Bad Taste in Men (Clover Park, Book 3) Contemporary Romance (The Clover Park Series) (15 page)

He put an arm around her shoulders and guided her toward her apartment. “What’s up with Barry?”

“What’s up with Janelle?” she fired back.

He chuckled. “You put up a good fight. Just let go.”

“Let go of what? I’m
not
fighting.” She stopped and jabbed a finger in the air. “You’re the one at fault here. You haven’t even tried to kiss me all week.”

His lips twitched. “I’m giving you space. I know you, Rach. If I push, you’ll put up all those prickly defenses you’re so good at. It’s your move. I’m not going anywhere.”

Shane was so confusing. Her move? She didn’t have any moves. She was moveless. But having him here so solid, so kind brought something home to her. Shane was better than any guy she might ever get set up with. He really was. She should tell him—

Oh, no. She hurried over to a bush and puked. She stood unsteadily and lifted her chin. “Good night, kind sir.”

Shane stared at her. She made her way to the back entrance of her apartment. Shane followed at a distance. She successfully unlocked the door and went inside, vaguely disappointed Shane hadn’t pulled the prince carrying the princess act up the stairs. She supposed she slipped down a notch on the attractiveness scale after puking. She never could hold her liquor.

She walked straight to the bedroom and flopped down on the bed, dumping her purse on the nightstand. Her cell rang. She dug around in her purse and answered it. “Princess speaking.”

“Just wanted to make sure you got in okay,” Shane said. “Good night, princess.”

“Good night to you, sir.”

He chuckled, and she hung up. She hugged the phone and fell asleep.

~ ~ ~

Shane thought about the progress on the café as he walked to the library for the second street-fair meeting. Things were going well. The plumber came last Friday and installed the in-line water feeds he wanted for the espresso and coffee machines, as well as ran the pipe for two sinks he wanted by the prep areas behind the counter. The water softener went in today. The electrician was due on Wednesday, and the painter was scheduled for Friday. The painter promised to work into the weekend in exchange for Shane giving out sports water bottles with the painter’s logo at the street fair.

He walked by the ancient librarian on his way to the conference room. “Hi, Miss Smith, how are you?”

“I’m just fine, Shane. How lovely to see you again.” She lowered her cat's-eye glasses and gave him a once-over that made him feel a little dirty. “Let me know if I can help you with anything.”

“Thanks,” he said over his shoulder as he picked up the pace.

Everyone was already seated and talking when he got there.

“Hey, sorry I’m a little late,” Shane said. “Big crush at the shop. The travel baseball team made it to the semifinals, and they were celebrating.”

“No problem, mate,” Barry said.

Mate? Shane raised his hand in greeting to Gabe, Liz, Janelle, and Rachel. He noticed an empty seat between Janelle and Rachel. He took it.

Big mistake.

“Your boyfriend’s here,” Janelle hissed over him to Rachel.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Rachel snapped.

Shane leaned back to get out of the line of fire.

“He said he couldn’t meet me for drinks because he had feelings for someone else. You, obviously.”

Shane felt his cheeks burn. That was a private conversation. Gabe raised a brow, clearly getting a kick out of this little scene.

“So that’s why you set me up with that thieving asshole?” Rachel asked.

Set her up? What? He bolted upright, looking from Rachel to Janelle.

“I told you he seemed nice,” Janelle said. “He reads Dostoyevsky in class. I thought you guys would have literature in common.”

“Let me guess,
Crime and Punishment
?” Rachel asked.

Janelle’s eyes widened. “How’d you know?”

Rachel leaned over him, her eyes shooting fire at Janelle. “Oh, I don’t know, wild guess?” Her voice rose in agitation. “He stole a woman’s purse!” she hollered.

“Now, ladies,” Barry started.

Shane held up his hand to Barry and turned to Rachel. “Wait, you went on a date, and Barry was there too?”

“Janelle set it up,” Rachel said. “Without telling me!” She shot Janelle a lethal look.

“Luckily, it turned out all right,” Barry said. “Rachel and I had a good time despite that thief. Right?”

Shane glared at Barry, who merely smiled, unaware of the treacherous ground he was stepping into. He turned to Rachel. “You go out with a thief, then go drinking with Barry? What the hell are you doing?”

Rachel glared at him, mutinously silent.

“Shane, let’s take a breather,” Gabe said.

“Maybe we should get back to the meeting agenda,” Liz suggested. “We still haven’t confirmed exactly the location of the street fair.”

“Yes, let’s get back to business,” Barry said, tapping his pink Dancing Cow pen on his Dancing Cow napkin.

Janelle leaned over Shane and turned accusing eyes at Rachel. “Boy, you get around.”

Rachel gasped. “I do not get around!”

Janelle tossed her pen and notepad at Rachel. “Take your own damn minutes. And don’t expect me at work tomorrow. I quit.”

“Janelle, don’t quit!” Rachel cried. “I need you. You’re my only employee.”

“You should’ve thought of that before you started messing with my love life, pawning me off on the guy you really wanted for yourself.” She stood and looked down her nose at Rachel. “I only took this job because it was so slow I could study at the same time. I’d rather work at a fucking library!”

Miss Smith peered around the corner. “Excuse me, young lady, you’ll have to keep your voice down. This is a library.”

“I know it’s a library!” Janelle hollered.

Miss Smith’s eyes narrowed behind her cat's-eye frames. “Exit the premises immediately.”

“I was leaving anyway!” Janelle stomped off.

Rachel took off after her as fast as she could given her ankle still slowed her down.

The room went quiet.

“Last meeting we talked about kiddie entertainment,” Barry said into the awkward silence. “I know a clown who will do balloon animals for five dollars a balloon.”

“Who pays the five dollars?” Gabe asked. “Us or the kids?”

“Us,” Barry said.

“That’s too expensive,” Shane said. “Tons of families show up for this thing.”

He peered out into the hallway, looking for signs of Rachel. She’d left her purse here, so he knew she’d be back. What the hell was she doing? Kissing him and then going out with someone else—a thief no less—and then drinking with Barry. She’d rather go out with a thief and this ridiculous dancing-cow guy than him?

“What would you suggest for entertainment?” Barry asked.

“Why not invite the thief for fro-yo?” Shane said. “That sounded very entertaining. Or maybe you could have drinks with Rachel again.”

Gabe inclined his head to the door. “Shane, let’s go for a walk.”

Shane shook him off. “No, I want to hear exactly what happened that night.”

“I think we’re getting off the agenda?” Barry said, tapping his pen like crazy.

Shane crossed his arms and went silent. Liz jumped in, and the three of them worked out some plans for entertainment. Something about tricycle races and a peewee run. Shane only half listened as he waited for Rachel to come back.

Finally Rachel slipped into the room, looking serious. Probably worried about losing an employee. She was better off without Janelle if Janelle was mad at her and goofing off all the time, studying instead of paying attention to the customers.

“Sorry about that,” Rachel said quietly. “What’d I miss?”

Barry filled her in.

“Sounds good,” Rachel said. “Why don’t we start the peewee race at The Dancing Cow? Then you could give out coupons and wacky glasses. That would encourage them to return later for fro-yo, and the glasses would make for some great photo ops.”

“Excellent idea!” Barry exclaimed.

Shane seethed. Rachel had clearly shifted into the Barry camp. The meeting adjourned. Shane waited outside for Rachel, trying to get a hold of his temper. It took a lot to make him mad, and Rachel had pushed him just far enough.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said when Rachel emerged from the library with Liz.

Rachel stared at him. “I’m walking with—”

“We’ll talk later, egg,” Liz said.

Rachel scowled as Liz walked on ahead of them. “Chicken!” she called after Liz.

Shane couldn’t hold it in any longer. “You’d rather go out with a thief than me? With a dancing-cow guy? What the hell?”

Rachel regarded him steadily. “You’re my business partner.”

“So?”

Rachel walked as quickly as she could. She probably would’ve run if she didn’t have a sprained ankle.

“So that’s it,” she said. “That’s the answer. That’s
always
the answer. We are business partners. The end.”

“You kissed me,” he said, holding on to his temper, barely. That fire between them hadn’t been one-sided. He knew it like he knew a good sauce and exactly when it was hot enough to boil over. That was how their kiss in Ry’s kitchen had been—a near boil, barely contained.

She didn’t say anything, just kept walking.

“What’s with you and Barry?” he asked.

“We’re friends. He’s a nice guy.”

So was he. That’s what nice guys got. The
friend
treatment.

“What happened between you and Janelle?” he asked.

She stopped and glared at him. “You. You happened.”

“What did I do?”

“Apparently she wants you, and you don’t want her, and somehow I’m to blame.”

He put a hand on the small of her back. “Rach—”

She looked away. “Business partners. The end.”

He dropped his hand, torn between carrying her off and showing her how much more they were than that, and pulling back and giving her exactly what she claimed she wanted. He’d wanted to give her space, but now hearing about the two guys she’d seen in one night, he was finding it very hard to do. He’d dropped Janelle after one dinner, hadn’t even kissed her, and here Rachel had gone out with two guys. Two guys!

Barry pulled up in his cowmobile and mooed. “Stop by for free fro-yo any time you want, Rachel!”

She smiled. “Thanks, Barry.”

Barry waved and drove off. Shane couldn’t stand one more minute watching these two. He wasn’t in the same category of friend as Barry. How could she pretend that he was?

He walked Rachel to her place in tense silence. She wanted to be just business partners, then fine, that’s what she’d get. He wasn’t going to put himself out there only to have her stomp on his heart all over again.

They arrived at her apartment door.

“Night, partner,” he said coolly. He turned on his heel and walked back to his place.

“Night,” she said softly.

He picked up the pace, ignoring that soft tone that made him want to carry her off to bed and never let her go. He went for a run, hoping sheer physical exhaustion would get Rachel out of his head. All he got for his trouble was tired.

Chapter Twelve

Rachel was super busy at Book It the next couple of weeks on account of being the only employee. She’d roped Liz into subbing a few hours here and there so Rachel could keep working on the café with Shane. Things were going perfectly there. Shane supervised the contractors, and they’d already completed plumbing, electric, and painted the walls. Now they were installing the cabinets and counter that Shane had ordered. She should’ve been on top of the world. Everything was going so smoothly. Except Shane was so distant.

Gone were the warm looks she’d grown accustomed to. No more sweet, dimpled smiles just for her. No more alpha looks giving her hot flashes. He was professional, polite, considerate. The perfect business partner.

She hated it.

She put up a sign on the front window of her shop announcing she’d be back in fifteen minutes and headed across the street to Shane’s Scoops for the only decent coffee in the area. At least until their café opened.

She got in line. Shane and Matt were working.

“Hi, guys,” she said. “Can I get a latte?”

“Hey,” Shane said. He inclined his head to Matt.

“Coming right up,” Matt said.

Shane busied himself rinsing out a pitcher.

“What’s up?” she asked.

He stopped and met her eyes, no warmth in those blue eyes, just a blank expression. “We should get the coffee brewing machine and grinder delivered tomorrow.”

“Awesome! We should try them out. Do some taste tests.”

He nodded. No warmth. No enthusiasm. Rachel’s stomach dropped a notch lower into the beginnings of despair. She was losing him, losing his friendship, the one thing she wanted to keep more than anything.

“Aren’t you excited?” she asked, hating the way her voice came out small. “We’re almost there.” Matt handed her the latte. “Thanks.”

“I’m excited,” he said flatly.

He didn’t sound excited. He sounded like he barely cared about the café, barely cared about her.

She took a step back, hurt by his withdrawal. She still wanted him in her life. She missed hanging out like they used to. He used to pop by for lunch whenever he had a chance, two or three times a week. They never binge-watched Brit comedy like they used to. They used to laugh themselves silly watching shows like
The IT Crowd
while eating popcorn at her place.

“You busy tonight?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on. Accounting stuff.” He didn’t meet her eyes.

She knew when she was getting the brush-off. “Okay, well, if you need a break, stop by. I just got
Not Going Out
seasons one, two, and three. It’s supposed to be really funny.”

“Maybe.”

She gestured for him to walk over to the side, away from Matt, for a private conversation. “Are you mad at me? I thought we were friends.”

He crossed his arms. “We are.”

“Friends hang out.”

He said nothing, but his body language clearly said:
Back off
.

She swallowed hard over the lump in her throat. “I miss you.”

He shifted from one foot to the other. “We see each other all the time. We’re working together. Speaking of which, I have to get back to work.”