CHAPTER ONE
“But it’s pink, sweetheart.”
“I see that, honey.”
Mr. Martinez shook his head at his wife. “I don’t think I can live with pink.”
Lila Baxter managed not to roll her eyes as the young couple went back and forth about the color of the bathroom. They hadn’t liked the blue tiling in the kitchen, the granite countertops were too dark, the newly-painted antique cream walls were too bland, and Monique Martinez had been particularly disappointed with the shining walnut hardwood floor.
She preferred carpets.
They were cozy.
Lila preferred gorgeous hardwood floors. They glowed in the sunshine, they looked amazing by candlelight, and they were great for sliding around on in socks, à la Risky Business, but Lila’s personal opinion didn’t count. She was selling the house. She didn’t have to live in it.
After five more minutes of listening to the Martinezes fuss over the sugar-pink bathroom units and matching shower, carpet, blinds and paintwork—Lila was with them on this one, not a good choice—she decided to nudge them toward wrapping it up. “As I said, these are all things you can change if you decide to buy.”
“I’m still hoping to find somewhere we can move into and get right on with our lives, without having to worry about renovations.” Monique patted her flat stomach. “We’re trying for a family.”
Yep. Lila was aware. Monique had told her a hundred times.
Okay, maybe not a hundred.
But a lot.
“What about you, Lila?” Monique asked.
“I don’t think I could live with the pink either, but I know some great contractors. If you book them for multiple projects, they’ll give you an amazing discount. If this is the place for you, guys, don’t let the pink hold you back.”
“I meant do you have a family?”
“Yes.” Mom and Dad.
“That’s so nice. How old are they?”
Sixty-five and fifty-eight. “Older by the day. It’s terrifying how time flies by. Speaking of—” Lila scooted them out of the bathroom, “—let’s have a quick peek at the master bedroom. I’ve got a feeling it might change your mind.”
She herded the couple across the landing and stepped back, leaving them to explore in privacy. Also, she wanted to check her phone. Lila took her job as a real estate agent very seriously and had a strict rule about not using her cell when with clients, but the thing had buzzed her four times while she was dodging personal questions.
She poked her head around the door of the bedroom to check that the Martinezes were still cooing over the spectacular view from the windows, then gave in and checked her phone.
Four missed calls from Jenny Finley. Lila chewed her lip. The Martinezes had ambled from the bedroom into the en suite, from whence came more billing and cooing. Seizing the opportunity, Lila returned Jenny’s call and stood, tapping her toe, as she was sent to voicemail.
“Tag, you’re it,” she said to Jenny’s voicemail, and hung up.
The Martinezes made all the right noises about the house as Lila showed them out half an hour later, but she already knew they weren’t going to bite. She’d been doing this job for eight years now—wow, eight?—and she could tell when someone wanted a house, and when they were trying to convince themselves they wanted it.
They didn’t want it.
Lila waved them off and made a note to contact Sharon Henderson, the seller, about the pink bathroom. She had to agree with the Martinezes. The bathroom was horrendous.
Sharon Henderson had grudgingly allowed her mother-in-law to move in with her and her husband when the woman lost mobility, and the elderly Mrs. Henderson had redecorated the guest bathroom to suit her own personal tastes.
Lila wasn’t sure if the old woman had done it because she had a thing for Pepto-Bismol, or because she’d been punishing her daughter-in-law for the unenthusiastic welcome.
Whatever the reason, it was putting buyers off.
While a fair portion of Lila’s clients were either open to or looking for a place to renovate, the majority wanted what Monique Martinez did: to move in on day one, unpack on day two, and by day three, their happily ever after was in full swing. With no contractors, exposed drywall, paint fumes, screeching drills, tarps, or any of the usual fun and games of renovation.
Jenny returned Lila’s call with a text that Lila picked up back at the office. Meet me at Kurt’s for drinks, 7 p.m.?
Lila shot off a promise to be there, and spent the rest of the day on three more viewings, followed by a couple of hours going over contracts and other paperwork before brainstorming some more ideas for the Martinezes.
She arrived at the bar before Jenny, and ordered them margaritas and a plate of wings to share. Lila was sitting in their usual booth when Jenny arrived twenty minutes late and slid in across from her.
“Hi,” Lila said.
“Mmph.” Jenny barely spared Lila a look before she began stuffing her face with her share of the wings. Jenny chewed, swallowed her mouthful, and pointed at the plate. “Is it me, or has Kurt changed his recipe? These are delicious. I swear I can taste every individual spice. My taste buds are having a party. A disco party.”
Kurt did great wings, but so far as Lila could tell, they were just the usual great.
“I am so freaking hungry,” Jenny continued. “I ate dinner with Kate and Derek already, but I could go for another serving of these.” Kate, her six-year-old daughter—and Lila’s goddaughter—and Derek Tate, Jenny’s fiancé.
Lila stared at her. “Tell me you’re not trying to diet.”
“I said I want more. How is that dieting?”
“It’s not dieting. It’s a warning sign that you are attempting it. Every time you try to diet, you eat everything in sight. You don’t need to lose weight, and if you say anything about fitting into a wedding dress, I don’t care that we’re in public, I will slap you. Right here.”
Jenny sat up straight and skimmed a hand over her stomach. “I promise I’m not dieting. Why? I don’t look like I’ve lost any weight, do I?”
She sounded anxious at the thought. “Nope. But you’re eating those wings like you think someone’s going to fight you for them any second. Won’t be me, in case you’re worried. I know better than to get between you and food.”
“I’m just hungry.”
“All that fresh air and hearty labor, no doubt.” Jenny was a garden designer and had her own landscaping business.
Jenny made a noise of agreement as she wolfed down the last of the wings.
Lila pushed back from the table and made a show of looking at her watch. “I think that’s a record. You are definitely ready to go pro. I’m entering you in the pie-eating contest this summer. You want another plate?”
“No, thanks. That should hold me till I get home.” Jenny clenched a fist and pressed it to her chest, gave it a couple of light thumps.
Lila tutted. “Heartburn? Maybe we’re not ready for the big leagues yet. Acid reflux is nothing to mess about with.”
“You’re telling me.” Jenny bypassed the margarita glass, picked up the water glass beside it instead, and raised it high. “Now. The reason I wanted to meet. Raise your glass.”
Lila did, and Jenny made her toast.
Lila had the drink halfway to her mouth before the words registered. She slammed the glass down. “Say what?”
Jenny arched a brow and repeated her toast.
Glaring, Lila snatched up her drink and tossed it back. Then she leaned across the table and said, “I cannot believe you did that to me. What kind of friend are you?”
“Your best friend, last I checked.” Jenny calmly sipped her water.
“You might want to check again.”
Jenny grinned.
“Seriously,” Lila said. “Check again. I’m no genius, but I am almost sure that best friends don’t run off and get married without telling their best friends.”
“I didn’t run. It was a leisurely stroll into the church. Three miles an hour, max.”
“On a random Tuesday lunchtime. In your cargo pants and work boots.” Lila sat back. “I’ll bet you still had mud on your boots. You did, didn’t you?”
“Probably. I wasn’t exactly looking at my boots.”
No. Jenny Finley only had eyes for Derek Tate.
Make that Jenny Tate.
“What happened to getting married in the summer?” Lila said.
“Eh. I didn’t see any point in waiting. Besides, this isn’t my first rodeo.”
Jenny had married Dean Hansen, Kate’s father, at twenty-two, and divorced him a couple of years ago. Recently she’d gotten engaged to Derek Tate, the pastor’s son and a tattooed, motorcycle-riding garage-owning sweetheart.
“I have a binder at home, filled with plans for your bachelorette party and your wedding, and your wedding reception,” Lila said mournfully. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
“I’m not going to feel bad about the bachelorette party, because I said from the start, hell no. As for the rest, I’m sorry.”
Lila knew Jenny better than to believe that. She snorted. “I don’t think you are.”
Jenny pursed her lips. “I’m sorry that I’m not sorry?”
“That I believe.” Lila heaved a sigh. “It was going to be epic.”
“Did you plan on making us dance down the aisle?”
Lila gave her a withering look. “That is so five years ago. And I promised to keep it classy.”
“Joking aside, Lila, I am sorry.”
Lila shrugged. “Ah, well. Not like I haven’t been your maid of honor once already.”
“That’s the point,” Jenny said. She picked up her margarita, stared at it, then put it back down without taking a sip. “I’ve done the whole thing already. Stood up in front of everyone I’ve ever met in a big white dress, the likes of which I had never and will never wear again. I wasn’t into it at the time, but I went along with it because that’s what I was expected to do, and when you’re twenty-two it’s hard not to let other people’s expectations push you around. But I’m thirty. I’m tougher than I was back then. I realized I didn’t want to marry Derek, I wanted to be married to him. To have a marriage with him. So I thought, what the hell am I waiting for, anyway?”
“So you just did it.”
“Yep.”
Lila waved a hand. “Just swung by Derek’s garage, told him you’d called his Dad to meet you at the church to perform the ceremony and, boom. Job done.”
“Pretty tidy, huh?”
“If by tidy you mean boring. Where’s the drama? Where’s the thrill? Where’s the fun?”
Jenny smiled dreamily.
“Ugh,” Lila said before Jenny could speak. “Don’t even.” She fiddled with the empty plate of wings, turning it first one way then the other. “Was Elle there?”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask me that.”
“I asked. I’ll ask again. Was she there?”
If Jenny said yes, Lila told herself, then she wouldn’t be hurt. From when Jenny’s mom left them when Jenny was six until she turned eighteen, Elle had raised her. Lila would be cool with it if she’d been sidelined while Elle got to go to the secret wedding.
If she hadn’t made the cut.
If she’d been relegated to second string.
Lila sighed. Who was she trying to fool?
If Elle had been there and Lila hadn’t, she’d flip a table.
She’d feel bad about it after, but seriously? It wasn’t like Jenny had eloped to Vegas. Lila wouldn’t expect to go along on an elopement. But Jenny had been getting married right when Lila was showing the Martinezes around the Henderson house. A twenty-minute drive away.
“No, Elle wasn’t there.” Jenny said, sounding annoyed. “Neither was Kate. Come on, Lila. You know how important you are to me. In fact, here. I brought this. So you’re part of the ceremony.”
Lila contemplated the fistful of weeds Jenny had dug out of her messenger bag and was now waving at her.
“Catch,” Jenny said, and tossed her the weeds.
Lila lurched back to avoid getting hit in the face, and snatched them out of the air.
Jenny cackled. “It’s my bouquet,” she said. “Gotcha.”
“You evil witch.”
Lila’s loathing for the bouquet toss was legendary. As far as she was concerned, it was a slightly more adult version of spin the bottle. At Jenny’s wedding to Dean, a lifetime ago, Jenny had aimed her bouquet at Lila’s departing back like a javelin, but had failed to hit her target.
Lila smoothed the jumbled bouquet out and gazed down at it. “Derek couldn’t spring for roses? What are these?”
“Wildflowers.”
“Weeds? Yes, I am neither a florist nor a certified horticulturalist but even I can tell that—”
“Wildflowers, not weeds. He picked them from my garden.”
“How incredibly…cheap.”
“It’s romantic! We’d just finished—” Jenny broke off. “Never mind.”
“It’s April, Jenny. You were having sex outside in April?”
“Technically, no. Anyway, the bouquet is romantic and personal and meaningful.”
“I shall treasure these magnificent weeds until the end of time.”
Jenny traced a pattern on the table. “I have other news.”
“Going to be hard to top ‘Hey, surprise, I’m married, go ahead and chuck your wedding binder into the trash’, but hit me.”
“Hey, surprise, I’m pregnant, go ahead and prepare yourself to be a godmother again!”
Lila sucked in a breath. Jenny, recognizing the signs, reached over the table and slapped a hand over her mouth. Lila batted it away.
“Don’t yell,” Jenny said.
Lila threw both arms up in the air and whispered, “Yay!”
Jenny mirrored Lila’s gesture.
Lila slid out from her side of the booth, and ran around to hug her friend. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Prove it by not strangling me,” Jenny managed to choke out.
Lila gave her a noogie before sliding back into her seat.
Jenny, face flushed with annoyance, smoothed down her strawberry-blonde hair.
Lila took out her phone and started tapping at it.
“Lila, put that down. We’re not telling anyone else yet. Just family.”
Lila kept her eyes on her phone. “I’m not sending out a bulletin, I’m making a shopping list. Wet wipes. Plastic bags. Ginger tea.”
Jenny scowled.
“Don’t even give me that look,” Lila said without glancing up. She could feel the look. “You were a nightmare when you were pregnant with Kate. A nightmare.”
“I wasn’t a nightma—”
“Jenny, you threw up everywhere. This time I am not taking chances. Every single pocket I own will have sick bags and wet wipes in, every single purse. This is my vow to you.” She peered up at Jenny. “Unless you want a repeat of the infamous grocery store incident of Kate’s pregnancy, month four?”
Jenny shuddered.
“Didn’t think so.” Lila set her phone down. “You stick to throwing up. I, meanwhile, am throwing you a party. Not for the baby. For the wedding.”
“We don’t want to make a big deal out of it.”
“No big deal. The whole thing’s already planned. Family and close friends over for drinks and a barbecue.” She smiled. Couldn’t quite force a grin, but she didn’t think Jenny noticed. “It was your engagement party, but all I have to do is call the printer and change the banner. Cancel the barbecue and get a big-ass cake instead. Elle and I have been working on it since you told us about the engagement. One whole week ago.”
“You know you are the best friend in the world, don’t you?”
“I do indeed. You are blessed.”
Derek sauntered into the bar when Jenny was working her way through the second plate of wings they’d ordered. Lila had switched their drinks to sparkling water, insisting they needed bubbles even if they couldn’t have champagne. Through narrowed eyes, she watched Derek stroll over to their table.
Lila liked Derek. She loved him for Jenny. She’d helped him pick out the engagement ring. When his business was in trouble, with his landlord about to sell his garage out from under him, Lila leaped into the fray without a second thought. It was even possible that she had bent the code of sisterhood into a pretzel to make sure that Jenny ended up with him, since he was so perfect for her, and Jenny had been in love with him forever.
All that aside, it seemed that Lila was pissed at him.
Derek Tate was six foot one—very sensitive about that extra inch—with shaggy blond hair, wicked blue eyes, tattoos, and a warm, caring soul.
He was great.
Really, he was. He was…
Nope. She was still pissed at him.
“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” Lila said when he came to a stop beside their table.
Derek immediately pointed at Jenny. “All her idea. Swear.”
“Uh-huh,” Lila said. “Congratulations, Derek. You treat her right or—”
“Yep. You’ll turn my testicles into ovaries, tell my mother about my cock piercing, and run over my motorcycle.”
“So long as we’re clear.”
“We’re clear. Do I get a hug?”
Lila jumped up and threw her arms around his hard waist, giving him a big squeeze. “Congratulations on the Tater tot. Good work.”
Derek released her with a groan. “I told you she’d call him that,” he said to Jenny
Jenny grinned.
“You ready to go?” Derek asked.
“Yep.” Jenny started to dig around in her messenger bag.
“I know you’re not about to try and pay on your wedding day,” Lila said.
“Would I be so stupid?” Jenny stopped rummaging and slung her bag over her shoulder. Derek lifted it off and slung it over his. Jenny swiped for it. “I can carry my own bag, Derek.”
“Of course you can,” he said. “But as you’re occupied carrying my child right now, I don’t mind doing the heavy lifting.”
Lila was about to ask if Derek planned on hovering around Jenny while she was lifting things much heavier than a small messenger bag, which she did on a daily basis being a gardener, a mother, and, you know, a woman. Instead, she said, “You guys need me to take Kate tonight?” Having a six-year-old in the house would put the brakes on any wild celebrating, that was for sure.
Jenny’s cheeks pinkened. She was still yanking on the strap of her messenger bag, trying to get it off Derek. He fended her away easily. “Thanks, but no. Derek, goddammit. Give me my bag.”
“You are taking this whole low-key theme to extremes.” Lila watched them tussle. Derek sighed, and gave in.
“We’ll save the screaming for the honeymoon,” Jenny told her, triumphantly hanging the bag over her shoulder.
“Ooh,” Lila said. “When’s that?”
Jenny wrinkled her nose and looked at Derek, then back at Lila. “Eh, we’ll plan something when we have the time.
Behind her, Derek mouthed, I’m taking her right now.
“So…Kate’s with Elle?” Lila raised her eyebrows. The question was for Jenny. The eyebrows were for Derek. He took out his phone and started texting.
“Yep. We’re picking her up on the way home,” Jenny said.
Lila’s phone pinged. She glanced at Derek, then at her phone. She read the message he’d sent. Seattle tonight. Napa tomorrow.
“You’re not on the Triumph, are you?” Lila said with a frown.
“How would we fit Kate on the bike? Also, children and motorcycles do not mix. Derek’s driving, of course.”
Derek smiled at Lila, his blue eyes warm.
Lila leaped up again. She hugged Jenny. “I’m so happy for you. Both of you. Now stop wasting time, and get your asses on the road.”
* * * *
The bar grew busier after Jenny and Derek left. Lila gave up the booth, not wanting to hog it all on her own, and sat at the bar.
“Hi.”
Lila stared broodingly into her glass. The bubbles had popped. It wasn’t sparkling water anymore. It was plain old flat water. She took a sip. Tepid flat water, since the ice had melted.
“Hey,” a voice said with a thread of amusement.
Tepid water that tasted kind of gross, like weak, bitter lemon. She was drinking flat, warm, bitter water. Lila pushed the glass away.
“Yo.” Knuckles rapped the bar in front of her and Lila glanced up, startled.
Kurt smiled down at her.
Lila stared back at him.
“You okay?” he said when she didn’t return the smile.
Lila shook her head. “Me? Pshaw. I’m fine. Yes. What? You kidding? Yup.”
“Well, that’s convincing.” Someone called from the other end of the bar. Before moving off, Kurt said to Lila, “I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time.”
Kurt Evans was the owner of Emerson’s most popular bar-restaurant, which he had either unimaginatively or egomaniacally named “Kurt’s”, and Lila had been sighing after him for going on two years now.
She was not alone in her admiration. Kurt was powerfully built, had a face symmetrical enough to make you look twice, and an air of all-round competence that Lila found appealing on many levels.
Lila believed in going for what you wanted and had made her interest clear. Kurt had always turned her down. Sliding her empty glass back and forth in the film of condensation that had formed under it, Lila wondered why.
They flirted all the time. It had become a habit. More than that, it had become their thing. That thing they did. Lila teased him. Kurt took it, served it right back. Despite the flash of heat he showed her every now and then, he never took it any further than flirtation.
Then again, Lila realized, she hadn’t taken it further, either.
She’d never made it clear that her teasing was for real.
Was it?
She propped her head in her hand and watched Kurt serve the woman who had called him over. The woman laid a hand on his forearm as he set a wineglass in front of her.
Lila narrowed her eyes.
Kurt gave the woman a killer grin, said something that made her laugh, and came back to Lila.
“What’s got you looking like someone stole your favorite toy?” he said, leaning into his hands, angling his head down to look at her.
“Maybe because someone has?”
He raised a brow.
“Never mind,” she told him.
“Get you another drink?”
Lila considered it, then pushed her empty glass toward him. “Another sparkling water, please.”
Kurt was silent a moment. “You’re drinking…sparkling water?”
“It isn’t my usual straight shot of moonshine, I grant you, but I’m in the mood.”
Kurt opened his mouth to say something, then closed it.
“People can be in the mood for sparkling water,” Lila said.
“Not in my many, many years of experience as a bartender. It’s less a choice drink and more a no-choice drink. As in, non-alcoholic and no sugar or caffeine. No one ever wants it.”
“I want bubbles.”
“Champagne has bubbles. Prosecco. White wine spritzer. Mimosa. I can keep going with about fifty cocktails off the top of my head, but I think you get my point.”
“I’m driving.”
“Sparkling water coming right up.” Kurt flashed her a grin, then his eyes cut to the side and he lifted his chin at the bartender who came out the back in a hurry.
“Sorry I’m late, boss,” Ruth huffed.
“No problem. You know the rules. I’ll be docking your pay.”
Ruth muscled him out of her way. “Try it. Hey, Lila.”
“Hi, Ruth.”
“What are you drinking?”
“Sparkling water.”
Ruth shooed Kurt away. “I’ve got this. Get back to your important business stuff, or whatever it is you do in your lair.”
“Netflix,” Lila suggested.
“You think?” Ruth said. “I always assumed online poker.”
“Accounts,” Kurt told them. “See you around, Lila. Go easy on the water. Ruth, she tries to order another, you cut her off. Two’s the limit. Hear?”
Lila rolled her eyes at Kurt as he left. She watched him pause at the other end of the bar and speak to someone before leaving through the door marked STAFF ONLY.
Kurt was hot enough to give any woman flutters when he smiled. He owned his own business. He was great to spend time with.
Why hadn’t Lila been serious with her flirting, again?
She should get serious.
Shouldn’t she?
Yes, she should.
“One sparkling water, straight up.” Ruth set her drink in front of Lila.
“Thanks.” Lila grabbed her water, chugged it, and slammed it back down. She hopped off the stool and straightened her shoulders.
“Uh-oh,” Ruth said. “Looks like someone means business.”
“Yep. Bye, Ruth.”
She was going to ask Kurt out.
Lila smoothed creases from her skirt with hands that were damp purely from the condensation on the glass and not even remotely because she was nervous because she was Lila Baxter, damn it, and she did not get nervous asking guys out.
Not even a little.
She walked the length of the bar, eyes fixed on the STAFF ONLY door as if it would disappear if she looked away for a second.
A game was playing on the television at this end, opposite the booths. The crowd was thicker and louder. Lila ignored the occasional bump and apology, until she was pinballed in a cluster of goal-celebrating dudes who hadn’t even noticed her trying to ease past. One guy leaped off his stool and cannoned right into her, sending her flying.
Great freaking start, Lila had time to think, waiting for her face to kiss the floor. An arm shot out and someone caught her around the waist, taking her clean off her feet. She was lifted back to standing and set gently down, and the arm dropped away.
“Woah.” Lila turned to the man who’d saved her from being trampled by a group of idiots and/or flashing her underwear at a group of idiots as she scrambled off the floor. “Nice catch.”
The man nodded. Lila had nothing more than a brief impression of wide dark eyes, either brown or green, before he returned to his drink.
Okay, not friendly. His attitude didn’t dent her gratitude one bit. She reached up—damn, he was tall—to lay a hand on his big shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. “Thanks,” she said, and took advantage of a gap opening in the crowd to dart through.
Feeling the man’s attention on her, Lila glanced back as she opened the door. His face was shadowed by the brim of his cap, but she knew he was looking at her. Lila blew him a jaunty kiss, and slipped away from the noise and the crowds.
The door closed with a thump. All sound from the bar cut out.
Lila straightened her blouse, fluffed her hair, and strode to Kurt’s office.
She gave the door a brisk knock, then panicked.
Bad idea.
Run.
She was turning on her heel when Kurt yelled from inside, “Yeah?”
You’re committed now. Just do it.
Lila turned the handle and stepped in.
Kurt sat behind an enormous desk, frowning at a laptop. He held up a finger and clicked the mouse a few times before he looked up. He blinked with surprise. “Lila.” He snatched the reading glasses off his nose, opened a drawer, dropped them in, and slammed it. It bounced open. He slammed it again. This time it stayed shut.
Shame. He looked hot in glasses. “I have to know,” Lila said, tilting her head at the laptop. “Netflix or poker?”
Kurt stood and came around the desk. He twisted the laptop to face her for a moment, showing a complicated spreadsheet. “Still accounts. My favorite.” Leaning against the desk, he folded his brawny arms over his chest. “Did you and Ruth have a bet?”
Lila could still back out of this. And she was considering it. She wasn’t a body language expert, but she wasn’t completely stupid, either. As well as his arms, Kurt had crossed his legs.
It was not an encouraging stance.
She could agree with him that she came to settle a bet between her and Ruth, get Ruth to go along with it…but she was here now. She’d see it through.
“Listen up, Kurt,” she said. “I have a proposition for you.”
He watched her, cautious.
Yeah, he was going to say no, wasn’t he?
Lila persevered. “I like you. You like me. You’re fun, we get on, and in the interests of full disclosure, your tattoos are awesome.” He didn’t crack a smile. “What do you say? Want to go to dinner sometime?”
Kurt dropped his gaze to the floor for a moment, and blew out a breath. “Lila.”
She arranged her face in a hey, no big deal, just asking kind of expression.
He looked up. “I don’t think you and I are a good idea.”
Lila cocked a hip. “Good idea or bad idea, that’s irrelevant. Fun idea? That’s what counts.”
“I can’t give you what you’re looking for.”
Lila narrowed her eyes a fraction. “Dinner. Dinner is what I am proposing here.”
Kurt shifted, uncrossing his arms and hooking his thumbs in his front pockets. “We both know you were proposing more.”
“Coffee after dinner.” Lila made finger guns. What the hell am I doing?
“If it was just that, I’d say yes. In a heartbeat. Believe me.”
Lila blinked. “Then say yes, because it is just that.”
“It’s not.”
“It is. I am asking you out for dinner and coffee.” Stop making finger guns. “Very straightforward. We get on. We’re attracted to each other. We could have fun.”
Kurt’s voice was gentle when he said, “You didn’t follow me back here because you’re looking for fun, Lila.”
Did he have to say it like that? Followed him? She didn’t follow him. She came back here because it’s where he was. There was no following. That sounded desperate.
“You want more,” Kurt said.
“I do, huh?”
Kurt nodded.
Wow. “All right. I’ll bite. Enlighten me, genius who can see into my brain. What more do I want?”
“You turned thirty. Your best friend is engaged and living with her fiancé, has a kid, a family. It’s perfectly natural for you to be looking for the same thing.”
Wow. Lila pointed at Kurt. “I’m looking at you for that, am I?” She’d joked about having Kurt’s babies with Jenny before, key words here being joked, and with Jenny. For Kurt to assume she’d locked her desperate spinster sights on him put her hackles aaaall the way up.
He shrugged.
“Weird. I thought I came in here to ask a friend out for dinner and maybe, if it ended up that way, coffee. I had no idea I was on a husband hunt. Or searching for the man to sire my children. Phew. Thanks, Kurt. Without your insight, I could have ended up in a whole load of trouble, married to and knocked up by a man I’d only wanted to share a meal with. Not the rest of my life. Thank god one of us is smart enough to know what I’m really thinking. I’m surprised it’s not me, what with us discussing, you know, my intentions and motivations, but I forgot. I’m in the presence of a penis. My feeble estrogen-based reasoning skills are vastly eclipsed.”
Kurt had the stones to laugh, the asshole. “Honey—”
“I have to admit, Kurt, you disappoint me. I thought you were a good guy.”
He stopped laughing. “Because I turned you down, I’m not a good guy? That’s not fair.”
“That’s not why I’m re-evaluating my assessment of your personality. If you don’t find me attractive, I at least thought you knew me well enough to be straight with me. You could have said, ‘Thanks, Lila, but I don’t feel the chemistry. Let’s continue our harmless flirtation, okay? Awesome. See you, buddy.’”
“Right. It’s that simple.”
Lila stepped toward him. “It is that simple. What, you think I haven’t heard no before?”
“Not really.”
Lila hesitated. That was…kind of flattering? Kurt shifted and his focus dropped to her lips. “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded, reaching out and lifting his chin with the flat of her hand, directing his eyes back up.
“What?” He curled warm fingers around her wrist.
“You are a tease, Kurt Evans.” She looked pointedly at his hold and he let go. “Is this an ego thing for you? You turned me down two seconds ago, and now you’re smoldering at me?”
“I’m not smoldering, for god’s sake.”
“Stop looking at my mouth, Kurt.”
He swore and glanced up, guilty.
Lila threw her hands out. “You are the biggest flirt I’ve ever met. You turned me down. Three seconds ago. Kurt.” He was staring at her mouth again.
“Goddammit.” He thrust a hand through his hair. “We’re a bad idea, Lila.”
Was he trying to convince her or himself? No need to convince her. “I agree. Flirting is fun, being yanked around is not. Let me clarify. Being yanked around in bed, bring it on. Being yanked around emotionally, fuck no. You’re doing it again. Cut it out. My proposition is off the table. I’m telling you here and now, if you try to kiss me, I will bite.”
“I have no doubt.”
“The kissing train has left the station.”
“The kissing train?”
“As far as you’re concerned, all the sexual trains have departed. The kissing train. The fooling-around train. The where’s-my-underwear train. Wait, what’s that?” She cupped a hand around her ear. “That was the orgasm train. No orgasms for you. Not from me.”
Kurt’s eyes were fixed on hers. “You’re making this hard, Lila.”
“Sucks to be you. Oh, the sucking train? That’s gone, too.”
Kurt seemed to be half turned-on and half trying not to laugh. “God, I wish it was worth it, but…it’s not.”
Lila felt breathless, as if she’d been winded. “Not worth it?”
Kurt shook his head.
“I’ve been rejected a fair few times in my life. Until today, no one has ever told me to my face that I’m not worth it.”
“I didn’t say you’re not worth it. I said you and me hooking up isn’t worth it. People will get hurt. Believe it or not, I don’t like hurting people.”
“The woman you said isn’t worth it does not believe you don’t like hurting people.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry, Lila.” He ducked to look into her eyes. “Shit. Honey. Are you going to cry?”
Was she going to…? Asshole. “Keep talking and someone’s going to be crying any minute now. Spoiler alert: it won’t be me.” Kurt edged away. “You might want to get all the way behind your desk,” Lila told him sweetly. “I can still reach you from here.”