Chapter 4 #3
She was measuring Scott by the Victor yardstick, which meant she didn’t find Scott’s clean-cut jaw and two-hundred-dollar haircut attractive.
And apparently, she preferred men who were considerably taller and built like a brick shithouse.
Scott was only an inch or two taller than her, and his blazer was an unflattering one size too small.
If he thought that made him look buff, he was mistaken; all it did was draw her attention to his beer gut—the one that was not present in the pics on his profile.
She suspected he’d done a bit of Photoshopping.
Given his flask and previous desire to meet in a bar, she had some serious concerns.
Who needed a drink in the middle of a workday?
Scott told her about his work in the “family business,” and how he’d never imagined himself working with his dad. While he was the same age as her—twenty-eight—he’d only started selling insurance a couple of years ago…after his band failed to make it in Nashville.
“What instrument do you play?” she asked.
“I was the drummer.” He decided to prove that by pulling two honest-to-God drumsticks from the inside pocket of his blazer and loudly beating them on the table, drawing the attention of every patron in the shop. “Never go anywhere without my sticks.”
Wow.
Scott then moaned about the rest of his bandmates, blaming them for giving up way too quickly, certain they could have hit the big time.
Belle wasn’t sure ten years was exactly quick, but as he continued talking, it became obvious Scott’s dad had been footing the bill for him to follow his dreams, while the other guys in the band had held down side jobs and struggled to make ends meet.
Belle took another sip of her coffee, waiting for Scott to make some attempt to get to know her, but as the silence lingered, she took another stab at keeping things rolling along.
“Do you travel much?” she asked.
Scott launched into a long list of destination bachelor parties he’d gone to in the past few years, including to Las Vegas, Miami, Cancun, and New Orleans.
Every trip seemed to involve a lot of alcohol and picking up women, and Belle realized Scott was one of those men who would forever be a frat guy.
She gathered he got away with a lot at work since his father was the boss, because she couldn’t imagine anyone else being okay with an employee missing so much time…
or drinking in the middle of the day. Of course, that didn’t stop Scott from bragging that he had a “flexible schedule” that allowed him to travel whenever he wanted.
Belle considered Victor’s work ethic. According to Vivian, the only time her brother had ever missed time with the team was following Pip’s birth and Phil’s passing. She’d even seen the man play through some painful injuries because he refused to let the team down.
Scott’s commitments seemed limited to drinking, drumming, and talking about his so-called “glory days.”
Belle nodded as he continued to drone on about how he played football in college, though he certainly hadn’t been recruited by a big school. Nearly two hours had passed, and the asshole had yet to ask her a single question, perfectly content to talk about himself.
Five times, she’d tried to break into the conversation by saying, “Well,” with the intention of offering some excuse about why she couldn’t stay any longer, but Scott was on a roll. Probably because he was on his third Irish coffee.
Jerry obviously hadn’t liked the look of Scott, because he remained behind the counter, shooting death glares at her date—not that the man even noticed.
She was trying to figure out what signal she could send in Jerry’s direction that would let her former boss know she needed a save, when the small bell above the door to the shop tinkled.
“Belle!”
She managed to twist in the booth just in time to catch Pip, who launched herself into her arms for a hug.
Pip was the most affectionate child on the planet, always offering hugs or begging for cuddles on the couch.
They’d yet to watch TV at Victor’s house without Pip climbing into her uncle’s lap and resting her head on his shoulder.
Belle had taken several pictures of them, under the guise of sending them to Vivian.
In truth, she wanted those photos for herself.
Belle shot a glance over Pip’s head, finding Victor standing behind her, his expression a mix of smug and scowl.
“What are you two doing here?” she asked him.
Pip answered. “Uncle Vic took me to Target for another puzzle because that other one was too easy for us. Then he said we could get hot cocoa for my secret treat, and I told him…” Pip’s explanation fell away as she glanced around the shop.
Without hesitation, she climbed off Belle and darted over to the counter. “Mr. Jerry!” she yelled.
Belle and Pip were regulars at Jerry’s shop because he insisted.
The man was totally crazy about Pip, and the feeling was mutual.
He always made her special chocolate milk—the whipped cream on top was what made it special—and managed to sneak her a cookie from the counter whenever Belle wasn’t looking.
Victor, as far as Belle knew, had never been here, so his frown grew quite pronounced when Jerry picked up Pip, playfully tossing her in the air a few times.
Belle rose. “Victor, that’s Jerry, my old boss. He and Pip are best friends,” she added.
Victor’s scowl grew less deadly, but only a little bit. Then he caught a glimpse of the tattoo on Jerry’s arm. “You a Marine?”
Jerry nodded. “Twenty years.”
Victor’s expression cleared, replaced with something that looked like respect. “My dad was a Marine. Did his twenty too.”
Jerry looked ready to launch into a long conversation about that—because he loved talking about his military days—but a large group of women entered the shop, all loudly chatting and laughing. Jerry shifted back behind the counter to help Kelly fill the orders, recruiting Pip to help.
“Belle?” Scott stood up, his gaze traveling from her to Pip to Jerry…before landing on Victor and lingering. It was clear he was trying to place Victor, which wasn’t an odd thing in Baltimore for hockey fans.
Belle took over the introductions. “Scott. I think I told you when we were messaging back and forth that I was a nanny.” God knew she hadn’t imparted that information today because apart from a few single-word replies, he’d carried the conversation. “That little girl over there is Pip.”
Pip was too busy supervising as Jerry made the women’s coffees, to acknowledge her name being spoken.
“And this is her uncle, Victor Reed.”
As soon as she said Victor’s name, the light went on in Scott’s head. “You play for the Stingrays. Jesus, man, you’re a hell of a defenseman. My family’s business rents a box a couple times a season to schmooze our clients.” Scott reached out, shaking Victor’s hand effusively.
Victor nodded, not bothering to offer any sort of friendly greeting.
“You didn’t tell me you knew Victor Reed,” Scott said to Belle, like she’d committed some major faux pas.
Belle was tempted to ask just when she was supposed to let him know, considering he hadn’t shut up about himself once in the past two hours.
“Belle is living with me,” Victor said, leaving way too much unexplained in that one sentence.
“Pip and I are staying with Victor this summer, while her mother’s out of the country for work,” she hastily added, though she wasn’t sure why she was bothering. There was no way in hell Scott was getting a second date.
Victor crossed his arms. “What do you do for a living?”
Scott reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his business card, offering it to Victor. “I sell insurance. I don’t know who you’re currently with, but if you’d like to switch companies, I could give you a great deal on home, life, auto, whatever you need.”
“I’m happy with my insurance agent,” Victor said, not even bothering to look at the card. “I’ll let the two of you get back to your date,” he said darkly.
Belle assumed that meant he was going to collect Pip and head out.
But Victor clearly had other plans, as he ordered himself an Americano, then claimed a table very close to the booth she was sharing with Scott.
Pip remained behind the counter with Jerry, who was letting her create her own lemonade with the fruit flavors.
Belle sat back down, even though she’d been done with this date for at least an hour. Regardless, she was hesitant to let it end now.
For all the wrong reasons.
While she had no interest in Scott, she sort of loved the fact that Victor had shown up here to check on her.
Sure, maybe his presence was exactly what he’d said—Pip demanding Mr. Jerry’s special drinks.
But more likely, that overprotective nature of his had gotten the better of him and he’d come to make sure she was safe.
Of course, her heart chose to pretend that he was jealous. So since that was the excuse she’d decided to latch on to, it only made sense that she continue her date to see if she could turn Victor’s gorgeous brown eyes green.
Scott glanced in Victor’s direction, his brows furrowing when he realized Victor was staring right back.
“You just work for him?” Scott asked under his breath.
Belle shook her head. “Actually, I work for his sister. Like I said, we’re just staying with him this summer.”
“And the two of you…” Scott didn’t voice his question, though it was obvious what he wanted to know.
“We’re just friends,” Belle said cheerily, even though that sentence hurt. “We’re basically co-parenting Pip until her mom comes back.”
Pip, armed with her lemonade, headed toward Victor, then bypassed him and came to their table instead. “Mr. Jerry let me put in whatever flavors I wanted!”
Given the murky purplish-gray color of the drink, Belle guessed Pip had added all the flavors. “That was very nice of him.”