Reid looks to me with an expression of genuine pain. I wince at the sight of it, not wanting to see. He can’t really be serious about all this. But if he’s not, why is he fighting it so hard? Because I’m his only ticket to saving his precious garage. That’s all I am to him. Like some big, potentially pregnant lottery prize.
“I am serious,” he says.
“Then you’re dumber than you look,” I snap. “Come on, David. Let’s go inside.”
David takes a hesitant look toward Reid and then tries to hide his fear, walking toward me a little too fast for dignity. Reid just watches, fists balled at his side and eyes blazing like they could start a fire. I swallow hard and the door closes behind us, leaving Reid outside and me trapped inside with David Slimeball Cumberfield.
Why did I say that? I didn’t mean it. As angry as I am at Reid, I hate that I just called him dumb. It feels low and dirty. I want to go back and apologize, but David is standing between the door and me.
“Don’t worry, dear. I won’t let that oaf ruin our night,” says David as he tries to worm his thin arms around me.
I do a little backwards, sidestepping dance to avoid his touch and spin towards the kitchen, laughing awkwardly to mask my discomfort. “You thirsty?”
“Sandra. Let’s talk about us. I’m glad you’ve given me another chance to--”
There’s a knock on the door. A loud, heavy, angry knock that tells me without a doubt who it is. I sigh, bracing myself as I move for the door.
“Don’t, it’s just--” starts David.
I ignore him, yanking the door open. “What?” I ask.
Reid is standing in the doorway, still shirtless. Still gorgeous. Except now he’s holding something metallic and oily. “Cum fields. Looks like you’ve got some car trouble.”
“You touched my Jag? You put your filthy, fucking--”
“Yeah, I touched it,” says Reid. “I guess I have a bad habit of touching things that don’t belong to me.”
This time his eyes lock on mine.
“Oh well,” he says. “You may want to get it checked out, dick breath,” he adds to David, tossing the part in a high arc over his shoulder.
David lunges forward, realizing exactly where the part is going to fall. There’s a dull thud as the heavy metal gear bounces off the hood of David’s Jaguar, leaving a large dent and a spot of chipped paint.
“You’re paying for the repairs,” shouts David.
“Bill me,” says Reid. “Maybe you should go ahead and bill me for the dental work too. Looks like you got the last one fixed, so let’s keep your dentist busy.”
“The dental--”
Reid’s arm snaps out faster than my eyes can track. David’s head pops back and then he goes stiff, tilting backwards until momentum drags him down like a felled tree. He thumps into the grass, blinking hard and struggling to get back on his feet.
“Stay down,” says Reid.
“Asshole!” I shout. “You can’t just punch everyone who shows interest in me. You think I’m impressed? Well I’m not. You’re just making an idiot out of yourself. And you’re setting a bad example for your son.”
“Roman’s asleep,” says Reid.
I shake my head, kneeling to help David up. “Why don’t you just go home,” I say.
Reid doesn’t budge. He only stands there, looking like ten times the man David is and ten times more sexy than anybody has a right to look. Saying no to him feels like telling the sun not to rise in the morning or the tides not to come in. He’s an inevitability. As I look at him, I can feel that so powerfully in my chest I know it has to be true. Reid Riggins is a force. His will is inexhaustible and so long as he sets his sights on me, I have no hope to resist forever. All I can do is delay. Delay the inevitable.
But that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Delay, because what he did hurt, and I’m not ready to forgive him yet. “Screw you, Reid. Screw you and your stupid muscles and perfect face. And screw that magical cock of--” I slap a hand to my mouth, feeling like all the blood in my body just rushed up to my head.
David is looking at me like I just grew antlers, and Reid looks like he’s trying his hardest to hold back the smirk creeping across his face.
“That came out wrong,” I say, mustering as much dignity as I can. “Don’t!” I snap, jabbing a finger toward Reid. “Don’t you dare smile.”
Reid puts his hands up innocently, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Come on,” I say to David, dragging him inside.
David looks uncomfortable after the door closes behind us again. He’s dabbing at his lip checking to see if it’s bleeding. “I think I need to leave, Sandra. You clearly need to sort your priorities out. And my face hurts.”
“No,” I say. “You stay here. I don’t care if you just sit on the couch and watch TV. But I’m not letting him think he won. If you leave, he wins. Do you understand?”
David shakes his head. “I’m not about to let you use me like some chess piece, Sandra. This is unbelievable. He just assaulted me. Again.” He turns to reach for the door and I grab his arm, stopping him.
“David. If you go out there, Reid will probably kick your ass. More.”
David flinches a little at that, sniffing and straightening his shirt. “He could try.” David makes a show of yawning dramatically and stretching. “But I could catch a nap before I head home. And I should probably ice my lip. So he’ll have to wait.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, grabbing a spare pillow and blanket for David, who stretches out on my couch and starts fiddling with his phone. It’s not five minutes before he’s out like a light, snoring loud enough that I’m afraid Reid might hear from next door.
I lean against the countertop and sigh. I should be putting all my energy and attention into saving my bakery. Easier said than done, though. It’s not as if I can magically raise the money to pay for it. And I’m not about to go begging to my parents for it, either. I can’t fight the contract I signed like an idiot. I can’t fight the city. The more I think about it the more it seems like the only thing I can do is accept it and prepare to move on.
As much as it seems like the only option, I’m not wired that way. I’ve spent too long struggling against the current, now it has become second nature. I may not know how I’m going to stop him, but I know one thing, Mark Riggins isn’t going to get my bakery. I worked too hard for it, and no one is taking it away.
17
Reid
Roman slurps the milk from his spoon noisily and then crunches into his Fruit Loops. I watch him as I stab at my eggs, feeling no real desire to eat. I stayed up most of the night because I couldn’t sleep knowing he was in there with her. David Cum Fields. The fucker.
“Hey Bud, I have a question.”
“Okay,” says Roman cheerily. He’s wearing pajama bottoms and no shirt. Milk has dribbled all over his chest and his small pot belly.
“If you liked a girl, wou--”
“How much?” asks Roman.
“How much what?” I ask.
“How much do I like her.”
“Oh. You like her a lot. A whole lot.”
“Hmmmm. I’d tell her.”
“I wasn’t done with my question,” I say dryly.
“Okay.”
I take a deep breath. “If you liked a girl, a whole lot, what would you do if she didn’t seem to like you as much as you like her?”
Roman furrows his eyebrows and slurps another loud sip of milk. “She could borrow my favorite toy.”
I frown, leaning back and crossing my arms. I nod my head slowly, looking out the window toward her house. “Like a gift,” I say thoughtfully.
I step out of the general store with a bag full of clinking items and a certainty in my stomach that I’m going to win her back. I drop the things inside the house and go check on Roman. The guys are joking around with him in the garage so I let him stay with them while I make the call I’ve been meaning to make.
“Hello?” comes a deep voice through the earpiece.
“Mack? This is Reid. Reid Riggins.”
“No shit! Big Rigg! How the fuck are you?”
I smirk. “Good, man. I’m good. Look, I’m not going to pretend I didn’t call you for a reason. I need a favor. A big ass favor.”
“All right,” says Mack. “Did you get tangled up with the law?”
“Heh. No. Not quite. Do you know anything about real estate law?”
Thirty minutes later, I’m outside Sandra’s house with the bag I picked up from the general store. She opens the door and sighs when she sees me. She’s wearing yoga pants and a tank top that falls halfway down her thighs. Her hair is pulled into a messy bun and she looks winded, like she was just working out. Or fucking.
My good intentions melt and I shove past her. “Where is he?”
“Hey!” she shouts. “You can’t just barge in here!”
“Like hell I can’t. Where is that fucker? Did he hide his car around back?”
“Reid!” Sandra shouts as she hurries to keep up with me. “Reid!” she says, getting in front of me and planting her hands on my chest. “He left. Okay? It’s just me. I was just exercising. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Oh. Yeah,” I say slowly. “You didn’t let him touch you, right?”
Sandra plants a fist on her hip. “What happened is none of your business.” She sighs a little, and seems to force some calm into her voice. “But it wasn’t a date or anything. He had been bugging the crap out of me and I just wanted to get him to give up.”
I clench my teeth. “You know my grandfather’s will has nothing to do with how I feel about you, right?”
She flicks her eyebrows upwards. “Is that so?”
“Hey,” I say. “Nothing about what happened between us is fake. I can’t stop thinking about you, Sandra. You’re constantly on my mind. I see you when I close my eyes at night and you’re the first thing I think about when I wake up.” I frown. “Don’t make me beg.”
She folds her arms, smiling a little and looking down. “What’s in the bag?” she asks.
“Roman’s supposed to bring cupcakes for his first day of pre-school. I thought you being a baker and all… and since you still owe me for fixing your car.”
“I thought going to dinner was the payment.”
He shrugs. “I decided to charge some interest. Take it up with my accountant.”
“I’m pretty sure you don’t have an accountant.”
“Sue me for lying then. You can take that up with my lawyer.”
She grins, picking at the bag I’m holding. “You want me to make cupcakes for him?”
“I want you to teach me how to do it,” I say.
She laughs softly, a beautiful smile blossoming on her lips. “You got all this stuff so I would teach you how to make cupcakes?”
“Yeah,” I say.
I’m covered in so much flour that my eyes sting. Apparently, the mixer is more difficult to use than a fucking dynamometer. I chug a few gulps of the chocolate milk sitting out on the table from when we made the batter and sigh. “Maybe I should just watch you do this,” I say, smirking as I take in an eyeful of Sandra’s full ass while she leans over the counter to stir the frosting.
“Oh no you won’t,” she scolds. “You’re going to tell Roman you made these for him. It will mean so much for him to know that.”
I nod slowly. “Okay, okay. You said to just spoon these in--”
There’s a loud knock at Sandra’s door. I move to see who it is and Sandra follows, trying to outpace me but failing. If that David guy is coming to see her again, I’m going to do something to his face a dentist can’t fix this time.
I swing the door open and frown when I see Tara. Her eyes are red and puffy and she’s clearly uncomfortable being here. When she sees me, she opens her mouth to say something and snaps it shut, folding her arms and looking away.
“Can I come in?” she asks quietly. Almost meekly. Totally unlike her.
“Uh, yeah, maybe you should just head out for a little, Reid? We can finish--”
“I want my fucking cupcakes,” I growl.
Both Tara and Sandra give me slightly amused looks and shake their heads before walking toward the living room. They can be amused all they like, but the truth is Tara is as good as poison if you ask me. I’ll be damned if I leave her alone with my Sandra. I take a spot on the loveseat directly across from them, leaning forward and templing my fingers. Tara looks at me uncertainly and then back to Sandra.
Sandra shrugs. “You know how he is. It’s not like I can make him leave.”
“Damn right,” I murmur.
Both women snap their heads to glare at me, but they’ve both learned better than to try testing my stubbornness.
Tara takes a deep breath, turning her attention back to Sandra. “Mark left me. There’s some… some fucking floosie at Red’s he was flirting with last week. I didn’t think anything of it and then I found panties in our bed yesterday. When I confronted him he just got pissed at me for “acting like I was his mom’” and he dumped me. He just left.” She looks pleadingly at Sandra, as if hoping for some explanation that will change what happened.
Sandra looks like she’s battling an urge to do what she should do, which is to tell Tara she got what she deserves and to fuck off. Instead though, she puts a sympathetic hand on Tara’s arm and sighs. “I know this isn’t going to be what you want to hear right now, but at least you found out. It could have gone on for who knows how long without you knowing. You could have been married to him, even. And if he was willing to cheat with some girl from the bar, he would have found someone else to cheat with eventually. So, as much as it hurts, it’s better that you found out.”
I try not to smile with satisfaction when I see how Sandra’s words make Tara squirm. Without realizing it, Sandra just explained to Tara that the way she cheated on me was far worse than what just happened to her. From the white in Tara’s face, she didn’t miss it.
“Yeah. Better that I find out,” says Tara. Her voice is thin and without force though, like she doesn’t believe the words. “I’m sorry, too. I should have told you what Mark was planning with your bakery.”
Sandra nods. “Hey, don’t worry about all that right now.”
“I’m worried about it,” I say.
The look Sandra gives me could punch a hole through a glacier, but I meet her eyes and continue. “I am. And I won’t apologize for being more worried about you losing your bakery than I am about Tara getting a taste of her own medicine. Hell, maybe it’ll be good for her. That’s my advice. Take a big, deep breath and remember how this feels Tara. Maybe then you’ll think twice next time you want to betray someone’s trust.”
Tara gets up, fresh tears rolling from her eyes and storms out of the house. Sandra stands, but Tara is already out the door before she can go after her. “Really, Reid? That was really what you said to someone who just got cheated on?”
“She’s no good for you,” I say. “She treated you like shit and she’ll do it again. You know her as well as I do. Tara is real good at putting on a sad show when she wants sympathy. Once she’s got it, she’ll go right back to the way she was. She’s like a fucking pigeon. Keep giving her crumbs and she’ll keep coming back, but she won’t think twice about shitting on you or your car.”
“Shitting on... what?” asks Sandra.
I sigh. “You know what I mean. Point is, Tara is a shitty person.”
“Do you know something about her bathroom habits I should know?” Sandra asks. The hint of a smile flickering across her lips.
I grin back. “Yeah, now that you mention it. Keep clear around 3:00 P.M.”
“Okay, that’s disgusting,” Sa
ndra complains. She looks back to the kitchen and bites her lip thoughtfully. “Let’s finish these cupcakes, but you’re still an asshole for how you handled that.”
I stand. “Guilty as charged and unrepentant.”
18
Sandra
I’m leaving the general store when I notice a sign outside the Francis’ farmhouse. “Strawberry Picking Palooza, NEXT WEEK”. I read the words over and over again, feeling like an idea is on the verge of exploding in my head. It all comes to me at once. The Francis’ have been doing this event for years now, and it brings in tourists from all over the state. Thousands upon thousands of tourists who want to come get a taste of the small town, rural life and who want some of the biggest and juiciest strawberry’s you can find.
I have an idea, and I have absolutely no idea if it’s going to be enough, but it’s an idea, and I don’t have any time to waste.
I meet Jennifer and Lauren at the bakery ten minutes later, and they are both still rubbing the sleep from their eyes when they arrive.
“You’re going to give us extra time off for this, right?” asks Lauren as she stumbles in, eyes squinted against the light.
“Don’t be ungrateful,” Jennifer says quietly.
I motion for them to sit at one of the round tables for customers and sit across from them. I clasp my hands in front of me and bite my lip, looking for the right way to approach this.
“Oh no,” says Lauren. “That is a lot like the look you got when you thought it’d be ‘super fun’ to spend a hundred hours decorating the bakery for Christmas.”
“This is totally different,” I say.
“It’s not just me, right?” Lauren asks Jennifer. “You’re scared too, aren’t you?”
“A little,” admits Jennifer.
“Guyyys, come on. Just hear me out.”
Lauren reaches to grab Jennifer in a tight hug, pressing Jennifer’s startled face into her boobs.
Single Dad Next Door: A Fake Marriage Romance Page 12