.

  She looked a lot more confident than he felt. Neither of them were used to this, but she didn’t seemed fazed, just standing out of the action, watching. Without thinking, he smiled and waved at her, seeing her small wave in return.

  Drake realized that just having her there had him drawing in a deep breath of relief. He still felt jumpy and on edge, but seeing Molly made him feel better.

  Looking into the camera now, he started, saying, “This is Drake Hampton of the Fix Your House blog on the Doing-It-Yourself website. Today, we’re going to get personal with this broken toilet. It’s running all the time and making the owner crazy, which I’m sure you all understand.”

  “Have you ever looked inside your toilet’s tank?” He lifted the heavy ceramic lid off the tank and, sure enough, the mechanism inside was running. “Hear that? Not a good sound and it will raise your water bill, so we need to fix it.”

  He could hear Molly saying that.

  The camera operator stood up, moving closer to bring the shot in tighter on the insides of the tank.

  “This is the part that makes your toilet flush when you push the lever.” Drake went on explaining the parts briefly as Molly had told him. “These here are the tools you’ll need to fix this puppy….”

  He listed off the various implements as the camera guy shifted to peered into the tool box, the name displayed prominently.

  Despite his nerves, Drake began seeing the humor in the situation. Here he was—clueless fixit guy—explaining to viewers how to fix their damn toilets. He was supposed to be the expert, but he knew just how the average guy and gal felt about their home improvement projects.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’ve always felt a little intimidated by plumbing.” He hoped the smile he sent the camera was sheepish. He was so damned nervous, he wasn’t sure.

  “We have to change this part, starting with cutting off the water at the wall.” Drake sent the camera a deadpan look. “Don’t—whatever you do—take this tube out of here. Trust me on this. You’ll end up spewing water everywhere and then you’ll have to clean that up before you get back to fixing the toilet.”

  The network might have wanted a self-assured know-it-all for these spots, but Drake knew he couldn’t pull that off. He could only present himself like every other home owner who couldn’t afford to have someone repair all the stuff that needed repairing. Some people might enjoy this and do home repair because they liked it, but Drake didn’t think he could pull off the lie.

  Writing words on paper was one thing. Looking into the camera was a different story.

  “Once you’ve turned off the water at the wall, you can flush the toilet to drain the water out.” Step-by-step he parroted what Molly had told him. He’d never particularly thought he had a good memory, but fear of looking like a fool brought everything back to him.

  “Newer toilets have this thingie—an overflow tube, a water inlet. The flapper at the bottom with a chain attached sits on top of a flush valve seat. The part with the chain sits on this, blocking the toilet water until you push the flush lever to open it.” Drake stopped again and grinned at the camera, the feeling of bravado growing. “This is all if you have a newer toilet. The older ones have a ballcock—yes, you heard that correctly—and we’ll talk about them next time.”

  After Silvio had yelled “cut!” and the camera guy moved off to wherever camera guys went, Molly came forward to where Drake still stood next to the toilet.

  As soon as she’d threaded her way through the people milling around, Drake reached out, catching her hand in his, smiling and saying without preamble. “How did you think it went?”

  Molly looked at him with her level gaze and said with characteristic honesty, “You did good. You look great, of course, but you sounded a lot more like you knew what you were doing than you usually sound when we’re talking about blog stuff. I liked the humor. You know—like a real non-professional person, but not crazy nervous.”

  This was Molly, his long-time friend, but also the woman he’d had terrific, amazing sex with in the last week. Moved by the thought, Drake bent forward and kissed her on the mouth.

  She went still, not responding to the quick kiss, but not jerking back.

  Drake decided to ignore his impression that this had been a possibility.

  “Thanks,” he said, straightening, but keeping her hand in his. He didn’t bother denying his nerves. She’d have known he was lying, just as she knew most things about him. “I tried to channel you when I was talking about the toilet repair,
except the part where I tried to convey that I’m a bozo about this stuff sometimes.”

  “That really played well, I think.” She stepped aside as a guy went by, pulling cables after him.

  Stepping closer as the film crew bustled around them, he lowered his voice. “How have you been?”

  A look of constraint descended on her features, quickly replaced by a smile that seemed a little stiff.

  “I’m fine.”

  He looked around at the television set, the crew coiling cable and bustling past. He had no idea what was actually going on. “Let me tell Mike I’m leaving and we’ll grab some lunch.”

  “Oh, okay,” she said.

  “You stay here. I’ll be right back.” Drake gestured with both palms, like he was telling a dog to stay.

  “Right here.” Molly confirmed, a little smile tugging at her mouth.

  Drake jogged across the sound stage, coming up to his boss as Mike was talking excitedly on his phone.

  “Really?” Mike asked whoever he was talking with. “That’s terrific! Yeah, okay. I’ll be back at the office in half an hour or so. Okay.”

  He shoved the phone into a jacket pocket and greeted Drake. “That was really good! Terrific! The House Today people are sure to pick you up, which will send the blog into the stratosphere. You seemed—I don’t know—like a different person. More engaging and less sure of yourself, at the same time. In a good way, of course. Very identifiable to working people.”

  “I don’t know any people who don’t work,” Drake said with a dry inflection. He was just glad to have the test over. There was no saying whether or not the spots would be picked up and he wasn’t sure whether or not he even wanted that. “Listen, I’m taking Molly to lunch. Let me know when they want to shoot the other segments.”

  “Okay, but wait, boy. I’ve got some really exciting news.” Mike stood there nodding and smiling widely at him, bouncing a little on his toes. He seemed suddenly like he could barely contain himself.

  “What do you mean, more?” Drake had never seen his boss this excited. The man seemed almost giddy.

  “Okay,” his boss said, clearly leading up to some big announcement. “Here it is.”

  “For a second, Drake wondered if Mike had already heard good news from the network. As soon as the thought occurred to him, he dismissed it. He’d just shot the thing.

  “You’ve made it!” Mike exploded suddenly into speech. He kept grinning and nodding. “You hit the big time!”

  Still in the dark, Drake shook his head. “Mike, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course, you don’t! They just called me. You haven’t heard it yet!”

  Drake started to laugh. “No, I haven’t. Want to tell me?”

  “Yes, yes, of course. You were nominated. Your blog! They just announced the nominees for the awards—the Bloggies, Drake! You’re up for a Bloggie! A Weblog award!”

  * * *

  Drake walked across the set to where Molly waited, a stunned look on his face.

  “What’s up?” she asked. Being here at the taping and watching him direct the toilet repair as if he knew something about it made her heart swell. She knew how he’d been dreading this. Despite the awkwardness between them since they’d done the dirty—so well, too—in the tent at the League garden, she’d had to be there when they shot the test spot for House Today.

  At this moment, though, she couldn’t tell what was going on with him.

  “Um, nothing.” Drake still wore that strange expression. “Let’s get lunch before we talk.”

  Finding his answer anything but comforting, she could only turn toward the door and ask with unfamiliar uncertainty, “Ready?”

  The guy obviously had something to say to her and just as obviously, didn’t want to get into it there.

  “Yes. Let’s go.” He dug in his pocket for his car keys as they walked through the lot.

  He was very quiet on the drive to the nearest burger place and Molly kept silently beating herself up for having come today, having given into the temptation of his kisses. He must have figured out that she’d fallen for him—like a bunch of other girls in the past—and he wasn’t interested. She swallowed against a dry throat, unable to stop replaying how she’d given herself away. Sure, their sex had been amazing and beautiful, but Drake could get good sex a lot of places.

  Molly felt tears prickling behind her eyes and struggled against giving in to them. She wasn’t the kind of girl who cried when guys wanted out and, dammit, she wouldn’t this time either. Even though she loved him. She brooded as she looked sightlessly through the windshield.

  As they drove to the nearest fast food place in his Civic, little was said. It was as if the constraint she’d felt when she first saw him had descended upon him, too. Molly reflected that it was stupid, but she couldn’t help having fallen for him. She’d even loved helping him with the blog. She’d only insisted on his doing it himself because she knew he needed to feel capable and she didn’t want him wanting her for that.

  Stupid, stupid pride. Maybe she should have just accepted the friendship they had, instead of pining for the whole enchilada. Maybe they just weren’t meant to be more than friends.

  It wasn’t until they sat under the orange umbrella outside next to a busy Austin street—with a sharp spring breeze against their backs—that he crinkled the burger paper between his hands and blurted out, “You won’t believe this, but…Mike just told me—I’m up for a Bloggie Award. We’re up for an Award. The blog you’ve helped me write is up for a Bloggie. I can’t believe it. I’m just blown away.”

  Jolted by the news, Molly jumped up, running around the table to hug him quickly. “Drake! That’s wonderful! A Bloggie? How terrific! Your blog! The Bloggies are getting bigger and bigger.”

  She resumed her seat, beaming at him. “I’ve always told you you’re a great writer. This confirms it!”

  He grabbed a French Fry. “I only wrote about what you told me. I feel a little like a fraud and I haven’t won anything yet. It’s just a nomination.”

  “You’re not a fraud! You wrote every word. See? This is why I insisted you do this on your own. This is your success! Not mine. Geez, this is great!” Letting go of his hand, Molly seized his wrist, shaking his arm a little. “You should be proud and thrilled. Heck, I’m thrilled for you!”

  Putting his hand over hers, Drake tugged her closer on the orange bench. “I am thrilled, but the pride should be partly yours. Together, we make a hell of a team, Molly. You’ll go with me to the ceremony, right?”

  Bending, he brushed a kiss across her mouth and Molly felt her heart lurch in her chest.

  She tried to keep her smile from wobbling. “Sure. It’ll give me a chance to dress up.”

  Drawing back, Drake looked at her searchingly. “I’ve—huh—been thinking about you a lot.”

  He didn’t let go of her hand and Molly looked down at the orange table. God, she’d been thinking about him, a lot too.

  “Yes.” It was all she could say around the lump in her throat. Hot, sweaty dreams had haunted her and she kept thinking about his kiss, about the laughter in his eyes afterwards. Did he want a relationship with her or what this just a blip for him? A quickie because they were both in the moment and he’d discovered again that she could kiss…amongst other things.

  “We need to talk, Molly.” Drake released her to stuff his hand into a pants pocket.

  “Okay,” she said, giving him a smile that felt strained, “talk.”

  How did she tell him that she wanted more? More kisses and more of him.

  He reached out, putting his hand over hers. “We’ve been friends a long time, haven’t we?”

  She looked up, meeting his eyes. “Yes, we have.”

  And she didn’t want to lose that, but it wasn’t enough anymore.

  “Best friends, right?” It seemed important to him for her to concede this.

  “Yes. Best friends.”

  “Then we should be able to
talk about this. I-I’m just going to be straight with you, Molly. That night with you was freaking amazing.” He made an expansive gesture. “Really, really amazing.”

  “Ooookay?” She drew the word out, hiding behind an attitude of flippancy. “Is this some kind of recommendation? I can have potential bedmates call you for a reference?”

  “Of course, not.” Drake looked annoyed. “I didn’t mean that. I just meant I don’t regret anything and—“

  He stopped before going on. “And I want to do it again real soon. Can I see you tonight?”

  Molly took a minute before saying, her brain racing. Did he want to change their relationship? Was this the beginning of all she wanted?

  The smile she felt tugging hopefully at her mouth took over. “Okay. Okay, let’s see where this goes.”

  * * * * * * * * *

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Later that day, Drake stared at the basketball players on the gigantic flat panel. March Madness had never seemed so large. On the other end of the couch in Aaron’s man cave, Levi sprawled.

  “You guys want another beer?” Standing behind the bar with the refrigerator open, Aaron juggled a bowl of chips as he peered inside.

  “I’m good.” As the game went to commercial, Levi held up a bottle still half full.

  “Me, too.” Drake propped a foot on the already scarred table in front of him. “It was a great idea to put your college furniture in here.”

  Aaron set the bowl down and dropped into a nearby chair, just as ratty as the couch.

  “Yeah. I had to pitch the idea pretty hard for several weeks, but it just makes sense.” He took a swallow from the bottle he’d brought in from the kitchenette. “Emma kind of went crazy, decorating the rest of the house, but I pointed out that, if this was my space, I should get to put whatever I wanted in it.”

  The trio sat in silence for a few minutes, watching a commercial with a schleppy guy kissing a gorgeous woman.

  “Geez, I wonder if they had to pay her extra,” Levi mused, staring at the television.