Wrong Text, Right Reply: A Sweet Accidental Romance (An Accidental But Perfect Romance Book 1)

by Bonnie Sweets

  “The thing is… I didn’t think it would do this well. I love the business. I love coming up with new ideas to serve. I just… My dad was so certain I’d fail. You know, he has never come down to the truck? My mom snuck down once when we first started. She was so proud of us, but then Dad forbid her return. He always asks when I’m going to get a real job.” I hide the hurt the best I can, but I’m pretty sure some of it gets out.

  Savvy reaches across the table and places her hand on mine as she peers into my eyes. “Hey, parents are… Extra. Their approval doesn’t matter in the whole scheme of things. It’s extra. If they approve, it’s an awesome addition. If they don’t, we can’t let it hold us back. We grow up thinking what our parents want is the most important thing, but it can’t be that way. We have to be happy for ourselves. I, for one, think your business is amazing. I do have to admit to studying your trailer the most when I was doing my research for the keto truck.” She leans back, pulling her hand from mine. I suddenly want it back more than anything else.

  She seems on edge, like she can’t decide if she’s comfortable or not. I lift my chin her direction in a short movement. “Are you okay? You seem nervous.” I don’t thank her for her reassurances. I can’t. I’m already feeling like my throat is constricting with emotion. I can’t encourage anything that will make me more sensitive.

  “Honestly? I’m really nervous. I haven’t been out on a date in so long.” She shakes her head. “Plus… I’m supposed to hate you, Knox.”

  Her comment takes me by surprise. Definitely wasn’t expecting that. “Supposed to hate me? And? I guess I don’t understand why.”

  “I don’t know why. I feel like…” She sighs and leans her arms against the edge of the table. “The thing is, I don’t hate you. I want to. I think it’s probably healthiest, but I don’t. At all. It’s… confusing and I don’t want to be confused.”

  “Well, let’s take it slow. I promise not to stalk you – overtly.” I wink and grin and at her tinkling laugh.

  “Is it okay, if I ask you a personal question?” She tilts her head to the side and watches me like she’s expecting a no, but hoping for a yes.

  “Sure. Go for it.” I can’t look away from her. Keeping the phone away and looking into her eyes like the group recommended is actually a lot easier than one would think. I don’t want to be anywhere else or with anyone else.

  “Are you dating anyone else? I won’t be upset if you are. I’m just trying to figure out what the expectations are here.” She bites her lower lip again and I’m not sure if I should focus on the question more or the lip bite.

  Still teasing, I raise my gaze to her eyes. “Do I look like the type to date multiple women at once?”

  Savvy sits there, suddenly looking extremely uncomfortable and I realize, that to her, yes, I do look like the type.

  “Actually, don’t answer that.” Because I already got my answer.

  And without trying to, I’m upset. She really doesn’t think highly of me. I want her to. I want her to only think of me, but not that I’m some womanizer.

  I drop my gaze to the newly arriving plates and thank the waitress quietly. Picking up my fork again, I glance again at Savvy and murmur, “No. I’m not dating anyone else.” I don’t even bother asking her.

  I know she’s not. She’s been dealing with the trauma of her last relationship. I should have asked her if she was up for this. She keeps mentioning that she should hate me and that she shouldn’t be with me someone like me.

  Someone like me? What does that even mean?

  We finish dinner in stilted discomfort before I take her back to her house.

  I don’t try for a second kiss. I’m upset that she would think that about me. But even worse, that she hasn’t figured out I’m nothing like she’s imagined.

  Maybe I’ll be stuck in this predisposed mold she’s made for me in her head. Maybe our dating attempt has died at one date.

  All I know is, I’m not sure how to get through to her that I’m not like her ex-husband or other guys.

  And that might be the most painful part of all.

  Chapter 25

  Savvy

  I close the door behind me and lean back, resting my shoulder blades against the thick wood panel separating me from the outside world.

  Why did I say that? Why did I say any of that?

  I blink at the tears threatening to spill over my eyelids. I don’t want to cry over a guy again. I swore I wouldn’t after Keith left, but here I am, worried that I said something I shouldn’t have.

  Walking up the stairs, I pull my purse off my shoulder and let it fall to the carpet, not really caring where it lands. I’ll probably trip on it later and die.

  My phone is in my jean pocket and I pull it out before I peek in the closet where we’ve stashed Spike and her brood.

  She peeks up at me with her large golden eyes and goes back to licking her babies. She’s had six total and they’re all charcoal gray with black stripes. The neighbor’s cat is black.

  My eyelid twitches. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

  I don’t even stop in the bathroom to wash my face. Who cares at this point what I look like? I flop on the chaise on the far side of my room, ignoring the bed I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to sleep in again.

  Pulling the phone up in the night-light illuminated room, I swipe around on the screen.

  Time to message the girls.

  Me: I went out with Spicy Buns. We were out all day with my kids and then just he and I went out tonight.

  Dion: Wow! How was it? He is delicious…

  Apple: Please tell me he tried to hold your hand.

  Alex: Where’d you go? What’d you do? Why aren’t you still out with him?

  Me: Because I messed things up. I feel terrible. I was just saying what I was thinking, but I didn’t say it right.

  Dion: Do NOT apologize for saying how you feel. I think I speak for all of us when I say, not saying what we’re thinking is probably what got us into the divorce situation in the first place.

  Sara: I think I got a divorce because I said too much.

  Mandie: But you wouldn’t have, if you always said what you were thinking. Things change. We become comfortable. I agree with Dion. We need to be honest from the beginning. But we aren’t.

  Apple: Yeah, and put the expectations on the plate from the beginning.

  Veve: Yeah, this exactly. In fact… If I could do it over, I’d tell my ex up front that I don’t like his choice in clothes, the fact that he’s a jerk to other people, and that he’s a snob. In fact… I wouldn’t have married him. I would have said no.

  Apple: Me, too.

  Alex: Me, too. Savvy, knowing what you know about Spicy Buns and comparing him to your ex… What are you thinking?

  I can’t help noticing that KT hasn’t replied. Not that she usually does, but it’s bothering me for some reason. Not to mention Alex’s question is one I can’t seem to let myself answer on a personal level.

  I think, letting the space between messages drag out. Finally, I start to reply, careful to keep it short, simple, but honest.

  Me: The truth is, if I could make the perfect guy? It would be him. Literally. And… You guys have all seen him. Why would he pick me? He’s gorgeous and smart and nice to everyone. I don’t think he knows how to be mean, but he looks like he’s not afraid to start a fight. He’s tough on the exterior and sweet on the inside.

  Okay, so my message isn’t as short as I want it to be. But it’s honest.

  Dion: It sounds like you’re more into this guy than you want to admit to yourself. Reach out to him and tell him what you’re thinking. We might be in a divorced women’s group, but I don’t want any of us to stay single and bitter forever.

  Single and bitter. Is that how I am?

  Me: I think you’re right. I didn’t realize I was punishing others because of what happened to me earlier.

  I swipe over to the thread with Knox. Emboldened by the group, I thumb out a text f
ast before I can rethink it and hit send.

  Me: Are you mad at me?

  I put myself out there, opening up my vulnerabilities and I just want the drama to disappear.

  Staring out the window over the neighborhood, I narrow my eyes at the presence of a black cat standing on the top of my back fence. Oh, I’m just not happy with that neighbor.

  Not my problem. It’s fine. Spike has already had the babies. There’s nothing I can do at this point.

  My phone buzzes in my hand and I jolt upright, staring at the screen.

  Knox: No. I’m not mad. I’m just unsure what it is you want from me.

  Knox: I’m tired of being the rebound when that’s not what I want.

  I jerk back like he’s there and he’s slapped me. He is anything but the rebound. If anything, Spike or Paul are the rebounds.

  Me: You’re not the rebound. You’re better than that. I… I don’t understand why someone like you would want to be with someone like me.

  Knox: Someone like me? Define.

  I bite my lip and take a deep breath. Okay, honesty. That’s what I’m practicing. I need to be honest from the beginning. No matter how embarrassing.

  Me: Okay, honestly? I’ve never dated anyone who is as good-looking as you. I know looks shouldn’t matter, but it’s intimidating and I can’t help thinking you’re going to see me and realize you could be with a younger woman who is 1000x better looking than me and without the kids and ex baggage.

  Me: I’m not sure what to do here. I’m trying to keep in mind that doing the same thing over and over and expecting the same results is…

  Knox: Insanity. It’s insanity. And you know what else is insane? Thinking that you’re not amazing. Thinking that you’re anything less than the wonder woman you are.

  Knox: I also am totally digging that you think I’m hot.

  Me: And gorgeous.

  Knox: �� Don’t forget gorgeous.

  I love texting him. And talking to him. And looking at him. And being around him.

  The list is endless and I just wish I knew what my boundaries were comfortable settling at.

  Me: As long as you don’t pressure me to send you dirty pics.

  Knox: Um, I’m deleting that text right now. Hold please.

  Me: No, seriously. Thank you for not pressuring me for… anything.

  Knox: Except the keto sampler even when you thought I was stealing your recipes. But no grudges. I won’t blame you for that. For longer than a century.

  I chuckle as I climb into my pajamas and then into my sheets, keeping to the side away from where the cat had her babies.

  Me: Thank you for today. We had a lot of fun. My kids haven’t laughed like that in a long time. Neither have I.

  Knox: Thank you. It was all my pleasure. No pressure to go out again, but I would love to.

  Me: Me, too.

  And as I set the phone down on the nightstand it’s easy to accept that I really am looking forward to spending more time with him.

  I still haven’t heard from KT. I wonder if she’s mad at me for something.

  Maybe today had been one of those days that you need to get away from because everything you say turns to poo.

  I resolve to text her in the morning and make sure she’s not mad at me. I’m not sure what I could have done, but with things okay with Knox, I feel like I can conquer anything.

  Even the neighbor behind me and his Don Juan feline.

  ***

  The next morning after shooing the kids off to school, I duck out the backdoor armed with pictures of the newborn cats with Spike. There’s no question of the parentage. There’s even a full black kitten right there, front and center for him to see.

  He’s in the backyard again, thank goodness, or I would have been forced to drive around to his house.

  Maneuvering an overturned bucket into place, I stand on it and clear my throat really loud as I glare pointedly at the man raking lawn clippings into a bag.

  He glances up and reminds me of Knox with his tough looks and inked muscles on display, but that’s as far as the comparisons go.

  Knox has dark hair and this guy is auburn. He lifts his head and I catch the glint of a piercing in his eyebrow. Interesting. Definitely not my style, but it puts a different spin on the tough guy persona Knox exudes.

  My neighbor leans on his rake and arches the unpierced eyebrow at me. “My name is Blaze. It works better than that throat thing you just did. What can I do for you, annoying neighbor lady?”

  I blink in surprise, my jaw falling. “Are you serious? Here. Here is evidence that your cat impregnated mine.” I hold out my phone with the pictures on them and wait for him to saunter forward to lazily take my phone and peruse the few pictures I took.

  He returns the cell to me and lifts his gaze to mine, questions in the creases on his forehead. “Okay, look, fine, Thunder got your ginger cat knocked up. What do you want me to do?”

  I pull back at his question. What did I want him to do? There was nothing he could do. Nothing.

  One more place in my life I’d lost control and this man was going to point that out to me.

  This time, I blink back tears and shake my head. “Nothing. I’m… I just…” I lick my lips and take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. You’re right. There’s nothing either of us can do. I just… Didn’t want to deal with this alone, too. You know?” I’m ashamed of the tears rolling down my cheeks and turn, stepping off the bucket and walking back to the house. I ignore the few times he calls after me.

  There is literally nothing he can do and I was going after him to do the opposite. But what do I ask him to do?

  Nothing. Because it’s not like he can get them all homes. It’s not like I would separate Spike from her babies and let him take the kittens.

  I think in some odd way, I was trying to get someone’s father to step up and take responsibility. Even if it is a pet “dad”.

  I need a date with Paul. If for nothing else than to get my head back on straight. I need to plan a day for Spike to get spayed, but it has to be eight weeks after the birth of her babies and I need to get ready for the week.

  One way or the other, I need to get back my control. There has to be something I can do.

  Even if it’s only coloring along the margins of my planner. At least I’m doing something.

  Right?

  Chapter 26

  Knox

  I settled on the BBQ theme for my trailer because selling ribs and brisket and fancy burgers spoke to the side of me that prefers four-bying, mud bogging, fishing, hunting, and using power tools. Every other food felt like I was selling out my All-American manly side.

  Being a grill master meant an apron was a sign of masterhood and domination over the fire and coals.

  When I’d given David his apron, he’d crowed in delight. That’s how awesome the grill master apron is.

  Gripping the stainless-steel spatula like a sword, David turns to face me, his eyes narrowed. “It’s about time you showed up. I’m sick of picking up the slack for you.”