That Swoony Feeling

by Quinn, Meghan

  “Shhh—shh,” I say harshly, looking around the shop, empty except for Rylee, who is in the corner tapping away at her computer, oblivious to her surroundings. Beck is in the back, cleaning mugs, and I’m taking care of the night’s receipts. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “There is no one here and if Rylee doesn’t know about your secret pen pal then you’re not a very good friend.”

  “She knows,” I whisper for Lord knows what reason. “But that doesn’t mean you need to shout it.”

  “I didn’t shout it, just stated it. But it’s true, isn’t it?”

  How on earth could she have figured it out? I haven’t told her anything about the Summer of Love. Unless . . .

  Oh God. My head snaps up to her. “Does Brig know?”

  Casually Eve leans her hip against the counter and shakes her head. “The man is completely clueless. He thinks it’s someone from out of town.”

  “Oh . . . really?” I ask, feeling a little let down. Is it too much to ask for him to even consider me as a possible love connection?

  I guess he just doesn’t look at me that way.

  “Yeah, but the minute I saw the whoopie pies and heard the story of driving around Maine, I knew it was you.”

  “Did he tell you all about it?”

  “Reid and I were at his place, testing spaghetti sauce he’s trying to perfect. He put half a cup of salt in it.” I cringe. Thank God I wasn’t a taste tester. Not that he would ask me. “The package arrived when we were there. And I have to say, it was so cute, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Brig light up like that. It was like he sat on a lightbulb and was shining out of every orifice. He even said something about how he felt like he was being romanced.”

  I smile softly, knowing those are exactly the type of words Brig would choose.

  He’s a softy through and through, but he also has this masculine side that sweeps me off my feet. I’ve seen him kiss a girl before, and no, I wasn’t being a voyeur, but it was hard not to watch. The way he commanded her body, the grip he had on her waist, the lock he had on her jaw. I wanted to be that girl, to experience his touch firsthand.

  And then there’s his personality. So fun-loving, sweet, caring. But funny. God, he’s funny. And his eyes and muscles. Oh my, does he have muscles, not big bulky muscles, but the type of muscles that—

  “Uh, Ruth, where did you go?”

  “Huh?” My gaze snaps up to Eve. “Uh, just thinking.”

  She pokes my arm. “Thinking about Brig?”

  “Who’s thinking about Brig?” Beck asks, flinging a towel over his shoulder and joining our conversation. “Oh, who am I kidding? Ruth is totally thinking about Brig.”

  “Twenty-four-seven,” Rylee says, walking up to us as well, making it a full-on party. “I don’t know a time when she’s not thinking about the man.”

  “Wow.” I fold my arms over my chest. “Aren’t you all fun?”

  “We are, thanks.” Beck leans over the counter, snags Rylee by the chin, and plants a kiss on her mouth. “Ready to go home? My parents texted me and said they’re keeping the kids overnight.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

  “Things you don’t need to say in front of your boss,” I say. Never in my life have I met two people hornier than Beck and Rylee.

  “I’m off the clock. Now you’re just my friend, Ruth, who’s been harboring a crush on the youngest Knightly boy for years.”

  “Can you not?” I say with a clenched jaw.

  “No one is here but us,” Rylee says.

  “Doesn’t matter. I don’t want anyone walking in and overhearing you,” I say, my cheeks flamed. “The man barely knows I exist. I don’t need people cluing him in.”

  “Oh, I would counter that statement with this: in fact, he knows who you are,” Eve says with a smirk.

  Why is she smiling like that?

  “Oooo . . . do you have information?” Rylee asks, turning toward Eve. “You’re dating Reid, who seems like the closest Knightly to Brig.”

  “Between Reid and Rogan, but yes, I might have some information.”

  “Well, spit it out,” Beck says, leaning one arm on the top of the espresso machine. “I have bedroom plans with my wife.”

  “I love bedroom plans,” Rylee says, looking all heart eyes.

  “I should ask Reid if he has bedroom plans for us tonight.”

  They all turn to me as if asking if I have sexual plans as well. “Oh yes, let me text my vibrator to see what’s on the schedule for tonight. One second.” I reach for my phone as they all laugh. Little do they know . . .

  “And that’s exactly what I wanted to talk you about,” Eve says, pulling a questioning look from all of us.

  “You want you talk about my vibrator?”

  Beck cringes. “Reid not getting the job done?”

  Eve grins. “No, Reid is doing a wonderful, wonderful job in the pleasure department.” She looks like she needs someone to hose her down just from that one sentence. Good God, what it must feel like to be in love. And to be having wonderful, wonderful pleasure all the time. “I’m talking about her humor. Brig asked Reid and me last night if we knew you well. Reid of course, was as clueless as Brig, but me, on the other hand. I’ve had enough girls nights with you to have seen the comical and ingenious personality you bring to the table.”

  “He, uh . . . he spoke about me?” I ask, trying to remain as casual as possible, even though I want to jump up and down screaming with excitement. “What did he say?”

  “That you were different.”

  “Oh.” My brow creases. “Different.” Same thing he said to me. “That’s . . . I guess that’s good, right?”

  “Different is always nice, right, Beck?” Rylee asks.

  “Oh yeah, different is great.” He scratches his jaw.

  “He also said you were quick-witted and funny and that he’s never seen that side of you.”

  Why didn’t she open with that? Different isn’t always a great compliment but quick-witted and funny, now that’s something that’s always good to hear.

  “He said that?” I ask, feeling a little taller.

  “Yup. He said he’s only known you as the shy and quiet one, but he saw a new side of you he liked.”

  “Liked?” I ask, hope brimming.

  “He said liked?” Rylee says, the best friend in her getting just as excited as me.

  “Not in a relationship kind of way but you could tell he was definitely—”

  The door to the coffee shop opens and all at once, our heads whip around where we find Brig walking past the threshold. Abruptly stopping, he scans all of us, his eyes darting back and forth, unsure.

  “Uh, am I interrupting something?”

  I can barely hear him over the roar of my heart. If he only knew what we were talking about . . .

  “Just talking about you,” Rylee says.

  Dear JESUS!

  What the hell is wrong with her?

  “Really?” Brig asks, closing the space between us.

  “No.” Rylee laughs and the tension eases in my chest until . . . “We were discussing vibrators, weren’t we, Ruth?”

  Okay, now she’s really dead.

  My cheeks flame as hot needles tingle up my spine sending me into a tailspin of embarrassment. I get the whole loosening me up thing, but good grief, is this approach necessary?

  “Were you?” Brig rubs his hands together. “I enjoy vibrators. Ever have one pressed against your balls, Beck?”

  “I’m married to a romance author. What do you think?”

  Brig chuckles and the deep rumbly sound feels like a wave crashing over me, cooling me off but also suffocating. I love that sound. Makes me want to walk up to him, press my face against his chest, and make him laugh again so I can feel the vibrations of his humor.

  “True, you’re probably in your own category of kink,” Brig says.

  “Are you into kink, Brig?” Rylee asks.

  Feeling so uncomfortable—because I know exactly what
my friend is doing—I busy myself with receipts, but still keep relatively quiet so I can hear Brig’s answer.

  “I mean . . . sure.” I glance at him just as he glances at me. We both look away and another wave of heats rolls up my body. “I like fun and different positions and don’t mind playing with toys, but that’s the extent of it. None of that whipping shit, or tying of the balls. Touch my balls, roll them, put them in your mouth, but they’re not toys to be tied up.”

  “I’m right there with you,” Beck says, holding out his hand, and the men high-five.

  “What about you, Eve?” Rylee asks, and I have a bad feeling about who she’s going to ask next.

  “Reid is a powerhouse in bed. I’ll do anything he wants.”

  I catch Brig’s grimace and it pulls a smile out of me. At least I’m not the only one being tortured right now.

  “Gross,” Brig says. “I don’t want to know about my brother being a powerhouse in bed. I feel fine just assuming they all have dicks and know how to use them properly.”

  “I heard all the Knightlys are good in bed,” Rylee says.

  “We’re not too shabby.” Brig dusts off his shoulders and it makes me smile even wider. I struggle to believe Brig’s a “powerhouse” in bed, but I could see him being methodical, a guy who takes his time, draws out each and every orgasm with purpose. And that turns me on even more than some alpha guy flipping me on a bed.

  “What about you, Ruth, are you into kink?” And just like that, the smile I was sporting from Brig vanishes as I look over at my friend, who seems entirely too pleased with herself.

  “Are you?” Eve asks, feigning interest. Next girls night, these two are going to get some wine tossed down their backs.

  “Totally interested in the kink answer,” Beck says, joining in. Okay, he’s fired. Have fun dealing with your triplets.

  Brig glances around the circle, shrugs and asks, “Well?”

  Great.

  There are two ways I can handle this situation. I can recoil into coffee house Ruth, wave receipts in everyone’s faces, mumbling about having to close up, and sprint to the back. Or, I can act as if Brig wasn’t here and answer the way I would normally answer.

  Option one would avoid possible embarrassment.

  Option two would give me great reason to once again, reveal more of me to Brig . . . with the heavy chance of utter humiliation.

  Either way, I’m going to be embarrassed, so I might as well make strides with Brig so he can get to know the true me.

  “Am I into kink?” I place the receipts in a zip-up pouch that I tuck under the counter. “Not sure what level of friskiness would qualify as kink. I do know I have a pressing date with my vibrator though, so if you all don’t mind, I’m going to take off.” I remove my apron and slap it against Beck’s chest and say, “Thanks for closing up for me. Can’t keep those batteries waiting.”

  Beck clutches the apron to his chest, looking annoyed but proud.

  Rylee’s eyes twinkle.

  Eve chuckles softly and Brig . . . well . . . he probably has the best reaction of them all.

  Mouth agape, hair in hand, eyes wide.

  “See ya.” Hands shaking, nerves shot—I can’t believe I said that—I walk out the door and start heading toward Knight and Port. Even though I live right above the coffee house, I still need some dinner, and I’m not about to make myself something with the meager contents of my pantry upstairs. No, I need a reward.

  I need a baked bean sandwich.

  “Ruthie, hold up.” I hear Brig’s voice call out as he catches up to me on the sidewalk. “I came to talk to you.”

  “Oh?”

  He nods, his eyes quickly glancing down my body and then back up. I’m wearing black leggings today and a tight-fitting green T-shirt. It’s nothing special, nothing that would catch anyone’s eyes. It’s comfortable for a day at Snow Roast.

  “I, uh, I don’t want to keep you from your date.” A smile plays at his lips. “But I wanted to know if everything was okay. I didn’t, uh, see you at the Parlor today.”

  “You stopped by?” I ask just as the wind picks up, blowing my hair over my face. I take the ponytail holder from my wrist, flip over, and grip my hair close to my scalp, tying it into a messy bun at the top. When I lift back up, Brig’s eyes fall to my hair and I might be crazy, but I swear I catch the smallest of pulls on the corner of his mouth. As if he likes my hair like this. “Brig?”

  “Oh yeah, sorry.” He chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I stopped by because I wanted to see what you were working on today and if you needed any help. I was surprised you weren’t there.”

  “Figured I’d pull some weight at Snow Roast.” I nod toward the coffee shop only to see Eve, Rylee, and Beck all pressed up against the window, watching us.

  Oh dear God.

  Attempting to keep my expression neutral and not appear completely horrified, I shift to the side so Brig’s back completely faces Snow Roast. No need for him to find them all gazing at us, idiotic smirks decorating their faces.

  “Cool, yeah. Well, I actually . . . wait, aren’t you headed back to your place?”

  “Going to grab a baked bean sandwich first.”

  “Hell, that’s my favorite.” His gaze trails down the street toward Knight and Port. “Would it be weird if I asked to walk with you? You said baked bean sandwich and now it’s all I’ll be able to think about.”

  “Um, sure,” I say, rubbing both my hands down my pant legs to remove the sweat on my palms. “I have the same sentiment about the sandwich.”

  Brig leads the way and I walk next to him, feeling nervous and giddy. I’ve never spent this much time with him. And I’m wondering if it has to do with being work neighbors or that I’m finally showing my true self to him. Either way, I’m excited.

  I’m walking with Brig Knightly.

  Down Main Street.

  *Squeals*

  “When Reid first introduced the baked bean sandwich I thought he was crazy, but then I had a bite . . .” He pats his stomach. “Haven’t been able to resist them since. Any mention and I’m practically sprinting to Knight and Port for a bite.”

  “I’m the same. I didn’t even give it a second thought when I saw it on the menu. I knew I had to try it.”

  “Should have guessed that, given your penchant for odd ice cream flavor combinations.”

  “Hey, you liked it.”

  He purposefully bumps my shoulder with his and says, “It was really good. Been craving it since we had it the other day.”

  “I’m starting to see a trend here, Brig.”

  “What’s that?” he asks, his voice so easy, so comfortable that I feel myself slowly getting lost in the moment as we make our way down the sidewalks toward the harbor.

  “Coffee cake, baked bean sandwich, ice cream . . . I think you’re a foodie.”

  He chuckles. “Yeah, it’s why I run six miles every day.”

  “Every day?” I ask. “I’m not sure I can run one.”

  “Ah, come one, Ruthie, you can run one.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think I’ve ever run for fun in my life.”

  “One of those lucky girls then,” he says, glancing at my body. “Good genes.”

  A compliment? A week ago, I would have told you that I’d never even been a blip on Brig Knightly’s radar. Yet . . . compliments. “More like always on my feet working. Don’t get much of a break to eat during the day.”

  “Ah, I can see that.” He wraps his arm around my shoulder and squeezes me in tight to his side, and I barely can contain the rapid patter of my heart trying to break through my chest. “Stick with me, Ruthie. I’ll get you eating every meal, sometimes twice. Nothing wrong with a second lunch.” He laughs and I do too, but it comes out more strained than anything.

  “If that’s the case, then I would have to start running.”

  “Then start,” he says as we cross the empty street and walk diagonally across the road to the entrance of Knight and P
ort. “You can run with me in the mornings.”

  I snort.

  The ugliest snorts of all snorts.

  Violent.

  Wet.

  Ungodly unattractive.

  I cover my nose quickly and wipe it with my hand as he holds the door open for me. “What’s so funny about that?”

  Marie, the hostess, greets us with a charming smile. “Table for two?”

  “Oh, we’re just—”

  “Yeah, table for two,” Brig says, and when I look up at him in confusion, he just smiles and says, “We have some things to discuss.”

  “Right this way,” Marie says, grabbing two menus, leading us to the back, next to the windows that overlook the ocean. We each take a seat and Marie places the menus in front of us only for Brig to hand them back and say, “We’re here for the baked bean sandwiches.”

  Marie chuckles. “Should have known. I’ll put your order in with your server. Any drinks?”

  “Water, please,” I say quickly.

  “Me too,” Brig adds and then Marie takes off, leaving me alone with Brig, eating dinner together . . . at a restaurant.

  How on earth is this real life right now?

  Folding his hands together, he looks me dead in the eyes and says, “Run with me.”

  “I think you’ve lost it,” I reply, moving the silverware on the table to busy myself with something other than looking Brig in the eyes.

  “I haven’t. I think it’s a great idea because if you run with me, then you can be a foodie with me.”

  “Oh, I see your motivation.”

  “Come on, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together and we’re going to be sharing meals. I don’t want to have to deal with someone who eats two pieces of celery and one raisin as nutrients. I’m going to want to go to Jake’s Cakes and share a plate of waffle fries with you.”

  “Um”—I tap my chin—“when did we decide we’ll be spending a lot of time together? I think I missed that memo?”

  I might act confused, but good God, there’s a party going on inside me.

  He tilts his head looking far too adorable. I wish I could take a picture—him looking at me, the ocean to his side, the natural wood shiplap behind him. It’s a moment I want to be able to look back on, to cherish.