Chapter 12
My date was furious.
Not gonna lie…it was pretty hot.
I mean, I didn't like guys with anger problems. I didn't need any toxic masculinity in my life, thank you kindly.
But this didn't feel like an anger problem to me.
It felt like my noisy neighbor boy interrupting an otherwise lovely date and making things peculiar with the suggestion I saw him late last night.
Yeah, I saw him. Technically, he saw a lot more of me than I did of him but that was beside the point. We weren't together last night. He was disturbing the peace and I was the concerned citizen who'd shut up him and his tile saw.
And promised to help him with his remodeling efforts over the weekend.
Jesus Lord, I strolled into some real special situations, didn't I?
"Magnolia," Rob said, a sharp edge in his voice that raised goose bumps on my arms. The best goose bumps. Interesting goose bumps. I could get on board with goose bumps like these. Maybe not right now, in the middle of Flour, but at some point in the potentially naked future. "You know this guy?"
"I'm wondering the same thing," Ben added with a flippant wave toward Rob. I swiveled my gaze toward him and damn, that t-shirt worked. The hoodie he wore last night, it hid all the goods. "Who's the suit?"
"All right, listen," I started, holding both hands up. "I'm having lunch with Rob. He's a—a friend of mine."
"I'd say we're past the point of friends," Rob argued, his brow creasing. This boy. He couldn't talk about anything more than no-strings sex but went all prickly porcupine at the suggestion of mere friendship. So damn prickly. "After everything we've shared and everything you've—ahem—seen."
Still holding my hands up, I shot him a withering glare. "Don't you worry, sweetheart. One of the many wonderful things about me is that I don't forget." He started to argue but I shook my head, saying, "Hush now. I'm talking."
"Can't wait to hear this." Ben crossed his arms—my god, how did anyone get forearms that ropey?—over his chest and rocked back on his heels. For real though, those forearms were straight out of Gaston from Beauty and the Beast.
"And as for this one," I said, tipping my head toward Ben. "This is the guy who's flipping the house across the street from me." I caught Rob's steely glare. "I told you about that. Remember?"
"I think so," he murmured, busy sizing Ben up.
If I wasn't truly annoyed about this interruption and my brain's inability to process while Ben's bare forearms and Rob's chest were in the picture, I would've enjoyed this moment. I would've sat back, thrilled that two men were metaphorically fighting over who got to piss the circle around me.
Moments like these didn't happen to me. I was the chubby friend, the weird friend, the friend with the hot (or so I was told) brothers. I was always the friend. Never the one everyone wanted.
"What I didn't tell you is that he's been working through the night and waking the dead with his tile saw," I continued.
Rob's glare softened as he blinked at me. "You should've told me about that. I would've—"
"Nope," I interrupted. "I had it under control."
Rob blinked at me again. "I can't decide if that's infuriating or fucking awesome."
"We're going with awesome," I said, glancing back to Ben.
"I'd say infuriating," Ben murmured.
"You would," I replied. "You've been going hard for the past month but you're doing a shit job of it." I pointed at Ben while catching Rob's eye. "I went across the street in the middle of the night—"
"Infuriating," Rob muttered.
"And politely asked him to suspend the home improvement games for a bit," I continued, ignoring Rob as he tossed his hands up and shook his head.
Ben pivoted to face Rob. "Dude. She unplugged my saw and then yelled at me about how to work on a house for ten minutes," Ben said. "There was nothing polite about it. It was actually very indecent."
"That's how I roll, buddy," I replied. This time, he got the withering glare. "And if you want me to help you with your projects, you'll—"
Rob's chair screeched against the floor as he pushed to his feet. "You're helping him?"
If there was anyone in this bakery who wasn't engrossed in our conversation, they were in it now. Goddamn, I did not want to be the subject of another live-tweeted date.
"Yes," I replied, as calm and even as possible. Even if I wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up and sit the hell down. "It drives me crazy when virgin flippers do shoddy work and then sell houses that are basically duct-taped together."
"I'm no virgin," Ben announced, tipping his chin up at me.
There was a challenge in that gesture. Something that whispered, Try me.
And those fucking forearms. They demanded attention, a challenge to anyone who spotted them. Just try and get your hand around me, they taunted.
Rob down stared at me, his eyebrows crawling up his forehead and his hands on his lean waist. "Magnolia, I don't—" He stopped himself, shot a sour glimpse at Ben, and then looked back to me.
Holy shit. I was the jam in a Rob-and-Ben sandwich. Not that I wanted a sandwich. Open-faced, sure. Not a panini.
"Yo, Brock," a voice boomed from the other side of the bakery. "Time to roll."
Ben glanced over his shoulder at the crew of firefighters waiting for him. "I'll see you Saturday," he said. Then, facing Rob, he said, "Seems like I'll be seeing you around too."
"Bet on it," Rob replied, smoothing his tie as he settled into his seat.
Ben laughed to himself, nodding, and then hit me with a quick smile. "Saturday."
"Permits," I called as he walked away. Once Ben and the other firefighters filed out of the bakery, I glanced at Rob.
"Sorry about that. It was this whole weird thing last night where I went over there and realized he was committing every renovation sin known to building craft and I had to jump in. "
I casually omitted all references to my free-boob situation. Just didn't seem relevant.
Rob sat back and clasped his hands in his lap. He smiled at me, a curious, almost amused smile that made me wonder for the second time this afternoon whether I had poppy seeds in my teeth.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing." He shook his head. "I wanted—I just needed to get over my ex. She really fucked me up and I'm…I don't know what I am."
"What happened?" I asked. "What did she do that traumatized you so much?"
Rob shook his head again. For the first time, I saw inside his weariness, into the bleak blankness where his relationships once lived.
I understood his desperation to fill that space at any cost. "I don't want to get into it.
Nothing atrocious. Just people who had different expectations and different definitions of loyalty," he said.
"But I thought I'd find a hot woman who looked nothing like my ex"—I was inwardly squeeing at that—"and fuck away the memories. Instead, I met you."
End the squeeing.
"Oh, well, I guess I'm sorry about…something," I said, stumbling over each word. "Maybe I should—uh, just—maybe I'll go now."
"No, no, not—no." His entire existence seemed to cringe. "I said that wrong. I meant that I had a very narrow objective."
"Mmhmm."
He tucked a finger under his collar, dragged the fabric away from his neck. I couldn't explain it but I wanted—I wanted to lick him there. "I didn't expect to, you know, feel anything."
"Mmhmm," I repeated.
"I thought my ex had reached in and torn out my heart with a soldering iron and I was incapable of doing anything but slowly bleeding to death."
Again, "Mmhmm."
He looked up at me, his brow wrinkled and his lips pulled up in a slight grin. "But I wanted to beat the shit out of that guy just now."
"And that's a good thing? I wouldn't call that progress, Rob."
He laughed. "It's something. It's a lot more than I've managed in months." He brought his fingers to his temples, his smile faltering. "But you should know I don't share. I can't. Not after what she—no, we're not poisoning this air with that story."
"I'm helping Ben with construction because I don't want him to accidentally take down the power grid in my neighborhood," I said. "Not for any"—those forearms flashed in my mind before I chased them away with an impatient eyeroll—"other reason."
Rob pressed both palms to his eyes and let out a groan. The noise was deep, sexy. "Yeah, it's not you I'm worried about, Magnolia. It's the way that guy looked at you."
He pulled his hands away from his eyes and pushed to his feet. A pang of sadness quivered through my belly when I realized he was leaving. Despite our odd history, I had a soft spot for Rob and all his personal drama. I didn't want to nurse him back to health, but I enjoyed the guy.
Instead of leaving, Rob rounded the table and beckoned toward me. "Stand up," he ordered.
I stood but asked, "Excuse me?" That was how I rolled—I followed directions while arguing about them.
"Just—just come here," Rob said, gripping my elbow.
He tugged me closer and slipped a hand up my spine, into my hair.
He gazed down at me, his focus locked on my lips.
"I don't know whether I should resent you for making me feel again or love you for it.
" Before I could respond, he continued. "Don't say anything. I already know."
Then he kissed me.
Lips, tongues, hands, heat, sighs—all at once. Everything beyond us dissolved. The bakery, this city, the convoluted premise behind our lunch date. None of it existed when I pressed my hands to his back and urged him closer.
I was certain he hadn't gone looking for it but somewhere between yanking me into his arms and claiming my mouth, he stumbled upon my bleak blankness.