Page 4 of Polished Off

“Tate, I’m sorry! I didn’t know.” An apology? As if a simple ‘sorry’ mends the jagged hole she’s torn through my heart.

“You know what? It’s fine, Jill. Fine. Just…” Defeat and weariness have me feeling brittle. “I’ll get the materials to fix the pipe. Just stay in your office, and I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

A sniffle carries through the heavy wood of the door as I turn to make my way back through the kitchen to leave. Leaving Jill in tears challenges every instinct in me except self-preservation. I fight back the final vestiges of chivalry, urging me to go back and make things right with her, and push through the metal back door of the bar.

The warm spring breeze feels frigid against my still wet clothes. Or maybe, it’s just my frozen heart making my bones feel iced over. Either way, as I make my way back to Bishop’s Glazing, I realize I can’t go back to the bar. Not today.

Inside the stifling-hot workshop where I piece together beautiful works of stained-glass art, I grab the hoodie I’d discarded earlier and throw it on over my damp button down. My phone’s managed to stay reasonably dry my the front pocket, and I pull it out to scroll to my contact for Thomas at the hardware store.

“Hey, Thomas. How’re you this morning? Look, I need a favor.”

Chapter

Five

JILL

How I can lose something I never had is brain-meltingly hard to wrap my head around. Yet, somehow, in the silence that falls once Tate’s footsteps fade, I realize that’s exactly what just happened. Quivers of arousal from the scene I interrupted, Tate working his tight fist over that long, impossibly thick cock, are still rattling through me. Part of my mind replays those moments over and over, even as my heart stutters and cracks.

The way my name rumbled from his chest and his eyes held me frozen in place has never happened to me. I mean, let’s be real. Jill is not the name of a sensual goddess. But on his lips? With his enormous hand roughly working back and forth over an erection so large his thumb and fingers only barely touched? I felt wanton and wanted. Worshipped even.

And how did I respond to such an unexpectedly erotic moment? I lobbed a nerd grenade, with that stupid trivia factoid, into the room and run for my life. I’m all mixed up and out of my depth, especially with that bombshell he dropped that counters the rumors I’ve blindly believed.

I have no idea how much time passes before I hear the thud of the kitchen door swinging closed then two sets of footsteps when I expected only one. Deep male voices speak, but not to me. Easing open the door to my office, so I can eavesdrop, I realize Tate’s brought Thomas, the owner of the hardware store, with him, and the two are discussing my plumbing crisis.

There’s no chance I can clear up things with him right now, so I take the coward’s way out and hide in my office. On the plus side, there’s a mountain of paperwork to keep me occupied. It’s just too bad all the paperwork in the universe can’t make me busy enough to stop obsessing over how much I hurt Tate.

Only an hour or two passes before Thomas knocks on the door of my office and lets me know they’re done repairing the pipe and even cleaning up the mess.

“Thank you so much, Thomas. What do I owe you?” I ask. Magnolia Point is a small town, but it’s still a shock to me the way community members help out one another, with no questions asked.

“Nothing. Materials are already bought, and I’m happy to help out.” Thomas is a nice guy, and I’m thankful for his help. But he’s not Tate.

“Where, uh, where did Tate go?” The question is asked before I realize I’m going to ask it.

“He said he had a phone conference scheduled with a customer. Since we’re done with everything, I told him I’d let you know before heading back to the store.”

“Alright, well, I appreciate your help. Stop by for a beer on the house. Okay? Oh, or hey!” Inspiration strikes. “Why don’t you come tonight for the speed dating event?”

I can almost hear Thomas’s blush as he stammers out a response. Poor guy. I’ve heard he was quite the jock during his teenage years. A real baseball star for the high school in town. Funny how down to earth and even somewhat shy he is, now.

Realization that I’ve always viewed Thomas as how he is now, rather than how gossip paints him, all while denying Tate the same courtesy, slams into me. Shame curdles my stomach when I think back over all the ways Tate has showed me how much he cares about me. All the breakfasts he’s brought over when I’m at the bar super early. Or the way he, somehow, always knows I’m approaching the time of month when chocolate and ridiculous slapstick comedy movies will distract me from cramps and headaches.

The guy has provided boyfriend level care for nearly two years, and all this time, I wrote it off as just friendship. How could I have been so unaware, and is it too late to fix things? Not just to salvage our friendship, but to prove to Tate I’ve been longing for him for just as long?

Ideas run rampant through my head, even as I force myself through the mound of paperwork on my desk. I consider grand gestures and silly ways to say I’m sorry. Nothing feels right, though. As much as I’m not really the ‘let’s talk about our feelings’ type, I think that’s really the only solution here.

I need to put on my big girl britches and tell Tate I’m sorry for judging him based on rumors. And maybe, if I can find the courage, the chemistry I’ve been ignoring for years will still be there, waiting to ignite.

Chapter

Six

TATE

I push through the kitchen door of The Diddled Fiddle for the second time today. There’s no way I can ignore the nervous way my guts churn, but I’m choosing the fake it ‘til I make it approach. Yeah, I spent a few hours nursing my wounded pride and painting myself as the unfairly wronged party. Thing is, however, I’ve never been that guy. And I don’t want to be him now. I’m going to push aside the hurt and take the opportunity this morning’s humiliation creates. Now that I know why she’s been denying the attraction between us, there’s no way I’ll let her continue ignoring it.

So the woman I’m head-over-heels for let gossip keep us apart. It’s not as if I put in the effort to figure out why the interest I’ve seen in her eyes plenty of times never went anywhere. I’m the one who allowed myself to be sidelined in the friendzone without any real attempt to cross that divide.

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