Chapter Fifteen
Belle
It’s not a date.
I’ve repeated that in my head for the rest of the night. Especially when the waitress drops our check off and Dane picks it up before I can. He even passed his credit card over before I could get mine out.
He walks me out to my car in silence, not touching me and making sure to keep a respectable distance.
I appreciate him not bringing up Jesse or his friends staring at us all night.
They weren’t even trying to hide it. Half of them were sending us flirty waves whenever I dared glances over there, which was hard not to do when I knew Jesse was in the same room.
It doesn’t take long for us to get to my car, parked amongst the busy lot of other vehicles that are mostly all nicer than mine. I notice the dark blue Tahoe parked a row down from me almost instantly, and irritation flares in me again.
He’s still in there, but I wouldn’t be surprised if him and his stupid teammates come out to make sure nothing happens with Dane.
Ugh. Ugh.
I don’t even realize I’m glaring at his vehicle until Dane’s soft chuckle breaks me out of it. “If you slit his tires, will I be considered accessory to the crime?”
Blinking up at him, I gape. “What?”
His thumb jabs toward the Tahoe. “I’m sure the tinted-out car you look like you want to set on fire belongs to one of the guys in there. I can guess which one, but I won’t assume any more than I already have.”
I cover my flaming face with my palms and groan into them. “I’m sorry,” I apologize for what feels like the fortieth time. How come we’re always interrupted when we’re together?
It’s not a date.
The reminder has me dropping my hands to my sides and blowing out a breath. “I’m sorry,” I say once again. “The sketches are stunning, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you taking time out of your busy day to draw them and show me.”
His smile is genuine. “It was no trouble at all. I enjoyed it, and I’m glad you love them.
When the times comes, I’ll get better measurements and can send you the wood options.
Cedar is still a solid option because it’s a natural repellant, which means insects won’t be attracted to it. It could help preserve the books.”
The fact he considered that in his sketches makes me so much angrier at Jesse. Because Dane is a great person, and I should want to date him. I should tell Jesse to mind his own business and stay away from my dates. I should do a lot of things beyond glaring at his car and debating arson.
Internally, I sigh.
“Want to talk about it?” he asks gently, leaning his hip against the side of my car. “We can talk about it if you want.”
Is there any point in playing dumb? Nope. Am I going to do it anyway? Hell yeah. “Talk about what?”
His lips twitch upward before neutralizing. “I don’t want to invade,” he begins, “but it seems like there are some unspoken things regarding Jesse that’s bothering you.”
So we’re going there. “Like him showing up tonight?” I grumble before I can help myself.
He nods, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Like that. Or the fact it bothers you so much.”
My face twists. “It doesn’t bother you?”
One of those broad shoulders lifts. “It should, I suppose. I would have preferred to have dinner with a woman I think is pretty without being stared at by men who could probably kill me without trying that hard.”
They totally could, but I’m not going to tell Dane that. What’s the point? “You’re too nice to me,” I murmur, almost defeated that my heart doesn’t react to him thinking I’m pretty like it would have in the past.
He huffs out a laugh before opening my car door for me. “Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”
Because my stepbrother seems to always get in the way when we’re together? Because it’s obvious there’s something there no matter how much I pretend there isn’t? Because…
I wet my lips. “I don’t know,” I lie, hoping he doesn’t read into it or call me out for not being more detailed. He can fill in the blanks with whatever reason he sees fit. I’m sure he has plenty of them in his head since each time we’re out I’m distracted or leave early.
God. I deserve to be single.
“Hey,” he says softly, regaining my attention. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but it doesn’t look like anything good. I’m fine. We’re fine. I’m not worried about anything.”
All I can do is stare at him.
His smile remains soft and warm, like he wants me to drill it into my head. Like me truly means it. “We’re good.”
We’re good. That simple.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him again because I can’t help it. “For Jesse showing up like that. He and his friends are actually pretty harmless. Mostly.”
His lips twitch. “Except for when people go near the women they like,” he notes casually.
So casually that it doesn’t seem like he’s implying what I think he is. But he is. He’s saying a lot between the lines.
“Um…” I rub my lips together.
He chuckles, sliding a hand into his front pocket while readjusting his briefcase strap with the other. “To be completely transparent with you, my ex and I have been talking. Nothing serious, but…”
But he’s interested enough to talk to her. That makes me relieved more than it probably should. Less guilty.
“Keep me updated on the planning board and permits, and I’ll get the materials when everything is approved,” he continues nonchalantly.
“Okay,” I say weakly because it’s the only thing I can think of. There’s no point in apologizing again. He wouldn’t accept it or find a need for it. And after a while, I sound like a broken record.
He doesn’t give me a peck on the cheek or a hug like I think he will. He reaches out, squeezes my arm gently, and watches me get into my car. Then he waits until I’m settled in before shutting the door behind me and waving me off.
It feels like goodbye, even though I know it isn’t. We’ll talk again. About the store. Work. Professional things. It’s a goodbye to the possibility of what could have been if my heart wasn’t such a stubborn bitch.
*
When I get home, I don’t hide in my room like I want to. I decide to put my big girl panties on and confront this situation the way it should be. Head on.
I’m nauseously sipping a glass of water in the kitchen when I hear him pull in almost an hour and twenty minutes later.
He must have had to drop the guys off first or else something tells me he would have gotten back sooner.
Hopefully, he gets Richie one of those giant burritos for dragging him along tonight.
If not, I’ll have to make him those churros I promised.
It feels like forever before the code to the front door is punched in and Jesse is walking inside. He reactivates the lock, then the alarm, and walks down the hall until he sees me sitting on the countertop in the corner. He stops, tucking his hand into his front jean’s pocket.
He doesn’t waste his time with pleasantries and neither do I. I’m sure he knows that would only make me madder at this point.
Loosening a sigh, he steps into the kitchen and swipes a palm down his face. “It isn’t you that I wanted to keep an eye on,” he begins, gripping the edge of the island across from me. “I don’t like the idea of some dude swooping in and trying anything with you.”
His admission makes my heart do summersaults in my chest, and I have to beat it down with a mental stick. “Even though I told you it wasn’t like that?” I question, voice sounding funny even to me.
Jesse evades my eyes for a moment, staring at his calendar full of reminders that hangs from the refrigerator door. His jaw moves back and forth like he’s grinding his teeth. “It was like that, Belle. Maybe not for you, but it was for him.”
I think back to Dane calling me pretty for a microsecond before brushing that off. He also said he’s talking to his ex. That practically cancels it out. “How would you know?”
He scoffs, like I just asked him if the sky was really blue. “Because any straight man would be a fucking moron not to want to take you out. Not to try making a move.”
I go to reply but…can’t. My mouth opens, then closes just as fast when I realize I have nothing to say to that. It seems dangerous to ask him what he means because I wouldn’t believe it.
It isn’t that I don’t think I’m pretty. I am in an average kind of way.
Some guys would consider me above that, and some under.
I’ve been told I’d look better if I grew my hair out and lose twenty pounds, which is probably true.
But I’ve also been told that my curves are sexy and that men love something to hold onto.
Looks are subjective at the end of the day.
Jesse knows me way too well, and I don’t realize he’s studying my face until those thoughts cross my mind. “You know you’re beautiful,” he states, his eyes narrowing when I make no move to agree or disagree.
I slowly set my water glass down on the counter and meet his eyes. “I know I have a lot of great qualities. I’m confident.” Most of the time. “I’m independent and strong-willed. I’d like to think I’m funny and have a killer personality. And yes. I think I’m relatively pretty. I know I am.”
Jesse spits out one word. “Relative?” It comes out like a question that he must not have heard right. “Do you really not see yourself in the mirror the way I do? The way most guys do?”
“Jesse, can we not talk about—”
“No. We’re going to talk about it. Do you know how fucking annoying it is to hear my teammates drool over you because they think it’s attractive that you know exactly what’s going on at our games without anybody having to explain it?
That you’re up there cheering the loudest of anybody and will fight anyone who says we’re not good enough?
I’ve had to threaten almost every goddamn person I’ve skated with over the years not to hit on you. ”
His teammates over the years have flirted with me, but it was banter. Innocent. I’ve returned the sentiment plenty of times with them in front of Jesse and never thought twice about it. It was always harmless fun and meant nothing.