He carried her into his apartment and set her down at the kitchen island next to a bright red cushioned stool that matched the stools in his shop.
She yanked her skirt down, hoping he wouldn’t notice what felt like a full-body blush. “Thanks,” she mumbled.
“My pleasure.”
Her gaze jerked to his, and he gave her a slow smile. Had he put special emphasis on pleasure? The way he said it ran through her like warm chocolate. Flustered, she took a seat and focused on her sundae.
He walked to the other side of the island and poured them both a glass of ice water. She drank greedily, desperate to cool off.
“So tell me what brought on the fudge brownie sundae,” he said in that sweet, thoughtful tone that always made her want to talk his ear off. She’d spent many hours telling him about all of her horrible dates and getting the guy perspective on them. She took a deep breath. She had to tell someone about the demise of her career, the crushing of her dream, and her imminent failure as a businesswoman.
She set her spoon down. “The bank turned down my loan for the café. I mean, I know my financials don’t look great, but they’d seemed so understanding about the struggles of an independent bookstore.” She exhaled sharply and studied the large wooden spoon mounted over the sink. “I really thought the café would save Book It.”
“Are you going to have to close your store?”
“I hope not. We’re a little in the red, but not too bad. I’ll either have to let Janelle go, or let my apartment go and live rent-free with my parents. Thirty-one and moving back home.” She dropped her head in her hands, all appetite gone.
“Tell me more about your plan for the café.”
She looked up. “What does it matter now? It’s not happening.”
His jaw tightened. “Just tell me.”
She rubbed her forehead. “I was going to open up the wall between the café and bookstore to make it all one. Then I’d have your awesome coffee and fresh-baked stuff. That way, when you’re browsing for books, you’ve got all these delicious aromas wafting over, then you have a snack, go back to browsing and, hopefully, buying books. I wanted it to be a place to hang out. Someplace where people not just from here but from nearby towns would stop by too.” She played with the end of her braid. “I can’t let Janelle go. She’s been with me from the beginning.”
Shane nodded, all concern and sympathy.
Rachel leaned forward and rested her forehead on the island. “Mommy, get my old room ready.”
Her life officially sucked. If she were in a Jane Austen novel, this would be the perfect time for an anonymous benefactor to show up.
“The bank suggested I find investors,” she told the counter.
A warm hand rubbed her back. She straightened. She swore the man was half cat, she hadn’t even heard him move.
The back rub felt amazing. Back rubs between friends are fine. The back is neutral territory.
She closed her eyes as warmth stole through her. “Who’d want to invest in the café knowing how Book It is failing?”
“Me.”
She turned. “You?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head. “You’re just feeling sorry for me. Besides, you don’t have that kind of money.”
His hand stopped moving, resting on the small of her back. “How much?”
“The loan was for a hundred thousand.”
He whistled. “Wow.”
“Yeah.”
Should she tell him to move his hand? Now it kinda felt like he had his arm around her.
“I’d need to see the business plan before I committed to it,” he said.
Her jaw dropped, and she completely forgot about his hand. “Are you serious?”
He smiled. “Yup.”
She stood and paced his living room. She couldn’t help her disbelief. Was this some weird sacrificial gesture on his part to convince her to be more than friends? Going into business with Shane? Would it ruin their friendship? Would he expect more from her than friends? Why would he do this?
She stopped pacing and returned to sit on the stool across from him. “Why?”
“I like the idea of a café. I even like the name. Something’s Brewing Café.” He nodded in approval. “Investing in the café would help me diversify. I’m feeling the crunch from the new fro-yo shop.”
“Barry’s a competitive threat?”
“He’s giving out wacky glasses. The kids love ’em. I never thought to give out cheap party favors. I thought quality ice cream would bring people back for more.”
“Barry with his pro-bee-otics?” She giggled. Barry couldn’t even pronounce probiotics right, yet he said it all the time. She and Shane had a running joke to see how many times they could get him to say the word.
Shane snorted and did his Barry impression. “Fro-yo is much healthier than ice cream thanks to the—” he lifted his nose in the air “—pro-bee-otics.”
She laughed. Shane was spot-on. Then she started thinking about his offer. “How would this work? You’d take out a loan and invest in the café?”
“We’d be partners, fifty-fifty. I’ll loan you your half, and you can pay me back when the café starts turning a profit.”
“You seriously have a hundred grand?”
He raised one shoulder up and down. “I can get it.”
His shop was doing well. Plus he supplied a network of restaurants with ice cream and had his own delivery truck and a crew of employees. Maybe he could afford it. Just because he chose to live in an apartment above the shop didn’t mean he had no money. Maybe he just socked the money away.
It was so generous. Too much. But what if it worked? What if the café was a success and Book It was saved and she paid him back? It could be her dream come true.
She played with the end of her braid. “I don’t know.”
He inclined his head. “Think about it. I hate to make you eat and run, but I do have to get back.”
She looked down at her half-melted sundae. Her spirits were lifted more by Shane than the chocolate anyway. She tossed the rest in the trash.
He bent in front of her. “Up you go.”
She stared at his back. No way in hell was she taking that ride again. Not when they might go into business together. “I can walk.”
He stood and turned, a small smile playing over his lips. Did he know what that ride did to her? She felt herself flush.
“What’s the big deal?” he asked. “You seemed happy with the ride up.”
Dammit! He did know!
“I was not happy.”
“No?”
“Absolutely not.” She raised her chin. “I was actually uncomfortable.” She nodded to emphasize the point. “And bored,” she added. “In fact, this whole conversation is boring.”
“Uh-huh.”
She bit back a curse, not willing to let him see that he’d hit on a sore spot, and headed for the door.
“Rach, come on, you just got off crutches yesterday.”
“I’m fine,” she called over her shoulder. She opened the door and went flying backwards as his arms went around her waist and lifted her. “Shane!”
She wiggled to get away.
“Stop fighting me. You’re gonna end up hurting yourself worse.”
She went still because either way—riding his back or carried in his arms—she enjoyed it way too much. This might be a problem. If only she hadn’t sprained her ankle, they wouldn’t be in this ridiculous, confusing mess.
He set her back on the ground, and they had a stare down.
Shane blinked first and took a step closer. “Okay?”
“Okay, fine! But this whole carrying me around routine has gotten very—”
He scooped her up and cradled her in his arms. She got the crazy feeling that he might just carry her off to bed. Her breathing hitched, and she ran hot all over.
“Very what?” he prompted.
“Old,” she breathed.
He chuckled and carried
her out the door. “I agree. I can’t wait until you start carrying me around instead.”
She giggled.
I’m taking an elevator downstairs. That’s all. A warm, muscled elevator.
He set her down inside his shop and grinned. “Want another sundae?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
He nodded once and went back to work.
She worked her way through the crowd of people in his shop, thinking again of the future for Book It, her baby, her passion project. She’d have to set firm boundaries with Shane. That was all. Business would be business, friendship after hours, and nothing more than that. It could work. It really could. It had to work.
She smiled to herself and stepped back out into the sunshine.
~ ~ ~
Shane drove to his dad’s house in Fieldridge after work. Usually he stopped by on Sundays, but he didn’t think his dad would mind the midweek visit. Shane was the only one of his brothers willing to spend time with their dad. It had been a year since Jack O’Hare had first contacted Shane about getting to know each other again. Before that, the last time Shane had seen his dad was when he was thirteen. Jack had walked out on him and his brothers shortly after their mom died. Jack had explained how his alcoholism combined with grief over the loss of his wife had proved too much for him to handle back then. He’d asked Shane for forgiveness and let him know he’d been sober for three and a half years.
Shane wasn’t one to turn his back on family. He’d already lost his mom, so if his dad wanted back in his life, he’d been willing to give him that chance.
They’d started spending time together every Sunday, working on a ’67 Shelby Mustang GT 500 his dad had inherited from his dad. Shane knew cars and tools, thanks to his dad, so working on the car was a natural fit. Before his mom had died, his dad had kept his drinking to nights so the boys knew if they caught him in the afternoon on a weekend, he’d play catch with them. But, unlike his brothers, Shane had been terrible at sports and had stayed away. He never got much attention from his dad until he was nine and asked for an E-Z Bake Oven for Christmas.
He got a toolbox instead with real tools. Jack dedicated himself to making sure Shane knew tools, cars, and how to fix stuff around the house. Everything Jack thought a man should know. Somehow working with his hands came easier to Shane than catching a ball. Maybe because he wasn’t afraid of something hurtling through the air at him.
Shane had ended up at culinary school despite his dad’s efforts. Still, it was good to know how to fix stuff too.
He rang the bell of the modest ranch home his dad rented. The door swung open, and Shane was struck once again at how much Ryan looked like their dad. His dad smiled, and wrinkles formed around his eyes with the gesture. “Shane! What a nice surprise. Come in.”
Shane stepped inside. The place was neat and sparsely decorated with old furniture his dad had picked up at Goodwill. “You feel like going for a ride?”
“Absolutely. Let me grab the keys.” His dad went to the kitchen to fetch the Shelby’s keys from their hiding spot behind the spice rack. Now that the Shelby was running, they’d been going for rides for the past couple of months.
They walked to the detached garage, and his dad punched in the code. The Shelby was valuable and highly collectible, since there weren’t many around like this beauty from ’67 signed on the dash by Carroll Shelby himself. Once they’d gotten the car running, his dad had given him the car as a thank you for spending time with him. Shane had never told his brothers about the gift. He hadn’t wanted to further any hurt between his brothers and his dad. Ryan and Trav were polite to their dad at the few family events Gran had invited him to, but that was as far as it went. Shane kept the car hidden at his dad’s place and never drove it in Clover Park.
His dad opened the garage, and they both took a moment to admire the car’s beauty.
“That wax really brought out the red, didn’t it?” his dad asked.
The original candy apple red. Shane resisted touching it so as not to leave a smudge. “She’s beautiful.”
Shane slid onto the smooth black vinyl of the driver’s seat and gripped the original wood steering wheel. He admired the brushed aluminum accents and the old-fashioned speedometer. No computers working in this car. Just pure gears, metal, and raw horsepower. His dad got in and shut the door.
Shane turned the ignition, and the engine roared to life. He glanced at his dad, and they exchanged a grin.
He pulled out and headed for the open roads just outside of town, where horse farms dotted the landscape. The roads were curvy, mostly deserted, and lined with trees and stone walls. He hit the accelerator, enjoying the guttural sound of raw power that he felt as much as heard. The steering was tight, the brakes tight, beautiful shifting. They’d done a great job pulling this car back to its top form.
They rolled the windows down and let the warm breeze carry through. Shane soaked it all in for several miles before he finally told his dad what was on his mind.
“Dad, you know how much this car means to me, right?”
“That’s why I gave it to you. I knew you’d take good care of her.”
“You know what means even more to me?” He glanced over. “Just hanging out with you.”
His dad’s voice came out hoarse. “Me too, son.”
Shane’s chest ached. They drove in silence for a few minutes. He really didn’t want to hurt his dad’s feelings. The car had brought them together. It had given them something to focus on when conversation was still difficult in those early visits. It had given them something to look forward to and, ultimately, to connect with. But the important thing now was that they did have a bond. A good one.
“Dad, I want to sell the car.”
“What! I thought you loved this car! I love this car. When I gave it to you, I pictured you giving it to your son one day.”
Shane’s chest tightened like his heart was in a vise. Geez, this was hard. But if he wanted to have a son of his own, he first had to sweep Rachel off her feet. Investing in the café, becoming her business partner, and ultimately much more, all depended on selling this car, his only real asset. He hoped to get at least a hundred grand for it. He couldn’t take out another business loan, he was still paying off the one he’d taken to open his own shop. And he’d invested most of his profits right back into the business when he expanded with the equipment, staff, and delivery truck needed to supply ice cream to restaurants.
Whatever it took.
Shane slowed the car a bit to make conversation easier with less wind whipping through the windows. “You know I love the Shelby, but something’s come up. An investment opportunity. I need the money to get in on the ground floor.”
He congratulated himself on sounding reasonable and very business-savvy.
At his dad’s silence, he glanced over. His lips were pressed into a line. His dad finally spoke. “This is about a woman, isn’t it? That Rachel you’re always talking about.”
Shane didn’t want to sound like a total lovesick fool, even if he was. “No, it’s business.”
He hit the accelerator, and the engine’s roar combined with the wind made further conversation difficult. Finally, a couple miles down the road, he had to stop at a stop sign.
“Rachel’s business?” his dad asked.
Shane sighed. “Yes.”
His dad shook his head. “You’re just gonna blow thousands of dollars to impress a woman.”
“I told you this is business.” Shane’s cheeks burned. “You up for a drive to the beach?”
“Hell yeah.”
“One last drive.”
“One last drive, son.”
Shane made his way east. The beach was about forty minutes away. The same beach where he’d held Rachel in his arms for the first time. She’d felt so right there. Ever since they started spending time together, Rachel was all he could think about. He’d seen glimpses of a tender heart under that prickly exterior. He was determined to win her heart. It was
only fair. She already had his.
“Dad, I hope you’re not mad. I know the Shelby has kinda been our thing.”
His dad exhaled sharply and patted the dash. “I’ll be sorry to see her go, but we’ll get a new thing. Besides, I was in love once. Tell you the truth, I still love your mom. Not even death can take that away.”
Shane swallowed hard over the lump in his throat. “I still love her too.”
“She, uh, would’ve been so proud of you.”
“Thanks,” Shane choked out.
“All right, enough of that. Let her rip.”
Shane punched the accelerator, and they raced around curves, the summer breeze running through their hair on their last glorious drive in perfection. God, he’d miss this car.
But he wanted Rachel more.
Chapter Five
Rachel rang the bell at Liz and Ryan’s house the next morning and nearly jumped out of her skin to hear a ferocious barking on the other side of that door. What the hell?
Liz answered, holding the collar of a lunging, barking, huge black and white puppy. “Hold on, let me just get him back.”
Her friend’s usually perfect straight blond hair was in a drooping ponytail with frazzled pieces that kept dropping in front of her face. “Sit, Hagar. Sit.” Hagar jumped up on Liz and licked her. Liz giggled. “Thank you for kisses. Now sit. Sit, sit, sit.”
Hagar did not sit. Instead he started jumping all over Rachel. “My ankle. Watch my ankle!”
Liz dragged Hagar with her into the living room. “Have a seat. He’ll calm down in a minute.”
Rachel made her way to the living room. Liz sat on the sofa, and Hagar immediately put his front legs on her lap, half sitting on her.
“Did you walk here?” Liz asked around the huge lapdog.
Rachel sat a respectable distance away from the beast. “Yeah, I can’t drive yet.”
“Rach! You should’ve called. I’m driving you home.”
Rachel knew better than to argue. “Sure, thanks.” She stared at the slobbering creature with his tongue hanging out. “So you finally got the dog.”
Bad Taste in Men (Clover Park, Book 3) Contemporary Romance (The Clover Park Series) Page 4