8
Rowan
The Donut Shop
Rowan looked at his drunk younger brothers in the rearview mirror.
He’d never seen Asher quite so on his ass before.
The kid was absolutely nearing the puking stage.
Not that Ash was much of a kid these days.
But this breakup seemed to be hitting him hard.
It was good riddance as far as Rowan was concerned, but it still surprised him.
“Donuts!” yelled Ash and kicked the back of the seat, managing to sound exactly like he had when he was four.
“I would also like to have the fat-fried breads,” said Forest. Forest had reached the pompous stage of drunk.
“I will get you donuts,” said Rowan, “but you will stay here, and you will not—I repeat, not—puke in my car.”
“I promise nothing,” said Forest.
“Promish,” said Ash, nodding as though his skull was loose, his sandy blonde hair flopping into his face.
Sometimes, Rowan wondered if he’d excelled in the military because he already had a decade of experience managing his brothers by the time he enlisted.
He also sometimes wondered if he’d always been gun-shy about marriage and kids because he didn’t want to raise another set of hellions like Forest and Asher.
Although, lately, with the arrival of Oliver, Rowan had started to think maybe having kids while he wasn’t a kid himself might be OK.
Not that he was likely to get a shot at kids at his age.
Perhaps he should have given in when Melissa had demanded he pony up on the marriage and children front.
Being tied to Melissa for all time probably would have been a nightmare, but he couldn’t help wishing that things had turned out differently.
With a sigh, Rowan got out and crossed the street to the only open donut shop that had popped up on his Google search.
A group of women were ahead of him—heading for the donut shop too.
They looked like they’d been clubbing. The heels were high and the hemlines were short.
He focused on the leader whose ass was a curvy dream in a green skirt.
Her long, auburn hair, the same color as Vivian’s, swayed in counterpoint to her walk, and he couldn’t help shaking his head at himself.
His various run-ins with Vivian had left his libido in overdrive.
He stretched his legs and entered right behind them.
They had barely crossed the threshold when the group fractured, two women heading for the restroom and another two answering phone calls, leaving the woman in the green dress alone to stand in line behind two guys who looked and smelled incredibly high.
“Just order us whatever you’re getting,” chirped one of the girls heading for the restroom.
“But I didn’t even want donuts,” the girl in the green skirt replied, sounding bewildered, and Rowan found his pulse rate jumping by about ten points.
“Post-club birthday donut binge?” he asked, and Vivian squeaked in surprise and spun around to face him. He grabbed her arms as she teetered in her heels. He got her stabilized and tried to pretend that he hadn’t pulled her closer to him.
“Rowan! I mean… Mr.—”
“Rowan’s fine,” he said before she called him Mr. Valkyrie and made him feel like a dinosaur.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, shoving her hair behind her ear. There were no nerd accessories tonight. She looked gorgeous.
“My youngest brother is in the middle of a break-up.”
“Ah,” she said, nodding sagely. “And he’s drunk off his ass and demanding donuts?”
“Yes,” he said. “And my middle brother is just drunk. I made them stay in the car, but I’m not sure it was the right tactical decision.”
“Always a crapshoot. They could puke, but if you let them out of the car, then you’ve lost containment. Who knows where they’ll go from there?”
“Next thing you know, someone is assaulting a police horse.”
“That is a felony,” she said severely.
“I’m aware of that now. Although, in his defense, it was a very rude horse.”
She laughed, a delightful burbling chuckle. “I try to limit my squad to public indecency and property damage. I can’t afford the bail on felonies.”
“Oh, I don’t bail them out,” said Rowan. “At least not for a solid twenty-four hours.”
“Ooh. Tough love.”
“Self-preservation. I’ll have to deal with their hangover if I get them out before then. I take it this is the real birthday party?”
“Yes,” she said, standing up straighter, which coincidentally shoved her breasts out at him. He kept his eyes firmly on her face, but it was a struggle. Her top was a slinky thing, and he wanted to pull it off her shoulders.
“And did they feed you proper chocolate and alcohol?”
She opened her purse and revealed a stack of Theo chocolate bars in varying flavors.
“They gave me the entire product line,” said Vivian, beaming proudly. Whatever else she had been about to say was curtailed by the presence of one of her friends—a pretty Asian girl in a gold metallic dress—who, despite being on the phone, had come close enough for drill sergeant worthy inspection.
“One second,” the girl said and took the phone away from her ear to look him up and down. “His tailoring says gainfully employed.” She squinted up at him as if assessing. “But is he passionate about his career?”
“Christine!” hissed Vivian angrily.
“I am, actually,” he replied, confused by both her question and academic tone.
“Excellent. And you’re thirty-eight-ish?”
“Forty-two.”
“Perfect. Now, do you—”
“Oh my God, Christine, if you don’t walk away right now, I will never show you my boobs again.”
Christine vacillated and then stomped her foot. “Fine!” she said in response to Vivian’s angry glare. “But I’m just saying!” And then she waved at Rowan as if he was evidence in her argument before putting the phone back to her ear and going outside.
Meanwhile, Rowan discovered that the mere thought of Vivian’s naked breasts snatched all the air from his lungs.
“I’m sorry,” said Vivian in what he thought of as her professional voice. “That related to a previous conversation. Please disregard anything that she says.”
“I’m not sure I can,” said Rowan with more honesty than he’d meant to express. “I’m also having difficulty figuring out what the conversation could have been.”
“That is... umm... there were things.” Vivian’s face was a picture. She clearly hadn’t been prepared for the question. She was going all pink.
“Oh, I want to subpoena that face,” said Rowan, grinning, and Vivian laughed. Her head ducked down, and she shuffled her feet. Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought she shuffled a few inches closer to him.
He opened his mouth to say something—although he had no idea what—and then the two customers in front of them got their orders and moved away from the counter.
“Hey, Vivian,” said the young man behind the counter, smiling wide enough to annoy Rowan. Vivian jumped a little and turned around to face the clerk.
“Hey, Paolo! What are you doing on the night shift?”
Paolo was probably in his early twenties, with a mop of curly hair. Rowan didn’t think Vivian would be interested in the boy, but he didn’t particularly care for the way Paolo leaned toward Vivian’s side of the counter.
“Picking up extra hours,” Paolo said with a shrug.
“Your Dad giving you shit again?”
“Yeah,” admitted Paolo sheepishly. “I think you were right. I need to save up and move out. I applied to that apprenticeship program you showed me.”
“Good for you! That is a guaranteed union job when you get out. I think it’s great.”
Rowan couldn’t help smiling. Howard had been right about Vivian’s constant caretaking.
“Thanks,” he said, looking embarrassed but genuinely grateful, and then he glanced at Rowan and flushed as he realized his crush was showing. Not that Rowan could blame him, considering that he and Paolo were in the same boat. “What kind of donuts did you want?”
“The girls and I better get a dozen. Half chocolate and half powdered sugar. And then I think Rowan will need the break-up special.”
“You are not buying my brother’s donuts,” said Rowan firmly.
Vivian chuckled delightedly.
“It’s the least I can do after all your hospitality and letting me play poker in your clubhouse.”
Roman grimaced. He’d been feeling guilty about that. He hoped they hadn’t taken too much of her money.
“I’m not sure hospitality is the right word for letting you play poker with—”
“Oh, God,” exclaimed one of the girls as the duo returned from the bathroom. “You let her play poker? Vivian, is that why you’ve been buying us drinks all night?”
“You said it was a bonus,” said the other.
“Well, sort of a bonus,” protested Vivian, looking like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Rowan said I could.” She looked up at him nervously. “You didn’t say I couldn’t win.”
She could win with him any day of the fucking week.
“How much did you take them for?” he asked, pretending to be stern, although it was a stretch.
“Four hundred dollars,” she mumbled. “And I already spent most of it.” Her bottom lip puckered out. God, she was so sexy when she was being naughty. He could feel a stupid grin spreading across his face.
“Vivian!” exclaimed one of the girls. “We talked about this! You can’t take money from those unsuspecting idiots who wander the halls of your building. They’re too dumb and misogynistic for that. They get mad. It isn’t good for your career!”
“It’s fine,” Rowan said, laughing at Vivian’s pouty expression. “I’m pretty sure they had it coming.”
Vivian’s chin came up, and she gave him a smile that was worth a lot more than four hundred dollars.
“Break-up special,” said Paolo, plunking down a massive box.
“Holy hell. How many donuts is that?” demanded Rowan in shock.
“Two dozen,” said Vivian. “But if he’s really broken-hearted, he will eat them all.”
“No cap,” said Paolo as if he were all too familiar with the facts of donuts and breakups.
“Donuts!” Asher’s faint voice echoed through the front windows of the shop.
Christine opened the door and looked in.
“There’s some yahoo wailing for donuts out a car window. Does he belong to someone?”
“Oh, God,” said Rowan in exasperation. Vivian giggled and shoved the box into his arms.
“Good luck,” she said, and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling back, even as she pushed him toward the door. Maybe he just liked having her hands on him.
“Thanks. See you on Monday.” He paused when he got to the door. “And happy birthday.”
“Thanks!” she said, smiling at him. “See you Monday.” The way she said it made it sound like a promise.