Page 28 of The Icing on the Cake
“There aren’t any creative sports challenges here,” I say. “Unless you count breaking down a door.”
He looks over at the door and tests it. “Unfortunately, this one’s steel. Probably can’t bust this one down. But look on the bright side: I’m better company than Regina George.”
I laugh despite myself. “True. Brittany could make anyonelook good in comparison.” I sit on a large box on the floor. “Though I have to admit, I’m starting to feel like I’m living in some twisted fairy tale where the villain keeps winning.”
He studies me for a moment. “What kind of fairy tale is that?”
“The kind where the girl gets dumped for someone prettier and has to pretend she’s fine with it.” I shake my head, surprised by how easily the words are coming. “I used to believe that when someone said they loved you, they actually meant it—that they wouldn’t be looking for someone better the whole time.”
He’s quiet for a second, studying me with those blue eyes that seem to see something more in me. “Maybe it’s not the story that was wrong. Maybe it was the guy.”
I look up at him, and for a moment I forget we’re trapped in a storage room. “My friends think I should start dating again, but the thought of making small talk with some random guy…” I shake my head. “At least if it’s going to be painful, I’d rather it be with someone I know won’t judge me for it.”
“Well,” he says after a beat, “I’m not a stranger.” He pulls a flathead screwdriver from his back pocket to fix the lock—because of course he has a screwdriver with him. He probably has a whole toolkit in his truck.
I stare at him for a second, like my ears didn’t just hear what he said. “What?”
“You need practice dating. I could help.” He shrugs, then moves toward the door and starts fiddling. “No pressure. No commitment. Just proving it’s possible to have a good time with a friend.”
A friend—someone safe and harmless to my heart.
I stare at him as he works the lock. “You’re joking, right?”
He glances over his shoulder at me. “I wouldn’t joke about this. We could even go to a public place together if that makes you feel safer.”
Most guys would be focused on convincing me they’re fun or interesting, but Lucian’s defense is that he’s trustworthy.
And that’s my issue.
I wouldn’t be so paranoid about strangers if I hadn’t watched how the stress of keeping us safe weighed on Mom day after day. And then Nate was the final straw—he broke my trust in men for good.
“Think about it,” he begins, not pressuring me at all. “You already know where I live. Plus, I make excellent waffles and I’m good at eyebrow compliments and non-weird touching.”
I can’t help it—I actually laugh. “You’re using my own words against me.”
“Guilty,” he says with a grin. “But with me, what you see is what you get—even when I’m sweaty and covered in sawdust—so there’s nowhere to go but up.”
I can’t tell him that seeing him sweaty and covered in sawdust was actually incredibly attractive. Nate never wanted to do anything that might mess up his hair or make him look less than perfect. But a man who isn’t afraid to work hard and get dirty?Yeah, that’s trouble for my heart.
I study him for a moment.“But what about when it’s over? Won’t that be…weird?”
He turns toward me. “First of all, I promise not to ghost you afterward because, you know, we’re neighbors. That would make things awkward.” He pauses, as if presenting his closing argument. “Do I need to go on?”
“And what exactly would you get out of this arrangement?” I ask, trying not to sound skeptical, even though I am.
“The pleasure of your company?” He turns back to the lock. “Plus, I’d get to spend time with the woman who makes the best desserts in town. Seems like a fair trade to me.”
I study his back, the way his shoulders fill out his shirt. “You’re seriously suggesting I useyouas practice for dating other people?”
“I wouldn’t call itusing,” he says as he concentrates on the door. “More like helping a friend remember that not all men are awful. Think of me as your training wheels.”
“Did you just compare yourself to part of a child’s bike?”
“I did,” he says with no shame whatsoever. “So, what do you say? One completely safe, no-strings-attached date with your new neighbor who needs to get out more anyway? You could show me the town.”
I snort-laugh. “That’ll only take five minutes.”
“I meant the parts of town that only the locals know—best restaurants, nicest views. I’d love to see it through your eyes.”
