“Are you?” His lips pressed on the side of her neck, and hot tingles raced through her. “Good.”
“What a cute couple!” someone exclaimed.
Startled, Rachel dropped the menu. A perky waitress stood at their table, smiling at them.
“We’re not a couple,” Rachel said.
Shane’s hand stroked Rachel’s back while he smiled at the waitress. “Thank you.”
Miss Perky smiled some more. “It’s so cute the way you guys sit on the same side of the booth. How long have you been together?”
“How long has it been, honey?” Shane asked. “Feels like only a couple of days.”
“Too long,” Rachel said, elbowing him hard. He shifted his arm off her back and blocked her from further jabbing.
“You guys are so funny,” Miss Perky said. “What can I get you to drink?”
After they ordered drinks and the waitress left to fetch them chips, Rachel turned to Shane. “What the—”
He shut her up with a hard, fast kiss that zinged through her and just as quickly released her. And then that arrogant man, looking entirely too pleased with himself, gave her a raised eyebrow, daring her to retaliate. Except she was speechless.
And wanted another kiss.
He grinned and took her hand, entwining their fingers together. She let him because she couldn’t think of one damn thing to say that would make him back off.
Maybe she didn’t want him to back off. That scared her most of all.
~ ~ ~
It was late afternoon by the time they got back, and Rachel realized Shane should’ve been back earlier to help with the afternoon rush at his shop.
“I’ve kept you too long,” she said as they drove down Main Street.
“It’s fine. To tell you the truth, I’ve got a great staff that can run the shop without me. In fact, I make enough from restaurant orders that I don’t even need the shop. I just like being part of downtown.”
“Really? So the shop is just so you can hang out with everyone?”
He smiled. “It’s a little more than hanging out. I’m offering homemade ice cream with the best, freshest ingredients. I’m keeping local dairies and farms in business. Food is everything, Rach. It’s life, it’s community. Everything.”
She actually got chills hearing the way he spoke about his passion for food. “Shane, that was beautiful. Like poetry.”
He blushed. “Stop.”
“I’m not teasing,” Rachel said. “I actually understand. That’s how I feel about books. Life is hard, and books can lift you up. They can give you an escape when you need it, let you know you’re not alone, help you dream of better things.”
“Now you’re the poet.” He pulled into the small parking lot behind her store. “I want to check out the café space again. Take some measurements. I’ve got a few more ideas for behind the counter.”
“Okay, I’m going to look into the posters and order some floating shelves and reading chairs.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She put her hand on the door handle, stopped, and turned back to him. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t gotten on board with the café. I just had this idea.” She gestured wildly with her hands. “A café to save the bookstore! But I really had no clue how to put that plan into action. I was just following along in my Nitwit’s Guide.”
“Nitwit.” He chuckled. “You would’ve figured things out. But I’m glad it worked out this way too.”
He smiled his dimpled smile that was really just too adorable.
“You know you have dimples? Like right here.” She indicated the sides of her mouth.
“I do look in the mirror occasionally,” he said dryly.
She was the nitwit. She grabbed her purse and got out of the car. They headed for the café, and she unlocked the door for him. “I’d better get back to work.” And then because she needed to remind them both of the boundaries of their business relationship, she added, “Janelle’s been alone there all day. How’re things with you two anyway?”
“She wants to meet for drinks again on Friday night—”
“Have a good time.”
She turned to go, and he grabbed her arm, turning her back to face him. “I didn’t say I would go. I want you.”
Her hand flew to her throat, where her pulse was beating wildly. Shane had never pushed the issue like he had today. First the restaurant and now just baldly stating that he wanted her. It was too much. Boyfriends don’t last.
“I should go.” She looked down at his hand still gripping her arm. “Shane, please.”
“Please, what? You want me to pretend we’re just friends? That’s your game. I’m done playing it.”
She stared at his hand, and he dropped it. “I told you I value your friendship.” She avoided his eyes and forced the words out over the lump in her throat. “That’s not a game. Far from it. You’re the best thing in my life.”
He tipped her chin up and held it, forcing her to look at him. “Then let me in.”
Her breath caught at the heated look in his eyes. “You’re in. You couldn’t be more in.”
His jaw clenched, and he dropped his hand. “You know what I mean.”
Anger flared within her. He meant sex. She wasn’t going to throw their friendship away just for a quick lay. She tamped her anger down. Fighting wouldn’t help anything.
“Look, it's been a while for you,” she said gently. He hissed out a breath. “I get it, but just because we have some kind of weird chemistry doesn’t mean we have to be stupid and throw away our friendship.”
“I’m not talking about throwing anything away!”
She grimaced. He sounded like a wounded bear. She must’ve hurt his ego reminding him it’d been a while. Even if it was true. As far as she knew, Janelle was the first person he’d gone out with in a long time.
She tried again. “You can’t sleep with someone and still be friends. It’s just not possible.”
“I wasn’t trying to—” He stopped himself. “It wouldn’t be…”
And while he struggled for the perfect words to make her believe they could actually stay friends while sleeping together, she slipped away.
When she got inside Book It, she found Janelle sitting at the register, reading her anthropology text. Something about the Incas.
“Hey, Janelle. How was it here today?”
Janelle grimaced. “Slow. Only one person came in, and they didn’t buy anything.”
Rachel’s mood sank even lower as her previous excitement over shopping and setting up a new business deflated in the face of this sobering reality. If this café didn’t work, she would not only lose Book It, she’d let Shane down who had put up all the money. Business with a friend was tricky. What if he blamed her for the café’s failure? She suddenly felt ill. This café just had to work out.
“How was your day shopping with Shane?” Janelle asked.
“Good. We made a lot of progress setting up the café.”
“Did he mention me?”
Actually I mentioned you. Stupidly.
Rachel booted up her laptop. “No.”
“Oh. I told him to meet me at Garner’s on Friday for drinks.”
“Did he say he’s going?”
“He said he had to check his calendar.”
Rachel bit her lip. Shane was trying to let Janelle down easy. She felt bad for ever bringing Janelle into this mess with Shane. Now her friend was going to get hurt.
“I’m going on break,” Janelle said.
“Sure, take as long as you need,” Rachel said.
Janelle left. Rachel clicked on an art poster website and found herself staring at it blankly. Things with Shane were all tangled up with the money and the business. Sex would only complicate things. There were plenty of other men she could hook up with just to satisfy those basic, sadly neglected needs. And there was always Neal, her vibrator. He understood her needs and never asked for more than she could give.
At worst? A failed business. A destroyed friendship. A broken heart.
She dropped her head in her hands. Why now? After months of perfectly companionable platonic friendship, all those times they’d spent hanging out at his place and her place, going to family barbecues, holiday parties. All that time it was just Shane. He’d kept a safe distance, and if she occasionally wondered what it would be like to be in his arms, she’d never been stupid enough to risk their friendship by acting on it. Too much was at stake now.
What was she going to do?
Chapter Eleven
As it turned out, all of Rachel’s hand-wringing over the Shane situation turned out to be for nothing. He was merely friendly while he worked on demo at the café with the help of Ryan and Gabe. They’d knocked down the wall between her bookstore and the deli and installed a pull-across grille to lock up when needed. Now they were working over by the counter.
Shane caught her watching.
“We’re making good progress here,” he called with a wave before using a crowbar to peel off the old counter. Rippling, sweaty muscles flexed with the effort. The display of muscular prowess did nothing for her. His brother Ryan was just as strong, working at his side. So was Gabe. Three sweaty, muscular men next door. One of them making her tingle all over.
Rachel had to move to her office.
She sat in there updating her inventory spreadsheet, wondering if she was going insane. He’d flat-out said he wanted her. Had kissed her multiple times. And now, nothing. She’d been all set to fend Shane off with firm boundaries and phrases such as, “You mean so much to me; let’s keep this professional,” and, “I don’t like to mix business with pleasure,” that even to her ears sounded like dialogue from a B movie, but Shane had slipped easily back to friendship mode.
She blew out a breath. It was disconcerting to say the least. Disappointing. Disheartening. Disillusioning. One giant dis on her is what it added up to. The big jerk. Getting her riled up and then no follow-up. Nothing. So when Janelle invited her to have a drink after work on day two of not watching Shane’s sweaty, rippling muscles, she went gladly.
They headed across the street to Garner’s Sports Bar & Grill and sat at the bar, sharing a plate of nachos. They ordered margaritas and chatted amiably about Book It and the café until Janelle suddenly waved to someone over Rachel’s shoulder.
“Dean, over here!” Janelle called.
Rachel turned to see a twenty-something guy wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with a piñata and the phrase I’d Hit That. His gray shorts hung low enough to show off his boxers with red hearts. His hair hung long and greasy, a perfect complement to his untrimmed beard and mustache.
Janelle jumped up and hugged him. “Rachel, this is Dean Lehrman. He’s studying anthropology with me. Dean, Rachel.”
Dean inclined his head. “Hey.”
He sat next to Rachel and helped himself to some nachos.
“Rach, I think you and Dean have a lot in common. You both love the classics.” She leaned close to whisper in Rachel’s ear. “Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
And with those ominous words of what had obviously been a setup buzzing in her head, Janelle left. Rachel looked at Dean, who was now guzzling down the margarita Janelle had left behind, and had to wonder if this was payback or simply returning the favor of a setup the way she had set up Janelle with Shane. Either way, it sucked.
“Hey, babe,” Dean said. “Think you could pay for your drinks? I’m a little low on funds. My parents cut me off after I got a D in stats.”
“No problem.” She liked paying her own way on dates, especially blind dates she had no idea she was about to have. “Just call me Rachel, okay?”
“Whatev,” he muttered as he inhaled the nachos. Rachel lost her appetite.
She glanced around the bar, hoping for someone she knew. Nope. “So what made you interested in anthropology?” she asked, gamely trying for conversation.
Cheese dripped down onto his beard, but he didn’t notice. Rachel gestured to his chin. He patted his beard with his greasy fingers and accomplished exactly nothing. No way was Rachel touching it. She tried not to look at it.
“Easy A,” he said. “I’m only in grad school to put off the real world a little longer. Know what I mean? Love the college life.”
“I liked school too. But it gets expensive just to keep going to school and not, you know, working.”
“That’s what parents are for.”
Rachel was speechless.
“Mind if we get some potato skins and beer?” Dean asked.
Rachel didn’t think she could bear to sit through another round of food with this guy. She was just about to say so when Barry appeared at her side. She’d never been so glad to see a familiar face in her life.
“Barry, hi!” she said.
“Nice to see you, Rachel,” Barry said, sitting next to her. “Is this your younger brother?”
“No, he’s my…” She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t say blind date. Definitely not a friend.
“I’m her date, so take off,” Dean said.
Barry’s eyes widened.
“No, no.” Rachel grabbed Barry’s arm. “Stay right here. He’s not my date. We just met.”
Barry nodded and, thankfully, talked enough for all three of them. Rachel began to relax as Barry told them the story of the little boy who showed up at his shop wearing his own cow costume from last Halloween and how they’d danced together. It was sweet. Really sweet. Rachel felt bad for mocking Barry so much behind his back with Shane.
The food arrived along with Dean’s beer. Dean dug into his pocket and produced a five-dollar bill. “Rachel, could you spot me? I’m a little short.”
Yes, you are. Short in many, many ways.
“Sure,” she said between her teeth. Janelle, you will pay for this. She opened her wallet.
“I got this,” Barry said.
“Hey, thanks, man,” Dean said around a mouthful of potato skins. “You’re all right.”
It got worse.
Dean went through three beers in record time and stood. “I gotta take a piss.”
Rachel let out a breath of relief when he left. Barry asked her about her plans for the café, and she was just telling him about some of the first edition books she’d found online for display when there was a commotion by the bathroom. A woman screamed, and then Dean took off like a shot through the back door.
“He stole my purse!” the woman hollered.
Barry ran after him. He came back empty-handed a few minutes later. “He drove off.”
Rachel went to talk to the woman, telling her what she knew about Dean so she could file a report to the police. She texted Janelle to find out where Dean lived. Unfortunately, as Chief Bailey explained when he arrived on the scene, since Dean lived just across the border in New York, the Connecticut police couldn’t easily cross over to arrest him for a case of theft. Something about different jurisdictions.
When the chief left, Rachel turned to a somber Barry. “Drink?” she asked.
Barry’s eyes brightened. “With me?”
“Yeah, with you.”
“Great!”
They settled back at the bar and spent the rest of the night reliving the shady Dean incident, with Barry doing a very good impression of Dean being completely obnoxious on their “date.” They laughed, they drank, and Rachel felt more relaxed than she had in a very long time. Barry was a decent guy. He was goofy, but nice. If she’d felt even one spark between them, she would’ve called this the beginning of some kind of date.
“We
’re ba-a-ack!” a voice called behind her. She turned to see Liz’s older sister, Daisy, and her new husband, Trav, holding their son, Bryce. They looked tan and happy, fresh from their honeymoon. The cousins surely to come from Liz would probably grow up close as siblings. Rachel felt a pang of envy and quickly dismissed it. She stood and hugged Daisy.
Rachel smiled at the two of them. “How was Bermuda?”
Daisy beamed her sunny smile. “It was everything I dreamed of.”
Trav kissed Daisy’s hair. “Well, there was a little sand in uncomfortable places.”
Daisy elbowed him, and Trav laughed. He set Bryce down, and he toddled straight into his grandma’s arms with a delighted squeal.
“There’s my angel baby,” Mrs. Garner said. She must have come out from the kitchen when she heard them arrive.
“Hey, Barry,” Trav said, shaking his hand. “Are we interrupting something?” He pointed between the two of them.
“Oh, no.” Rachel shook her head. “It’s not like that. We’re just friends.”
“Well, so far,” Barry said with a smile.
Uh-oh.
Trav raised his brows. “Go back to what you were doing.”
“See you soon, Rach!” Daisy called before walking off with Trav to greet some of the staff. Daisy used to work as a waitress at her parents’ restaurant.
Rachel returned to her seat next to Barry. “I hope you know—”
Her reply was cut off with his mouth covering hers. It was a loose, sloppy kiss, and she recoiled. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Don’t do that again!”
She stood, slapped down a twenty, and headed for the door.
Barry followed her. “Rachel, wait! I’m sorry! Sometimes I get carried away. We were having so much fun. Please stay.” He handed back her twenty. “Drinks are on me for the rest of the night.”
She crossed her arms.
“Please, I really am sorry.” He looked at his shoes. “I don’t have many friends in town. Just stay a little longer.”
Oh, geez. Now she was feeling sorry for him.
“No more kissing,” she said.
Bad Taste in Men (Clover Park, Book 3) Contemporary Romance (The Clover Park Series) Page 11