Page 36 of The Bro Date
“Toby.” I stare at the desk, chewing on my lip aggressively. “Toby. Look at me,” he growls, and I can’t ignore his deep voice calling my name any longer. Shane reaches out and releases my lip with his thumb, rubbing the tender flesh. “It was never about pity . . . I just . . . I can’tstandthe thought of another man putting his mouth on you. His hands . . .”
My world stops, and my mind goes blank.
“When I saw you in Tate's stories, the fear in my gut was visceral, and I had no choice but to leave work and come get you.”
The reminder that Shane lost his job hits me like a ton of bricks, crushing any joy I was feeling at hearing him actually express his feelings. He hides his emotions and buries things deep down. Always has. “You lost your job because of me?”
“I didn’t lose it, I quit.” He folds his arms across his chest, unremorseful.
“What? Why did you quit?” Shane’s on his own when it comes to money, and he’s had a job ever since he was fourteen and legally able to.
“Because I left the kitchen during a shift again, and Raúl was gonna fire me. I can’t have that. I should have quit a long time ago, Toby. You know I hate that asshole. Don’t worry about it.”
It still feels like it’s my fault, but another thing he said rings like an alarm bell in my head. “You saidagain. . . When was the other time you left in the middle of a shift?” Shane hesitates toanswer, and it feels a little weird. “Was it because of me again?” My brows crease, trying to think of when it could have been.
“When you had a coffee date across the street from The Sandbar,” he admits, completely unashamed and unapologetic.
“Oh my God! Youarea stalker!” I laugh, playfully slapping him on the bicep and letting my hand linger on his bare skin a little too long, maybe even giving it a squeeze.
“Not justastalker.Yourstalker,” he corrects me with a shrug. “I have to keep you safe, Tobes. I always have, and I always will.”
My heart melts at his words, completely understanding how all the damsels in distress feel in the historical romance novels I love. “Wait, so you sacrificed your job to protect me?”
That’s kind of hot, even though I feel terrible about it.
“Yes,” he says matter-of-factly, staring directly into my eyes and causing strange things to happen to my insides.
I swallow hard and lick my lips, wishing he’d make another move and kiss me again. His dark eyes dart down to my mouth and linger there.
“What’re you gonna do?” I ask breathlessly, knowing he needs a job to pay for school.
Kiss me, Shane.
Kiss me.
He breaks the spell I was under and whips the covers back, getting out of bed. “To start, I’m gonna go make breakfast. Come down in thirty.” Shane leaves me stewing in desire, and I flop back on the bed, staring up at the old ceiling fan with dust clinging to its edges.
I trace a finger over my lips, remembering the ghost of his kiss and dying for another.
It’s basically my fault that Shane lost his job, so I made a phone call and got him an interview with the catering company my family has used a few times over the years. It pays a lot better than Raúl, so selfishly, I’m excited by the idea of him having more free time. And of course, less stress and more money.
But one thing about Shane is that he doesn’t accept help very easily, so I have to go about this carefully and strategically, choosing my words wisely. “So, don’t be mad, but?—”
“That’s not really how you should start a conversation, Tobes,” Shane deadpans, continuing to work on his Econ homework at the kitchen island, while I attempt to study Music History and fail. My mind is preoccupied with how to tell him about the interview.
“Whoops. You’re right,” I chuckle, setting my highlighter down.
Guess that went a lot better in my head.
“But this is actually a really good thing. I promise!”
Shane looks skeptical, so I just blurt out the good news.
“I got you an interview with Coastal Cuisine, one of the best catering companies in town. It’s pretty much a shoo-in because I’ve known Glenn for years, and he loves me. They’ve catered a few of my parents’ parties, and the food is amazing. You would fit right in.”
Shane keeps his emotions close to his chest, so I can’t tell what he’s thinking. “Do your parents know? Were they involved?”
He doesn’t want a handout from them, and I don’t blame him one bit.
