4. Austen
FOUR
AUSTEN
“I am not going to have to surf on your couch!”
I looked up from the list of special orders for the week to find one of my besties, Felicity Harmon, swinging through the door of the shop. Considering she’d looked like she was on a gallows walk when I’d seen her yesterday morning, this was a major improvement. “You and Gabe talked?”
“Yes. No. Sort of?”
I pointed to the coffeepot behind the counter. “Caffeinate and tell all.”
Felicity’s house had flooded several weeks back, and her landlord, who happened to be Gabe Bishop’s grandmother, had moved her into Gabe’s house while he was deployed, thinking the repairs would be completed before he got home. Except apparently Dorothy hadn’t said a word to Gabe himself, and he’d come home the night before the rest of the guys from the reserve unit, giving Felicity the scare of her life and almost getting a peep show, as she’d been wearing nothing but a towel at the time. That hadn’t been a part of the plan when Dorothy and I concocted this scheme to try to match make the two of them, though I couldn’t have scripted it better myself. Not that I was saying boo to Felicity about our shenanigans. I’d just made the suggestion. Whatever happened from here on out would be nature taking its course. Which evidently didn’t involve him kicking her out like she’d feared.
Helping herself to the coffee I kept on hand for customers, she leaned back against my side of the counter. “He’s going to fix my house. And I can stay until he’s finished. I’m not going to be homeless!”
As that had been a legitimate concern for her, I didn’t tease. “That sounds like you talked.”
“Less talking and more like he made a couple of declarative statements.”
“I mean, that seems on-brand for Gabe. You were never into him because he was loquacious.”
Her fair cheeks flushed pink. “It’s been a long time since high school.”
“And not a thing has changed on that front.”
“He’s my roommate,” Felicity protested.
“So you’re not thinking about climbing him like a tree?”
“Austen!” she hissed, then glanced around the store to make sure we were actually alone. “It’s irrelevant.”
“Okay, whatever you say.” If living with her sweetness didn’t thaw some of that perennial grumpitude, I couldn’t help the man. Whatever happened next was on the two of them.
Felicity huffed. “I know that’s Austen-speak for ’The lady doth protest too much.’”
“More like the lady doth forget the things she’s admitted over a pitcher of margaritas, but it doesn’t matter. If you don’t want to take the opportunity in front of you, that is one thousand percent your call.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What’s going on with you? You seem… off somehow.”
“I’m fine.”
“Nobody says that and means it. Did something happen at the cookout last night?”
“Not exactly.” I gave her the rundown about Trevor being part of Gretchen’s wedding.
“Ugh. It’s bad enough you have to cross paths with that asshole again, but to have his latest model paraded in front of you. That’s just gross.”
“I don’t care who he’s with or what he’s doing anymore, but I don’t want people to look at me and think I’m pathetic or that I haven’t moved on. The fact that I’m single has nothing to do with me still being hung up on him.”
“Oh, but your great Aunt Maureen isn’t going to accept that.”
“Exactly.”
“So, what are you going to do? You clearly can’t show up alone to this wedding.”
Butterflies began a very enthusiastic conga line in my belly. “Well, as it happens, I won’t be.”
“Oh, you have a date already? That’s great. Who?”
I glanced at her sideways. “Clint.”
Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes went comically wide behind her glasses. “Girl! Tell me everything!”
My tongue tried to glue itself to the roof of my mouth. Felicity wasn’t the only one who’d been nursing a crush since high school. “Mom sent me over to Clint’s with leftovers from the party last night because he left early, and I happened to mention my problem.”
“You’re going with Clint Ramsey?” Felicity’s screech was loud enough to offend my cat, Cliffhanger, who vacated his spot in a patch of sunshine on the best seller table and streaked off to hide in the storeroom.
It was my turn to shush her. Thank God it wasn’t book club day or the news would be all over town before dinner.
“It’s all fake. He’s just pretending to be my date. He’s helping me out because…” I trailed off because I didn’t really know why he was helping me out.
“Is this supposed to be just a show up with a generic guy on your arm kind of favor or a pretend to be your boyfriend kind of favor?”
I thought back to last night when he’d been all aboard the make-my-ex-regret-what-he-was-fool-enough-to-let-go-of train. That had been circling through my brain all night . Had that been some kind of generic, I’ve-got-your-back kind of offer? Or did he really think my ex was an idiot for letting me go?
“We haven’t really clarified the details.”
“Still. I can’t believe you got up the guts to ask him. Good for you!”
“I didn’t ask him. He volunteered.”
Felicity stared at me. “That’s a really important distinction.”
“Why? It fundamentally means the same thing.”
“Honey, no. You asking and him doing you the favor has lifelong family friend written all over it. Him hearing your problem and volunteering to come to your rescue in a date-like capacity says something else.”
That conga line of butterflies shifted into a full-on rave. Because what if that weird awkward yesterday hadn’t been because I was being weird and awkward? What if it was… attraction? What if he was finally seeing me as something other than a little sister? I really hated how the idea of that made me yearn. How it made me hope. I’d given up on the idea of Clint and I ever being anything more than friends years ago. I was fine with the status quo.
“We’re friends,” I repeated. “It’s just a favor. I mean, if anything were to ever happen between Clint and me, it would be all kinds of complicated because of Rhett.”
“Why?”
“It’s a classic brother's best friend trope. They always have the stupid code about not touching each other's sisters. And even if he had a thing for me—which he does not—it would just be complicated.”
“You don’t think your brother would be supportive?”
“Honestly, I don’t know what Rhett would think. Right now he’s on everybody’s shit list because he got injured on deployment over two months ago, had surgery, and has been recuperating in DC, all without breathing a word of it to anybody. We didn’t find out until the guys got home yesterday on the bus, and he wasn’t on it. Clint was the one who had to tell us. So Mom and Dad are freaking out for obvious reasons.”
“Well, that was dumb of him. But to circle back to the original point, the whole bro code thing with sisters makes sense when we’re young and in high school because we’re vulnerable and inexperienced. But you’re both grown adults now. Maybe Rhett would surprise you.”
If only.
Desperately wanting to talk about literally anything else, I changed the subject. “Speaking of surprises.”
“Were we?”
I ignored that arched eyebrow that was totally calling me out. “Have you heard anything about Tate and Kellan?”
“What about Tate and Kellan?”
“They were at the party last night, and they were holding hands and standing really close together. I have no idea what’s going on with that, and I’m pretty sure Tate’s avoiding me right now because girl knows I expect her to dish.”
“Gee, imagine that. And no, I haven’t heard anything, but I’ll definitely keep my ears open.”
“If one of us doesn’t pin her down in the next couple of weeks, I say we conduct an intervention.”
“With margaritas,” Felicity added. “They might as well be truth serum.”
“You’re on.”
She finished her coffee and tossed the cup into the trash. “I’ve got to get back to the shop. I just wanted to share my good news. I’m glad you have some of your own. Keep me posted how things go!”
I didn’t expect there to be anything to keep her posted on, but I lifted my hand in a wave. “Promise.”