The main entrance and the smoothie bar were what I would be designing. It was the first time I’d be taking on a project that involved working with a construction team.
My business was booming. I should be elated.
Why did it still feel like there was a gaping hole in my life?
Oh, that’s right. My boyfriend whom I’d happily dreamed of spending the rest of my life with was no longer with me.
It didn’t matter that I was the one who broke things off.
No matter how mad I was at him for thinking he could boss me around, I still missed him terribly. When he’d grabbed me last night, I actually didn’t want him to let me go. And that was what hurt the most. Thinking about what we could have been. Rather than what was real. What had actually happened.
There was a lot of hope in a blind future. But I couldn’t count on someday. Fletcher kept telling me his business would calm down ‘someday.’
And I’d been waiting for that day. But it just wasn’t here yet.
On my way to work on the leather-mania couple’s house, Andrea texted me.
Andrea: Hey! I’m so sorry we didn’t get to talk very long at our engagement party. Thank you for coming. That meant a lot to Milo and me! Are you doing okay?
Me: Thanks, Andrea! I’m so happy for you and Milo. I’m doing okay.
It was the most real response I could give. Work was going great, my heart was broken, I’d been working out regularly, and my mind was thoroughly confused. That had to balance out to an even “okay.”
Andrea: Should we do a girls’ night together?
I thought about saying yes. But Andrea was the girl I didn’t feel the need to pretend with. I’d had my fill of girl’s nights lately. Being cornered by Zoe and Bee was the limit for me.
Me: Honestly, I feel like I’ve been partied out lately. I’m hoping to avoid all bars and clubs for a while.
Andrea: Oh, girl. I’m not talking about going clubbing. I’m talking about wine and pizza. In baggy sweatpants.
Me: Lol! Count me in. That’s more my version of girls’ night.
Andrea: Can I come over after work tonight?
Me: That sounds great. I’ll be home by six.
I spent the rest of the day organizing the furniture movers; bringing the new furniture in and moving the old furniture into the shop in the back. Apparently, Chuck couldn’t part with his leather couches, so we were adding a man cave to the finished office space in the shop.
After that, I spent the afternoon assembling furniture.
My hand was stuck in a permanent cramp by the time I got home. Andrea was already parked in my driveway and I pulled in next to her.
She climbed out carrying a large bag.
She was wearing a giant sweatshirt and a pair of stained, pink leggings. It was utter relief to have her here. No pretense with her.
“I brought jalapeño poppers and mozzarella sticks.”
“You’re marvelous. You don’t even want to know how great some comfort food sounds right now.”
I unlocked the front door and she followed me inside and made herself at home in the kitchen. “You go do whatever you need to do to get comfortable. I’ll warm up our dinner,” she told me.
She had a sixth sense for finding the correct cupboard, because the first one she opened was my cookie sheet cupboard. She pulled what she needed out of there and began unloading her bag.
I headed down the hall and pulled on my comfy clothes, then washed my face and threw my hair up in a messy bun.
I couldn’t believe it, but I was actually excited about girls’ night. It had been so long since I’d looked forward to hanging out with a friend like this. I’d started to dread the times I had to hang out with Zoe. There was so much pressure when I was around her. But Andrea? Even though I didn’t know her very well yet, she was the friend you relaxed around. She had your back. Like in paintball when she covered for me—literally.
I grabbed a couple packs of my undereye masks and went back to the kitchen, pausing when I spotted an SF hat hanging on my coat hook next to my back door.
Fletcher must have left it last night.
When I walked into the kitchen, Andrea had set out a bowl of pomegranate seeds, pineapple, and a plate of cheese.
“I’m pretty sure you’re my favorite person ever,” I told her as I snuck a bite of the cheese. Smoked gouda. “We’ve only ever done lunch together. Why haven’t we ever done girls’ night before?”
“Because it’s usually been couples’ night,” she laughed. “But I wish we’d done this sooner.”
“Me too.”
The oven beeped and she pulled out the cookie sheet full of greasy appetizers.
“I figured since we weren’t kissing anyone tonight, we should go straight for the jalapeño poppers,” she said as she stuck one in her mouth. “Ah! Hot! Hot! Too hot!”
She blew steam out while I hurried to the fridge, despite my uncontrollable laughter. I filled a glass with ice, from my now working machine, and water then handed it to her. “Here you go. Maybe wait another second before you do that again.”
“Good plan,” she said after she drained the cup. “So…what are we going to watch tonight?”
“Something dramatic and hilarious.”
“It’s a deal.”
We sat on the couch and ate pomegranates and pineapples until our tongues were numb, as we watched a regency-era show with an appropriate number of good-looking men in it.
We watched an entire episode, and when we started a second one, I turned to Andrea.
“Why haven’t you asked me a million questions yet?” I asked, pausing the show.
She looked at me in surprise. Then she popped another chunk of pineapple in her mouth. “Because you’re my friend. If you want to tell me about something, you will. If you don’t, then we’ll sit here and eat food and argue about which one of these celebrities will be our back-up husband.”
She stated it so casually, it made perfect sense. She wasn’t with me to get something from me. She was being a true friend. Supportive. Letting me share when I felt comfortable, even though I knew she was probably curious about Fletcher’s and my break-up.
“Why haven’t we been best friends?”
“I don’t know, I’m a catch,” she said as she shoved a jalapeño popper in her mouth.
I laughed. “Thank you for this. I hadn’t realized how much I needed a friend right now.”
“Any time. Except I’m not that good of a friend. I completely forgot dessert.”
“Oh, that is bad!” I gasped. “We should probably run to the store.”
“You’re right. Let’s go buy some chocolate bars.” She stood up. “Do you mind driving? My car is a disaster.”
I snagged my keys from the key hook above my entry table. “Yes, let’s take mine.”
After spending far too long at the grocery store deliberating over candy types; we pulled back into my driveway ready to devour our purchases.
“Where did I set that candy bar?” Andrea asked as I shut off the car.
“How in the world did I lose that? It was in my hand!” she asked as she looked around on the floorboards.
“Maybe it fell into the crack of the seat. I’ll come around to that side and help you look.” I climbed out of the car and walked around to the passenger side as Andrea jumped out. She spun around to look under the seat.
“Umm, I think I found it,” I said as I pointed to it.
The chocolate candy bar was stuck to the back of her pink leggings.
“Where?” She spun around and looked intently at the ground.
“Why don’t you just—” I tried to reach around her and grab it. But she moved and I ended up hitting the door.
“Where is that thing? I swear, the diet gods orchestrated this moment.” She wailed in an overly dramatic fashion, and I dissolved into another round of laughter.
“It’s stuck to the back of you!”
“Oh gosh. I’ve hit an all-time low.” She si
ghed and stood up straight. She spun around. “Do you mind?”
“No problem.” I reached forward and pulled the candy bar free. Except it had melted, and when I pulled it away, chocolate oozed out all over my hand and the back of her pants. “No! I’ve ruined your pants!”
Now Andrea was doubled over with laughter. We were both worthless in a chocolate-stuck-to-your-butt situation.
“Come on, I’ll grab you a new pair of pants.” We stumbled up the porch steps between rounds of laughter.
“I really sat in it this time, didn’t I?” Andrea laughed.
Tears ran down my face as I struggled to stick the key into the lock with my clean hand. I finally managed to catch the lock and open the door.
With a laugh, we came tumbling into the house, chocolate bar melted all over Andrea’s butt and my hand.
“How is there that much chocolate everywhere? It wasn’t that big of a candy bar!” I asked as I walked into the kitchen, heading straight for the paper towels.
I stopped short when I saw Fletcher standing at the bar. There were several tools and hardware pieces sitting on my counter. He held a screwdriver in one hand.
“Wha—what’s going on?” I asked.
“I noticed your lock wasn’t catching this morning, so I stopped by to replace it real quick. Hey, Andrea, how’s it going?”
Andrea glanced at the chocolate smeared in my hand and then busted into a laugh. “It’s going great, Fletcher. But I’d better get home. I think I’ve had all the fun I can handle in a night.”
Her giggle made me laugh, and then there was no stopping us again. We stood there laughing our heads off while Fletcher watched in concern.
“Should I have brought a couple of straitjackets?”
“Stop! You’ll only make us laugh more!” Andrea told him. With a loud sigh, she scooped up her purse and headed to the door. “I’ll talk to you soon, Saidy. Don’t be a stranger.”
I gave her a hug, careful to not get the chocolate in her hair. “Text me so I know you made it home safe.”
“I will. Bye!” She gave Fletcher a wave and headed out the door.
I spun around and stalked toward him.
“How did you get in my house again?”
He smiled with one corner of his mouth. “Oh, I didn’t break in, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He lifted his hand, dangling my house key between his thumb and index finger.
I held my palm out and motioned for him to hand it over.
His large hand wrapped around my wrist, pulling my hand toward his face. He planted a warm kiss against the inside of my clean palm. “You’re so cute.”
He pocketed the key, and then picked up a paper towel off the counter, wrapping a hand around my other wrist, tugging me close, as he lifted my chocolate-smeared hand to his face level.
A flick of my wrist and I could smear the chocolate on his chin.
He must have read the temptation in my eyes, because he tightened his hold on my wrist and clicked his tongue. “Don’t even think about it.”
To my surprise, he leaned down and pressed his mouth against my palm, sucking the chocolate off my skin. His warm breath blew across the inside of my wrist as he devoted himself to his task. Warmth turned to hot as I leaned closer. Each movement of his lips built the flames to an inferno.
I trembled as he kept a gentle but firm grip on me. His eyes remained locked on mine as he used his tongue to clean up the chocolate. I couldn’t stop my tongue from darting out to wet my lips.
He knew exactly what he was doing to me.
He winked and proceeded to carefully wipe away the remnants of melted chocolate with the paper towel. I stared at his long, brown eyelashes that brushed his cheeks as he stared down at my hand. He grabbed another clean paper towel and began to carefully clean in between my fingers.
“Wha—” I cleared my throat. His hands felt really, and I mean really, good. “What are you doing?”
“I’m installing a better lock system. Yours is so weak, it had me worried for when you were home alone. I don’t like to think about what could happen.” So that was how it was. He was going to pretended like he didn’t just make out with my hand. And that I’d let him.
I could play this game too. “Fletcher. We’ve talked about this before.”
“Yes, and you agreed that I could install a better lock system.”
“But then we broke up.”
“Just because you broke my heart doesn’t mean I want to see you hurt,” he ground out.
“I didn’t—” I swallowed the lump in my throat. I hadn’t broken his heart. He was the one who had broken mine. He chose work over me, time and time again. He didn’t get to play the broken-heart card.
“Fletcher…what are we doing?”
He stopped wiping my hand and stepped back to throw the dirty paper towels away. “I don’t know, Saidy, I just know I can’t imagine a world without you in it.”
“What about your world? Were you going to make room for me in it?”
“I want to. Lord knows I want to. But I want to keep you safe as well.”
His quiet voice cut straight through me as he turned to face me. Those tired, gorgeous eyes pulling me in. I whispered, “I wish—.”
I wished we would have worked.
I wished he would hold me one more time.
I wished we could be fixed.
I turned away so I didn’t have to look at him anymore. It was a moment of weakness, right? That’s only what it was that made me want to grab him, pull him close, and tell him I’d never leave him.
“Thanks for fixing the locks,” I said without turning around to face him. Then I hurried down the hall and hid in my room like a coward.
Chapter Seventeen
Saidy
Two days later, I went outside to find that my car was up on jacks in my driveway.
Two booted feet stuck out from the bottom.
I bent down and looked underneath. Fletcher was tampering with something. “What are you doing to my car?”
“Just changing the oil real quick.”
“I have to be somewhere in an hour. Why are you taking apart my car?”
I watched as he scooted out from under my car, His white t-shirt riding up as he did. Hard ab muscles peeked out at me. If he was going to show me, I was going to look.
His hands were covered in grease, and his hat was on backwards. He reached up to brush a lock of hair off his forehead as he sat up. He left a black streak on his forehead.
“I’m finished. I knew you’d have a lot going on this week. I thought I’d be done before you came out today.”
I flipped open my purse and grabbed a baby wipe out of it. I bent down and scrubbed the greasy spot off of his forehead. “Fletcher, I would have taken care of it. It was on my list to make an appointment at the shop in town.”
His eyes closed briefly as I scrubbed another little grease spot on his cheek. “I know, but they cross-threaded the filter last time. I don’t want them to screw you over.”
“Then I’ll start taking it somewhere else. That sound fair?”
He nodded and flipped onto his hands and knees, messing with the jack holding up the car. It was a nice view. “I didn’t want anything to cause car trouble for you.”
He stood up and I pulled out my stain-remover spray from my purse.
I grabbed the hem of his shirt, my fingers grazing the bare skin of his hard abs.
“If you wanted me to be shirtless, you could have just asked.” He grinned. He reached down to pull his shirt off. I swatted his hands away. I sprayed the stain remover on the grease spot, then scrubbed at it with the baby wipe, my mind flashing back to the first time I’d cleaned a stain off of one of his shirts. “This is going to have to soak for a while, or it will be permanently stained.”
The mixture of oil and cologne drifted toward me as I scrubbed furiously. It was a heady combination. Not one I’d ever thought would make a man appealing. He looked like a grease monkey, and all I wanted t
o do was grab his face and pull him down to kiss him.
I risked a glance at him. His hooded eyes showed me he was thinking the exact same thing. I released his shirt abruptly, causing him to take a quick step to catch his balance.
He cleared his throat and spun his hat around. “I’ll get this off the blocks and you’ll be ready to go in a minute.”
I nodded. “Thank you. I don’t want to be late.”
“What are you working on today?” he asked as he lifted the blocks from beneath my car and then lowered it with the jack.
“I’m going to The Barre.”
His head jerked to the side. “You mean a bar? You don’t like bars. Which one?” He glared at me over his shoulder as he folded the jack.
“The Barre. And why can’t I decide to go to a bar if I wanted to?” I stomped past him and opened my driver’s side door.
“Listen, Saidy, I know I sound like a jerk, but The Bar is literally the worst place you could go for girls’ night. It’s way too rough for you.”
I mumbled a few choice names under my breath as I tossed my giant purse into the car. “It’s a workout studio! Not a drinking bar! I’m not going to join a biker gang, but maybe I should. Maybe I’d find a man who wanted to spend time with me at least. Maybe I’d get a chance to get to know him if I always had my arms wrapped around him from the back of his bike.”
“Don’t you—” He started to growl.
I slammed the door before he could finish that thought. I turned the car on and locked my doors when he tried to open them.
“Saidy, I’m serious. Don’t go to The Bar! It’s not the place for you.”
On one hand, it was sweet that he was worried about my safety, but it didn’t change the fact that he was acting like a control freak. And on the other hand, I now felt an overwhelming urge to try out the biker bar downtown.
I didn’t have anything to prove. I shouldn’t feel pressured to try The Bar. But now that he was trying to make me promise not to go, it felt like I should.
I could convince Zoe to go with me. She was always up for trying something new. She would only be shocked that I was the one who thought of it first. Or, more like Fletcher thought of it first.
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