Mr. Nice Guy (Pierce Brothers Book 1)

by Belinda Williams

  She closed her eyes. ‘I thought so.’

  He was scared to ask, so opted for, ‘Chels?’

  Her eyes blinked open again. ‘You say it differently to everyone else.’

  ‘I’m not sure how.’

  ‘No, you do.’ She came over to stand in front of him on the other side of the bench. ‘I’m scared about what it means.’

  Tom shot her a confused look and turned to get the tea towel. ‘I think you’ve had a long day and you’re reading too much into it. How about—’

  ‘Do you like me?’

  Tom swiped up the wineglass and began drying it. ‘Of course I like you.’

  ‘No, Tom. Do you think you could, you know, like me?’

  Tom lowered the glass and tea towel. ‘That’s a really odd question to be asking.’ He knew it was an obtuse answer, but he’d learned to talk around things when the situation required it. And right now, the situation required it.

  Sure, Chels, sure I could like you. I already do. I like you a lot. Too much. But I’m a nice guy, so I keep those feelings to myself.

  ‘I want you to kiss me,’ she said.

  He gaped at her.

  ‘You heard me,’ she persisted. ‘You need to kiss me.’

  ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea,’ Tom said slowly.

  It would be a very, very bad idea.

  She crossed her arms and glared at him, a bit like he imagined one of her petulant children might. ‘And why not? Are you scared of me?’

  Terrified.

  Of course he wanted to kiss Chelsea. He couldn’t remember a time in the last year or so when he hadn’t wanted to. But this was Chelsea, and he was Tom, and he’d long ago accepted that he could never go there with her.

  Except now she was asking him to.

  Somehow he managed to maintain a semblance of control. ‘I’m not scared of you. But we live together, and it’s not a good idea.’

  ‘Is that your only reason?’

  Well, it was a damn good reason as far as he was concerned. He had no hope of Chelsea being his, so why ruin things and make it awkward between them? The last thing he wanted her to do was move out. Although upon reflection, he was obviously a glutton for punishment, wanting her to stay around.

  ‘Tom?’

  He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. ‘Chelsea, please just drop it. This is a really strange conversation, and I think you’re tired and not making a lot of sense.’

  Chelsea huffed and then groaned. ‘Oh my God. You’re right. I’m being an idiot. I’m so sorry. I’m definitely tired, but I guess I’m also tired of wondering how you feel about me.’

  Tom froze. ‘You are?’

  ‘Yes! As well as feeling terrible about Dylan’s dad, I’ve been sitting here all night wondering why it was you I wanted to talk to about this, and it’s not just because you’re a paramedic. It’s because you’re Tom. Whatever that means.’ She rolled her eyes and started to pace in front of the kitchen. ‘It made me worry that maybe I’m beginning to like you,’ she continued, and his heart skipped a beat, ‘which is silly, because you’re Tom, and I’ve known you forever.’

  At that, his heart flipped and flopped hopelessly to a standstill.

  ‘Not to mention the whole nice guy thing. This week is all about you doing me a favour and showing me what nice guys are like, and here I am misinterpreting it, thinking that you might actually like me. Face it, Tom. I’m incurable. Take your nice guy arse and run as far away from me as you can before I try to take advantage of you and turn you into an arsehole.’

  She halted in front of him, her hands on her hips like it was a challenge.

  Tom still hadn’t moved. He couldn’t. But he managed to speak. ‘I’m not running away from you.’

  ‘And you’re also not an arsehole. Thank you for bringing me to my senses. Can we forget this ever happened?’ she finished hopefully.

  Tom doubted he’d forget it. He doubted it very much. Tonight would be burned into his brain as the one time he had the chance to kiss Chelsea but didn’t. While, in her mind, that might make him the nicest guy ever to walk the earth, for once in his life, he wouldn’t have minded being the arsehole.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chelsea awoke the next morning with the edge of a hangover and the nagging feeling there was something she had to be embarrassed about. Then she remembered.

  Chelsea groaned and rolled out of bed, padding across the carpet in bare feet to her ensuite.

  ‘You, Chelsea Cartwright, are an absolute idiot.’

  Her reflection didn’t argue with her. Her blonde hair was a mess, underneath her eyes was smudged with mascara, and it looked like she had dried snot beneath her nose from one of the many bouts of crying.

  ‘The children would be proud,’ she muttered, and turned to get in the shower.

  She quite possibly really was an adult-sized child after the way she’d behaved last night. Emotional, incoherent and then, of all things, asking Tom if he liked her and if he would kiss her. What the hell had she been thinking?

  Chelsea roughly applied the shampoo to her hair. ‘Oh, you didn’t just ask him. You told him to kiss you, you . . . moron.’

  Tom was a nice guy, a fantastic housemate, and a decent friend, and Chelsea had almost ruined it.

  ‘Because why? You were curious.’

  And maybe a tiny bit drunk.

  She rinsed the shampoo out and scrubbed her head like it would encourage some sense into her.

  In answer to the question about what she’d been thinking—she hadn’t, obviously. Except that wasn’t entirely true. She’d spent the entire evening before Tom had arrived home overthinking, to be exact. Thinking about how Tom was a great guy. How easy he was to be with. How he was going out of his way for her. Not to mention good-looking, which she’d always kind of half-noticed but seemed to be noticing a lot more now.

  That had led her to wonder if maybe she was starting to like him as more than a friend. And if she felt that way, could he?

  Well, obviously not, judging by how he’d avoided kissing her and tried to change the subject. He was probably incredibly embarrassed by the whole thing but, in typical Tom style, hadn’t batted an eyelid and hadn’t made a big deal about it.

  Chelsea washed away the last of the conditioner from her hair and shut off the water. Unlike her, Tom was clearly an adult, and maybe it was time she started acting like one, too.

  Once she was dry, she wrapped the towel around herself and picked up her phone that she’d left sitting on the vanity. She hit the messaging app and began typing.

  Hey, Tom. I’m planning to attend a university information evening tonight, which I know will mess up any plans you might have had in mind. Sorry. I actually really want to go. Hope you understand.

  There. No reference to last night’s horror show to demonstrate it was in the past. She could be an adult, and that message was clear evidence of her ability to act like one. Tom had left early that morning for his shift, so Chelsea hadn’t had the chance to speak with him before she’d woken up.

  She’d been toying with going to the information session for the last few days. Ever since the choking incident—or should that be incidents?—the idea of further study had been on Chelsea’s mind. She’d done some googling, and what did you know, the university in town just happened to have an information evening today. It seemed almost too good to be true.

  It wasn’t like she was committing to anything. It was merely an opportunity to find out more and help her decision-making process. Given Tom was the one who had suggested it, she hoped he wouldn’t be too annoyed about her ruining date number six.

  That was two dates that hadn’t gone ahead so far. Come to think of it, none of the others had really gone to plan either. First there had been the choking incidents, then the uncomfortable movie, Nadia’s meltdown, followed by Tom’s soccer night. Except it had ended up being actually kind of nice just hanging out with him and grabbing dinner together.

  Her
phone vibrated as she pulled her work polo shirt over her head. She adjusted it quickly, then grabbed her phone.

  Sweet. Want me to come along? You know, as your token nice guy.

  Chelsea stared at his unexpected reply. It was the last thing she’d expected him to come back with, but she was filled with a surprising sense of relief. She typed a reply.

  Actually, that would be great. You can make sure I don’t have second thoughts about going. Or leave early.

  The three dots danced as he wrote his reply.

  Message me the details. I’ll be there.

  Chelsea liked the message, switched off her phone and kept getting ready. She’d be late to work if she wasn’t careful, so she’d send him the details later when she had a chance.

  Tom really was the best. He was so different to all the guys she’d dated in the past. Not that they were really dating. The whole objective of this arrangement was to provide her with a point of comparison, and it was proving to be more effective than she’d thought.

  It never would have occurred to her to ask any of her previous boyfriends for this sort of support. She doubted they would have offered, anyway. Guys usually viewed her job in childcare as either sweet or uninteresting. One had even implied it was an easy job and suggested it was a good chance to practice for motherhood. The relationship hadn’t lasted long after that.

  Tom took what she did seriously. He respected it. In fact, he respected her.

  Was that the difference, she wondered, that nice guys respect you no matter what?

  It was a comforting thought given her mistake of embarrassing herself the previous night. Tom wouldn’t hold it against her. He probably wouldn’t even bring it up again, knowing him. Predictably, he’d been super nice about it.

  Hell, even when she’d demanded that he kiss her, he hadn’t said no.

  Chelsea’s brush snagged on a knot in her wet hair and she stared at herself in the mirror as the thought repeated in her mind.

  He hadn’t said no.

  Chelsea forced herself to remember the details of the conversation. While she might have been a bit tipsy, she hadn’t been completely drunk and could recall her painful stupidity. However, in her embarrassment, she’d failed to notice one thing.

  He hadn’t said no.

  He’d changed the subject. Suggested that she was tired and needed sleep. That it had been a long day. But he’d never said no . . .

  ‘You’re reading too much into it,’ she admonished herself in the mirror.

  Just because Tom hadn’t told her in no uncertain terms that he didn’t want to kiss her, didn’t mean that he wanted to kiss her.

  Did it?

  The day flew by and, despite the usual chaos keeping her busy, Chelsea felt the absence of Dylan keenly. Tori had kept him home today, which wasn’t surprising, and Chelsea kept wondering how they were doing. Was she taking Dylan to the hospital to see his dad? Chelsea hoped so, even given the obvious difficulty associated with deciding what to tell Dylan.

  In typical fashion, Chelsea finished work late and ended up jogging from the car park to the university grounds. Tom had already messaged her to tell her where to meet, and she skidded to a halt in front of him, short of breath.

  ‘I’m late,’ she told him, like it wasn’t already obvious.

  ‘It’s this way.’ He gestured to a leafy pathway winding towards the buildings—one of many.

  They walked quickly down the path, side by side. ‘You’re a lifesaver. Did you get here early?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I’ve been here a few times before. A couple of industry training events plus a call-out or two, so I know the grounds pretty well.’

  Chelsea stiffened a bit at the last part, but kept walking. Was there anywhere in town Tom hadn’t been called out to for work?

  When they arrived at what looked to be one of the larger auditoriums suited to holding big lectures, a woman was already up the front introducing herself. There were quite a few people in attendance, possibly one hundred or so. They snuck along the side and found a couple of seats on the edge of a row, and sat down to listen.

  Chelsea focused on the speaker and what she was saying, but after a while couldn’t help noticing several of the attendees casting curious glances in their direction. At first, Chelsea thought she was mistaken, but after a few minutes she was certain they were attracting interest. Well, not her, exactly. More like Tom was.

  Chelsea bit back a smile, leaned in close to him and whispered, ‘I think you’re causing a stir.’

  She was so close she could make out the flicker of surprise that lit his green eyes and the confusion pressing down on his brow.

  He leaned closer still, their shoulders touching. ‘I’m not sure I understand.’

  Chelsea nodded to the room in general. ‘A guy working in childcare is like discovering a unicorn.’

  Tom’s eyebrows shot up, and Chelsea tried hard not to laugh. He was literally the only man in the room. Even the speakers presenting were all women. While she’d managed so far not to laugh, she grinned at him from ear to ear and leaned in close again.

  ‘I bet you’ll have half a dozen phone numbers and possibly some marriage proposals by the end.’ She winked at him.

  His usually tanned complexion flushed a light shade of pink, and Chelsea found she had to look away or else she would burst out laughing.

  She was also aware of another emotion she wasn’t entirely sure what to do with.

  Affection.

  She couldn’t help it, though. He was really cute and sweet. It was like he didn’t notice the way women stopped to take a second glance at him. Or in the case of this evening, a third or fourth glance.

  Tom cleared his throat softly. ‘Well, we can’t have that, can we? That’s not the aim of our arrangement. Better set them straight.’

  He draped his arm casually around the back of her shoulder.

  A couple of the women nearby stole another glance or two. Chelsea caught one frowning, and then she turned back to the front of the room. She didn’t look back at them again.

  ‘Looks like you’re out of the woods,’ Chelsea whispered to him.

  Tom didn’t remove his arm from her shoulder, and Chelsea fought the urge to squirm beneath his touch. Tom had touched her plenty of times before. Just last night, in fact, when she’d blubbered like an idiot in his arms.

  But this was somehow different. The contact, the body language, communicated to everyone around them that she was his.

  It’s just for show.

  Tell that to her stupid body, then. Apparently it liked his strong, warm arm draped over her. It also rather liked his cologne. It was all woodsy and manly with a hint of spice to it.

  Chelsea admonished herself silently.

  Tom. It’s just Tom.

  It’s not like she hadn’t smelled that cologne before. It was his signature scent. Chelsea had always liked it because it was subtle. Lots of guys she knew had a tendency to douse themselves in the cologne they wore, which often made Chelsea want to sneeze.

  She didn’t need to sneeze right now.

  Far from it. She imagined dropping her head onto his shoulder and releasing a comfortable sigh.

  ‘You OK?’ he asked.

  Shit. She’d sighed out loud. She needed to get a grip.

  ‘All good, thanks.’

  She shifted beneath his arm and as she did, his thumb brushed her bare shoulder, and she jumped like she’d received an electric shock.

  He gave her a concerned look, and she immediately shot him a reassuring smile.

  Damn. What was wrong with her? He’d stroked her back and her hair last night to comfort her. What was the problem with his thumb?

  Chelsea tried hard to focus on what the speaker was saying. The older, friendly-looking woman was outlining the various course requirements, all of which Chelsea had thanks to her previous diploma and experience in childcare.

  Somehow Chelsea managed to concentrate as the presentation continued. The speaker provided d
etails about the actual subjects in the course, as well as what graduates could expect to achieve in the workforce when it was completed.

  As soon as the talk was finished, Chelsea stood up out of Tom’s reach. It was either that or fall into his arms like the pathetic woman she was.

  Maybe she didn’t have a problem with bad boys at all. Maybe her problem was any good-looking guy showing her interest. And in Tom’s case, it wasn’t even interest. It was fake interest.

  ‘Did you want to stick around to ask any questions?’ he asked as she bent to get her bag.

  ‘No, I’m good,’ she said, though she really wasn’t. ‘I think I just need to go away and process it all. I’m sure I can always get in contact with more questions once I’ve had a chance to digest everything.’

  Tom nodded, and they began filing out of the lecture theatre. He walked closely beside her in the crowd, his hand brushing the small of her back as he guided her towards the door.

  Not that it was necessary for him to guide her. They were like a school of fish, all moving in the same direction. But perhaps he was still paranoid about the unwanted attention, because Chelsea couldn’t help noticing more women casting curious glances their way.

  He’s mine, bitches.

  Chelsea stiffened at her out-of-character thought. Food, she needed food. That must be it. She’d scoffed down lunch again and had only half-finished it. The lack of calories was obviously playing with her head.

  Outside, Chelsea inhaled the fresh air gratefully.

  ‘Tom! Tom! I thought it was you.’

  They both turned towards a short blonde woman with her hair cut in a bob and warm brown eyes.

  Tom dropped his hand to his side. ‘Vanessa. Wow. Hi.’

  Vanessa? Who was this Vanessa? He said it like they knew each other well. Chelsea had never heard of a Vanessa before.

  ‘Gosh, it is you. Amazing.’

  Vanessa stood on tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek, leaning in to squeeze him tightly when she did so.

  ‘I knew you lived up here,’ she told him, completely ignoring Chelsea. ‘But I doubted I’d run into you, especially here. You’re still a paramedic, aren’t you?’