“I’ll see your spinach and raise you green olives.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Green olives?”
He twisted his face in an expression she suspected mirrored her own and returned the disdain. “Jalapeños?”
“Halvsies?”
“On a white pizza?”
She grinned. “Is there any other kind? Although I have to say I’m shocked. You said you had three brothers. I figured you’d order your pizza with meat topped with meat. You’re not a vegetarian are you?”
“Nope. Turns out my brothers all think pizza without meat and red sauce is almost as horrifying as adding all that green stuff, and that if I wanted a salad, I should order a salad. But I stuck with my crazy concoction—crafted entirely due to their accusation of eating all that green stuff, which is a quote—and never have to share.”
“Until now.”
His fingertips curled at her nape, then followed the path the ice until his thumb grazed her jaw. The ice had melted, but his touch had remained. “There are certain circumstances that absolutely require a willingness to share.”
She swallowed. Hard. Mentally shoving him back to the friend zone, she asked, “You sure don’t want some meat on meat?”
He laughed, breaking some of the spell. Which was excellent, but she was about to throw herself on the bed and pray he’d take the hint. “No way,” he said. “And since you hate the city and all its concrete so much, how about we pick up that pizza on the way to some green space? I meant what I said about showing you the other side.”
“The very fact that you have to help me find green space supports my hatred.”
“Fair enough, but if you miss all that green space as much as you claim, you’d jump at the chance to visit a park.”
Damn. He had her there. “You’re going to have to put on a shirt.”
“I’ll grab a dry one from my apartment.”
“Deal. I’ll order the pizza.” She pulled up the app on her phone.
Upon seeing the chain’s logo on the screen, he shook his head. “No way. You can have that anywhere. How about something from the city?”
“That’s a selling point?”
“You can’t say you hate it until you try it.”
“Fine.” She handed him her phone, though he probably had his close, and tried not to let her eyes linger. She was kidding herself if she thought the shirt would erase from her mind the very distracting vision of his upper body. Even the image from the grocery store lingered, and that was before she knew what lay underneath that cotton tee.
He handed back her phone. “It’ll be ready when we get there.”
She blinked. She’d missed the whole phone call—a fact he probably hadn’t missed. She needed to get a grip. Staring all moon-eyed at a hot guy was something teenagers did. She grabbed her keys and decided to forgo her purse, instead slipping her ID and a credit card in the front pocket of her shorts. Carrying a bag around seemed a little too obvious. A little too rob me because I have all the things in here.
They stopped at his apartment, which was every bit the mess he claimed. Sheets covered most of the space, with only sparse lumps indicating some kind of furnishing underneath. “Where do you sleep?” she asked.
He pointed to one corner. “Air mattress for now. I have new furniture coming as soon as I paint and put in the new floors.”
“Nice,” she said.
“It will be.” He dug under a tarp and came up with a dry shirt. Her attempt not to ogle him failed.
Just. Friends.
“Where are we headed?” she asked as they exited the apartment.
“Prospect Park, Brooklyn.”
She bit back one of those oh hell no laughs, a cry for help that she didn’t choke out. “Brooklyn? I bet the pizza is greener than that place.”
He just smiled.
Whatever that meant.
…
Crosby felt a little untethered as he walked into Prospect Park in the middle of a Monday afternoon. His brothers had promised they could cover for him after he’d texted them, but Fusion was Crosby’s responsibility. It didn’t matter how often they told him the burden was a shared one—he didn’t want to let them down. He didn’t want to disappoint his grandfather or fail his memory. That was why he threw himself into his work—that, and he didn’t want his brothers to burn out and hate the family business.
But what about you?
He’d never felt burnout before, but he’d never had anything to draw him away from work. No woman had ever caught his eye the way Estelle did. And he did have to concede a point for her. Despite his concern over stepping away from work, his mood changed the minute he entered the park. He loved the city, but even he felt the oasis offered by the green space.
“This place is huge.”
“Over five-hundred acres. There’s a zoo, wooded trails, an Audubon society, horseback riding, playgrounds…and from the thick of the trees, there’s no concrete to be found.”
“You really know the way to a girl’s heart.”
“Is it that simple?”
“Nah. There’s also the pizza. Do you spend much time here?”
He shook his head. “I’m usually working.” As in, always. The mom and pop market was biting it, big time. Crosby began working weekends for the regular rate and picked up a few new customers, but a single-family home here and there didn’t make up for the loss of all the buildings that had shifted to central systems. He’d been on a seven-day schedule for months, only taking off Sunday afternoons for his mother’s family dinner.
“You should work less.”
“No rest for the wicked. Or people who run family companies.” Despite the serious declaration, a smile threatened as he led Estelle to a bench. “I have to warn you, you’ll never again enjoy one of those chain store pizzas after this.”
“Big talk. And also unfair, because I’m starving.”
He flipped open the box and held it while she grabbed a piece, then waited while she took her first bite.
“Oh. My. God.” Her eyes rolled back in her head. “This is amazing. You win.”
“Worth a visit to the city?” He grabbed a slice, careful to avoid the half with hot peppers.
“Yes. But if you ever repeat that, I’ll torture you with jalapeños.”
“Fair enough. And for the record, that’s two things on your list of things to love about the city.”
“The old woman doesn’t count,” she said again.
“We’ll see. So what do you do out there in the middle of nowhere, California?” He’d wondered, since she said she worked for herself, but he hadn’t wanted to scare her off by asking too many questions.
“I’m a landscape design architect. It’s a lifelong passion. Apparently I was born hating cities and concrete.”
He wanted to disagree. Really wanted to tell her the city wasn’t such a bad place, but it was hard to argue with someone who made a career out of designing green spaces—spaces a little larger, he assumed, than the holes created in the sidewalks to hold a lone tree and maybe a couple of sad plants. Granted, there were parks, but all were well established some decades ago. A little further from the city’s core, genteel old houses lined postage stamp-sized lawns, but not much with which a landscape architect could make a living. Damned if she was right…there wasn’t much in the city for her. And that made him ache, because as much as she had his head spinning, he remained astutely aware of the fact that he wanted to get to know her better but probably wouldn’t get the chance.
“Do you come from a long line of landscape professionals?” he asked.
“Not a long line, no. And heaven knows the gene pool wasn’t strong because my brother can’t keep a cactus from keeling over. But my mom was a landscape architect, and my dad ran a tree service. That was how they met, and they merged their work and formed a company.”
“Do you work for them now?”
“No. Grady and I were late-in-life babies. They retired and sold the business when I was in high school and died a
couple years later in a car accident.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been so hard for you.”
“It was. It is. But my mom designed and funded a bunch of green space for the city—and by city, I mean a municipality that’s a lot more grass than asphalt—and after they died I took over the largest of the areas and made it a memorial garden. I love it there. Most of what’s growing she planted herself. Having that connection through living things helps a lot.”
“And I guess when you’re in a place like this, you miss that connection more than ever.”
She grinned. “Maybe not in a place like this. But out there”—she tipped her head, indicating the world beyond the park’s borders—“definitely.”
They finished the pizza, Crosby only half-dying when a stray pepper found its way onto one of his slices. His surviving half had to admit the peppers were good on the pizza.
He disposed of the box. “Up for a walk?”
“You’re not going to toss me in a thicket or something are you?”
“If I did, you’d probably be thrilled.”
She laughed and headed off with him in the direction of the forested area. “I’m geeking out over the trees. It’s almost embarrassing.”
“Don’t be. My brother’s ex-girlfriend liked to geek out over seven-hundred-dollar shoes and twenty-five-hundred-dollar purses. I think trees are a fantastic improvement.”
“I guess that’s what made her an ex?”
“Maybe. Liam’s young, though. Twenty-six now, and probably not looking to be tied down to a woman who cares more about her closet than she does him.”
She slowed to trace her fingertips over a tree trunk. “Ouch. What about the rest of your brothers?”
“Sawyer is next in line after me. He’ll never settle down for more than a night. If he’s still there the next morning, it’s practically a commitment on his part. Ethan was born between Sawyer and Liam. He’s the serious type. He married his high school sweetheart only to lose her a couple years later to lymphoma.”
“That’s horrible.”
“It was. It’s been three years, and he hasn’t been on a date since.”
“Has he also thrown himself into his work?”
He frowned. “Sometimes I think he just goes through the motions. He’s still in a bit of a cloud.”
“So what’s your story?”
“I don’t have one. Nothing exciting or tragic, at least. I dated in high school and more in the years thereafter, but nothing serious. The more involved I got with learning the business, the less time I had for other things.”
“If this is you being antisocial, I can’t wait to find out what happens next.”
He sidestepped a kid on a bike, grateful to be spared a reply when he found her staring at a tree. They all looked the same to him, but she seemed awed. “Nice tree?”
“Hawthorn.” She turned and playfully bumped shoulders with him. “Since we’ve agreed to just be friends, I’m dying of curiosity. I find it hard to believe you’re single.”
“I think the mystery here is why you are,” he countered.
“That’s a mortifying subject, you know.”
“What’s that?”
“Asking a girl why she can’t get a boyfriend.”
“Estelle, there’s no doubt in my mind you could get one. My question is why you haven’t wanted one.”
She rolled her eyes and gave an exaggerated moan. “See, this is why you’re so improbably single. You always know what to say, and you seem to mean it. Some girl should snatch you up.”
He touched her hand and her fingers immediately laced through his. “Some girl did. At least, for a couple of weeks.”
“Ah, so that’s it? So all the poor, love struck ladies who can’t get over that perfect face of yours were just temporary?”
He actually blushed—and then expertly deflected. “Believe it or not, I wish our friendship didn’t have to end so soon.”
“Give it time. I guarantee you’ll be glad to be rid of me. You have puncture wounds on your butt, and we’re only a day in. I don’t think you could handle me for an extended period of time.”
“I bet you’re right, but not for the reasons you think. Now, why haven’t you found someone worthy of your time?”
“I’m twenty-eight years old, and I own my own business. Most of the men I meet can barely hold down jobs, or barely want to. Even the ones who spend all day in a suit and tie want to party the second they leave the office. Or surf or work on their tans. It is California, after all. It’s like perpetual high school out there, and I want more. I want a man with drive.”
“What if he’s so wedded to his job that he wouldn’t have time for you?” It took him a pathetic moment to realize he could be talking about himself. But he wasn’t. Because they were just friends.
“Crosby, look around.” She swept her arm across the park vista before them. “You’re walking along a tree-shrouded trail in the middle of a Monday afternoon. The right guy makes time.”
Her words actually stopped him in his tracks.
She turned to him and grinned. “I’m not saying you’re the right guy. In fact, you’re clearly not him, all things considered, which only serves to further my point that, under certain circumstances, you can be peeled away from your job. Just imagine what you’d do for the right woman.”
He forced his feet to move. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I am.”
“But not about everything. You have to admit this place isn’t as bad as you expected.”
“You have one and a half points out of five. Don’t count your chickens, buddy.”
He choked on a laugh. “We don’t count chickens here. That aside, why do you hate the city so much? I doubt the Yankees or Trump’s comb-over are really responsible for ruining your stay.”
“The crowds. The concrete. The utter lack of breathing room. And for that matter, the air doesn’t feel good to breathe. You know those coffee commercials where the person takes a deep breath over that steaming cup and they smile?”
He nodded.
“That’s me out of the city.”
“And you in the city? Oh, wait, I know this one. Drenched, right?”
She froze, staring at him. “You did not just say that.”
“No, you did.”
Her face turned a shade redder. “That’s not what I meant.”
“And here I was wondering if you were rethinking our arrangement.” He tugged at his damp shirt. It had to be a hundred in the shade. “But misunderstandings aside, you’re definitely hot.”
“So are you.” Her sweet little grin was anything but innocent. He already ached for her, and it was more than physical. He liked her, which felt like a playground confession if ever one existed. So maybe it was better that they’d agreed to keep things platonic, so he could have a little bit of Estelle in his life even after she left New York, instead of ruining things with sex.
But right now, casual sex really didn’t seem like such a terrible idea…
Her eyes flew wide at something over his shoulder. “Is that a carousel?”
He didn’t have to follow her gaze—he knew where it went. “Yes it is. It’s been there over a hundred years.” And he’d die if he had to get on that thing, but the wonderment in her eyes suggested she had other plans.
“Can we ride?”
“Of course.” Great. He’d never, ever live this down. Maybe his brothers would never find out. “Classic New York experience,” he said to Estelle. “I wouldn’t dream of depriving you.”
His words were wasted. She was already tugging him to the ride, and he wouldn’t miss her excitement—or his chance to score another point—for anything. After a brief wait in line, he ponied up the fare and watched, absolutely tortured, while she climbed up and straddled one lucky jackass. He climbed up on the horse next to hers, ridiculous as he felt, and when the carousel started, he was relieved to find his ride was stationary. But the relief was short lived, beca
use having her rise and fall so close to him left him nearly incapable of getting off his horse when it was over. He managed, then tried not to notice how natural it felt to take her hand as they walked away. The image of her laughing and carefree would haunt him for a while. Especially because, for a moment, he’d felt that way, too.
“You finding the city a bit more tolerable now? The antique carousel was so spectacular that we’ve found thing number three that New York does better than California?” he asked as they meandered through seemingly endless groups of people.
“Nope.” She laughed at the shock that must have splayed across his face. “I’m tolerating the park. Not the city. You, on the other hand, I kind of like. What the heck is that?”
He followed her gaze to the enormous concrete ellipse that stretched ahead of them. “Your worst nightmare.”
“Seriously?”
“It’s a spray park or a water playground or whatever they’re called.” And popular, too, judging by the swarm of attendees. The large oval was surrounded on all sides by streams of water that arched inward like a school fountain. As they drew closer, the place seemed to expand. He’d never paid much attention to it, so the size caught him off guard. He could only imagine what she thought of the thing.
She looked from the crowd of screaming wet people to him. Mischief sparked in her eyes. “I dare you,” she said.
“I’m sorry?”
She cocked her head. “You said you didn’t have much fun. So let’s have some.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m too old for a playground.”
“The fact that you think that absolutely convinces me you need to come play with me.”
Jesus. All the play he had in mind absolutely did not belong in a public place, let alone one largely populated by kids. But she’d already grabbed his hand and was pulling him toward the spray. “Hang on,” he said.
“No wimping out.”
“Not wimping. Just saving my cell phone. And maybe my shoes.”
She rolled her eyes but joined him in leaving her shoes and cell phone out of harm’s way. Then she dragged him in, directly into the falling water. The stream, while not cold, was chillier than he expected. He was instantly not hot…until he took a good look at the woman who had yet to let go of his hand. Nipples on full display. God, they were sensitive. He immediately wondered how she’d react to his mouth on them, then wanted to kick himself. He was not the kind of guy who lived with his brain in the gutter. That was his brother, Sawyer, from whom Crosby couldn’t differ more…at least in the dating department. Crosby didn’t duck out on work. He didn’t kiss his clients, and he didn’t stare at nipples. And he didn’t know what had changed.
Five Things I Love About You Page 5