The oven beeps a moment later, coming up to temperature and I almost get up before realizing it’s not the timer. Five more minutes. My body feels heavier, finally resting.
“You don’t know how thankful I am,” I whisper to Robert, letting my cheek rest on the sofa.
A charming smirk lifts up his lips and he says, “I remember when Danielle had her little girl.” Danielle’s his cousin. “It can be rough at times, but it gets better.”
My lids feel so heavy.
“Dinner and sleep?” Robert asks me and I humph in opposition to the suggestion of sleep. “I’m not going to bed just yet and you don’t have to stay here.”
“Yeah, okay,” he answers with both humor and cockiness. I almost tell him I’m so grateful we’re still friends, but then flashes of some of these nights come back, and I don’t want to put the label of “friend” on it. Even if we don’t say it, we’re more than friends.
Even if no one knows and it’s a secret … it’s more than that to me and I’ve never been more grateful to have him in my life.
Brody
“She likes you,” Griffin comments when I glance at my phone again. He says it like I need to hear it. Raking his hand through his hair, he raises his brow and looks me dead in the eye wanting confirmation that I agree.
All he gets is a frustrated sigh. My gut instinct says she doesn’t. No matter what I do, I can’t shake that feeling.
Apparently unsatisfied with my silence, Griffin adds, “If she didn’t like you, she wouldn’t have said yes.”
The iron legs of the chair on the side patio of Charlie’s drag across the ground, scraping it as I lean back. A group of three women filter in through the small gate in the back. It’s almost lunch hour and judging by their skirts and flowy blouses, they got out early to beat the crowd.
That’s kind of the reason we’re here too. I have a lunch date with Magnolia and she suggested this place—of all places.
Our date started five minutes ago and instead of Griffin getting up to offer Magnolia a seat and tell her he was just heading out, he’s still here and I’m still tapping my fingers against the side of my phone, waiting for her.
“I’m getting mixed signals.” Damn, it sucks to say it out loud. But days have passed with only a few texts exchanged and a lunch date made. She’s barely said a word in all of that. She doesn’t initiate contact; she’s always late to reply. “I’ve never had this much trouble getting a woman to talk to me.”
“You sound like a girl.” His dismissive answer comes complete with the flip of the paperwork in his hands. It’s what we need to fill out to file for the last license. It’s already been submitted … twice.
That’s what I should be focused on. I didn’t spend the last few years to waste it all by not paying attention.
The cold beer is at odds with the warm air. At least there’s a breeze, though, with a touch of salt but it’s fresh. Every morning I breathe in deep and love the air here.
I tell Griffin exactly what I told myself this morning, “I don’t want to waste my time going after someone who isn’t after me.”
“Just have another drink.” Griffin’s comical irritation only makes me smirk at him.
“Another one?” The waitress pops her blond head out from the side door just then. Taking a look down at my beer glass, now empty, I have to admit she’s damn good at her job.
“Please,” I say, having to raise my voice just slightly to be heard. She nods, peers at Griffin and goes back inside without another word.
She knows I have someone else coming. I told her when she offered to take the menus since we weren’t eating.
With a click of the side button, 11:53 stares back at me on the phone. Quarter to noon is when we were supposed to meet … eight minutes past. Maybe she’s inside.
Griffin must know that I’m checking out the inside to see if she’s there and not out here, because he comments, “Inside seating doesn’t open until noon on the dot.”
His voice is flat as is the expression he gives me.
“Just relax.” Griffin’s advice is mixed with the sound of a new beer thudding on the table in front of me. The waitress doesn’t say a word and the only bit of her I see is her back as she rushes over to the table of the three women who sat at the table next to us.
She must know them well, judging by how she bends down with both palms on the table and the three women lean in.
It’s getting easier to recognize some people around town. It really is a small place, which is crazy considering the location. If this town was on the East Coast, it’d be packed.
I watch the first woman readjust the cloth napkin on her lap although she still seems attentive to whatever is being talked about. One of the women drops her mouth open to a perfect O with her eyes wide as another woman smacks the table and the whispers get louder.
I admit something that’s been bugging me since the pier. “I’m not going to lie, a very big piece of me wants to know what people say about Magnolia.”
My attention falls back to Griffin. With nothing but a single crease down the center of his forehead, his expression is discerning.
“What?”
“I already looked into that,” he tells me. “If there’s something you want to know …” With his palm upturned and lying flat on the table, he waits.
“What’d they say about her being single? She is available, right?” I question him again. I know he said she was before and he’s already nodding, confirming that she is.
“She’s single. She went through a rough time right when she came back from college.”
“But it’s not because of me, right? You would have told me that.”
Although it seems like he’s holding back, he shakes his head and tells me, “She’s a young girl who went through a hard time. Her father died; there was scandal with that. She told you that on the boat.”
Feeling like an insecure prick, I take a swig of my beer. “It just feels like rejection. That’s what this all feels like.”
“Look, just get to know her. You like her. She likes you. The other stuff, no matter how big or small ... Talk to her. Ask her how late she’s running if you want to know so bad.”
Just as Griffin mutters under his breath, “It’s not like you don’t know where your phone is,” the little gate to the patio opens with a creak, hushing everything else in my head.
There she is, in a yellow sundress that flows around her curves as the breeze blows by again.
Her eyes catch mine instantly and I force a smile to my lips. I don’t realize I haven’t breathed until Griffin stands, blocking my view of her.
As they exchange niceties, I get my shit together. What the hell is this woman doing to me?
“Was just heading out,” he tells her and then raises his voice to add, “Have a nice lunch date, you two.” His grin is wide as he heads out and Magnolia takes a seat in his former chair which he already pulled out for her.
“Hey beautiful,” I say and the worried look on her beautiful face fades.
Brushing the locks away from her face, she lets out a small sigh and apologizes. “I had a meeting with my boss about an event coming up. I’m so sorry I’m late.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her and even shrug like I wasn’t sitting here worried.
“I don’t make a habit of being late,” she says sweetly and focuses on the menu when the waitress gets to our table.
“You want your usual?” the waitress questions Magnolia and it takes her a long moment to shake her head. “I think just an iced tea and shrimp and spinach salad.”
With a nod and a scribble in her pad, the waitress gives me her attention. I don’t even know what I ordered, I just say the special. I knew half an hour ago what it was, though. I’m sure it’ll be fine.
“How’d the meeting go?” I start with small talk, but all I can think about is that kiss on the pier. I really thought I had her after that kiss.
A stirring in my jeans makes me shift in my seat. F
uck, I know I wanted her after that kiss. I still do.
“It went well, just a lot of prep for an event because the guest list is so large.”
“It’s for a gala?” She already told me all about it this past weekend on the boat. I just don’t get what happened between then and now. I remember Griffin’s suggestion to ask her whatever’s on my mind. Just to talk to her. But apparently I’m chickenshit.
“Yup,” she says with a nod and the waitress appears from out of nowhere again, iced tea in hand which Magnolia accepts. She sips from the straw while holding it and then stirs a bit of sugar in it.
“Hey listen,” I start, and shift again in the uncomfortable-ass chair, which is now way too fucking small for me. That’s all I get out as the words slam themselves into the back of my throat and I glance to her right, remembering how she took off the first time I saw her here.
“Yeah?” she asks softly, carefully even. She pushes the iced tea away slightly before folding her hands in her lap. It’s proper behavior maybe, but it doesn’t feel right to me.
“Did something happen?” I say, shoving the words out there impatiently.
Her quizzical look in those striking blue eyes gets a follow-up from me. “Between the dock and now, I just get the feeling that maybe you aren’t interested.”
“What?” The nervous tucking of her hair behind her ear and the way she shifts in her chair are at odds with the nonchalant “what” she gives me. The surprise in her voice is enough to tell me I’m probably off base. Fucking hell. I don’t know what to think.
“I really like you and I’m fine with taking things slow. I thought maybe the pier wasn’t what I thought it was … you don’t seem to want to talk.”
“I’ve just been really busy.” Why does that sound like a lie to me? Staring into her eyes, she doesn’t flinch or back down. Not for a good two seconds until she’s forced to look away.
“You’ve been busy?”
She doesn’t look back at me, just nods and takes a drink of the water on the table rather than her iced tea.
The uncomfortable squirm in my seat is confirmation enough. Mixed signals. I think I’m going to change her name to that in my phone.
It’s quiet for a long time and I would kick my own ass if I could for even bringing it up. I should know better than to take dating advice from Griffin.
“Why Rose?” I ask her to keep from going down this rabbit hole. Although the pit in my stomach only gets heavier remembering how all of it started with a lie years ago.
“What? … Why the name Rose?” she says, figuring out the answer to her own question before I can clarify.
“Yeah,” I answer her. “I was thinking about that the other night. I almost called you Rose on the dock.”
“I wanted to be someone else when we met back then.”
“I already knew that. I don’t know why, though.”
“Stupid reason. If I’d known what was coming, I wouldn’t have been so messed up that night.” Her response is cryptic until she takes a deep breath that makes her chest rise and fall and then looks back at me with a sad smile to add, “A boyfriend broke up with me.”
She lets out a small huff of a laugh. The tense air seems to dissipate some when she apologizes for the second time since she sat down. “Sorry I lied to you.”
There’s nothing but sincerity in her eyes. “Don’t be. I’m glad I met you that night.”
There’s a warmth that flows through me as her smile widens. “You have no idea how happy I am that I met you.” Her gaze falls to the table again when she adds, “It sucks how it ended, though.”
“It didn’t end yet.” I have to correct her and the look she gives me back is a telling one. She’s scared about something. Nothing changed between the pier and now. It hits me then. She ran the first time I saw her. There’s a reason for it and didn’t she want to tell me that before? “Whatever’s on your mind, just get it out there. I can take it,” I offer.
“It’s not something so easy as to say it over lunch.”
“Some things are better over dinner then?” It’s a light joke. One that’s followed by the undeniable pull of the connection and sexual tension that’s always there between us.
“Promise you won’t hate me after?” she whispers and her eyes shine with unshed tears.
“There’s nothing—” I don’t even get to finish my sentence before she takes a sharp inhale. Her gaze is glued to something—or someone—behind me.
A second passes, maybe only a fraction of a second but it’s enough time that I look over my shoulder and see two men. One young, our age maybe, and the other older with similar features. I imagine they’re related.
The guy who’s my age I’ve seen before, but I can’t place where. This town is small and everyone is starting to feel familiar. I turn back to Magnolia, slowly and carefully to see her pouty lips still parted and an uncomfortable pinch in her brow. With her wide eyes filled with worry, she offers an apology, her words clipped as she does. “I’m sorry.”
“Mags?” the younger guy calls out and the air changes entirely.
“I have to—” she doesn’t finish the thought before getting up from the table with the obvious intention of making her way to one of the two men behind us.
All I can think is that she’s seeing him and they’re a thing. That is the overwhelming instinct. That she’s a cheater and I’m the other man. It’s more than just disappointment that pangs in my chest.
“Look, if there’s something you aren’t telling me …” I start to say and my words halt her even though I stay seated. “… I can take it if you just aren’t interested.” I swear if I move an inch, I won’t be able to stop myself from following her.
She looks hurt, then I realize it’s more than that. Shit. The way her expression falls, it’s obvious my words crushed her. I feel the need to apologize but I don’t have a chance.
“It’s just a little complicated for me, Brody.” Her words sound strangled and unlike the other times that telltale feeling of eyes watching us has crept up on me, Magnolia seems oblivious to it, lost in her own chaotic thoughts. “If I didn’t want you, I would tell you. I just need … I need a little time.”
“I understand that, and—” She’s already walking away before I can finish. Before I can tell her I’m sorry.
The other guests are quiet and I know they’re watching. I replay the scene in my head and I wish I could rewind, be less … anxious and pushy with her. Is that what I was? She’s got me so turned around I don’t know what I’m even doing anymore.
Other than playing the part of a fool. There’s something she’s not telling me and I think it has to do with whomever she saw just then. It feels like everyone around me already knows. The waitress is polite enough to ask if I just want the check when she comes out. And kind enough not to mention the fact that my date just took off.
She’s not polite enough to gossip a bit, though, and tell me the guy Magnolia spotted is some dude named Robert and that they used to be a thing.
“Used to?” I press her and the blond waitress shrugs, not wanting to give me any more information.
The questions pile up and as I sit there, waiting on the bill and our lunches the waitress offered to box up for me, not that I’m in the mood for eating any of it, I text Griffin.
I thought the town said she’s single. That’s what you told me. But it doesn’t look that way.
His response is telling: There might be a complication … or two.
Magnolia
A little over two years ago
Knock, knock, knock. The knocking at the front door is hesitant. My tired eyes lift from the open laptop I’ve been staring at for hours and travel to the front door. As I rise up off the sofa, I peek down the hall. Bridget should be sound asleep for the night; she’s been sleeping so well recently, which has been a blessing. Still, I hold my breath as I tiptoe to the front door wondering who’s knocking at nine o’clock at night.
It can only be Robert or Re
nee, but they wouldn’t knock.
I have to stand on my tiptoes to peek through the peephole and see Robert combing his hand through his dirty blond hair as he glances behind him.
My heart does a little flutter, but it’s an odd one. Not one filled with the kind of anticipation I’m used to feeling when I see him.
Probably because his expression holds a hint of concern and he didn’t text before dropping by. As the lock slides from the bolt, I’m very well aware that he would have normally texted beforehand.
The door creaks open and instantly the chill of the sea breeze air clings to my bare shoulders which were covered by the blanket only a moment ago.
“Hey, you okay?” I ask instantly and step back, wanting more of the heat of my apartment over the crisp autumn air. “You didn’t text,” I say, adding the explanation as Robert steps in, closing the door and apologizing at the same time.
“Sorry,” he says as he loosens the tie around his neck and unbuttons the top button of his shirt. It’s a simple white button-up but it’s wrinkled, probably from sitting in meetings all day. The black dress pants and leather belt complete the new look he’s had since he started working at Town Hall.
“It’s my dad,” he starts, flopping down on the sofa. Dead smack in the center of it, which is his spot.
I’ve always had a hard time controlling my expression, mostly because of my rebellious brows. So when they quirk up, the left one arched as if to respond, “Your dad? Seriously?” Robert only laughs and pats the right cushion next to him. My spot. It boasts the still-warm blanket that I cuddle into as I sit beside him. My laptop is open on the coffee table and Robert gets a peek.
“You working on websites now?” he asks.
“Well no, just making notes for the guy who does … we need a lot of plugins added so we can do more with it.”
He hums and nods. I don’t let him off the hook so easily, saying, “It’s just a side project for the gallery. What’s going on with your dad?”
Tequila Rose Page 11
