Bad Taste in Men (Clover Park, Book 3) Contemporary Romance (The Clover Park Series)

by Kylie Gilmore

  She pushed the glasses to the top of her head and finished piling candy onto her yogurt, topping it with a maraschino cherry. While she waited in line to pay, she looked around the shop. Everyone was happy and smiling. Barry did that. He was funny and strange and annoying, but his heart was in the right place.

  She made it to the cash register, where Barry placed her fro-yo bowl on a scale. The price rang up by the pound. “Coupon?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She pulled it out from her purse and handed it to him.

  Barry rang up her purchase. “That would’ve cost eight dollars and twenty-three cents, but with the coupon, you saved eighty-two cents. Doesn’t that feel good?”

  Eight dollars for yogurt? Barry must be making a fortune. It was so easy to fill up those huge bowls. How much did the bowl weigh anyway?

  “Yeah, okay.” She pulled out the money and handed it to him. At least at Shane’s shop the prices were reasonable. You never left feeling like you were ripped off. “I’ll take this to the patio.”

  “Great.” He waved to a customer. “Let me know when you’re done, and I’ll drive you home.”

  “Okay.” She turned and walked out to the patio, which had a few empty tables on this hot July night. Most people wanted the air-conditioned inside tables. She felt someone staring at her and turned, nearly dropping her fro-yo to see Shane sitting at a table with an angry look that she’d never, ever seen directed at her.

  She actually felt guilty, eating the enemy’s fro-yo, even if she did save eighty-two cents. She sat across from him. “What are you doing here?”

  He crossed his arms. “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s not like it looks,” she said, trying for a light tone. “I had a coupon.”

  “A coupon. A fricking coupon. I can’t believe—” He stopped and clenched his jaw.

  She wasn’t going to apologize for eating eight-dollar fro-yo. Wasn’t it bad enough she got ripped off?

  He lowered his voice. “We always make fun of this place, yet here you are.”

  She tried the yogurt. It was…cold. Not much in the flavor department. No creamy texture. Kind of a chalky aftertaste. “It’s not very good,” she told him.

  He looked somewhat mollified. “Frozen yogurt is made with a thin, low-fat base. It could never have the mouthfeel of fresh-made ice cream.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Let me try.”

  She handed him the spoon, and he took a small sample. “Blech.” He handed her back the spoon. “At least I know I have him beat on quality. This tastes like it was made from a mix.”

  He could tell that from one sample?

  “The product’s just okay,” Rachel said, “but I think we can learn something from Barry.”

  “Like what?” Shane huffed. “How to dress up like a cow and dance around?”

  She gestured inside the store. “Look at all the families in there. They’re smiling and happy. They don’t care that they just spent ten bucks a pop for fro-yo from a mix. He makes it fun. The shop is fun with its bright colors. The cow’s cute.”

  “The cow is cute!”

  “Yeah, and he dances and hands out party favors. Don’t you remember getting glasses like these when you were a kid?”

  She took the glasses off the top of her head and tilted them back and forth to show him. He glowered at the glasses.

  She slipped them on, scooped up some Nerds, and spoke around the candy in her mouth. “Plus, the coupon makes you feel less like a dope for spending so much.”

  “What’s wrong with having reasonable prices to start?” Shane asked. “I can’t lower my prices any more or I’ll go out of business.” He scowled. “I’m not gonna jack up my prices just so I can hand out stupid coupons.”

  She took off the wacky glasses. “Okay, okay, relax. You guys have two different approaches to frozen desserts. Nothing wrong with that. You do your thing; he does his thing.”

  Shane fixed her with a steely look that instantly put her on edge. “I’m driving you home, not Barry.”

  She set her spoon down. “Is that so?”

  He raised his chin, his eyes full of challenge. “Yeah, that is so.”

  “You might have to fight Barry for that privilege.”

  “I will gladly kick his ass,” Shane growled.

  “Shane! That’s not like you.” She stared at his frowning face. “You’re a lover, not a fighter,” she teased.

  He gazed into her eyes. “Remember that.”

  She felt a jolt at the heated promise in those eyes, but she had no time to come up with a snappy comeback because Barry caused a fervor of excitement when he made an appearance on the patio still wearing the cow costume.

  Shane rolled his eyes. Barry handed out his coupons to all the parents outside. He stopped by Shane and Rachel’s table.

  “How is everything?” Barry asked. “Can I get you some fro-yo, Shane? You’re looking a little overheated. Hot night, isn’t it?”

  “No, thanks,” Shane said tersely.

  Barry handed them both coupons. Shane dropped his to the table.

  “Let me get out of this cow suit, and then I’ll be ready to drive you home,” Barry said to her. “No rush, of course. Finish up all that delicious, healthy fro-yo. The more you eat, the more pro-bee-otics will boost your health.” He smiled widely.

  Rachel bit back a laugh and turned to a very pissed-off-looking Shane. Geez, not even pro-bee-otics were funny anymore.

  “Sure thing, Barry,” Rachel said. “I’ll be inside in a bit.” Barry left, and Rachel smiled at Shane. “So I guess that settles the car-ride thing.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw, and if she was the kind of woman who knew when to stop talking, she might’ve known that was a red flag.

  “Barry’s all set to drive me.” She poked around in the cup, looking for more gummi worms. “I’ll see you tomorrow for our business meeting.”

  “Say good-bye, Rach.”

  “Good-bye?” She snapped her head up and saw him approach, a hard glint in his eye. “Why would I say—ohhh!”

  He plucked her off the seat like she weighed nothing, carrying her cradled in his arms. She tried to see over his shoulder. “My fro-yo!”

  “Barry can toss it in the trash where it belongs.”

  He carried her down the patio steps over to his car, unlocked it, and slid her into the passenger seat. She watched him stomp around to the driver’s side and hid a smile. She had to admit, despite all her misgivings, some part of her liked this new caveman side of Shane. Me want woman. Me take woman.

  He turned the ignition, and they peeled out of the lot.

  “Where to, partner?” Rachel asked.

  Shane was silent, tension radiating off him.

  She exhaled sharply. “It’s not like I betrayed you. It’s fro-yo. I was just checking the place out. I wanted to see what made his place so popular. I think there’re some lessons that could help both our shops.”

  A beat passed in silence.

  “You got into the cowmobile,” Shane ground out.

  “It’s just a Honda. I hate to break it to you, but Barry’s not the devil.”

  “You hung onto his arm,” Shane accused.

  “He was being a gentleman. And hello! You and I are business partners. I can hang onto as many arms as I want.”

  Shane went silent. Fine by her. Geez, where did he get off after the way Janelle was all over him at that meeting? She didn’t see him pushing Janelle away. They rode the rest of the way home in tense silence. Shane pulled into the parking lot behind her shop and turned off the car.

  She waited for him to tell her off or demand she never eat that crappy fro-yo again, both of which she could’ve handled, but instead he leaned toward her, his hand reaching out, eyes at half mast. She sucked in a breath. Were they going to have an angry, passionate make-out session? Some part of her was on board with that. A very important part that remembered all too well the make-out session from last night.

  Her heart thudd
ed in her chest. They shared a breath as his mouth hovered near hers, but he didn’t move, just waited. She had a moment of indecision between pulling back and leaning forward when he made the decision for her, saying simply, “Good night, Rachel,” and pushed open her car door.

  She straightened and exited the car. “Good night,” she said sharply and headed inside her apartment.

  She sighed, a little relieved, a lot disappointed. She really should get a cat. Or four. Do this spinster thing up right.

  Chapter Ten

  Rachel had been planning on shopping online for some of the furniture and decorations she and Shane had talked about for the café, but after checking out a restaurant supply warehouse website over breakfast, she started thinking it would be better to go there in person. The warehouse was in the Bronx, about an hour away. She didn’t absolutely need Shane to come with her. She could ask Liz to drive her. Besides, Shane was in charge of food; she was in charge of the shop. He’d already given her a debit card for direct access to the funds for the café.

  He was probably way too busy.

  She walked across the street to Shane’s Scoops anyway. Just for some caffeine. It was already open and serving up coffee. Shane was behind the counter in his blue and white striped apron along with his part-timer Matt.

  “Coffee?” Shane asked. His tone was terse. He was still pissed about her “horrible” misstep in trying Barry’s fro-yo. Geez, get over it.

  “Yes, please,” she replied. “You got time to drive over to Sal’s Restaurant Warehouse? I thought it’d be good to look at stuff in person.”

  He looked over her shoulder at the line that had formed behind her. “If we leave around ten that should work. Morning coffee rush will be over, and there’s a lull before afternoon ice cream.”

  “I got this, boss,” Matt said.

  Shane looked at Matt, looked at the line of four people waiting for coffee. “Okay, thanks, Matt.” He turned to Rachel. “Give me fifteen minutes to wrap things up.”

  “Okay.” She sat on a stool by the side counter and sent Janelle a text that she’d be in late today. Janelle had the keys and had opened and closed the shop many times for Rachel. She watched Shane greet the customers, smiling at each of them, locals who were regulars. She realized people came here as much for Shane’s warm friendliness as for the coffee. If only she could clone him for the café. She smiled at customers, sure, but she knew she didn’t project that kind of warmth. Now if the occasion called for snark, she was all set.

  A short while later, Shane took off his apron and gestured for her to follow out the back exit. She got into his car, and they headed out of town. He was still irritated with her, she could tell, but he was going shopping at her request, so she ignored it. He wasn’t the kind to hold a grudge for long.

  Besides, dealing with his anger was a hell of a lot easier than dealing with this palpable thing sparking in the air between them at the strangest times. Just from a look or a shared smile. It was horrible.

  “How do you do that whole warm and friendly thing with everyone that comes in?” she asked.

  He didn’t even glance in her direction. She was the enemy, the betrayer of ice cream.

  “What warm and friendly thing?” he asked. “I just say good morning and take their order.”

  “No, it’s more than that. You’re smiling, and your voice is so warm.”

  He lifted one shoulder up and down. “I like the people who come in. I guess that shows.”

  Might as well get the fro-yo thing out of the way.

  “I guess Barry never comes in,” she said casually.

  He tensed and slowed for a stop sign, turning to hit her full-on with what she’d come to think of as the alpha Shane look. Must be related to his above-average package. Testosterone levels or something. She fidgeted in her seat as a hot flash ran through her from alpha Shane. Where the hell did that hidden alpha come from anyway?

  “You’re trying to push my buttons,” he said.

  She bit back a smile. “Who, me?”

  He hit the accelerator. “You and Barry would have such beautiful cow babies.”

  She snort-laughed, glad he was back to joking around with her. “They would be udderly delightful and full of pro-bee-otics!”

  He smiled, just a little.

  “It’s too bad you can’t work at the café too,” Rachel said. “You know I don’t give off that people-friendly vibe.”

  His voice dropped to a husky tone. “You’re pretty friendly with me.”

  She felt herself flush, remembering all too well exactly how friendly they’d gotten in Liz’s kitchen.

  “I’m bitter and jaded,” she informed him.

  “You are?”

  “I’m practicing to be a spinster with ten cats.”

  He laughed.

  “I’m serious. I’ll die alone, and the cats will eat my eyeballs.”

  He shook his head. “That’s ridiculous. Cats don’t eat eyeballs. They’d just bat them around for a while.”

  She smiled, feeling more relaxed as they segued into easy conversation. They went over what they would shop for. Shane told her his ideas for using the undercounter space efficiently and the importance of a good inventory system. Geez, she was glad she’d gone into business with him. The workflow of food and coffee preparation and the constantly revolving inventory to keep everything fresh would not have occurred to her. Things were much simpler with books: scan the price, take the money, stick the book in a bag. Done.

  They got to the warehouse, a huge place with separate areas for seating, flooring, appliances, lighting, and even framed artwork. What they showed on their website was a fraction of their inventory.

  “Whoa,” Rachel said, completely overwhelmed.

  “I’ve been here before,” Shane said, hands on his hips. “It’s great. Let’s start with tables and seating and work from there. The seating left over from the deli is not gonna cut it.”

  “Lead the way.”

  They checked out square tables, round tables, and rectangle tables with a variety of surfaces. Rachel was feeling dizzy from all the choices and the prices. “Maybe I should just stick with picking out the books to display and the artwork.”

  Shane grabbed her hand and pulled her along. “Come on. You have to actually sit in some of the chairs.”

  They sat in a bunch of chairs, and a lot of them seemed good.

  “Let’s just order the cheapest ones,” she said.

  “You want people to hang around, right?” Shane moved to another set of chairs. “So they spend a lot of time next to Book It and wander over.”

  “Well, yeah,” she said from a chair that looked great and felt comfortable. She leaned over to see the tag: two hundred dollars. Each. She jumped up. “I also wanted some reading chairs. Maybe I could look for those in a regular furniture store. On sale.”

  “Sure. Hey, these are pretty comfortable.” He indicated for her to try the square wooden chair next to him. “It’s got good back support.”

  She sat. “It’s okay, but I was thinking something with a cushion.”

  “You know they’re gonna spill coffee. You have to get something spill proof. I like the wood more than plastic or metal. It’s warm.”

  She looked at the price tag. One hundred dollars, on sale for seventy-seven. “Sold. So dark wood chairs, dark wood floor, deep red on the walls. I want full-color book cover posters on the wall.”

  “I have no idea what book covers to choose. I’ll leave that to you.”

  “Sounds good.” She liked the way they complemented each other. What she didn’t know, he did. And vice versa. She turned to him. “I’m glad we’re partners.”

  He smiled warmly. “Me too.”

  She found herself basking in that warm smile. A flash of something else crossed his expression, something hungry. Butterflies danced in her belly, which was absolutely ridiculous sitting here in the middle of Sal’s Restaurant Warehouse with her best friend.

  “Stop that,” sh
e told him.

  “Stop what?” he asked, the picture of innocence. He didn’t fool her. He knew very well he was giving her the hungry eyes just to get her all flustered.

  She stood abruptly. “You know what.”

  He stood next to her. “No, I don’t. Tell me.”

  She looked over to the table section and answered out of the side of her mouth, “Stop giving me that look.”

  His hand settled on the back of her neck and squeezed. The gesture, at once possessive and not at all kosher between friends, made her whole body turn to mush. His voice rumbled in her ear. “I’m not looking at you any different than I always do.”

  She suppressed a shiver. He was, but she couldn’t talk about it anymore without embarrassing herself.

  “On to tables,” she said, extricating herself from his hold.

  Several hours later, they’d placed an order for tables that could seat two, four, and six people along with the chairs. They also put in an order for flooring and checked out the mini-refrigerators. Shane wanted one under the counter for easy access to milk, cream, and whipped cream.

  They stopped for lunch at a Mexican restaurant. Shane knew the place and requested a booth in the back. He slid in next to her on the bench seat.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, scooting closer to the wall. He moved with her. It was so intimate having him next to her. The lights were dim. A fountain nearby muffled the sound of the other customers, making it feel like they were in their own private oasis. She could feel the heat of his leg through his athletic shorts on the bare skin of her leg. Actually she could feel the heat of the entire side of his body. Her whole body was in heated overload.

  His hand settled on her shoulder, his thumb rubbing the back of her neck. He leaned close, his breath hot on her ear. “I’m letting you get used to having me close.”

  She swallowed hard and debated crawling under the table to sit on the other side. She was between him and the wall, and there was no way he’d make it easy and let her out to sit across from him.

  “I’m used to you,” she hissed. But she wasn’t. Far from it. Not with him invading her personal space. She studied the menu, holding it up in a desperate attempt to hide her burning cheeks.