by Jack Harbon
Rex could only chuckle to himself as he took a seat. Clearly, Jordan was a regular here at the store. For whatever reason, Rex found himself eager for the next visit. Eager to go toe-to-toe with this snooty, obnoxiously endearing man once again.
As he climbed into his car, Jordan could only repeat the same phrase over and over again.
“Jackass.”
That’s what Rex was. What kind of sales rep decided to talk trash about the books their customer was buying? Did he want Jordan’s money or not? Worse than the irritation he felt for the new Millerstone employee was the self-criticism about how easily he’d gotten pissed off. Jordan hated letting his emotions show. Nothing good ever came from being overly sensitive, yet he still let Rex get under his skin and bother him to the point of being visibly upset.
However, all of that was better than the most disgusting reaction he’d had in the store. His utter and embarrassingly obvious attraction to Rex.
Jordan sat in his car trying his damnedest to shake the feeling, to rationalize that he wasn’t that affected by the man’s looks, but his resolve was weak, and he inevitably recalled the way Rex had bitten his lip and looked up at him with those eyes. They weren’t just any eyes. They were those eyes. The kind that hid secret desires just enough to leave the person on the receiving end wondering if it were all in their head.
He couldn’t be attracted to a stupid, judgmental jackass like that, but as Jordan put his car in reverse and hastily drove away, his heart never once calmed down. It echoed in his head, just like the word “handsome” had. Handsome? After all the insults, he’d ended it with something that Jordan hadn’t been called in a long time. Not since his mother had passed away. Not by anyone other than his grandmother, who, bless her heart, was always trying to set him up with the younger staff that worked at her assisted living facility.
Handsome.
Handsome, handsome, handsome.
Rex’s compliment brought yet another sting of heat to his face. The one caveat was that this time, he didn’t have to worry about letting his reaction show. Only he knew what the praise had done to him.
With this flurry of emotions racing down the highway inside of Jordan’s mind, he headed home, trying to focus on the following Meet Cute Club meeting and not the fact that if this were the opening scene of a rom-com, in an hour and a half’s time, he and Rex would be riding off into the sunset together.
Two
The bag of books that hung from the handlebar of Rex’s motorcycle felt impossibly heavy, but it reminded him that soon, he’d be able to dive into worlds unlike his own and escape from the monotony of everyday life. He could disappear in the pages of wizards and dragons, serial killers and amateur sleuths, and government conspiracies and political intrigue.
A job at Millerstone hadn’t been his first choice. He’d originally planned on working at the supermarket a few blocks from his grandmother’s house, but when they told him they weren’t hiring, he’d had to come up with a second plan. The tiny little bookstore two miles away was the next best thing.
Carla gave him a chance, and after he knocked it out of the park during his interview, she immediately let him know that he started that following Monday. It was part-time, something he could do when he wasn’t busy organizing and clearing out the decades of garbage Nana Bailey had accumulated over the years.
Pulling his motorcycle into the driveway of her home, he took off his helmet and carried it up to the front door under his arm. Once inside, Rex dropped the helmet by the door and kicked off his shoes. He’d only been staying at the house for a few days, but he still hadn’t gotten accustomed to the smell. It was as if the scent of her perfume haunted the place—with just a hint of mothballs.
If she were here now, Rex knew she’d be ushering him into the kitchen and scolding him for being so skinny. He was a growing boy and needed meat on his bones, never mind the fact that he was a few years shy of thirty and eating plenty.
If she were here now, she’d sit him down and make him flip through old photo albums of when he and Amy were kids. How they’d come over and spend the night watching old Alain Delon movies while she waxed poetic about just how handsome that man could be.
If she were here now, Rex would wrap his arms around her and hug her until she laughed and tapped him to let go.
But she wasn’t. She hadn’t been here in five months, though it felt like an eternity and a minute at the same time. Rex, like Amy and his mother, had taken her death hard. No one in Sweet Rose had understood how a woman of nearly eighty years could still be bubbling with such life. Even with her limited mobility and a myriad of medical concerns, Dolores Bailey had managed to keep up with the best of them.
But like all good things in Rex’s life, eventually, she had to go. She made the decision herself, he believed. Two days before he got the call from his sister, he got one from Dolores. She told him that she loved him and that she was proud of who he was and who he would become later on down the road. It was out of place, but at the time, he’d thought nothing of it.
Two days later, she was gone.
In Rex’s eyes, she’d made the decision that her fight was over, and she was at peace. She could finally leave knowing that she’d done her best and loved her hardest and tried to help as many people as she could. If there was ever a better person, Rex didn’t know them.
Which was why, as he walked through the empty halls of her home, Rex struggled to keep the grief from breaking through the surface. He’d been strong for everyone else, just as he always was, but coming back here to clean the house before putting it up on the market was proving much harder than he’d initially believed.
Rex tossed the books on his bed and took a seat beside them, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb. Work had been easy on him, but his day was far from over. He still needed to begin sorting through all of Nana Bailey’s belongings and packing up only the necessary items. On top of that, he hadn’t grabbed anything for dinner on the way home, which meant he was left with canned soup in the kitchen or ordering something off any of the thousands of food apps he had on his phone.
He went for the food apps, only minorly cringing at the delivery fees. It should’ve been illegal to charge that much for a few burgers and fries.
While he waited for his food to arrive, Rex headed up to the attic to begin cleaning. In his mind, tackling the hardest thing first made more sense. Biting the bullet usually led to an easier life later on down the road, something Rex considered much-needed.
He tugged the chain to the light, and soon, the entire room was illuminated from the single yellow bulb. The shadows only made the attic slightly unnerving. Rather than considering what—or who—could be hiding in the corners of the room, Rex grabbed the nearest box and took a seat. He rifled through its contents, picking out important items like manila folders and dusty old books.
At the bottom of the box was a broken picture frame. The glass had shattered long ago, but the picture inside remained unmarred. Rex brought it closer to examine the image.
There was a nagging feeling inside of him as he looked at his mother, his father, and Nana Bailey all together. He traced a finger over the curve of his mother’s dark hair and tapped each dotted freckle that peppered his skin as well. They each wore matching smiles, but Rex knew the truth, the story hidden just beyond his father’s eyes.
On paper, he was the perfect husband. Loving, providing, and considerate, he made it clear that his wife and son were the only things that mattered to him. Family was the foundation to any man’s life, and without it, they were often led down less than savory life paths. Anything less than the idyllic family was unacceptable.
Of course, the truth made his father’s beliefs laughable.
Behind the scenes, Alan Bailey lived his life on a whim, landing wherever the wind took him. The vows he’d made came with a section of clauses that excused any of his affairs, and his wedding ring was a fashion statement more than it was a
commitment to his wife. That was how Rex ended up with a sister seven years younger than him.
Amy was born into a world of chaos, of petty arguments, broken promises, and secrets revealed. She shook up Rex’s entire world, and for the longest time, he resented her for simply existing. As he grew older, and his father left his mother for Amy’s, he grew to understand who the real problem was. It wasn’t the child of an affair, but rather the man he’d once so passionately idolized.
Looking at the picture in his hand reminded him that all the stories of love he’d been told as a child were exactly that. The idea that two people could spend forever together was bullshit, lies packaged up by Hallmark and Hollywood. In the real world, people were selfish. They were liars, cheats, and users. They were people like his father.
The worst part was that they could never admit it. They plastered on perfect smiles and pretended nothing could shake the foundation of their family. But like the glass on the picture frame in Rex’s hands, illusions eventually shattered.
Rex tossed the frame back into the box and returned the rest of the trash inside, burying the image exactly where it belonged. This was too much work. Maybe his assumption about starting from the top had been wrong. The attic was a graveyard of dead promises and haunting memories. He’d worry about it later.
Rex pushed himself up from the wooden floor and dusted himself off, suddenly overcome with the feeling of filth. He needed to wash it all away before it became permanent. In the kitchen downstairs, he spent a few moments scrubbing his hands clean. He dried them on the towel hanging from the oven handle, ears perking up at the sound of the doorbell.
Dinner.
Rex’s entire mood changed the second he had his meal spread out on the coffee table in the living room. Between the books he’d retrieved from his bedroom and the greasy feast before him, he couldn’t decide what to dive into first. He settled on unwrapping a burger and taking a large bite, wiping the corner of his lips with a napkin before he scanned over the titles.
His eyes fell to the three books teetering on the edge of the coffee table. It had been an impulse, really, a move he hadn’t truly thought through before making, but he’d grabbed them all the same. They looked severely out of place compared to his other books, yet they called to him the most.
The same three novels Jordan Collins had picked up two days ago.
Rex convinced himself it was just a joke, something he’d bring up the next time Jordan came into Millerstone, but beneath everything, there was a bit of intrigue. What made these silly little beach reads so interesting? Were they seriously good enough to make a man like Jordan get defensive about them?
Part of him couldn’t believe it. In his eyes, all these books were just wish fulfilment stories for lonely women who didn’t get out much. Bodice rippers, with scantily clad men and women in dresses that always seemed to fall off the shoulder. Yet there Jordan had been, all stuffy and ready to fight him over Rex’s comments about the books.
Clearly, there was something to it, and with Nana Bailey’s lack of cable and Wi-Fi, Rex had nothing better to do and nothing to lose.
He reached for the historical one first, settling back into the couch and cracking open the spine.
Saturday. The day that, for the past six months, always sent Jordan’s stomach into a frenzy. His nervousness crackled like lightning as he flitted all over the house, making sure everything was perfect. To anyone watching through the windows, he must’ve looked absolutely out of his mind running all over the place, this direction and that. He needed everything to be perfect.
Jordan placed the tray of cookies in the middle of the coffee table, followed by a pitcher of lemonade, six bottles of water, and a stack of napkins. In the kitchen, he lit his favorite lavender vanilla candles, and while the scent began wafting through the house, Jordan twisted the blinds open and parted every set of curtains on the windows.
By the time he was finished, his little house radiated with light. It made his white furniture practically glow. The smell of freshly baked cookies mixing with his candles gave the entire house a feeling of warmth that he knew the members of Meet Cute Club would love.
Right on time, there was the knock of his first guest. He straightened his short-sleeved white button-up, took a deep breath, and unlocked the door, pasting on a wide smile as he hugged Lana and welcomed her into the house.
“Ooh, it smells delicious in here,” she said, taking a seat on the sofa in the living room. She placed her bag down on the floor and looked around. “I’m not the first one, am I?”
“You are, yeah.”
“Shoot,” she said, slouching. “I wanted to be fashionably late so that everyone could compliment me on how much weight I’ve lost!”
Jordan cracked a smile and looked her over. “You seem happier.”
“I am! Have you heard of the keto diet? Seriously, Jordan, it’s life-changing, I swear to God.”
As she launched into her pitch for this new lifestyle choice of hers, Jordan could only listen with amusement. It seemed every other week Lana was coming up with new things to try and exploring different social groups. It was a miracle she’d stuck with Meet Cute Club for so long, considering she’d joined on a whim, and as her previous track record showed, commitment didn’t seem to be Lana’s thing.
The other four members arrived during the twenty minutes leading up to the official start time of the meeting, and Jordan hopped up each time to give them a hug and welcome them. Gloria had just gotten her hair dyed, which she was excited about, and Madeline had recently returned from Hawaii for her grandson’s wedding, which she was more excited about. Even Charles, the only other man in the group, came bearing good news about his job promotion.
Jordan needed their positivity.
It had been six months since the conception of Meet Cute Club, and since then, their membership had been cut in half. He couldn’t hold it against the other five members who’d dropped out for one reason or another, but it hurt every single time. And with nobody filling their spots, each loss picked at Jordan’s hope. If they couldn’t get their numbers up, he wasn’t sure if Meet Cute Club would even be a thing in six more months.
“Alright,” he said, smiling. “We’re all here!”
They cheered and gave a small round of applause as Jordan grabbed the large Millerstone bag and began distributing the books. One of the ways Jordan had been able to retain the people he had was by offering to cover the expenses. He had expendable money, and if it took buying fifteen books a month to keep this passion project alive, he was willing to sacrifice.
“I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” Gloria said, thumbing through The Duke’s Deadly Bride. Regency romance was always her favorite, and she made no secret about her obsession with history and the scandals of old English society.
“I’ve heard good things about this author, so I’m stoked,” Lana said.
“Not to brag,” Jordan said, smiling wide, “but she replied and retweeted one of my tweets about this series.”
“Shut up!” Madeline exclaimed.
Charles clicked his teeth and shook his head. “You and your luck, Jordan, I swear.”
The knock at the front door cut their conversation short. As Jordan rose from his seat, Lana popped up faster. “I got it!” she said, disappearing around the corner.
“Were you expecting anyone else?” Gloria asked, sipping from her bottle of water.
“No, but I’m sure it’s just a delivery for more books. I might have a problem,” he chuckled. “Sometimes I wish I had another set of eyes to read with.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” Gloria pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and Jordan was in awe of each curl that she put up. He’d been trying to grow out his own hair, but after the severe damage he’d gotten from dyeing and straightening, it was taking longer than expected. He longed for his natural curls back, but Black Jesus wasn’t granting him mercy.
Lana poked her head around the corner with an odd expression
on her face. “Hey, Jordan? There’s someone here for you. He says he knows you?”
Jordan scrunched up his nose but stood nonetheless, following Lana into the foyer. Immediately, he felt himself tense up at the sight of Rex standing there, hands buried in his ripped-up light wash jeans. In his white tank top, Jordan could now see the sleeve of tattoos trailing down his right arm. His thick hair was brushed back from his eyes, making every feature of his face even more noticeable.
Jordan swallowed hard. Shit.
“I’ll let you two talk,” Lana said. She slipped around Jordan and hurried off back to the living room with the others.
Jordan’s initial shock quickly melted into irritation, and he grabbed Rex by his tatted arm, desperately trying to ignore the tight, defined muscles he felt beneath his soft skin as he dragged him into the kitchen. With a low voice, he demanded,
“What the hell are you doing here? How did you even find out where I lived?”
“Carla,” Rex said. “Asked if she knew who the nerd was that came in and ordered eighteen romance books. She gave me the neighborhood you lived in, and I figured the house with all the cars in front of it was yours.”
“Okay, first of all, Edward Cullen, that’s really stalkery and weird. Second, you didn’t answer my first question. Why are you in my house right now?”
Rex reached around to his back pocket, and Jordan was treated to another glimpse of his delicious body as his tank top inched up ever so slightly. The glimpse of that v-line was what made Jordan flush and look away.
In Rex’s hand was a copy of The Duke’s Deadly Bride.
“Why do you have that?” he asked.
“Because I’m reading it.”
“You’re so funny,” Jordan said, rolling his eyes. “You said they were for old, lonely women. Why would you be reading it?”