Molly

THE SKY TODAY WAS A grayish white, the sun hiding in its thickness. I was supposed to be playing hostess with the mostest, but my mood was screaming crabbiness. I blamed the weather. While there wasn’t an ounce of rain coming from the overcast gloom, it felt like it would be more appropriate to have some sort of moisture. Maybe just enough to get me out of taking Sandra to the Crabfest that was going on downtown starting around noon.

After a restless night and a non-intentional cold shower, thank you very much hot water heater for crapping out on me five minutes in. The damn pilot light probably went out, which shouldn’t happen on a new unit. I wanted nothing more than to curl up back in my bed with a good book, my coffee, and maybe take a nap.

There was a knock at the bathroom door. I opened it in my bra and underwear, a towel wrapped around my head. Sandra stood there with her typical all black clothing, her hair looking fresh and perfectly coiffed.

“Well, hello there, sunshine. Don’t you look like good time,” she said in a sultry voice, her eyes scanning down my barely covered body.

I started to shut the door on her, but she laughed as she blocked my attempt. “I didn’t sleep much,” I grumbled, smearing toothpaste on my toothbrush and jamming it in my mouth.

She cocked a brow and smirked. “I can see that. The bags under your eyes gave you away. Cucumbers and a face mask solves all problems. So does vodka. Why didn’t you sleep?”

I slurped some dripping saliva. My appearance in the mirror was atrocious. The old medicine cabinet I was staring into was rusted around the edges, and the mirror itself had speckled black spots from wear and tear. I’d already tried to wipe them off, but it was chunks of material that were worn off. This damn thing made me look older than I felt. “Looming deadlines and a house that doesn’t want to stop falling apart.”

She blinked, kind of confused. “Honey, this is what you wanted. And if you are thinking about two nights ago, the bathroom is all well and dry.”

I twisted to look at her. “Sure, but not for it to be happening all at once.” I sounded whiny even to myself. “I’m allowed bad days. Contrary to popular opinion, I do frown.”

“I’ve never told you that you had to be happy all the time. In fact, it’s pretty annoying that you usually are.”

I barely cracked a smile. “It’s all the coffee us writers have to drink to keep our agents happy and on time with manuscripts.”

“You know, Molly, that smart aleck attitude will get you everywhere in life. I’d also like to add”—she pointed at my bra—“if you owned any cute undergarments, it would help make your day a little brighter.”

“My panties have nothing to do with my day.”

“The hell it doesn’t. Buy yourself a matching set lace bra and underwear and you let me know if it doesn’t make you feel a little bit more confident and happy.”

I rolled my eyes. “We’ll see.”

Sandra leaned against the doorframe and it protested under her lithe weight. She glanced at it and then smiled at me. “This house sure is something.”

“Yeah.” I sarcastically chuckled. “Is that the right word for it? I’m really starting to regret my decision to buy it.” I rinsed and spat, wiping my mouth with the hanging hand towel. “By the way, any idea how to relight a pilot light?”

“Nope! Not a damn clue. But I know someone who might.” The devilish grin I’d come to recognize appeared, true to form.

“What?”

She jerked her head to the side. “Mr. Whitmore would probably gladly take a look at your water heater. And maybe a few other things.”

“Argh!” I groaned. “That man and his ego don’t even fit through the door.”

She chortled. “Okay, maybe he’s a bit cocky, but he’s someone who can help, don’t you think? He’s close by, and I have a hard time believing he’d overcharge you for the things that need to be done.”

She could be right about that. I just didn’t want his attractive arrogance in here telling me all the things I should have done differently or telling me what to do. Especially not looking like a snack I wanted to nibble on. It would make things awkward. I lived here, and he was my neighbor. The last thing I needed was seeing him in town, or any other place. It turn into a case of me shuffling my feet and looking like an idiot who couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“I’m not going to disagree with you. But let’s just leave it at I’ll think about it. When time comes that I need help with something, I’ll pull out his business card.”

Sandra turned and started down the hallway back to her room. “Or you could knock on his door again.”

“Ha-ha,” I said sarcastically and closed the door.

Not a chance in hell.

An hour later, Sandra and I were down by the water at the local coffee shop I frequented. It was a little busier than usual since the festival was about to start and tourists were walking about, including us.

I loved it in here. The sounds of beans being ground, steaming of milk, the low hum of patrons talking and sipping their drinks. It put me in a state of ease. This particular building was part of an old clam canning factory. The original logo was still painted on the exposed brick and the new owners used it as part of the décor. The ceilings were high and black metal pipes ran from one end to the other. The floors were a glossed over cement. While it was industrial, the atmosphere made me feel warm, even against all of its cold-looking material.

As we stood in line, I eyed the pastry case, and my stomach growled. I was starving. I wanted to wait to eat something till we got to the festival, but I wasn’t going to make it. And who was I kidding, crab was my favorite food. I’d have plenty of room to gorge myself on the sweet meatiness of crab meat. In the meantime, a large macchiato and blueberry muffin would hit the spot.

There were still three people in front of us, and Sandra and I were bickering over who was going to pay. I wasn’t in the least bit aware of anybody else around us, or who could be listening. That was until I heard the grunt I’d sadly come to recognize and loathe. I blinked at Sandra and watched as she narrowed her eyes and nearly moaned at the sight of the man behind me.

I didn’t want to turn around. I felt a bit testier today just because of my lack of sleep. Blake appearing reminded me of summer time, when you walk into a random cloud of gnats. You move around, and they follow you. And no matter how much you swat at them and show your annoyance with their presence they still hover.

Slowly I turned around and faced the man who was standing entirely too close. I had to tell myself not to look at him. Well, don’t not look at him, but don’t be obvious and check him out. I didn’t want to know what he was wearing, how he looked, or how he smelled. Nope, not at all. Not as those illustrious dark brown eyes nearly penetrated through me and sent shivers over my skin. His stare was harsh and invasive of my space. While I was chewing the inside of my cheek to help control my nerves he was eliciting, he didn’t hide the fact he was once again visually consuming me.

I needed a cold drink of water. Screw the hot coffee. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

Blake was the first to speak. “Sandra, right?” His eyes briefly shot over to her, waiting for confirmation. When she said ‘yes,’ he looked back at me.

“Hello, Millie.” He grinned from ear to ear.

The white of his teeth was a temporary distraction from his insult. Temporary being the keyword.

Anger began building in my gut. I looked at my friend. “Seriously, what is with this guy? You want me to let him do work on my house and expect him to take proper measurements, but he can’t even remember my name?”

Blake chuckled, and it grated my nerves. “Relax, princess. I know your name.” He waited till I made eye contact. “Molly.” He said it so seductively, I had no idea my name could sound like that coming from someone else’s lips.

I exhaled in a failed attempt to compose myself. “Is this just a game you like to play to annoy people? Isn’t that a bit childish?”

He stood back. I stole a moment to see he was wearing a salmon-colored, long-sleeved shirt and jeans that were clean for once. Gray Nikes topped off his look, which oddly gave him a much younger appearance. His hair was disheveled and slightly damp from the few droplets that were now steadily falling. I envisioned him running his fingers through it and physically brushing the water away. The very idea that I found him sexy right now when he was purposefully trying to piss me off made me want to slap him.

“Not childish, but I like that it ruffles your feathers so easily.”

Sandra chortled. I swung back in her direction. “This isn’t funny. What—why are you laughing?” This must be some really bad joke they were both playing on me or something because I couldn’t fathom why she found this entertaining.

“Honey”—she placed her hand on her hip—“the man is being an ass, which men do frequently. Shake it off.”

I looked up at the ceiling. She was right. I was overreacting and it was uncalled for. He was baiting me and I took the worm. If he was twistedly enjoying getting me flustered, then maybe I could play his own game. I closed my eyes and loosened the muscles that were tight as a knot in my spine. Opening my eyes, I looked back at Blake and grinned.

Allowing my eyes to travel down his body and back up to his face, I watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. I tried my best at being seductive with my perusal of him, but I had no idea if it seemed sultry, or if I was sneering. He narrowed his eyes at me.

Tilting my head to the side, I curiously asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be wearing flannel or something? Have a beard?” I leaned forward and nearly pressed my nose to his collar. “Or smell like wood?”

I resumed my position next to Sandra and caught what seemed to be him collecting himself.

“You watch too much HGTV.”

I quirked my brow. “On the contrary, I don’t really watch television.”

“And this”—he rubbed his chin—“this is a beard.

I scoffed. “That’s scruff.”

“Which is a beard.”

I glanced at the man standing behind him, who was getting some mild entertainment from our banter. He was stalky and very burly-looking. He was wearing forest-green-rimmed glasses and had a round face, which the bottom half was coated in hair.

I pointed. “That’s what a beard looks like. You have a five o’clock shadow.”

He barely peeked over his shoulder before glaring at me. While this was fun and all, I was hardly interested in continuing to have what felt like a preschool argument over facial hair in the middle of a coffee shop. It was also making my mood sourer.

I decided to give him my back and continue to wait my turn in line.

“For the record, I love the beard,” Sandra chimed.

I gaped at her and heard Blake chuckling behind me. “You know what? I’m done with you today. Buy your own damn coffee.”

She tugged at my arm, which I’d crossed over my chest. “Down, girl. It’s a game. He’s just like a little boy who likes you but pulls your hair and leaves a frog on your desk. Just go with it.”

Sandra had spoken low enough that he didn’t hear what she said.

“No, thanks. I’m not interested.”

“Oh, please. Anybody who can get a rise out of you like this is someone worth looking in too. And I say you start with your kitchen cupboards.”

“No,” I stated firmly.

We stepped up to the register, as it was our turn to order. The girl behind the counter had a small ring in her nose, bright blue eyes, and her hair was parted down the middle with long amber-colored strands twisted up into two buns on either side of her head. I couldn’t see what she was wearing behind her apron, but tattoos were showing around her wrists. I’d seen her two other times before, but I’d yet to ask her name. If I was going to be a regular, I should probably learn these things. I smiled at her as I approached, but she didn’t reciprocate.

“Hi, I’ll have a caramel macchiato and a blueberry muffin. Plus whatever she’s having.” I resigned and decided to pay for Sandra’s. She could make up for her betrayal to my ego later with a bottle of wine.

She stood beside me and ordered a large black coffee. Of course she didn’t get anything to eat. I whipped out my debit card before she had a chance of finding her wallet in her massive bag. I was reaching across the counter when a male forearm brushed against mine and handed the tattooed girl a twenty. I inhaled. My eyes shot up to Blake, who was looking down at me, daring me to say something. Oh hell, I don’t think so, pal.

“What are you doing?”

“Morning, Lauren. I’ll have my usual, and include theirs on my bill,” he replied, completely ignoring my question or my reaction to the skin contact.

It took point-zero-one seconds for the cashier’s face to morph from blasé toward Sandra and me, to beaming and batting her long black lashes at Blake. I was getting a firsthand taste at the effect he had on women. At least it wasn’t just me, but I did a much better job of hiding my attraction to him. The level in which I found him annoying cranked up another notch. He reciprocated her smile. The brief flash of his white teeth and dark eyes made him appear almost predatory. Jesus, the man knew what he was doing. This one little girl was all I needed to witness to know Blake Whitmore was a cheetah in a desert full of thirsty women. I took a step back and my eyes took in what I sensed. Just about every female pair of eyes noticed the most attractive man in the room.

My brows came together as even men noticed him. Some puffed their chests very subtly as they knew their wives had looked. Others did a casual glance.

“How’ve you been, Blake?”

Lauren, as I learned was her name, started filling a cup with black coffee. She handed it to Sandra without so much as acknowledging her. Sandra wasn’t in the least bit miffed by it. I continued to watch their exchange as my friend walked over to the condiment counter to stir in a packet of sugar.

“Good, just busy as usual.”

The barista finished my drink and called my name. I snatched it off the counter but continued to watch their exchange with rapt attention. Lauren ignored the man behind Blake as she thickly smeared on her desperation for a piece of my neighbor.

She tilted forward, pushing her chest out, and ran her tongue across her teeth. “Well, if you ever need a way to decompress, you know I’ve been taking classes for massage therapy. I’d totally give you one for free. Do you still have my number?” She handed him his change.

I saw his eyes widen so subtly, but she was too intent on her mission to realize it.

“Yes, and thank you for the uh, offer. I’ll check my calendar to see if I have any time.” He cleared his throat. “Let me step out of the way so this gentleman can place his order.” He tipped his head, nodding to the man I’d complimented his beard.

While Lauren didn’t seem pleased, Blake came to stand beside me and gave her his back. I had a passing thought that maybe the two of them might have had a short-lived thing, but after that exchange she was definitely more into him than he may have ever been with her. Relief settled into my stomach and annoyance flared on my face.

I hadn’t the foggiest clue who he was. My reaction wasn’t warranted. I didn’t know his family life, if he’s been married before, or what type of music he enjoyed. I knew nothing besides my brief interactions and what I’d read online. Relief wasn’t a feeling I should be allowing. Jealousy was not welcome here.

Pressing my lips into a thin line, I pulled out the ten-dollar bill I’d planned on using to pay for the drinks and pressed it into Blake’s palm. “Here. While I appreciate you buying my coffee, it wasn’t necessary. Have a good morning.”

I mentally patted myself on the back. Short, sweet, and to the point.

“I don’t need you to pay me back.”

“I didn’t ask for you to pay for me either.”

The corners of his eyes squinted, and his jaw clenched.

“Welllll, it’s finally stopped raining,” Sandra said, sidling up next to me. “Suppose it’s a good time to start our day of walking and exploring. Blake, are you going to the crab festival?”

If she so much as invited him to join us, I was walking out of here and going home. She could find her own way back.

“Nah. I grew up here and have had my fill of crab and clams.”

Thank God.

“Oh, clams! That sounds delicious.”

“There will be a few booths with fried ones. They’re worth trying.”

They casually smiled at one another. I saw the barista place another coffee on the counter and looked at Blake.

“Seems your usual is ready.” I mustered a pleasant face and started walking backward toward the door. “Sandra, let’s head out.”

He looked to his right and saw the drink.

Thankfully she didn’t skip a beat and came to my side. “It was good seeing you.”

A sinister smirk crossed his beautiful mouth, and light danced in his dark eyes. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you both sooner than later.” Then he gave us his back.

We stepped outside into the cool air. I tried to let the briskness sweep over me and clear my head. Besides the clouds, the temperatures were only slightly milder than they were in the New England area this time of year. It felt good to me. The rain had ceased, but the sidewalks were covered in little pools.

“What did he mean by that?” I inquired curiously.

Wrapping my hands around the warmth of my cup, I took a sip. She remained quiet. There was something I needed to remember walking away from this situation. Blake was my annoying neighbor. There were not going to be any romantic feelings here. While I would acknowledge my attraction to him, I needed to catalog it in my brain as a basic feeling any person could feel toward another human being. It didn’t mean it grew into a relationship. He wasn’t my type. I liked nice, calm, and less smug.

“Let’s stop in that art shop up here. I wanted to talk to them about getting a print sent out to my apartment. There’s no way it would make it on the plane unscathed.” She ignored my question. Which was fine. I don’t think I was really looking for a response.

I marched ahead, effectively forgetting about Blake for the rest of the day.