by Sabrina York
A vision popped into his head—absolutely unexpectedly—of Roni with a daughter, a little redhead with curly hair and his dimples. It made his knees weak. It made him...want. It made him want something he wasn’t supposed to want.
He pushed it away, that vision. He had no claim to it. And he had no idea why it cut so deep. With effort, he forced a nonchalant expression. “Have you had breakfast?” he asked as they led Milly into the parlor, where his grandmother awaited her visitor.
“There’s bacon,” Emma announced.
Roni grinned at her. “Oh, nummy. Too bad I already ate.” She checked her phone. “We should probably get going so we don’t get back too late.”
“Okay.” Mark made sure Milly was seated, kissed both grandmothers on the forehead and turned back to the foyer. But someone stood in his way. Someone short. She had her arms crossed and wore a mutinous expression.
“I want to go, too.”
He kneeled down and put his nose to Emma’s. “You can’t come, munchkin. This is going to be a long day.”
Emma frowned. Fiercely. “But I’m better now. I can do long days.”
By now, Mark was quite experienced with precisely how stubborn his niece could be, but less experienced at winning negotiations with her. So he was relieved to see Lizzie coming down the stairs. “Not today, Ems. I need your help.”
She whirled and turned her frown on her mother. “But I want to go with them.”
“We can go another time. Today, we’re planning a very special tea party for the grandmas, and I need your help. You’re the best scone maker, right?”
Oh, the conflict warring on her on her tiny face was priceless. The tea party won out. “Oh, all right,” she said on a huff.
Lizzie nodded to Mark. “You two better go,” she warned. Her tone made it clear that Emma could change her mind at any second, so they did not delay. Mark mouthed a silent thank-you as he passed and Lizzie grinned. “You owe me,” she said, sotto voce.
He didn’t bother to ask her what for. That much was already clear.
“Are you ready?” he asked Roni, though it was a purely rhetorical question.
“Let’s hit it.”
As he helped her into his truck, he said, “Maria asked if we could stop at the flea market in Pasco and pick up some corn husks. I hope you don’t mind. Apparently she’s planning to make tamales tomorrow, and they have the ones she likes.” Maria had taken over Gram’s job as the Stirling housekeeper and cook when she’d retired; now that his grandmother was getting older, Maria helped take care of her, too.
“Of course I don’t mind.”
He closed her door, jogged around to the driver’s side, heaved in and tried to catch her gaze before he started the truck. Just a smile, nothing much, but she wasn’t paying attention to him.
She pulled out her shopping list and silence reigned until they reached the end of the long driveway. It was kind of awkward, because they’d never experienced a lack of things to say to one another. She probably had a lot on her mind, given the impending grand opening and all, but he sensed a tension in her that made him uneasy. He wished he could figure out what it was.
“Thanks so much for driving me,” she said, at long last.
“Sure.” Was that all he could think of to say?
“Your truck is so much bigger than my car.”
He shot her a grin. “Well, that’s what friends are for.” Because they were friends. Even though he had to occasionally remind himself.
“About that...”
Something in her tone caught his attention. Something twanged in his solar plexus. He tried not to stare at her, on account of the fact he was driving and all. “Hmm?” Yeah. Pretty much all he could manage.
“I mean I’ve been wondering... Oh, I don’t know how to say this.”
“Just say it.” What on earth was bothering her? Why was it so hard to get it out? “We’re friends, right? There’s nothing we can’t talk about.”
She turned to him, her eyes wide. “You mean that?”
“Of course I mean it.” He wasn’t sure why, but his pulse pounded like a big bass drum.
“Maybe you’d better pull over.”
Well, that didn’t sound good. He eased the truck to the side of the highway and shifted so he could see her better without cricking his neck. “What is it, Roni?”
Yikes. She was twisting her fingers and everything. A sure sign she was really bothered. She took a deep breath before she spoke. “Well, you know how I told you I wasn’t interested in romance?”
His heart hiccuped. “Yeah?”
“Well, I’m still not. But...”
“But?”
She met his gaze. A flush rose on her cheeks. “Do you think it’s possible for friends to have sex and stay friends?”
Chapter Six
Mark’s jaw dropped. Whatever he’d been anticipating, it definitely wasn’t that. “Ah...you mean like friends with benefits?”
Roni frowned. “I know what it’s called. I don’t like that term.”
He nodded. “Okay. We can call it something else.”
For some reason, she ignored his brilliant suggestion. “That’s not the point.”
“No?” He huffed a little laugh. “I may be missing the point. I’m a little distracted right now.”
She blew out an exasperated breath. “I’m asking if you think it’s possible. I mean, for friends to have sex without ruining their relationship.”
“I think that depends on the people.”
That answer seemed to frustrate her more, but he really didn’t know what to say or how to respond to this topic...mostly because he had no idea what she was really driving at. She gored him with an intense look that insinuated he should.
“Do you think people can have that kind of relationship without one person becoming possessive? Thinking they own the other?”
“Is that what you think romance is?” he asked. “People owning each other?”
“Of course. It’s just natural. It’s the way men are.”
He blanched. “It’s not the way men are.” Then, realizing his blunder, he reconsidered. “Well, some men. But not all men, Roni. I’m certainly not like that.”
“So you don’t feel possessive over women you date?”
“I’m a bad example.” True, he’d never felt a hint of possessiveness for any of the women he’d dated, because he’d known they weren’t the one. They weren’t his other. He refused to explore how he felt about Roni, because he knew in that expedition lay danger. “But, yes, some men feel possessive.” And then he added, “But that’s a far cry from what you experienced with Anthony. That wasn’t a healthy relationship, Roni. I may not know everything about love and marriage, but I know that much.”
“I see.” She seemed preoccupied with her swirling thoughts, so when she suggested they keep going, he started the truck and continued down the long two-lane highway into town, even though he was bursting with questions.
It wasn’t long before she turned back to him and asked, “So what do you think about friends with benefits?”
He nearly crashed the truck, but using his advanced truck-handling experience, and the fact that, aside from them, the road was empty, he managed not to. “What do I think about it?” He didn’t, truth be told. It had been a long time since he’d been interested in casual sex, despite what his friends thought of him.
“Yeah. Do you think it’s a good idea?”
How could he say no when he had a pretty good idea where this was going? “Look, Roni, I think each relationship is different, because the people are different. The most important thing is to be honest with each other and be respectful of the other’s feelings. If you do that, it’s kind of hard to screw it up.”
Her laugh was bitter. “People screw it up every day.”
“Because the
y break those rules, I’d guess. Or the passion fades.”
“And what happens then?”
He had to glance at her. Thank God they were on a straight portion of highway at the moment. “Then it ends, I guess. That goes back to respecting each other’s feelings. Relationships are a two-way street.”
This time, it didn’t take her long to speak up again at all. “It wasn’t a two-way street with Anthony.”
“No. It wasn’t. And the idiot lost you because of it.”
A heavy silence fell and he kicked himself for saying the wrong thing. But then, she laughed. It was a bitter but beautiful laugh. Beautiful, because it was at Anthony’s expense. “Yes, he did, didn’t he?”
“A man who really respects you and cares for you would never hurt you. When you’re in a real relationship, a healthy relationship, you are equals.”
“Do you really believe that?”
He nearly snorted. “Of course I do! Besides, a woman I respect very much told me exactly that. Just a few days ago, in fact. Marriage is a partnership—I believe she said something like that.”
A pink tinge rose on her cheeks. He wasn’t sure if it was pleasure that he’d been listening or embarrassment of some kind, but it didn’t much matter. She pursed her lips. “A lot of men are chauvinists.”
Chagrin lanced his heart. “You know I’m not a chauvinist, right?”
“I know you’re not an Anthony.”
And, to be honest, that was all that really mattered, wasn’t it?
* * *
They decided to stop at the Pasco Flea Market to grab Maria’s corn husks before picking up the perishables for the bakery. Besides, Mark said he was hungry and there was amazing food at the pop-up Mexican market. It was unlike anything Roni had ever seen in Seattle. Located in an enormous dirt lot, the market consisted of vendor after vendor selling everything from corn husks—which they bought right off the bat so they didn’t forget—to clothing, to electronics, to churros.
The churros, which cost a dollar each, were warm and delicious and freshly fried. Mark, thinking ahead, bought extras and they nibbled the cinnamon, sugar-coated treats as they wove through the crowds wandering along row upon row of booths.
“It’s like a maze in here,” Roni said as they passed what she was certain was the same stall selling belts and leather goods for the third time.
“Mmm. I love it. Can you hear the music?”
She made a face at him. “Who can’t hear the music?” Because no fewer than three different songs blared from three different directions.
“And smell that. Is that fajitas?”
“Didn’t you just eat your third churro?” She had to tease him, although now she understood why he’d bought so many.
“Listen, I don’t get out much. Let me have some fun.”
And, apparently, his idea of fun was eating Mexican food from an outdoor stand while listening to mariachi music as the sun beat down on their heads. As they finished their lunch, Roni watched children dancing to the music and eating enormous ice-cream cones.
Come to think of it, it was a pretty cool experience. Oh, it was hardly a fancy place—the bathrooms probably dated from the fifties, electrical cords dangled down from the tent poles and, where the dirt was muddy, they’d covered it with mismatched boards—but she loved it.
Mark finished his fajitas and crumpled up his trash. “We should probably go.”
She followed his lead. “Okay, but I want to find something for Emma.” So on the way back to the truck, she stopped at a booth selling Frozen paraphernalia and bought Emma a backpack for her first day at school, which was coming up soon.
“Aww,” Mark said when he saw it. Then he draped his arm around her shoulder and they made their way through the maze of stalls to the exit. They only got lost once, and that, Roni suspected, was because Mark wanted another churro.
All in all, it was a lovely way to spend the afternoon with a friend...even though it was getting harder and harder for her to think of him as just a friend. Still, she didn’t bring up the subject that had been nagging at her again, but only because she didn’t want to spoil things. Certainly not because if they talked about it outside of the truck, she’d have to make eye contact.
* * *
As Mark loaded the equipment and baking supplies for Roni’s new venture into the back of his truck—which was a Tetris-like challenge—he couldn’t ignore the warm feeling in his chest. He couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do than spend a day like this with Roni. He enjoyed her company immensely, and she seemed to feel the same way.
She didn’t bring up the subject of friends with benefits again, a fact he faced with mixed emotions. On the one hand, he was dying to pursue the topic and had a multitude of questions churning in his mind. Sure, he was wildly attracted to her and so many of his thoughts wandered to the image of them in bed together—which he struggled to shake off. But he knew she wasn’t ready for that yet. If and when she was, she would lead them there.
If, indeed, she chose him to.
In light of all of this, his instincts told him to relax and wait for her to bring it up again when she was ready.
Though he knew the gist of what she’d been through, he had to acknowledge that he really didn’t know all that much...other than the fact that he wanted to wipe the tears from her eyes and the pain from her soul. But how? He wished he knew.
“All done!” she chirped as she handed him the last of the boxes, this one holding a variety of flavored syrups.
Mark looked at the jammed truck bed and chuckled. “We can put this box in the cab.”
“Perfect. I can’t believe it all fit.” She grinned at him. “You’re awesome.”
“I know.” He grinned back as he hefted the clunky box into the back seat of the crew cab. “Just so you know, you owe me a beer for this.”
She wrinkled her nose. “How about a beer cake instead?” she asked as he came around to slam the tailgate.
“Is that a thing?”
Her laugh was a melody. “This is the twenty-first century. Everything is a thing.”
“I think I’d like to try a beer cake,” he said as he helped her up into the passenger seat.
“I’ll get right on it.”
By the time he came around to the driver’s side, she’d already found a recipe on Google. As they made their way out of town and back onto the long boring stretch home, they chatted comfortably about beer cake, apple cake, angel food cake and, frankly, all kinds of cake.
He had the sense that she was stuffing the conversation—the way a pastry chef stuffs an éclair—to avoid talking about something else.
And again, he let it go.
She would bring it up again when she was ready.
They were about halfway home—the conversation about cakes having waned—and they were both suffused in silence watching the late-afternoon sun send shards through the clouds, when she finally spoke again. Her question sent a bolt of electricity down his spine.
“Do you remember what we were talking about on the way into town?”
“How bad do you think my memory is?” he asked with a grin.
Her fingers started twisting again. “Well...I wasn’t completely honest with you.”
Crap. “Ah. So there’s more to this, then?”
She glanced at him beneath her lashes. “It’s just that... Well, I might have had a couple of...dreams. About you.”
It took some effort, but he didn’t drive off the road. “What?” Well, hell. Maybe this wasn’t the right moment to be on the road. He pulled onto the shoulder and put the truck in Park. He had to, for this conversation.
And God, her eyes shone in the twilight.
“What are you saying, Roni?”
She sucked in a deep fortifying breath. “Mark, I am attracted to you. A lot. And I think you are attracted t
o me—”
“A lot.” And, yeah, she smiled at that.
“I would, um, really like to explore this. Us.” And, as though to make sure he understood completely, she added, “A friends-with-benefits kind of thing. But with us.”
Holy hell. How did a guy respond to that? Well, he knew what he would usually have done—gone right in for a kiss. But this was Roni. He knew better than to do anything he might usually have done with any other woman. Especially considering his track record for long-lasting and fulfilling relationships. One he did not particularly care to repeat. Especially with her.
Instead, he took her hand, which prompted her to continue. “I have to admit, I’m a little scared about the whole thing.” Scared or not, she held his gaze.
“You don’t ever need to be scared with me, Roni. Just tell me what you want and it’s yours.”
She stared at him for a minute. Even though the cab was darkening, he could see the flush rise on her cheeks. “Even if it’s just a booty call?”
Wow. Talk about a slap in the face. And not quite what he’d expected.
Okay, maybe kind of what he should’ve expected, but still. “Only if it’s a booty call between friends. You see...” He trailed off, but only so he could gather his thoughts. “Even though we’ve only been, ah, reacquainted for a short while since you returned, our friendship really does mean a lot to me. You mean a lot to me. I don’t want to do anything to screw it up.”
Her eyes lit up. “Yes. You see? That’s exactly what I’ve been worried about.”
He had to smile. “I know the feeling.”
“Do you think perhaps we could...?”
“Could what?” He was trying not to seem so eager, trying not to rush her, but this conversation was getting difficult. For a lot of reasons.
“Could we set boundaries? So we both understand what this is?”
“Sure.” Yup, sure, absolutely. When? “Um... What do you have in mind?”
