by Nia Arthurs
Fake smiles.
Shuttered gazes.
It’s clear he thinks I’m less-than because of the guys I choose to date. We’ve been playing the part, pretending to get along so our crazy-in-love friends don’t catch on, but we tend to keep our distance.
And I like it that way.
The towering hunk with tats and a permanent scowl is way too distracting for my tastes.
Before I can figure out a way to derail this train, Griffin’s got Ollie on the phone. “Hey, man. I need a favor…”
His conversation sinks into the background when Cobie touches my arm and asks, “Are you sure that’s all?”
“Yeah.”
“Rick hasn’t tried to contact you, has he?”
“He’s not that stupid.” I jut my chin toward Griffin. “I told him about the beefed up guys waiting to tear him limb from limb. He got the message.” It was my favorite part of our last conversation.
Watching Rick tremble, fear for his life—the way I did all those times before—damn right it was satisfying.
“Good.” She smiles.
Griffin walks back to us. “Ollie says he’ll swing by tomorrow.”
“You shouldn’t have bothered him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Cobie rubs my back. “You just managed to get the bakery on its feet. If you can avoid springing all that money on a leak, it’s a good thing.”
“I should go. I’ve got a meeting early tomorrow,” Griffin says.
“Bye, hun.”
They share a quick smooch.
Cobie walks him to the door.
“Later, Griffin.” I nod.
Griffin nods back. “Put your worries to rest, Chan. Ollie’s gonna fix you up.”
“You’ve got a lot of confidence in a man who’s not a plumber,” I say.
“I’ve got confidence in his stubborn streak. Once he sets his mind to something, there’s no stopping him. Trust me. He’ll handle you right.”
“Um… okay.”
Why do I get the feeling Griffin’s talking about more than the bakery’s leaking pipe?
“Enough, hun.” Cobie shoves her boyfriend and closes the door.
I blink warily. “What was that about?”
“Nothing.” She glances away. Glances back. “Griff is… trying to set you up with Ollie.”
I roll my eyes.
“He’s a nice guy. And he said you were pretty.”
My heart speeds up despite my effort to remain unaffected. “Ollie said that?”
“Yeah.” Cobie smirks. “I believe the exact phrase was ‘she’s a freaking goddess’.”
I thump my chest for misbehaving. “Whatever.”
“Have you really never thought about him?”
I lift my chin. Slip my invisible mask on. Answer coldly. “He’s not my type.”
“Are you kidding?” Cobie counts off on her fingers. “He’s handsome. Kind. Smart. Plus he owns his own business.”
“A small one.”
“So what? Your bakery isn’t that huge either.”
“Which is how I know he’s not making enough.”
“Are you seriously counting him out because of money?”
I turn. Walk toward the guest room. Pretend to yawn. “I’m tired.”
“Chandra—”
“Not today, Babe.” I clutch my forehead. Close my eyes. Inhale a shuddering breath. “Please.”
I’m facing the hallway so I can’t see Cobie’s face. But I know exactly what expression she’s wearing right now.
Eyes narrowed.
Lips pinched.
Nostrils flared.
She’s angry.
Glaring.
It’s what she does best.
I spin back to face her. Calm. Cool. Collected.
Indifferent.
That’s my thing.
“Just say it. I know it’ll burn you up if you don’t.”
Fisted hands slam against her hips. “After everything that happened, are you still that shallow? You saw the kind of person Rick was. Having money isn’t a personality. It doesn’t give a man character.”
“You’re right. Thanks, Babe. I’ve seen the light. I’ll date Ollie. Kiss him. Maybe even let him screw me. Then we’ll get married and live in perfect middle-class heaven for a while until we get divorced because we argue too much over money. Happy?”
She storms toward me. Brows slanted. Lightning crackling from her eyes. “I don’t care if you get with Ollie or the damn mailman. Just please, for the love of Jon Snow, pick someone who’ll treat you the way you deserve instead of these jerks with deep pockets and giant egos. If your only requirement is money then it’s no wonder Rick—” She stops. Eyes widen.
“What? It’s no wonder Rick beat me?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
I scoff.
Whirl around.
Head down the hallway.
“Chandra, wait.”
I slam the door closed. Lean my head against it.
My heart thunders in my chest.
Regret is there, beside me. Breathing down my neck. I push it away, but it crawls right back.
My fingers shake. From anger. Embarrassment.
Does Cobie think I want to be this way?
I don’t.
I hate the judgmental stares from people who see me dating older, wealthier guys. I hate the whispers. The gossip.
I hate the men who only want me for my big tits and nice legs. Hate the faking. The games. The tangled web of lies I have to weave to stroke their egos when no, they’re not very good in bed and not that hung either.
But it’s what I do.
It’s who I am.
It’s what I’ve chosen.
You’re nothing, girl. My mother’s voice echoes in my head. All you’re good for is that hole between your thighs.
I push off the door and get ready for bed, shuffling Regret aside so I can get a comfortable on the mattress.
You’re worth nothing, Chandra.
Mom’s been wrong about a lot of things.
But in that case, she was right.
Chapter 2
Ollie
I roll my shoulders back. Work out the kinks that knotted the muscles that are stiff from crouching below the industrial sink for two hours.
Heels click against tiles.
A soft, flowery fragrance wafts around me.
For a moment, my body stiffens, taunt with nervous energy. I know who’s coming. Know it like a movie I’ve seen a thousand times before. One that never gets boring.
My eyes lift.
Fall on her.
The goddess in fire-hydrant-red heels.
“Here.” Chandra shoves a glass of water at me. “You must be thirsty.”
I am now.
But I keep that thought to myself.
Wiping the sweat on my forehead with the back of my hand, I accept the offering. “Thanks.”
“I’m the one who should be saying that. You saved me a fortune.”
“Problem wasn’t that complicated to figure out. It just takes patience.”
“Of which I have none.” She plays with a lock of her long, brown hair. The watch on her dark wrist glistens in the fat beams of sunlight tunneling through the windows. It looks dainty and expensive.
I set the glass on the counter.
Inch away from her.
“You’re all set.” I tug my keys from my back pocket.
She eyes them. “I have some leftover cupcakes from yesterday.” Her gaze slides up to mine. “You probably won’t accept money as payment—“
I shake my head so she knows I won’t.
“So have something sweet before you go.” Chandra points to the front of the bakery that’s cast into shadows.
I look out to the chairs that are upended around the tall tables. It’s Sunday, but on a regular day, this place would be filled to the brim with customers.
Hell, if not for the awkwardness between Chandra and I, I’d be one of them
. Zania, the baker here, is a prodigy and I’m half-convinced she laces the frosting with cocaine to make it so addicting.
If it were any other day, with any other woman, I’d crack a hell yeah and stuff my face until I fell into a sugar coma.
But that tension between Chandra and me…
Damn it.
I’d rather not play with fire and this woman is powerful enough to inflict a third-degree burn.
I turn to her. “Thanks, but I’m busy.”
“With what?”
“Stuff.”
The disbelieving half-smile dawning on her face draws my eyes to her lips. Luscious. Dark pink. Glossy.
Perfect for kissing.
And… other things.
It’s an extremely sexy mouth.
To be honest, everything about Chandra is sexy. She’s hands-down the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and every red-blooded male worth his salt would acknowledge that.
“Do you want some?” she asks.
Hell yes. Drop your dress and stand against that counter. But I stop myself from saying it aloud and try to pinpoint exactly where I went blank.
“The cupcakes,” she adds. A knowing gleam fills her eyes. They’re big and a deep, chocolate brown. The kind a man can drown in.
“I’m fine.”
“But you worked so hard. I’ll feel bad.”
“Don’t. I’m just here because Griffin asked me to help out.”
Her expression shifts slightly. “Do you have something against the bakery?”
“Of course not.”
“Then do you have something against me?” Sharp chin lifts in challenge. “Because every time we’re alone together, you start looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“A cornered dog.”
“I do?”
“Yes.” She arches an eyebrow.
“I’m more of a bear than a dog.”
“I stand corrected.”
Despite the smirk on her face, I know better than to ignore her question about whether I like her or not. Chandra’s sharp as a whip and she’ll take my silence as an answer anyway.
Griffin’s a close friend and he’s made it known that Chandra is under his protection. Out of respect for him, I’ve got to keep the peace.
“Why would I have a problem with you?” I ask.
“You tell me.” She steps closer. Her sexy heels click against the ground. Sounds like a gun shot. A shell clamoring to the tiles. A scarred heart blown to bits. “It’s just a cupcake and a conversation, Ollie. I’m not going to bite.”
Yeah, but if she keeps looking at me with those eyes, I might.
Another step and she’s directly in front of me.
Chandra’s taller than most of the women I know. I’d put her at around five-eight or nine, and since I’m six-two and used to feeling like a buffed-up giraffe around women, I find that appealing.
She smells like bliss, pure and total perfection. It’s some combination of flowers and another, tangy scent that reminds of—what is it? Grapefruit? A man could live on nothing but that scent.
And that dress. Way too sinful for a peaceful Sunday morning. Red. Strapless. So short it’s practically hugging that thick behind like Winnie the Pooh with his honey pot.
Lord. Have. Mercy.
I pull my gaze away before I do something stupid, like test the suspicion that she’s not really wearing underwear under that thing.
I’m a gentleman.
Or so I’ve got to appear.
“Nothing to tell, really. I’m just a low-key guy.”
“Are you implying I’m the opposite?” she asks.
See what I mean?
Sharp as a whip.
“Of course not.”
That’s exactly what I mean.
In my defense, I don’t have much evidence to the contrary.
The first time I met Chandra, some old rich guy was hitting on her and she seemed to be tolerating it.
Nah, more than that.
She was bending over backwards, acting like his scrawny butt didn’t need a beating for the way he was handling her.
I might not have said anything, but I took note of that.
The next time her name was mentioned, I heard she’d gotten kicked out of her rich boyfriend’s mansion wearing nothing but a curtain.
I took note of that too.
Chandra’s life has ‘drama’ written all over it in big, flashing red. I’m not adventurous enough to slam headfirst into a warning sign.
“You know, they told me you were stubborn, but I didn’t think you’d put up this much of a fuss.”
“By they, do you mean Griffin?” I ask skeptically. “And I’m not stubborn.”
“Most people don’t recognize their own flaws.” There’s a teasing grin on her face that softens her words.
“Is that how you show gratitude? With insults?”
“I offered sugar first.”
“So this is a punishment?”
She shrugs. “You can still change your mind.”
“I’m afraid of what you’ll say about me next if I don’t.”
“Good.” She turns on her heels and beckons with a crook of two fingers, “Follow me.”
An unwitting smile crosses my face. “Yes, ma’am.”
This isn’t how I thought my Sunday morning would go. I’d planned on sitting at home, drinking a root beer or two, and watching anime on my flat screen.
Despite that, I let her lead me out of the kitchen.
We stroll into the front of the bakery. A quick look around reveals stuffed bookshelves. Large windows covered with blinds. A handful of square tables. Tall wooden chairs.
There’s an innocent charm to the bakery that seems out of character for a woman as glamorous as Chandra.
I imagine a coffee shop reflecting her personality would have dim lights, chrome, glass tables and red. Lots of red. We’ve only interacted a handful of times, but she’s always wearing something fiery, so I figured red’s her favorite color.
“I didn’t know what you liked.” She sweeps her hands out. Indicates a table set up with a tower of cupcakes, scones, and muffins along with a mug of sweet tea. “So I just brought out everything.”
“It looks great.”
She smiles.
This one reaches her eyes.
I’ve noticed Chandra doesn’t do that much.
Smile with her eyes, I mean.
But when she does… oof.
My body starts buzzing like crazy.
My heart aches.
My head fills with fantasies. And not the kind that are best sated when I’m alone at home. Although some of those are sprinkled in there too.
I’m talking cheesy romantic crap.
Like walks on the beach.
Holding hands.
Cuddling close after watching a movie.
Watching her sleep.
Stroking her hair.
Talking into the night.
That forever-kind-of-love that no man admits to wanting out loud.
Which is dumb.
Because a man can want something more substantial than a few rowdy nights with a lady. There’s no shame in having a desire to quit the wild-oats-sowing and settle down.
We’re at the age to. That’s perfectly fine.
But I can’t have those dreams.
Not this man.
And especially not with this lady.
“This almost feels like a date, doesn’t it?” Chandra settles into a chair and looks over at me.
Her tone is innocent.
I study her, picking my way carefully through what feels like a loaded conversation. “Just a meal between friends.”
“Are we, Ollie?”
My breath catches at the soft way she says my name. “What?”
“Friends?”
“What else would you call us?”
She shrugs, languid. She reaches for a cupcake. Pretends to nibble on it. “A friend of a friend. Acquaintances—b
arely that.”
“Acquaintances don’t drop everything to fix a pipe,” I say.
“True.” She sets the cupcake down. Watches me beneath thick black eyelashes. Mumbles, “Friends, huh? Friends…”
I’m starting to question her fascination with that word.
Awkwardly, I take another bite of the red velvet.
“Ollie.”
“Hm?”
“What if we were more than that?”
“Huh?”
“What if we were more than friends?”
Deep breath. Slow release.
She can’t be saying what I think she’s saying. There’s no way a scruffy, tatted-up recovering alcoholic like me would be Chandra’s type.
Her brown eyes lift slowly. Meet mine. Linger.
I gulp.
That’s the very moment the cupcake rolling around in my mouth decides to go down the wrong hole and I start to choke.
Chapter 3
Chandra
That… did not go as planned.
“Are you okay?” I smack Ollie’s wide back. It’s solid muscle beneath the soft cotton of his shirt.
His pale skin is red.
About the same color of my dress.
Blue eyes so wide they’re popping out of his face.
Pink lips tremble.
The coughing subsides a little. He grabs his glass and guzzles it. I watch his Adam’s apple bob. Up. Down. The amber liquid disappears until there’s not one drop in the cup.
My lips curl higher, amused.
Noticing that he’s feeling better, I back away and return to my seat.
Cheeks flushed, Ollie chokes out. “Um… are you asking me… uh...” Another cough.
I laugh.
For such a big, intimidating man, he’s really just a teddy bear. “Relax. That’s not what I was saying.”
Correction: that’s probably what I was saying.
Or at least, what I intended to say.
Problem is I’ve never asked a man out in my life.
Ever.
Given I almost killed Ollie, it’s obvious I’m not very good at initiating a date.
“Then what did you mean?”
“I was just saying. Hypothetically.” I wave my hand to appear casual.
“Hypothetically, you want to be more than friends?”
My heart thuds.
Heat flushes my chest.
That’s exactly what I meant to say, but the words coming from his lips expose me.
“I don’t want to. I said what if? Two different things.”
