A Little Like Love (Robin and Tyler)

by Cheyanne Young

  Miranda’s laugh is the first thing I hear. I stop short in the living room, realizing that I don’t have to barge in her room and murder anyone. They’re both on the floor surrounded by pieces of wood and screws. A tiny mattress rests against the wall. Marcus’s clothes are all on his body and their hair isn’t disheveled. Thank God.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, plastering a friendly smile on my face. If Miranda knew what I was thinking, she’d bitch me out for an hour.

  Miranda stares at an instruction manual in her hand and points to two identical shaped wooden rails. Marcus takes the rails and lines them up on his half-finished crib frame. “Marcus’s sister give me her crib now that her baby is in a toddler bed. Isn’t this awesome?”

  “That was really nice of her.” I kneel on the floor near her and pick up a piece of the bed. It’s a black wooden piece that looks sturdy and expensive. “Marcus please tell your sister how much we appreciate it.”

  “Aw, it’s no problem,” he says while his tongue pokes out of his lips in concentration as he screws two parts together. “If I knew we’d be meeting Miranda so soon, I wouldn’t have taken this thing apart a few months ago. This would be a hell of a lot easier if it wasn’t in pieces.”

  Miranda pulls herself up on the newly purchased couch with a lot more effort than usual. Her pregnant belly is finally starting to show so much that she leaves her jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, covered with an oversized T-shirt. I’m starting to feel kind of stupid for assuming Marcus would be making out with her when I got home. He seems like a decent enough kid. You know, minus the car vandalism and all.

  “So how was your talk with the Sugar Plum Fairy?” Miranda asks.

  I snort. “You must mean Ms. Candy.”

  I make a pot of coffee, decaf for Miranda, and tell her all about my visit with Salt Gap’s resident pin up girl. Then I ignore all of her squees and giggles and jokes about Tyler as I tell her how he brought me to the library and showed me the box of photos. She’s still making fun of me and singing the k-i-s-s-i-n-g song when I slap the photos on the counter to shut her up.

  By six-fifteen in the evening Marcus has finished the crib and we’ve all agreed that it’s the most beautiful piece of furniture in the house. Miranda puts it in her bedroom next to her own bed. Marcus makes himself comfortable on our couch as he tells Miranda all about his sister and the struggles she’s been through as a single mom and how the two of them totally need to hang out and share motherly advice.

  My stomach twists into knots with every minute they keep chatting because every stupid joke he makes and every time she giggles is just time wasted until seven o’clock when I really don’t want either one of them to know that I have a fake date with Tyler tonight. I manage to slip into my bedroom and get dressed, making sure to look cute but not desirable or date-worthy because the last thing I want to do is lead him on.

  Or do I?

  No. I don’t. Stop it, Robin.

  My reflection frowns at me in the bathroom mirror. Admittedly, I love that a gorgeous guy has taken an interest in me, but I can never let myself fall into that situation again. Relationships can work for some people but for me, they will always end in failure. I just wasn’t meant to date.

  Grandpa’s watch hangs loosely on my wrist and the memory of him prompts me to sneak out of my room and grab the pictures I had left on the kitchen counter. Miranda and Marcus are still on the couch with their backs to me, so no one sees me slip into the kitchen dressed in a new outfit. I am not ready for the questions. Not yet. Plus it’s still ten minutes until seven, so there’s still a chance the boy will leave before I have to embarrass myself.

  Now back in the safety of my bedroom, I lay out the photos on the bed. My grandparents look so happy in each one. I bet neither one of them ever had a broken heart before they met each other. Back in those days, people met the love of their life and stayed happily in love. They didn’t have to deal with Facebook drama or finding naked pictures of your best friend on your fiancé’s cell phone. Life was simple and all they had to do was love each other.

  I stare at my grandmother’s smiling face and a tear pools in the corner of my eye. She was so incredibly beautiful. It’s hard to realize that their love would end just a year after these pictures were taken. She would die in childbirth and her beautiful face would never be in another photograph again.

  By the time I knew Grandpa, he had aged considerably. But even I know that in the time I knew him, he never once smiled as happily as he did in these photographs.

  Maybe true love isn’t as great as it looks.

  Chapter 14

  My metaphorical big girl panties fit a little too snugly tonight. After I had psyched myself up for the millionth time in front of my mirror, I tugged on the pretend panties and strode out into my living room like a woman with nothing to hide. When Tyler’s obscenely loud truck comes to a stop in front of my house, I do as I had planned just moments go. “That’s my ride, gotta go, see ya later, be good!” I run out the front door like a teenager running from an overprotective dad. It takes a whole three seconds after Tyler pulls out of my driveway to glance at me and question what the hell just happened.

  “I would have gotten out and walked up to the door, you know. You didn’t need to sprint to my truck like an Olympic gold medalist.”

  I shrug and feel the weight of my anxiety press into me. “Marcus and Miranda were getting a little annoying so I just couldn’t wait to get out of the house.”

  “More like you didn’t tell them you were going out with me.”

  He says it all smug and matter-of-fact. It makes me wonder if he has hidden cameras in the house to watch my every move. I lift an eyebrow as I try to think of a response, but then he holds up his cell phone from the cup holder in the center console.

  I read the screen and see a text from Marcus.

  Marcus: Secret booty call? haha Robin didn’t tell us she was going out with you.

  I bury my face in my hands. “Oh god.”

  Tyler laughs. “You didn’t tell them about our fake date? I’m shocked. It’s not like you’ve repeatedly turned me down for a real date or anything.”

  I lift my head and stare straight ahead, refusing to let him see the embarrassment in my face. “I didn’t tell them because it’s not a big deal.”

  “And that’s why you ran out of the house before they knew what was going on. Makes total sense.”

  Now I look over at him. He gives me this cocky yet adorable smile. “I’m going to punch you in the face,” I say with a grin I can’t seem to hold back.

  He smirks and adjusts his hands on the steering wheel. “I look forward to it.”

  Tyler takes us nearly an hour out of town into the neighboring city of Lawson. This place has a population of fifteen thousand according to the street sign and I never realized how much I missed McDonald’s until I’ve gone a couple weeks without seeing one.

  Tyler shakes his head when I tell him this, complete with an eye roll when I mention how I could eat nothing but French fries for dinner and be happy. “I’m not taking my fake date out for a dinner at a fast food restaurant.”

  The way he calls me his date, even though it’s said in a joking way, sends a shiver down my spine. His stupid sideways grin makes my chest tighten and his thick arched eyebrows look so sexy when he lifts one of them in my direction. I have to keep telling myself that this is not a real date and I am not interested in him in a boyfriend-like way.

  Because liking him in that way would only lead to heartache. With the stupid exception of that drunken night with Jason Hightower, I’ve never been one for having a friend with benefits. But I’m starting to wonder if I could be that kind of girl.

  “Well?” Tyler says, waving his hand in front of my face. I jump back into reality and realize that he’s been talking to me for the last few seconds.

  “I’m sorry, what?” I ask, feeling the blood rush to my face.

  “Italian food. Do you like it?”

  I
nod. I could go for some pasta right now because a bowl of fettuccine alfredo always makes me feel bloated and gross. Nothing will stop my dirty mind from pondering the idea of a friends-with-benefits situation quite like a belly full of pasta.

  We end up at a family-owned Italian place with glossy grey walls and several golden and bronze statues lining the walk from the hostess table to where we’re seated by a window. A grand piano sits in the corner of the room collecting dust.

  “Do you know how to play?” Tyler asks when he sees me looking at it.

  I shake my head. “Not a clue.”

  His sly little smile turns suspicious so I narrow my eyebrows at him. “Do you play?”

  He breaks a breadstick in half and takes a bite. “Mhm.”

  I sit back in my chair. “Really…I find it hard to believe that a country cowboy like you would know how to play a classy instrument.”

  He swallows and points the rest of the breadstick at me. “You know you don’t have to add the word country in front of cowboy. I think cowboy is a country enough word all by itself, ya know?”

  I roll my eyes and he continues. “I mean, I don’t go around calling you a city girl Houstonian.”

  “Oh please, I’m not that much of a city girl.”

  He lifts an eyebrow. “Is your face not plastered all over every street sign in Houston?”

  I shrug. “Not anymore. I bet Maggie had every real estate billboard replaced the second she heard I had her daughter.”

  He grabs another breadstick and I take one too, just for something to do with my hands instead of twisting my fingers around each other. “I’m guessing there’s a story there,” he says a little tentatively.

  “Don’t worry, it’s nothing dramatic,” I say with a wave of my hand as I bite into the breadstick which is really, really good. “I just had a nervous breakdown and quit my job, packed up my shit and tried to leave town without anyone knowing but then my niece showed up, pregnant, and wanted to come with me. So I took her and then told Maggie, her mom, a few days later.”

  “Only a city girl Houstonian would think that’s not dramatic.”

  I shrug. “Miranda’s just barely a legal age but I’m starting to feel that she’s much better off in my care than in her mother’s.”

  With his elbows on the table, he brings his fingers up to his lips. “I wasn’t talking about Miranda.”

  With a sudden realization, and remembering why he even asked me on this date, I draw in a deep breath of air and let it out in a long, annoyed sigh. “Fiiiine. What would you like to know?”

  “Hey we’re just friends here. It’s not like we’re on a real date and need to hold back bits about ourselves so we can stay mysterious and desirable or anything.”

  “Riiiiight.”

  Tyler laughs. “Nervous breakdown, eh?”

  The waitress brings our food and I’m grateful for her interruption, but the bitch is so great at her job, she has our plates in front of us and our drinks refilled quicker than it takes for Tyler to forget that he asked me a question. I swirl fettuccine around my fork and consider making up some silly story about a mental breakdown that’s not a big deal; something he can chalk up to me being an emotional girl and never ask about it again.

  But the problem with that is that I’m a pathetic liar, especially when put on the spot. Plus—ugh, hell—it might actually benefit me to talk about this with someone. I don’t exactly have a best friend anymore to discuss my problems with and Miranda has her own crap to worry about and doesn’t need to have my emotional baggage unloaded on her.

  I swallow, set down my fork and look at Tyler from across the table. He hasn’t touched his food and he’s staring right at me. “I’ll tell you,” I say, taking another deep breath. “But I’m going to need more time than it takes to eat dinner.”

  Chapter 15

  After dinner, Tyler asks for a few breadsticks to go and ignores my judgmental look when I jokingly call him a fatty. Then he takes us to a park that’s on the river and I realize why he wanted the bread. Ducks are everywhere. The moment Tyler tears off a piece of his breadstick and tosses it into the air, dozens of ducks waddle over, quacking with excitement.

  He hands me the bag and I tear off a piece of bread and toss it to the duck closest to me. This is fun. This is something I would only think of doing as a child. The parks in Houston have signs everywhere that demand that you don’t feed the ducks or other wild animals. Tyler chose the perfect spot for me to let down my emotional walls and tell him all about my nervous breakdown.

  He listens as we sit on a park bench and I tell him about Grandpa’s huge influence on my life and my rise to real estate success. He offers an apology when I tell him about Grandpa’s illness and death. It isn’t until I finish my story that he reaches out an arm and lightly squeezes my shoulder.

  “You did the right thing coming here. The country will heal all heartache.”

  “Hell, I think just not having an internet connection to check Facebook has helped me a lot,” I say with a laugh to lighten the mood.

  Tyler shakes his head and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I don’t understand Facebook.”

  “Do you have an account?” I ask.

  He snorts. “Nope.”

  “I don’t know why I’m saying this, but that’s kind of hot.”

  “Oh yeah?” he says, sliding closer to me on the bench. “What if I told you I haven’t checked my email in weeks? Do you find that hot as well?”

  I shove into him with my shoulder. “Stop trying to make me like you.”

  *finish this scene

  The living room light glows through the windows as we arrive at my house an hour later but Marcus’s truck is gone so I don’t freak out. “Guess she waited up for me,” I say as I open the passenger door and climb out of Tyler’s truck. He gets out of the truck too, but leaves the engine running.

  “You don’t have to—” I begin, only to have him arrive at my side.

  “But I want to,” he says with a freaking grin on his face that I’m sure he knows drives me wild.

  He walks me to the front door and a sudden sinking feeling of nervousness settles into my stomach. He throws an arm around me and pulls me into a hug, and it’s totally non-threatening but I’m suddenly a sixteen-year-old on my first date all over again and I have no idea how to handle myself. What if he tries to kiss me? Oh god, what do I do?

  Tyler ends the hug and I mumble the first thing I can think of. “Thanks for dinner. I really had fun tonight. And, thanks for…listening and stuff. I’m sorry I talked so much.”

  He smiles, shoving his hands into his pockets. So that’s how it’s going to be, eh? No hugs, no more touching my arm or grabbing my head and pulling me into a kiss? I can’t believe he’s being a total gentleman and that’s actually getting on my nerves. That’s what I want from him! To be considerate of the fact that I don’t want to date anyone.

  Tyler clears his throat and tilts his head to the side as he studies me. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but your thoughts are really loud.”

  “What does that mean?”

  His tongue runs across his bottom lip for a split second and it sends a shiver down my entire body. “Your thoughts are loud, Robin Carter. I don’t know what they’re saying, but I can hear them.”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

  “Thank you for joining me tonight,” he says, leaning his head toward me. His hands are still in his pockets and I guess that’s what catches me off guard, because I gasp when he leans down and places a light kiss on the top of my head. “I know you don’t want a relationship,” he whispers. I swallow and he takes a step backward, to where his truck waits for him.

  “I, I did say that,” I manage to stutter in reply to him.

  The porch light casts a whimsical glow on his face. “Yes, you did say that. Several times.” He winks. “But you haven’t told me to stop trying.”

  ###

  Thank you for reading! If you liked this
novella, please consider leaving a review on Goodreads or Amazon.

  Coming 9/1/2014:

  A Little Like Destiny

  Part 3 of the Robin and Tyler Series

  Sign up for Cheyanne’s mailing list to be the first to know about new releases: https://tinyletter.com/CheyanneYoung

  About the Author

  Cheyanne is a native Texan with a fear of cold weather and a coffee addiction that probably needs an intervention. She loves books, sarcasm, nail polish and paid holidays. She lives near the beach with her family, one spoiled rotten puppy and a cat that is most likely plotting to take over the world.

  Connect with Cheyanne online:

  http://www.CheyanneYoung.com

  Twitter @NormalChey

  Instagram – NormalChey

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  About the Author