“You’re Matthew,” I said.
“Yes, and you are?”
Wiping my fake butter covered palms on my jeans, we shook hands. “I’m Haven. It’s nice to meet you.”
At the mention of my name, his face lit up like a football stadium at night. “I can’t believe it. I thought Andrew fabricated the story.”
I guessed Matthew was talking about the incident at the coffee shop, which meant Andrew had told his friends about me. My heart did a somersault.
“One second.” Matthew dashed out of sight and came back with a cracked open ice-cold beer. Taking a long pull, he sighed. “I needed that so bad.” He collapsed into an armchair across me, legs spread. “Andrew really saved you from the hands of a crazed lunatic?”
“He wasn’t a lunatic, just somebody who hates his life.” I glanced over my shoulder toward the front door. “How did you get in here by the way?”
“I have a key. My wife is being a diet Nazi and won’t let me have any carbs, dairy, alcohol or sweets. Andrew feeling bad for me, declared his apartment my cheat zone where anything goes, food wise.”
When Matthew mentioned his wife, adoration twinkled in his gaze. I could tell they had a stable marriage where laughter and joy were a regular occurrence. You couldn’t poke fun at each other unless that was the case. My mom used to throw objects at her suitor’s head if he said anything remotely negative.
“Doesn’t your wife smell the beer on your breath?” He extracted a pack of gum from his pocket and I grinned. “You have all your bases covered.”
“You can say that. So where is Andrew tonight?”
It was humiliating enough to get rejected by Andrew. I didn’t need to pile on the humiliation further by revealing I had no idea where his friend had gone. I settled for a nonchalant shrug.
Matthew saw through my noncommittal answer. “He didn’t tell you where he went?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
Matthew coughed bullshit into his hand. Glaring at him, I turned my attention back to the Sex and the City marathon. Carrie was running around New York in a pink tutu and stiletto heels while her voice over blathered on about relationships.
“Have you tried calling him?” Matthew asked.
“I don’t have his number.”
“Of course not. I’ll do it.”
He whipped out a state of the art cell phone that appeared to be from the future. Catching my curious stare, Matthew explained. “I like being ahead of the curve.”
“It looks complicated.”
“It’s only complicated if you aren’t a fan of technology,” he replied with amusement. “It has voice recognition, controls the thermostat and alarm system in my house and has a five mega pixel camera.”
“Wow.”
“I know, right? It has completely transformed my life. Alright, I’m gonna call Andrew.” He perched a setting of reading glasses on his nose and punched in Andrew’s number. Pressing the cellphone against his ear, he looked at me. “It’s ringing.”
I nervously entangled my hands in my lap. This was torture, sitting here waiting for Andrew to answer. My body thrummed with untapped energy. I moved onto my knees and begun to clean the mess of popcorn off the floor.
“Hey, man,” Matthew said into the phone. “Where are you?”
Andrew actually picked up, my eyes widened in surprise. I couldn’t help but wonder if my name showed up on the call screen, would he do the same? Or press ignore? My hands stilled as I eavesdropped on their conversation.
“Yeah, ok,” Matthew uttered. “Do you want to talk to Haven?”
My chin jolted upwards, hope surged through my veins. Mathew cocked his head sideways, listening to whatever Andrew was saying. After several beats, his gaze cut away from mine. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Andrew’s answer. I swept the popcorn into the bowl and marched into the kitchen. Tossing it into the sink with more force than necessary, the bowl spun dizzyingly then came to a stop. My fingers gripped the edge of the counter as I did a couple rounds of yoga breathing, which didn’t help. Nothing would. My jaw was as tight as Fort Knox. Andrew had invited me into his home, almost kissed me, and then had the audacity to leave.
Matthew’s voice slid into my thoughts. “He said he’ll be home tomorrow morning and to make yourself at home.”
“Awesome,” I replied sarcastically.
“Look, I have no idea what is going on between you two but I know Andrew and he only runs when he is freaked out.”
Spinning around, my eyes blazed with unconcealed fury. “Yeah? Is he afraid of vagina?”
He didn’t bat an eyelash at my vulgarity. “Depends on who the vagina is attached to. A girl he doesn’t give a shit about? No. But a girl who makes his heart pitter-patter? Yes.”
“I don’t make his heart pitter-patter.”
Matthew gave me a you’re-a-dumbass look. “Andrew doesn’t bother with very many people. His threshold for humanity is shockingly low.”
“So what? Just because he is bothering with me, he cares? His hot and cold mixed messages say otherwise.”
“Andrew is a complicated guy.”
I snorted at the understatement of the century.
Matthew carried on. “And has gotten more guarded and complicated this past year due to unforeseen circumstances but I promise he is worth it.”
“You’re a little biased, being his friend and all.”
“True but when he talked about you, I saw something in him I haven’t seen in awhile. Be patient, Haven.” Matthew hitched his thumb over his shoulder. “My wife is probably wondering where I am. It was nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
Wrapping my arms around my waist, I digested everything Matthew said and came to the conclusion Andrew was a puzzle I wanted to solve. Stupid curiosity would be the death of me yet.
For the second morning in row, I woke up on a couch, achy and exhausted. The television flickered in the dark. Clicking it off, I stifled a yawned and sat up. The numbers 5:00 a.m. glowed on the digital clock above the mantel. Andrew’s apartment was a good thirty-minute walk to work and if I didn’t get my ass in gear, I would be late. Stifling another yawn, my feet hit the cold hardwood floors. I stumbled into the hallway lined with Matthew’s prints. My eyes blurry with sleep blindly reached for the nearest door and turned. I blinked against the pitch darkness. A bed came into view with an outline of a figure spread eagle. Dusty light filtered through the curtains, spilling across the silk sheets. A strangled gasp escaped my lips. Completely buck naked, Andrew’s six-pack abs and a certain well-endowed area of his body caused lust to flare in my belly. Throwing his arm over his forehead, he shifted positions and groaned. I was being a peeping Tom to the max but I couldn’t tear my gaze away. My hands itched to explore every inch of his hard cut muscles. The alarm on his nightstand blared and cut my revering short.
Standing underneath the deafening spray, I grabbed a bottle of body wash and squirted it into my hand. The scent of roses enveloped the shower stall. What an odd choice for a guy. In the caddy, there was also a fancy bottle of shampoo and a loofa. Matthew did mention this past year has been hard for Andrew. I was starting to decipher that as a relationship gone awry. There weren’t any other womanly touches throughout Andrew’s apartment. No throw blankets, candles, or cosmopolitan magazines. His home was the definition of masculinity except for this bathroom. Whenever an ex of mine and I broke up, everything and anything that reminded me of him got thrown away unless I still harbored feelings. While, I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, it seemed as if Andrew hadn’t gotten over his ex. The crumbling walls around my heart got resurrected. Turning off the rain shower, I toweled dried my hair and changed into my work clothes.
Andrew stood in the kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee out of a Snoopy mug. “Hey.”
Flashes of him naked appeared before my eyes. I flushed and ducked my head. “Is there more?”
“Yeah, in t
he coffee pot.”
Shuffling over to the counter, my mind played the images of Andrew in his birthday suit like a 24/7 film reel. Talk about distracting. Finding a thermos, I poured the pitch-black brew inside and secured it with the cover. A cold walk was ahead of me.
“Sorry about yesterday,” Andrew said. “I got inspired and was in my art studio all night.”
Dishonesty didn’t bode well with me. Speaking from past experience if somebody lies and gets away with it, the lies don’t stop. They multiply.
“Is that right? It wasn’t because we almost kissed and you’re not quite over your ex yet so you ran?” I asked, point blank.
Tension rolled off Andrew in waves. Turning around, his hands clutched the mug so tight, I was afraid it would shatter.
“I didn’t run,” he bit out.
The fact Andrew didn’t deny the part about his ex didn’t go unnoticed. “Would sprint be better?”
“No.”
“Whatever. I have to get to work. I’ll see you later.”
He pushed his chair back and stood. “I’ll drive you.” Without waiting for an answer, he snatched his car keys off the hook.
An awkward car ride didn’t sound like the best way to start my day but I knew I’d be late if I walked. We entered the basement level garage filled with high-end cars. A souped up black BMW beeped as he clicked the car key.
Climbing into the buttery leather passenger seat, I snapped the seat belt across my torso. “Where’s the SUV?”
“That’s not mine. The driver and SUV are one of the perks that come with owning a loft in this building.”
The only perk that came with my apartment was a dishwasher. In my fourth floor walk up before, I had to wash my dishes by hand. Although most of the time, I got lazy and threw them away. Takeout containers became my best friend.
“What other perks do you get?” I wondered.
“A free gym, a movie theater, an indoor heated pool, and a helicopter pad.”
My ass launched out of the seat in excitement. “You have a pool?”
“That’s what impresses you? A pool?”
“Yeah, pools are awesome.”
A deep timber of a laugh rose out of him, warming my soul. Andrew pushed the ignition button and roared the engine.
“Hold on,” he instructed.
“For….” My words died as the car jerked forward. My body plastered to the bucket seat and I gripped the oh-shit handle for dear life.
Detroit showed few signs of life when we entered the city. It almost looked post apocalyptic with its crumbling buildings; litter-strewn streets and graffiti sprayed walls.
Andrew slid a glance my way. “Do you always work the six a.m. shift at The Roasted Bean?”
“Yeah, but only twenty hours a week. Rogue gets me the other twenty. Sometimes they overlap.”
“Those are long days.”
I shrugged. “Yeah but the money is good and after what happened with Sumiko, I need to rebuild that income fast.”
“Do you mind me asking what you were saving for?”
“I was saving to leave.”
“Leave where?”
“No idea.”
Andrew’s eyebrow lifted as if he didn’t believe my answer. “Come on. You have a dream to get out of a Detroit and you have no idea where? I’m guessing you have thought about this a lot. United States is a vast place. What were going to do just get into your car and drive?”
Irritation flittered down my spine at Andrew’s use of were, as in past tense. My dream was still very much alive. Sumiko may have had delayed it but nothing would stop me at this point. I would dip my toes in the sand on the west coast, eat fried chicken in the South, and witness a fiery sunset in New Mexico.
“I’m guessing you took vacations when you were a kid?”
Andrew nodded.
“My mom’s boyfriends ninety-nine percent of the time, while wealthy, hated kids. They would shower her with gifts, vacations and anything she wanted. Me? I got a stocked fridge and an empty house. My wanderlust has always been strong but when my mom returned, tanned, talking about the monkeys in Brazil or whatever, it got stronger. Right now, I’m starting small but eventually I want to travel the world and see the beauty myself.”
Andrew glanced over his shoulder and switched lanes. “If you travel through Italy, let me know and I’ll get you a table at my uncle’s restaurant.”
“Your uncle lives in Italy?”
“Yeah, my mom’s whole side does.” He switched back to our previous topic. “Do you have a timeline in mind for this adventure of yours?”
“My twenty-fourth birthday. Three months, five days and nine hours I’ll be on the road with the wind in my hair.”
An unexplainable emotion flickered across Andrew’s face that looked a lot like sadness, but I had to be mistaken. When I double-checked, it returned to one of contraction, nothing else. Odd.
Mallory poured a double shot of espresso and plated a chocolate chip cookie. Pushing the goodies across the bar, she motioned for me to sit. The hours between two until closing always left a dead spell in the coffee shop.
I hopped on the stool. “Thanks.”
“You seemed distracted this morning.”
Andrew’s elusive attitude had crawled underneath my skin. While I could care less about labels, I didn’t like having my head messed with.
Our almost kiss last night, and then his ex’s bath products in the shower spelled complications in big fat letters. I had no desire to complicate things further. Andrew had invited me to stay with him out of the goodness of his heart. Not to get into my pants, although, a palpable attraction resided between us. So then explain the sadness that had flickered across his face when I told him in three months Detroit would be a distant memory. I could be projecting. Andrew was the only good thing that had happened to me in a while. A part of me, ok, a huge part of me, would miss him, which caused my heart to seize in my chest.
Mallory wiped the counter with a wet rag. “Penny for your thoughts.”
“You’ll need a whole lot of pennies.”
Her laugh sounded as if a donkey was heehawing. It was utterly adorable. “I have a jar full of pennies at my house. Should I bring them over?”
“Why do you have a jar full of pennies?”
“My grandma always said that pennies are good luck. I’ve collected them over the years so my luck never runs out.”
“That’s actually kind of genius.”
Mallory grinned. “I know.”
The chocolate chip cookie was gooey in the middle and crispy on the outside, perfect. Crumbs cascaded down my uniform.
“Is it boy problems?” Mallory guessed correctly. “Because although I’ve been practically married since I was eighteen, I remember what it was like to date.”
Mallory and her boyfriend were high school sweethearts. Currently training to become a firefighter, he lived and breathed his work. While I knew she missed him, their relationship couldn’t be ruined.
I sipped my espresso. “I’m jealous you don’t have to date anymore. It’s a pain in the ass.”
“Don’t be jealous. Clint’s idea of romance is fart jokes.”
My coffee sputtered onto the counter. Mallory wiped it up and threw the dirty rag aside. I shook my head. “Fart jokes or not, you know he loves you. There is no second guessing, waiting by the phone and, or, exes lurking in the background.”
“You’re right but the only way to get there is to date.”
My bottom lip jutted out as I cradled my chin. “It’s not fair.”
“Who’s the boy getting your panties in a knot?”
“The guy from the other day who put that asshole in a headlock.”
Mallory let out an approving whistle. “He was hot.”
“He is hot and smart and funny and more difficult than a Rubik’s Cube.”
“Aren’t the artist types always?” She clarified when she saw my look of confusion, “I saw the invitation.”
“Oh
.”
She deposited my dirty dishes into the sink and began to clean the hulking espresso machine. A tedious job I hated with every bone in my body because the parts never got clean enough. Mallory gladly took it upon herself to do it while I took on the job she hated, taking out the trash and cleaning the bathroom.
“In the year we have worked together, I have never seen you like this over a guy before.” she said casually.
“That’s because with most guys I can tell what they want. With Andrew, I have utterly no idea what he wants with me. Friendship, a relationship, friends with benefits, or am I merely a pity project?”
“Why would you be a pity project?”
My mouth clamped shut. Mallory wasn’t about to get clued in to my sordid past. Shrugging, I jumped off the stool and busied myself with the trash.
“You guys met, what two days ago?” she asked.
Was that right? Had Andrew and I only met two days ago? Jesus, it felt like eons ago. Nothing like thrusting two strangers into a drama laced with drugs and death threats to bring them together.
I tied the trash bag ties. “Yeah, that’s correct.”
“You need to chill and that’s coming from me, Mrs. Type A personality. Your relationship will find its groove. Don’t force it and enjoy getting to know each other. If it doesn’t work out, then there are plenty of other fish in the sea.”
My shoulders sagged with relief. Mallory was right. Andrew and I had gone pedal to the metal since that night we met at the club. We had to slow our roll. Whatever happened in the future or in the past happened. Like an old middle-aged hippy would say, live in the now.
“My mixed up brain thanks you.” My arms lifted the gross remnants of people’s coffee cups and breakfast out of the trash bin. “And to show you how much so, I’ll also clean the floors.”
Mallory faked gasped.
“I know,” I laughed. “It’s a goddamn miracle. I’ll be right back.”
Hauling the heavy bag outside, stale pee assaulted my senses. Why does every alleyway have the same smell? A light drizzle fell from the clouds above, staining the cement. With one hand I lifted the garbage bin lid and with the other, threw the bag inside. As it landed, gnats flew out in a black cloud. I screeched and waved them away.
Jagged Love Page 5
