Melt With Me: A With Me In Seattle Universe Novel

by Melissa Brown

  “I swear. I don’t want you to go. And the idea of not seeing you again is… Well, I don’t want that at all. I was so shaken that day, with everything that happened and when the nurse came in to get your dad’s vitals, I must’ve forgotten to double-check the phone before handing it back. That four should be a five.” I pointed at the phone. “That’s it.”

  Peter glanced down at the phone and said nothing. I had to fill the silence.

  “I hoped to hear from you and was so disappointed when I didn’t. And then, when you came in yesterday, I was so upset. You were so cold. Not only that, you’re obviously dating someone, which makes things just a little awkward.”

  He shook his head, never breaking eye contact. “Cara and I are just friends. I screwed up with her that weekend with my dad, and I wanted to make it up to her with dinner. It was just a bad coincidence that we saw you.”

  “A bad coincidence?” I tipped my head to the side, teasing him—testing the waters to see if he would calm down and play along.

  He did.

  A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, and he licked his lips. I couldn’t help but stare at them as he did.

  “Well, I mean, I guess it wasn’t too bad.” He stepped closer to me, and I mirrored his movements, feeling the electricity between us build. “I got to see your shop.”

  “You did.”

  “It’s very you.”

  “Thanks,” I said, biting down on my lip and gazing into his gorgeous eyes. My stomach fluttered as I was once again pulled into Peter’s orbit. He mesmerized me.

  “Do me a favor,” I said softly.

  “Yeah?”

  “Call that number again, but replace the four with a five.”

  Peter dialed and my purse rang from a few steps away at the front counter. I shrugged as I pulled it from my bag and put it to my ear.

  “See, just one number off. It was a stupid mistake.”

  We placed our phones in our pockets and Peter sighed, walking toward me.

  “I’m sorry I got so angry.” He placed one arm around my waist and tucked my bangs behind my ear with the other. “I guess I just like you a lot.”

  “You don’t have to apologize for liking me.”

  “And I thought you were blowing me off.”

  “No way would I ever do that,” I whispered, feeling his breath on my forehead as we inched closer together. My heart pounded inside my chest. “I felt it too, Peter. I feel it now.”

  And this was the moment. The moment I’d thought of and hoped for. Peter McTavish was going to kiss me.

  Ding.

  We were interrupted by someone entering the shop. Peter took a step back as we looked to the front door.

  “Screwed by the bell,” Peter said under his breath, giving me a sweet smile.

  “Well, good morning,” said Lyra in an overly chipper voice, raising both eyebrows. I rolled my eyes and laughed. Peter took another small step away. Lyra placed two cups from Starbucks on the counter and crossed her arms in front of her chest, a wicked smile on her lips.

  “Peter, this is my friend Lyra.”

  “Best friend,” she corrected, extending her hand.

  “Great to meet you.” Peter said with a smile, shaking her hand. “Peter McTavish. I’m guessing you already know about what Maren did for my dad.”

  “Yeah, and I also remember you coming here yesterday. And you weren’t alone.” She placed one hand on her hip as she defended my honor.

  I’m so lucky to have her.

  “They’re just friends,” I interrupted. “You can retract your claws, Lyra.”

  She narrowed her eyes at both of us. “Aha. All right, then. I’m going to put my stuff in the back. Let’s keep it PG, kids.”

  Peter chuckled as Lyra walked out of earshot. “She’s definitely protective of you.”

  “One hundred percent.”

  “That’s good. My friend Scott is the same way.”

  “I like that we have that in common.”

  “Listen, my folks are dying to take you to dinner to say thank you. My mom really wants to meet you. And hug you.”

  “That sounds nice,” I said with a smile. I’d wanted to return to the hospital to check on Burton and meet Mrs. McTavish, but I didn’t want to overstep. Instead, I’d sent flowers to his room a few days after the accident.

  “And I’ll be there too, of course.”

  “Even better.”

  “How’s Friday?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  The bell sounded a few times as a large group of customers entered the shop. Lyra rounded the corner and greeted them, but Peter knew to take his cue. I had to get back to work. He took my hand in his as he stepped toward the door.

  “I’ll call you,” he said with a soft, warm smile.

  “You’d better.”

  We let go and he walked out the door, stopping briefly to turn and wave. Lyra walked up behind me, placing one hand on my shoulder.

  “Now that’s the guy I pictured. Definitely your type.”

  I sighed, grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah, I think so too.”

  Chapter 6

  PETER

  -Big meeting today, very important client. Which tie should I wear?

  Quickly, I snapped a picture of the three ties laid out on my bed. I bit down on my lip as I watched the little dots bounce as Maren typed her response. I’d gotten pretty addicted to those dots over the past few days since I’d stormed into her shop…and left feeling elated.

  -Red. Definitely the red.

  -I was hoping you’d say that. Thanks!

  -You’ll make a great impression. Very sexy. I can’t wait to see it on you.

  Texting with Maren had become my new favorite thing to do—especially when they were flirtatious. And during the past few days, the tone of the texts had definitely gotten increasingly flirtatious…and I was not complaining one bit. I couldn’t get enough of her. Every new detail I learned about the gorgeous shop owner, candle maker, and booklover made her even more intriguing. For every detail I learned, I wanted another. Not sure I’d ever felt that way before. I was captivated. Utterly and completely. And tonight was dinner with my parents. I was finally going to see her after almost a week of texting.

  -I can’t wait either. See you tonight. Spinasse at 7?

  -Wouldn’t miss it. What are you listening to?

  I smiled before responding.

  -Do you even have to ask?

  -Dave?

  -Always.

  I smiled again. I’d been a fan of Dave Matthews Band for decades, from the moment I first heard “Ants Marching.” I’d seen them live and collected their live bootlegs for years. Scott and a couple of our other friends were fans as well, and we’d spent more than one summer following them across the country.

  I couldn’t work without Dave, and my co-workers had grown used to seeing me in my headphones when working on a project. If they were on my head, then everyone needed to leave me alone because it meant that I was focused, in the zone, whatever you want to call it. For me, there was no productivity without music. And the most productivity was because of Dave.

  -Big client?

  -Potential client, yeah. Ekisaito Games—biggest video game company in the world. They’ve seen some of my work and might commission me for a project. It’s all a bit surreal. Dreamed of working for them since I was a kid!

  -Omg! That’s amazing, Peter! I’m sure you’ll impress them.

  -Hope so. I’ll text you after.

  -You’d better.

  “You’d better.” Every time Maren said those two words, or texted them or whatever, I got a stupid, shit-eating grin on my face. My friends gave me so much grief watching me text Maren at a bar during Monday Night Football earlier that week.

  “The game’s up there, dude. Get off your phone,” Scott had said before shaking his head and tilting back his beer.

  “In a minute.”

  “Dude, I’ve never seen you like this,” said our friend, Dev
, raising one eyebrow. “And you haven’t even taken her out yet.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said with a shrug. “We’re going out Friday.”

  “Yeah, with your parents.” Dev snickered before popping an onion ring into his mouth.

  “Shut up, dude. Extenuating circumstances. She saved Burton’s life; show some respect,” Scott snapped. He’d known my folks his entire life and would defend them no matter what. Even if they didn’t need or deserve it. That didn’t matter.

  “Yeah, yeah, okay, I get that, but… I mean, don’t you want to take her out alone first?”

  “Of course, but Mom’s dying to meet her, hug her, thank her, all that stuff. I just need to get it over with. And besides, we’re getting to know each other now.”

  “Yeah,” Dev said, gesturing to my phone with a snicker, “I’m aware.”

  Wrapping up my conversation with Maren, I put my phone on the table.

  “There, happy?”

  I glanced up at the game, realizing I’d missed two touchdowns during my conversation. Draining my beer, I grabbed a cheese curd, popping it into my mouth. As it was every Monday night during football season, our table was filled with appetizers. The cheese curd was slightly cold, but I didn’t care. Maren was worth cold cheese curds.

  “Dude, you’re like a moth to a flame.” Dev shook his head and scratched the top of it.

  “You’re probably right.”

  “Just don’t get burned,” Dev muttered under his breath. He raised both eyebrows as he sipped his beer and looked away from the table. Scott and I sighed at the same time, returning our focus to the game and avoiding the elephant in the room.

  Dev had always been a pessimist, but his breakup with his longtime girlfriend, Trupti, had done a real number on him, making him even more negative when it came to women and dating. She’d broken up with him on their sixth anniversary—the very day he’d planned to propose. He’d told us his hand was on the ring box when she dropped the bomb. She was terribly unhappy and wanted to be single for a while, to play the field and see what else was out there. Or who else. To say Dev was surprised would be an enormous understatement. His world revolved around Trupti, and they’d been planning their future since he and I shared an apartment the summer after we graduated from college. He’d asked her parents’ permission, and they’d welcomed him into their family. His mother had even give him her mother’s ring, and excitedly called her in India to say her oldest grandson would soon be planning a wedding. He returned the ring awkwardly the next day, and his mother cried. I have a feeling he cried with her, but that was definitely not the version of the story that Scott and I heard. I would have left that part out too.

  He and Trupti broke up more than a year ago, and he still wasn’t over it. And honestly, I couldn’t blame him. Some wounds just don’t want to heal.

  “I mean, if I get burned, I get burned, right? I can’t let that stop me.”

  Dev paused, pressing his lips into an awkward smile. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “What about you, man? Thinking about getting back out there?” I asked.

  “He’s on Tinder,” Scott said with a laugh.

  “Really?”

  “What? It’s easy. I like easy.”

  “You mean the girls are easy,” Scott said with a laugh. “It’s for hookups.”

  “And?”

  “And the girls you meet are just looking to hook up; that’s why you’re getting laid so much.”

  “And do you hear me complaining?”

  “Obviously not. I just thought you wanted something more.”

  “Well, you thought wrong, my friend. I’m keeping things casual… light.” He pulled on the collar of his hooded sweatshirt. “I don’t need any drama. All I got with Trup was drama, drama, drama. It’s exhausting. She was exhausting.”

  Yeah, but you’d take her back in a heartbeat.

  “Whatever works,” I said, taking another sip of beer, remembering how bad breakups could be, and I tried to put myself in Dev’s shoes. Maybe all he needed was to blow off a little steam. And if he was being honest with the women he met through Tinder, who was I to judge?

  “But getting back to you,” Dev said with a laugh, “how long till this girl has your balls in her purse?”

  “I’m gonna need another drink,” I said, waving to our waitress and holding up my empty bottle.

  “He does make a good point.” Scott gritted his teeth.

  “Not you too.” I glared at Scott. “I thought you’d have my back, at least.”

  He shook his head. “Not after watching you text all night. So, until you prove otherwise, I’m with Dev. Balls in her purse within a week.”

  “When have I ever been whipped?” They paused and I continued. “I mean it, name one girl who walked all over me while we were dating. Just one.”

  Both guys exchanged glances, but neither of them gave an example of a relationship where I’d been a pushover.

  “Exactly.”

  “First time for everything,” Dev said, tilting his head toward Scott. “Look at this poor bastard. Married less than a month and he’ll probably leave by halftime.”

  “No, Allison’s out with friends. I’ve got all night.”

  “Dude, you’re proving my point.”

  “And what is that exactly? And before you answer, let me remind you how many times you blew us off over the years to stay in with Trupti.”

  The mention of her name was enough for Dev to fully retreat from the conversation. “Forget it,” he said, reaching for his wallet and dropping a twenty on the table. “I’m gonna bounce.”

  “C’mon,” Scott said with a laugh, “we’re just messing around.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Six years, man. I was gonna marry that girl.” His eyes watered as he took in a deep breath, gripping the back of his barstool so hard that his knuckles turned pale.

  “How about this?” I said, standing up and grabbing his forearm. “How about we only discuss football the rest of the night. No women or jobs or whatever. Every other topic is off the table. Tonight is just about the game and nothing more. What do you think?”

  Dev said nothing but nodded and sat back down. I called the waitress over and ordered another round for my friends. We somehow managed to only discuss the game. Secretly, I moved my phone to my lap and responded to Maren’s texts. Scott caught me once. I looked up, forgetting to wipe the ridiculous smile from my face. He raised both eyebrows and shook his head, laughing under his breath.

  Whoops.

  At least Dev didn’t see that. I was afraid he was a man on the edge and didn’t want to be the reason he left our weekly football ritual. I could only hope that he would be patient with me as I started a relationship with Maren. I was entering the crazy about each other and can’t live without the other phase, or at least I hoped I was. I had to be careful around him. I had to be smart.

  It was now Friday morning, and after Maren helped me pick out the perfect tie for my meeting, I walked into the office on a crisp fall day, bright red and orange leaves crunching beneath my feet. Humming to myself, I took the elevator up to the fifth floor, greeting the receptionist, Rachel, as I entered.

  “Hey, Rach, how are you this morning?” She looked up from her laptop and smiled warmly.

  “Peter, you’re looking quite dapper today. Big meeting with Ekisaito?”’

  “Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “Still can’t wrap my head around it. This is huge.”

  “Yes, it is. Good luck. Schaefer is waiting for you in his office, and I’ll page you when the client arrives.”

  “You’re the best,” I said, walking with confidence toward the office of my boss, Schaefer Carlson.

  “There’s my superstar,” he said, his giant grin matching my own. Schaefer was a boisterous guy with a booming voice and an infectious confidence. He made everyone feel good about themselves. Including me. He was the kind of guy everybody wished was their boss.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. She may thi
nk my work is garbage.”

  “Not possible.” He shook his head. “But yes, let’s be optimistic without putting all of your eggs in her basket.” He raised an eyebrow and clenched his teeth. “Bad choice of words.”

  “Yeah, kinda.” I laughed.

  “Nice tie, by the way.” Shaefer turned and walked into his office. I followed behind and took a seat, unbuttoning my suit button.

  I glanced down at the red tie that Maren had selected, and my brain buzzed with anticipation. Not only was I meeting with the biggest client of my career, thus far, but after a long week of waiting, I was finally having dinner with Maren and my parents. I could hardly wait.

  “Mr. Carlson,” Rachel buzzed in through the intercom, “Shannon Novak’s assistant just called. She’s been held up and has to bump Peter’s meeting to 4 p.m. Does that work?”

  Schaefer looked at me over his glasses. “Pete?”

  No, it doesn’t. If the meeting goes long, it could run into dinner.

  “I mean, it’s Shannon Novak. My hands are tied—I’ll make it work.”

  “You heard the man, Rachel. Let her people know.”

  “You got it.”

  “Minor setback. These things happen.”

  “Oh, I know,” I said, still feeling distracted. As important as this meeting was, the date felt equally important. Maren and I had already been off to a rocky start with the cell-phone misunderstanding. I wanted everything to go perfectly. I grabbed my phone.

  -Listen, dinner may get bumped a bit. But I’ll be there, I promise

  “Peter.”

  “Yeah?” I asked before slipping my phone back in my pocket.

  “You know how I feel about those things.”

  Something I should mention about Schaefer is his disgust for technology—which is ironic since he works in animation. He started the firm decades ago when all animation was still hand-drawn, and he reluctantly agreed to hire some animators, like myself, who specialized in computer and video game animation. But everything he created was still strictly hand-drawn. So it made perfect sense that he earned fewer accounts and spent the majority of his time managing the rest of our contracts.