“Can you guess why I’m concerned?” she asked.
“Can you guess why I don’t give a—” He stopped himself. He unclenched his teeth. “Why are you concerned, Jane?”
She took a deep breath as if she were about to jump off a high dive. “The last time I saw you, at your parents’ Halloween barbecue last year, you kept staring at me.”
Halloween? He thought back. “I was waiting to see if your shoes got stuck in the lawn,” he said honestly. People didn’t usually wear high heels like that up in Rohnert Park unless they were headed to the casino on Friday night.
To his surprise, she smiled. “I’d thought the party was going to be inside,” she said, shaking her head. “Because of the rain.”
“Dad had already marinated the beef,” Ian said. “He would’ve fired up the grill in a hurricane.”
“So you weren’t—” She looked serious again. “OK. Fine. You were staring at me because of my shoes.”
“I don’t remember staring at you.”
“Well, you were.”
“If you insist,” he said.
“And then when I saw you here at the house today, I thought… because you’d been looking at me that way last fall…” She trailed off with a shrug.
She was afraid he wanted to get back together? “Listen, Jane, I don’t think about you,” he said firmly. “I haven’t for years, except when my mother or Billie mentions you or we see each other at a party or whatever.”
“Great,” she said flatly. She didn’t seem comforted.
A horrifying thought struck him. What if… Feeling queasy, he lowered his voice. “I’m sorry if you want me to think about you. I didn’t realize—”
“Oh, God.” She held up her hands in a warding-off gesture. “No. Never. I wouldn’t ever—you can’t think—”
“I don’t, I don’t,” he said quickly, relief flooding him. “You hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.” She paused, inhaling another deep breath. “But I will if you hurt Billie.”
Chapter 19
Ian could see the fierce protectiveness in Jane’s eyes. “Ah,” he said.
“When I first got here and saw you, I thought, well, what I said. That maybe you wanted to see me. But then, after I talked to Billie and you came into the kitchen…”
He waited.
“I saw the way you looked at her,” she said. “And the way she looked at you.”
Even her sister can see Billie wants me. He looked down at his boots, dusty and paint-splattered from other jobs, avoiding eye contact so she wouldn’t read the triumph in his face. “And?”
“And I didn’t like it.”
“Not surprising,” he said. “You don’t like me.”
“I care more about Billie than I can say. I’d do anything to protect her.”
He looked up. “I care about her too.”
“If you really did, you’d stay away from her.”
He fought to keep his voice level. “You might have reasons to hate me,” he said, “but Billie doesn’t. We’ve been friends for years.”
“Of all the women in the world, why her?” she demanded. “You could have anyone. You’re rich and handsome and successful… Why Billie, for God’s sake? It’s always seemed to me like some weird revenge thing. You and I ended on pretty bad terms. So why get close to my sister? You two have nothing, nothing in common.”
“Maybe I like that.”
She shook her head. “I can’t help but think how people have been telling me and Billie our entire lives how much we look alike,” she said. “Once we were both teenagers, strangers would assume we were twins.”
For a moment he could only stare. “Are you suggesting I like Billie because she reminds me of you?”
“I know how competitive you are. How much of a perfectionist,” she said. “If you make a mistake, you like to go back and do it over. I think there’s a lot you might do with your ego at stake.”
He turned on his heel and began walking back to the house. “It isn’t my ego that’s a problem,” he said roughly, even more angry than when Billie had shown up at the door half-naked.
“Just think about what I’m saying,” she said, chasing after him. “You never were very reflective. You’re not self-aware. Don’t you think it’s possible you want to relive the past? Not because it was so great, but because it wasn’t?”
“You just can’t believe this isn’t about you,” he said.
“Not me, exactly, but—”
“I’m not in love with you, Jane.” He stopped and turned on her. “I wasn’t even in love with you then.”
Her face went completely blank. He saw something terrible flicker deep within her eyes. “I know,” she said quietly. “As if I could ever forget.”
His anger seeped out of him, leaving him numb. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I would never talk about this if it weren’t for Billie. But I’m willing to humiliate myself for her sake. I’m willing to have you remind me of how little you cared about me because maybe you’ll realize that you’re about to do it again.”
“I’m not. I’m not the same man—I wasn’t even a man then, for God’s sake, I was seventeen. Seventeen, and barely. I wish you’d remember that.”
“People don’t change that much. You’re still basically the same. You’re ambitious and analytical and don’t like to get too emotional about anything or anyone,” Jane said. “You’ll always put your work first. You can’t help it. I know because I’m the same way. We’re not like Billie. She’s all heart. She’s impulsive. She doesn’t worry about what could go wrong.”
He considered those qualities. “I like those things about her,” he said.
“Liking isn’t enough,” Jane said. “She needs love. And I’m going to be the one picking up the pieces when you don’t give her any.”
He saw the tears shining in Jane’s eyes and felt a mixture of guilt and rising panic. “Please don’t cry.” He reached up to adjust the glasses he didn’t wear anymore. He’d had LASIK and never got used to it.
Scowling, she wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “I’m not. It’s the wind.”
“I haven’t had the chance to say it for a few years,” he began. “I’m sorry—”
“Stop. Don’t. Please.” She turned and started walking toward the house. “For God’s sake, let’s not talk about that.”
He strode after her, looking up at the house just as the door opened. Billie came out with the usual mug of tea in her hand, smiling at the sun, and waved at them.
Jane made a show of waving back, shot him a big, fake smile over her shoulder, and jogged up the steps. “The park is just up the street. I never realized how close it was.”
“I know, isn’t it great?” Billie’s curious gaze darted to Ian. When her eyes dropped to his crotch, the desire blasting through him almost knocked him over.
He walked up the steps slowly, watching her watch him, wanting to pin her against the front door, tear off her sweatshirt, lick every curve.
“You forgot to take off your tool belt,” Billie said, pointing not at his impressive genitals but his well-worn utility equipment.
“He knows it’s a good look on him,” Jane said.
Both sisters looked at him and laughed, cooling his jets as effectively as an icy shower.
Holding his head high, he walked past the sisters, still laughing on the front step, and went into the house for his gear. He needed to go home and clean up, think about what Jane had said, decide what to do next.
He was stumbling into a complicated situation here and needed to decide if it was worth it. Billie didn’t want to get involved, her sister certainly didn’t want them to, and their mothers’ friendship would make avoiding each other in the future impossible, which is what they’d want to do if things got messy. And Jane was right—it would get messy.
He went back outside, holding his crowbar and second tool belt—yeah, he had more than one, let them mock—and strode p
ast Billie and Jane, still laughing at him, down the steps to his truck on the street.
“I’ll see you guys later,” he said. Maybe he’d catch up on some paperwork tonight, or call his friend Ty and go out for a beer, or watch that game he’d missed. A little time to screw his head on straight.
Yeah, that’s what he needed.
But just as he was dropping his gear into the back, he glanced up at Billie and saw the look on her face.
Disappointment.
And just like that, everything changed. Again.
She was disappointed he was leaving.
He paused and stared at her for a moment, feeling good just looking at her. Then he climbed behind the wheel.
It was too late to care what Jane thought.
Sensible or no, he wanted Billie. And he’d have her.
Chapter 20
At work on Monday, Billie’s head was definitely not on the job.
He’d kissed her. He’d laughed off her declaration that he wouldn’t do it again.
And then, the final straw, he hadn’t. He’d driven away in his truck, never to be heard from again.
As much as she tried, she couldn’t thank Jane for whatever she’d said to scare him away. She could only be annoyed with him for playing with her.
Obviously, he was all wrong for her. She needed a guy who was as mild-mannered and obliging as she was. They’d bend over backward trying to make each other happy, they’d never fight, they’d cuddle and snuggle together at home, safe from the pushy, aggressive world outside.
This was what she wanted, she told herself. Not a hard-muscled, testosterone-fueled, blue-eyed alpha male who’d always get his way because she could never stand up to him.
“Get out there, Billie. It’s 8:31. You’ve already got a line waiting.”
Billie bit back a sigh as she grabbed her tea and stood up. Her supervisor, a sixtysomething man who went by ‘Doc’ because he had a PhD in something unspecified, was glaring at her from his desk behind hers. He hated her guts, always had. It was the hardest part of her job. No matter what she did, how well she performed her duties or even how badly, he seemed to despise her.
“On my way,” she said, walking out of their small office with its glass walls to the front counter, where she greeted the taxpaying public. Her real bosses. They despised her only slightly less than Doc did.
But at least they had a reason. She was the official representative of the office that issued city permits, or didn’t issue them, and charged high fees and lots of red tape for the experience. With one glance at the line snaking out into the hallway, she could tell who was big business, who was small, who was a homeowner, who would be overjoyed that she could speak Spanish, who would roll their eyes when she did.
They all had their problems. Morning problems were different than afternoon ones, and huge development projects usually had more than tiny ones, but she never knew when it would be the sort of problem to keep her up at night, driving her to do yoga or drink chamomile tea at three in the morning.
“Hi, how can I help you?” she asked the first person, a woman with a narrow face and huge silver hoops in her ears. Her dyed-blond hair was braided into long pigtails that rested on her shoulders like frayed ropes. She looked familiar, but Billie couldn’t place her. Perhaps she’d joined the parade of humanity that marched past her counter some other day and Billie just didn’t remember her.
“I want to talk to Doc,” the woman said, staring past her through the glass wall into their office. “I can see him in there.”
“I’m so sorry,” Billie said, “he’s tied up with other business right now, can I—”
“He’s eating a donut,” the woman said.
Really? Billie was tempted to look back over her shoulder. Doc had been going through a Paleo phase and pressured everyone around him to do the same; if he was eating a donut, Billie wanted to see it for herself.
But she overcame the urge. “I’m sure I can help you with whatever—”
“I’m not leaving here until I talk to Doc.” The woman propped her crossed arms on the counter and leaned closer. Her braids and earrings swung forward. “That son of a bitch owes me money.”
Blissful relief flooded Billie from head to toe. It was personal. Excellent. He’d have to deal with it.
“Of course,” Billie said, beaming at her. “What’s your name? I’ll tell him you’re here.”
“He’ll know. Just tell him it’s time to pay the piper. And he’s the rat.”
For a moment, Billie’s joy wavered. The lady was probably crazy. She peeked at Doc, certain he would yell at her for interrupting his—yes, he really was eating a donut. Chocolate sprinkles, from the looks of it. Getting caught would make him even angrier.
“Excuse me, isn’t there somebody else who can help you out here?” shouted a man from the middle of the line. “Last time I was here, I waited an hour and a half. I’ve got work to do.”
Grumbling agreement rippled through the parade of citizens.
They always asked that. The answer was always no. Since the recession, the number of city employees had been gutted. More than half of the desks in the building were empty.
But maybe today she would make a show of asking her boss for help and they could see him wave her away. Then they could aim their fury at Doc, chowing down on his chocolate sprinkles on the other side of the glass door, and spare her their hate.
“I’ll go see,” she said with a tight smile. “Thanks for your patience, everyone.”
They sighed like a summer breeze as she walked away.
Leaving the door open behind her, Billie went over to her boss’s desk. “Could you come out to the counter, Doc?”
The donut had disappeared, but telltale chocolate sprinkles littered the goldenrod-yellow Boys and Girls Club flier on his desk. Brushing crumbs off his white beard, he glowered at her. “You should’ve gotten out there earlier. And if you weren’t so slow, the line wouldn’t get so long. You always waste too much time jabbering with everyone. This is city hall, not Starbucks.”
“There’s a woman here to see you,” Billie said.
“What? Who?”
“She wouldn’t give her name. But I think I’ve seen her before.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake. You fell for that—” he began.
“Don’t pretend you don’t see me,” the woman called out.
Doc went as pale as his mustache. And then shot to his feet. “I’ll be out for the rest of the day.”
“Don’t bother running,” the woman shouted. “I know all about the back door to this place.”
Billie was enjoying this.
Doc braced his hands on the desk, his jaw muscle twitching. His eyes darted back and forth. Finally he sat back down and waved dismissively at her. “Stop staring and send her in. And don’t expect me to help you with that line. You’ve got to find a way to be more efficient.”
Billie went back out and ushered the woman through the foldout counter and in through the office doorway. Doc, who was standing at the door, slammed it when the woman was inside and began lowering all the blinds.
“So sorry about that,” Billie told the man who was next, a general contractor she’d helped several times before. “How can I help you?”
Over the next three hours, she dove into the daily grind at a pace that she hoped wouldn’t give her a migraine. The door behind her never opened, the blinds never lifted. When the lunch hour arrived, she’d just assisted the last citizen with a permit to run electricity to her garden shed, where she recorded a popular poetry podcast that Billie had never heard, but she assured the woman she certainly would do so as soon as she had a second.
She dimmed the lights, put up the hours sign, and stared at the closed door. Her packed lunch was in there. And her purse. If she didn’t get something to eat and drink, she was going to pass out and cause a medical emergency that would end up on the Official Flores Verdes Twitter feed. Nobody wanted that, not even Doc.
She knocke
d on the door and pressed her ear to the glass. No sound. She knocked harder. Waited again. Finally, she cracked the door open and peeked inside.
And saw that which could not be unseen.
Chapter 21
Well, that’s a surprise, she thought. She’d feared bloodshed and property damage, not that.
Belatedly squeezing her eyes shut, biting her lip to stop herself from laughing, she closed the door as quietly as she could.
But Doc had seen her. Their gazes had met as he’d looked over his naked shoulder. Above his naked back. And naked ass. His white, furry little ass covered with spots.
Billie knew one thing: if Doc owed her money, she’d want it in cash.
Now what should she do? This wasn’t a good development. Someday she would appreciate the moment. But right now, she just wanted to rewind the last thirty seconds—it had felt like an eternity, like a slow-mo nightmare—and enjoy her state of blissful ignorance, even if she was dehydrated and starved.
Any minute now, Doc and his…friend…were going to exit the love nest and walk right past Billie. Should she wave? Give two thumbs up?
This situation wasn’t in the Standard Operating Procedures handbook.
And just then, Billie remembered where she’d seen the woman before; she worked behind the counter of the sandwich shop down the street. Billie hadn’t recognized her without the spatula of mayo in her hand. And the braids were usually tucked under one of the restaurant’s distinctive yellow baseball caps.
Just as Billie had decided to make a run for it and hide in the courtyard until the afternoon counter hours resumed, the door flung open.
“You did not see that,” Doc said.
Billie froze. He seemed to be alone now. Sandwich lady must’ve slipped out the back door.
“See what?” she asked, her nerves, like air bubbles in her chest, tempting her to giggle.
His face twisted, eyes bulging. She realized he was attempting to smile. “Exactly,” he said, sounding like he was choking. “Good girl.”
Going for Broke: Oakland Hills Friends to Lovers Romantic Comedy (Friends with Benefits) Page 9
