“Yeah, I want to hear all about your weird-ass green fairy dreams.” I force a grin, and Phoebe laughs. “I’ve missed making you laugh.” I blurt out.
“Let’s make a habit of it, shall we?” She winks, patting my chest before walking away to the master bedroom, stretching with a contented sigh.
“I’ll try,” I vow with a whisper once she’s out of hearing range. “Every day, until you stop letting me, I promise to try and make you laugh.”
Chapter Twelve
Phoebe
The sound of a motorcycle engine approaching the cabin cuts off my tirade of swearing at Claire’s coffee machine.
“Come in,” I call out to the knock on my door a few seconds later, still trying to get the damn machine to work.
“Good morning.” Andy grins, walking in with two brown paper bags in one hand and two cups of coffee in a takeout carrier in the other. “I brought breakfast.”
“On your motorcycle?” I gripe with a raised eyebrow, before turning my attention to the bags in his hand, noting the leathery scent of his skin is probably due to the biker jacket he’s wearing and also tucking MC Andy in his leather jacket into my fantasy drawer for future use. “What did you bring?”
“Sandwiches. BLT or egg salad, lady’s choice?” He glances at the coffee machine with a hint of menace. “From Brenda. She owns The Bistro Café, which has the best food in the state if you ask me.”
“Sounds promising. Give me the BLT.” He hands me one of the paper bags, and I take a bite and groan. “Holy crap, this is the best BLT I’ve ever eaten.”
“Right?” Andy grins in triumph, pulling off his sunglasses to reveal bloodshot eyes and darkened bags under his eyes. “So, I thought I’d take you to the Sunday market, get you stocked up on some local produce.”
“Sounds good.” I smile. “I’m not getting on your motorcycle, though.”
“Why not?” Andy frowns.
“I dated a doctor for a while. You know what they call motorcyclists?”
“Organ donors,” Andy provides. “Heard that from at least a dozen motorcycle riding doctors.”
“Party pooper,” I declare. “You look tired.”
“Went to sleep late.” He shrugs, then grins at me. “How did you sleep?”
“I didn’t have any bizarre dreams if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Really?” He looks at me with wide eyes.
“Slept like a log. Best sleep I’ve had in years.” I pull my shoulders and sip on my coffee. “Oh. My. God.”
“That’s what local growth tastes like.” Andy winks, then surveys my pajamas. “Is that my t-shirt?”
“Yes,” I affirm.
“That’s kind of weird.”
“Why? It’s comfy.”
“Do you always wear your ex’s college shirts?”
“Yeah, I have a few from Miles as well.”
“Oh. Okay.” He seems disappointed.
“It’s just a shirt, Andy.” I roll my eyes. “Stop reading so much into it.”
“It’s just…” He trails off.
“You wanted to feel special or tell yourself how I’m still holding on to you through your old shirt?” I raise an eyebrow, rewarded by a shrug. “I also have some MIT t-shirts from Brian if it makes you feel any better.”
“Uh, yes and no, I guess,” he replies, his nose and brow crinkling.
“Come on, Surfer Boy, you know me better than that.” I step toward him and bump my shoulder against his arm. “I get attached to people, not things. It’s just a shirt.”
“Okay, okay.” He chuckles softly. “Point made, Curls. Now go make yourself presentable.”
“What does one wear to a small-town market?” I wonder.
“Not heels,” Andy provides with a devilish smile.
“But how will I extort more foot rubs?” I pout.
“You just ask nicely,” Andy tries to joke, but I don’t miss how his pupils slightly dilate, and his gaze wanders to my lips. Despite my best efforts to stay indifferent, my pulse jumps under his penetrating gaze, and my lips part in a quiet gasp.
“I’m going to hop into the shower,” I say, immediately regretting my choice of words when Andy’s turquoise eyes darken even further.
“Okay,” Andy replies with a low voice, still staring at my lips.
“Friendly, right?” I remind him.
“And professional?” he asks, finally lifting his gaze back to mine.
“If that’s what you want.” I try to shrug, but his eyes hold mine so intensely I’m rooted to where I stand, unable to move. He used to look at me this way all the time once. Let me see that side of him hiding under the upbeat exterior, and it never failed to steal my breath away.
“I want things I have no business even thinking about.” He takes a step toward me, and I inhale sharply, a rush of expectant excitement zipping through me. “I’ll meet you in the town square?”
“Okay,” I agree, squashing down the disappointment, and reminding myself that this could spell disaster for my career, which is the only reason I’m even here, and how only yesterday I was telling his mom that we’ll never get back together and meaning every word.
But my mind goes back to what the girls said, about sex with the ex and how much easier it would be to just give in.
Andy tears his gaze away from mine, and, despite wanting to run to him and throw myself back into the depth of his eyes, I look away, letting him turn his back to me and leave. Again.
“Shit,” I mutter once the door shuts behind him, my shoulders slumping as I drag myself to the shower. “The most important part is figuring out what you’re waiting for,” I remind myself. “And what you are not waiting for is to be kissed by Andy Atkins.”
Andy
“You okay?” Gabe asks for the fourth time since I landed in his office about twenty minutes ago. I lift my gaze from the floor, staring at him for a few seconds before hanging my head back in my hands. “You’re going to have to talk to someone eventually, you know.”
“Leave me alone, Gabe,” I mutter without looking at him. I expect him to argue, he always does, but instead he claps me on the back.
“I need to make a quick call, okay?” he asks, and I shrug in response. “Okay, be right back.”
I sit there for a while, undisturbed, reprimanding myself for losing control like that before a soft knock interrupts my sullenness.
“I made you some herbal tea,” June offers, placing a steaming mug in front of me. “Picked some mint and sage from the potted plants.”
“Thanks, Junie.” I manage a small smile. “I know you guys are only here today to make last-minute arrangements for Phoebe. I’m sorry to have dropped in on you like this.”
“It’s okay.” She observes me with a sad gaze. “You know, my life used to suck, in general. But then, I somehow found myself in Glassmont Grove, and Claire gave me a place to stay, and Gabe gave me a job without expecting anything from me except that I do it.”