Chapter Ten
Bobbi
My morning starts lazily—because I’ve decided to sleep in. Triumph deserves some celebratory sleep. The day would’ve gone even better if Noah hadn’t texted me though. Starving children my ass.
Se?or Mittens hops onto the bed and slowly pads his way to my chest. He gazes at my phone with distain. He hates it when I don’t start the day by scratching behind his ears.
So I start doing exactly that with one hand and text with the other.
–Me: Se?or Mittens sends his regurgitated regards.
–Noah: I love you too, light of my life.
Still throwing out “I love you”s like they’re going to make a difference. If I didn’t know him so well now, it might work. Even though he doesn’t mean anything by “I love you,” my heart picks up speed, which makes me irritated. Does he honestly expect me to swoon? And light of his life? I’ll fall for that when the sun starts revolving around the moon!
I send him a text telling him to choke on a bag of dicks.
He responds, saying he might be okay with a threesome if certain proprietary rules are in place.
I grind my teeth, trying not to throw the phone against the wall. My emotions are a source of entertainment for him? I simply cannot take a man like this seriously.
I start to type as much, then stop. Why am I even trying? He won’t understand, and will just crack another lame joke. I’m not wasting my morning like this.
Okay.Phone, on the night stand. Me, out of bed and into the shower before TJ shows up with the power tools I asked to borrow. Unlike some men—who I am definitely not thinking about at the moment—TJ is both reliable and punctual…although he kind of sucks at remembering anniversaries and birthdays.
Just as I’m done drying my hair and have put on a black tank top and yoga tights, TJ walks in, carrying his precious toolbox. He’s a human Rocky Mountain, huge and solid with arms and legs designed to deliver maximum damage. Enormous muscles all over his body strain against a gray T-shirt and shorts, and he can’t even buy shoes off the rack because his feet are too large. He used to shave his head bald, but now he lets it grow like an eighth of an inch because his daycare teacher girlfriend wants to feel his hair. His eyes are two shades darker than mine, and when he shows up, kids get quiet because he has a definite I-eat-children-for-snacks look. Unfair—he’s a softie inside and loves children, but his psychopath expression works well professionally. He’s in charge of security for a billionaire, Anthony Blackwood, and his family and companies.
His existence kept the boys away from me all through high school. Nobody was brave enough to face him to ask me out. To be honest, most grown men aren’t either, which left my dating life rather sad until Noah. I’m not giving him any credit, though. He’s never met TJ. If he had, he might’ve fled.
Maybe I should introduce them.
“Thanks,” I say as TJ sets his toolbox down by the couch in the living room.
“No prob.” He looks around my kitchen. “You sure you don’t need any help?”
I scoff with affection. “No need for arms bigger than my thighs. It’s just some tile.” I haven’t had time to do anything about the foul kitchen floor until now, what with Bobbi’s Sweet Things opening and all.
“I promised your mom I’d watch over you.”
“I don’t think she meant for you to do my kitchen.” An odd conflicted feeling rises up. My mom acted like she couldn’t bear the sight of me, then hugged me like I was the only bit of sanity in her chaotic world. I might’ve thought she was bipolar, but she never behaved that way toward anyone else.
Well, whatever.I decide her final wish for me is how she truly felt. “I’ll let you know when I need your muscles. But thanks for the offer. And since you’re being so nice, I’ll serve up your favorite breakfast.”
“You made an apple pie?” He perks up like a puppy about to be walked. He’s addicted to my baking, and for an apple pie, he’ll do pretty much anything.
“Yup.” I pull out the half—that damn Noah ate the other half yesterday—and cut it into two pieces. I put the bigger one on a Disney Frozen plate with Elsa and microwave it because he likes his pie hot. Once it’s reheated, I put a huge scoop of vanilla ice cream and set it on the dining table. I have my own piece cold on an Olaf plate.
He takes a seat, then lets out a sigh of appreciation as the smell hits him. “You’re the best cousin a man could have.”
“Don’t I know it.” I laugh as he digs in. “Want something to drink?” I say when his lips form an O and he fans himself. He always burns the roof of his mouth, but never seems to learn.
He nods.
I pour him the last of the OJ, then reach for a bottle of vodka and fill my glass half-way. I top it with cranberry juice and sit down with my portion of the pie.
TJ’s thick brows jump three inches on his forehead. “A little early for that, don’t you think?”
“It’s a Christmas gift from Yuna, and it’s like midnight where she’s from.”
He gives me a look. “She lives in Beverly Hills.”
“But her Korean roots are strong.” I take a big bite of the pie. So delicious. I am the best.
He frowns, all concerned now. “Did something happen? The bakery struggling? If so, don’t stress about it. I can always get you a job.”
By that, he probably means a position in Tony Blackwood’s vast empire. But I don’t want to manage security for his clubs. Or go back to guarding his wife, Ivy. Not because she was a difficult client, but bodyguarding just isn’t my dream. I got disenchanted real fast.
“The bakery’s going great,” I say before TJ starts making calls. I don’t bring up Floyd because TJ might do something. Like permanently rearrange his face, which wouldn’t accomplish anything. Besides, since my dad’s death, TJ’s overprotectiveness has gone into overdrive. He means well, but I’m an adult. He doesn’t need to treat me like some uncoordinated toddler left by a pool.
“Then why are you drinking before noon?” His tone says you ain’t foolin’ nobody, especially me.
“It’s Noah.” Don’t want to say it, but if I don’t fess up, TJ will drive me insane with questions.
“That shithead?” My cousin’s eyebrows pull together. He’s never met Noah, but knows how he’s ghosted me over and over again. TJ’s meaty hand gets tighter around his fork. “Did he at least apologize for hurting you?”
“Ha. No. He would never. He has no clue that he did anything wrong.”
“Then keep him out of your life. Simple.” To TJ, everything is black and white. Gray is a weasel category for doing things you know you shouldn’t but refusing to admit it. I wish my mind was that uncomplicated.
“Not so easy. He’s back in town.” I take a big swallow of my cocktail.
My cousin looks confused. “Doesn’t he live in Malibu? So he’s always been in SoCal?”
“Yes. But he was here. In this kitchen.” I point my fork at his plate. “The reason you’re only getting a quarter of a pie is because he ate half.”
TJ’s face slowly turns red. He probably feels personally violated. “What the fuck? Why did you let him in and feed him pie?”
I bristle at the unfair accusation and at the humiliating realization that maybe I look that clingy and desperate when it comes to Noah. “He broke into my home!”
“And you didn’t kill him?” His gaze slides to the drawer where I keep the Glock.
“I might’ve, if I’d thought I could get away with it. But he isn’t worth going to jail for.” Plus his very rich, very famous movie producer daddy wants him to make babies. Offing him before that happens would bring a lot of heat.
TJ seems somewhat mollified. “So why was he here? I mean, your apple pie is great and all, but…”
I sigh, then tell TJ what happened, including the incident involving Lorcan.
He starts to turn red again. “Son of a bitch! I told you meeting the men you found on those apps was a terrible idea!”
“TJ, everybody does it. It’s really hard to meet a good guy these days.”
“Because you keep using those apps.”
“It’s not the apps, it’s Lorcan. What kind of weirdo thinks there’s something between us after exactly one disastrous date?”
“The kind who uses apps!” TJ says, absolutely refusing to give in on this point. “Let me set you up. I know just the guy—he’ll treat you like a princess and make you happy. Why should you go through more disappointment and heartbreak? You deserve better.”
“No, thank you.” My cousin means well. But he’s going to pick the kind of guy who’ll ask for permission before holding my hand. Consent is important, but I honestly don’t want a guy who’s too scared of TJ to overwhelm me with hot sex. I didn’t put a picture of a couple having passionate sex on the vision board, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t part of the deal with the loving husband I’m yearning for.
“Fine. If you’re going to insist on allowing crazy losers into your life and not use your Glock on them, you should at least upgrade your security. Also, get yourself a mean-ass dog. No offense to Se?or Mittens, but he’s no attack kitty.”
My cat scornfully swishes his tail. It almost looks like he’s sneering.
“He coughed up a hair ball to avenge me,” I say, defending poor Se?or Mittens. TJ is a hardcore dog person, and he can’t fathom why I don’t get a “real pet.”
“Oooh…” TJ gives me a mock shudder. “Yeah, I hear that home invaders are terrified of hairballs.”
“Don’t be dense. I put it into some buttercream.” I lay out what I did to the croissants Noah stole.
TJ looks at me like I’ve broken out of an asylum. “Wait, so you broke into his house?”
“Of course. He did it first.”
“Yeah, but don’t you think he’s going to think it’s an invitation to escalate?”
“What? No.”
“Cuz, the best way to deal with a guy like that is to ignore him completely.”
“Uh-uh. That’s silently endorsing what he’s doing.”
“Don’t believe me? Talk to Josie.”
“Josie? Why?” TJ’s sister is his exact opposite—petite and delicate with an inviting, friendly face. It works well for her career as a psychiatrist. People tend to pour out their entire life story, which she absolutely loves, and is great for her. But if I had her job, I’d be jailed for murder.
“Because she’s going to side with me and say you still have feelings for this motherfucker.”
The remark hits too close to home. It’s all I can do not to grind my teeth. “I don’t need my head examined. I’m fine!”
“Sure, you’re fine. And dandy. That’s why you have guys like Lorcan and Noah around,” he says. “I always thought your dad was crazy, but he wasn’t totally wrong when he said nothing keeps unwanted people out better than landmines.”
“Oh my God.” I close my eyes briefly. Landmines.
“I’m just saying you’re putting me in a bind. How am I supposed to keep my promise to your mom that I’d take care of you if you keep finding crazies who stalk you and break into your house?”
“TJ…” I debate how much to say, but eventually just settle for, “I can take care of myself.”
“Physically, maybe. But you’re letting that asshole weasel his way back into your life. And he’s gonna screw with you and break your heart all over again. Why should I have to sit around and watch it unfold?” His concern is touching, but there’s something else there, too. Something evil glinting in his eyes.
“TJ, if you’re plotting something—something I’m not going to like—that’ll be the last apple pie you’ll ever get from me.”
“Jesus, all I’m trying to do is be nice to you. No need to get all cruel about it.” He looks as betrayed as Caesar when he realized it was Brutus who stabbed him.
I lock eyes with him and start to reach for his plate.
He leans forward and physically covers the pie with his torso. “Okay, fine! Have it your way. But if that shithead isn’t gone by the end of the month, I’m getting you a Doberman!”