Chapter Three
Marley
Okay, it’s a lot harder to see Tex than I thought it would be.
I remembered how big, tall, and intimidating he is, the kind of presence that fills a room, but I forgot how safe I feel around him.
It’s ridiculous. Eight years should’ve dulled that feeling.
It should’ve erased the way his arms felt around me. Instead, it all came rushing back.
And how does the man look even better with a gray beard?
He leans up from the counter and wanders the bookstore as though he’s taking note of everything I could change. I know I asked for this, but I’m a little nervous. For some reason, I want him to think I’m doing well, even though, clearly, I’m not.
“Where are you keeping the new releases?”
“I keep them in each section on a table.”
“We should move them up to the front of the store, front and center, so everyone can see them. We want folks to know we’re not all vintage. We’re selling the new stuff too.”
I nod, feeling a little stupid for not thinking of that myself. Of course, the new releases should be up front. Who wouldn’t know that?
“The real question is… do you still sing when you stock the shelves? I used to love listening to you.”
My chest tightens and warms. It’s been so long since anyone has said they like listening to me sing. Richard’s usually the first to remind me how off-key I sound.
I shouldn’t compare the two guys. It’s not fair, and it’s pointless.
I follow Tex’s massive frame through the store, trying not to notice the way the flannel stretches across his back or the new tattoo he has on his forearm. I can’t tell what it is from here, but it looks like it has horns… or is that an axe?
“Everything else looks nice. You keep the place in good shape. Your grandpa would be proud.” He turns toward me, and we’re standing in the same familiar place we stood so many years ago. Him, towering over me. Me, staring up, our bodies less than a foot apart.
Why do I feel a pull towards him? Why do I want him to kiss me? God, I need to get a grip. He’s here for work. I’m here for work. Like seriously, what the hell is wrong with my head?
I’ve barely thought through the horrid, illicit thoughts I’m having when the bell above the door rings and a familiar voice echoes through my shop.
“Hey, babe.” Richard lets the door slam behind him like he always does. “Where are you?”
“Is this the new guy?” Tex bites back a grin, his tone low. “We used to make fun of people who called each other babe. You hate babe. What changed?”
I gather he’s poking fun, though I wonder what the intention behind it is.
“He’s not really new. We’ve been dating for five years, and babe is cute and light.
” I shrug as though I believe the words I’m saying, though he’s right.
I hate being called babe. It’s generic and lazy.
I’ve told Richard like a thousand times that I hate it, but I think that only made him want to use it more.
I’m still staring up at Tex when Richard finds us in the back. He reaches his hand out immediately. “Shit, dude! You’re huge.”
Tex nods toward Richard and shakes his hand, dwarfing every inch of him in every possible way.
“How’s the evaluation going? I keep telling Marley she needs to modernize this place, but I’m sure you know, she’s stubborn as hell.”
Tex pinches his lips together and crosses his arms over his chest as though he’s trying to contain himself. “She’s not wrong keeping the store vintage. It’s what makes the place charming. People love historical places.”
My chest swells with a smug radiance I haven’t felt in quite a while.
I’ve had so many conversations with Richard about this shop, and he’s always trying to force me to modernize.
It’s never a simple suggestion either. It always turns into a power trip, like somehow whatever ideas he has are better than mine.
It’s kind of nice to hear someone take my side.
Richard doesn’t seem to like it, though. “Well, you don’t live with her every day, so you can’t see it.”
My stomach knots. This is why I don’t get Richard.
Last night, he made dinner for me, we played a game together, and then he snuggled me on the couch for like two hours while we ate Christmas cookies and watched the finale of a baking competition.
As we laid down for the night, he kissed me before bed and told me how thankful he is for me and how beautiful I am.
I went to bed convinced I was stupid for ever thinking anything bad about him.
I went to bed thinking I’d made a mistake messaging Tex.
Then, he says something like this. Something that totally undercuts me. Later, if I show any hurt about what he’s said, I’m sure he’ll play dumb, or tell me it was a joke, then be all super sweet again, further messing with my head.
“I had my share of time with Marley,” Tex says, voice deep and confident. “She’s got a good sense about her. She’s smart, and that’s why her grandpa trusted her with the place.”
Richard nods and glances toward me. “On that note, I should get to work.”
“What do you do for work?” Tex asks, still on the defense.
“I work the bar out on the other side of the mountain. The Barnyard. You ever heard of it?”
“Heard of the place, but it’s not my scene.” Tex puffs like he’s auditioning for the cover of a comic book cover, chin lifted, feet planted wide.
I can sense some tension brewing between them, and I know I’ll hear about this all night if I don’t deflect somehow.
“Yeah, The Barnyard isn’t for everyone, but Richard really loves the music there.”
The music. I could’ve said anything. I said the music.
What the hell?
It doesn’t seem to faze him, and I think maybe I’ve dodged a bullet as he nods and kisses me on the cheek before heading out the door. “Be good, babe. Don’t forget, I’m bowling with the guys tonight.”
“I know. I’m headed up to see Kit.”
He glances toward Tex with a flat expression then back toward me. “Be good.”
“Will do,” I say, stomach tight as I watch him go, the door clicking shut behind him. The room feels heavier now and silence ensues.
Tex grabs a book off a nearby shelf and pretends to care about whatever’s on the pages as he flips through, though his look is rather superior. I’ve seen it so many times before that, even all these years later, I still know exactly what it means.
“Just say it,” I finally blurt.
“Say what, honey?”
I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest, pretending I don’t like the way that sounds. “Honey? Really? Nice. Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking and get it out of the way.”
He stares into my eyes, steady and unblinking. “You don’t want to know what I’m thinking.”
“I’m asking.”
“Okay,” he sets the book back on the shelf then scrubs his massive hands together like sandpaper, “what do you see in that guy?”
“I see a lot of things in him.”
“Like what?”
“He’s…” I really try but suddenly I’m getting crickets. “I’ve never been good at thinking on the spot, but he’s not that bad. We have a lot of fun together.”
“Sorry, all I heard was he’s not that bad.”
“Oh my God.” I take a sip of coffee as this conversation starts spinning out of control.
“You know you could’ve called me, right? I’d have come back. You didn’t have to accept absolute shit. What the hell?”
“Tex,” I glance away then down at the dark wood on the counter, “stop.”
He drags his hand down his beard, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’m just saying, if this were working with you two, you’d have more to say about him than he’s not that bad.”
“Yeah, well, good thing you’re here for business advice, not to help me with my dating life.”
His jaw flexes. “Five years is a long time. Why no wedding if it’s so great? You always wanted to be a bride.”
Alrighty… clearly this is going sideways.
“You don’t know me anymore, Tex. Who I was at twenty-two isn’t the same person I am now. Now, I don’t think about weddings… ever. I love simplicity, and weddings are insanely complicated.”
He looks toward me and nods like a man who’s seeing straight through my bullshit. Granted, I’m not doing very well at hiding it. Mostly because I’m tired. Tired of pretending I’m not falling apart. Tired of pretending I understand Richard’s behavior. Tired of everything.
I push my palm down over my face and bite back tears that threaten to flow. God, I don’t want to do this. I really don’t want to do this.
“Hey,” Tex lands his hand on my back, the calloused palms snagging the fabric of my dress, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kept pushing. I don’t want to see you cry.”
I bite back the tears for another second, trying desperately to make sense of why I’m such a mess, why I can’t make a decision, why I accept the way Richard treats me, but the thoughts only make me cry harder, and soon I’m a blubbering mess in the center of the bookstore.
“God,” I sniffle and reach for a tissue from the box in front of me, “something tells me your other clients are much more professional.”
“Less entertaining though,” he says, voice deep, warm, and comforting. “Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “That’s the thing. I’m just so overwhelmed. Richard, the bookstore, disappointing Grandpa Milton, disappointing myself, Christmas, New Year, you.” I stare at him, tears streaking down my face. “I’m just lost.”
Tex leans into me, his gaze focused on mine as though he really gives a shit about what I’m saying.
“Life is hard. Relationships are hard. Owning a business is hard. You’re not failing.
It might feel like that right now, but what I see is a girl who’s pouring her whole self into everything all at once without taking anything for herself.
” He moves his hand over my back, warm and steady.
“Honey, you’ve got to take something for you. ”
God, why does it feel so good to be heard? Am I this desperate? Have things gotten this bad? Am I this oblivious to how terrible my relationship is that I crumble the second a kind man shows me any sort of affection?
“You keep calling me honey.”
“Yeah, well… you’re still the sweetest thing around. Tough too.”
“Yeah,” I laugh, blowing my nose, “super tough. So tough that I’m blatting my ass off.”
“You care, and that’s why you’re crying. That’s not weakness.”
His words settle into me, warm and unyielding.
It’s wrong. It’s wrong and I can’t lose myself into Tex.
I can’t think about how his presence is a symphony for all my senses.
I can’t imagine what it would feel like to bury myself against his solid chest or think about how much fun we’d have sitting out by the river tonight with a few beers.
I can’t think about that because I have Richard.
I have Richard and Tex probably has a girlfriend.
A really lovely, smart, put together girlfriend that meets all of his needs and wears cute little outfits while not crying about what a failure she is.
“Well,” I say, desperate to end this conversation, “you’ve given me a lot to think about.”
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Of course. I’ll talk to Mrs. Robinson about that lot across the street, see what she thinks about maybe selling it, and we’ll go from there.”
“I don’t know, Tex.” I shrug. “I really don’t have the money to buy it.”
“You don’t need the money to buy it, honey. I know investors everywhere. Someone’s always looking to open something. We’ll figure all this out. Don’t worry too much, okay?”
This is the kind of guy Tex is. The kind that sees a problem and offers to fix it.
“Wait, what about your payment? We didn’t discuss any of that.”
He smiles, lifting that sexy beard, then nods. “My payment will be seeing this place flourish again.”
“That’s not enough. No favors, remember?”
“Okay,” he shrugs and winks once before turning toward the door, “no favors. I’ll figure a payment plan tonight.”
I nod and wave goodbye, but the way he just said ‘payment plan’ has my thighs squeezing together in ways that they absolutely shouldn’t be, and that’s going to be a problem.