Page 11 of Honeymoon Phase
I’d never been more turned on.
Which was an odd reaction, I’ll admit. I wasn’t sure it made me better or worse than the asshole with the trashed truck. She helped me next, and I watched her silently as she loaded up my order and she didn’t even spare me a glance.
When I went inside to pay her, I heard myself asking her out for drinks. I thought she’d laugh in my face and run me out of there with her forklift.
But she didn’t.
She handed me my receipt and asked me when and where.
I didn’t intend for it to be a date. I’m not a guy who “dates” per se. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping to fuck her afterward. She’s a beautiful woman and her terrifying vibe was a weird, unexpected turn-on for me.
But then she showed up to the bar and we started talking. She rambled about her sourdough yeast she named Mildred and asked me about my favorite kinds of foods. We discussed work and our parents, and it was the easiest conversation I’ve ever had with a woman. I realized within an hour that I didn’t want to stop talking to her. Ever. And if I had sex with her... the talking would stop.
So... I friend-zoned myself for the first time in my entire life.
Our friendship was good for several years. Solid. Comforting. Then my dad died, and it got weird. She pulled away and didn’t come to the funeral and that killed me. I told myself I was done with her, that not showing up was an inexcusable thing a friend would never do.
But suddenly, I found myself back at her place and we were eating dinner in her living room like nothing happened. I’d expected her to apologize, to ask me how I was doing. But it was as if she had no clue what grief felt like—or she understood it all too well—and nothing was said. I knew from the verylimited things she’d told me about her childhood that it hadn’t been easy. So, I had to make a choice. Forgive her for not caring for me “how I’d wanted” or hold a grudge and lose her friendship forever. Forgiving her had been the better option.
Plus,I missed her.
Somewhere along the way I realized that I loved her too much to stay mad at her and that was a terrifying realization I was trying not to focus on too much at the time.
I make my way up the exterior staircase to Roe’s apartment. She has a one bedroom in a small quadplex that ain’t much to look at. I always wondered why she doesn’t buy something nicer because surely she makes decent money with the cost of lumber these days, but Boulder real estate is out of control. And Roe really is a no-frills kind of girl. I think she’d put a bed in that lumberyard office if she could. She doesn’t want for much.
Except a husband apparently.
I touch my pocket, feeling the folded-up pros and cons list Everly made me print out for tonight. It’s fucking embarrassing. I helped her write it up after three whiskeys and she added in some dramatic language that I will admit made me laugh. Going for the comedy angle was smart. Roe doesn’t like to do deep talk, so this really did feel like it could work.
But the closer I got to Roe’s place, the more I worried that the whole thing could come off as desperate.
How did I let my niece talk me into this? It’s like Everly is still that eleven-year-old girl playing with her dolls, but this time, it’s actual humans she’s playing with. Me in particular. And apparently the rest of my entire family.
Mastermind indeed.
Roe is going to laugh in my face if she reads this, but Everly is going to kick my ass if I don’t give it to her. Which woman am I more afraid of?
I lift my hand to knock on the door and in mere seconds itswings open and I struggle to catch my breath at the sight of my friend.
I had the same reaction yesterday in the lumberyard because it’s been a couple months since I’ve laid eyes on her. Yesterday, she was dressed in her standard work overalls, tank top, and sneakers. Today she’s soft and homey-looking. Like she’s ready to curl up on the couch and watch TV.
I hoped this pull she had on me would be less intense after some time apart, but it isn’t. It’s alive and well and possibly worse than ever with this offer in my pocket.
“What up, loser?” Roe cajoles with a big smile that hits me right in the gut. She’s got a towel flipped over her shoulder and is stirring what smells like a batch of brownies. “Get your ass in here, I’m dying of thirst.”
She turns on her heel, leaving her door open and I can’t even stop myself from letting my eyes drift down her backside. She’s got an ass that looks like she does squats for a living... which I suppose she does. Her top half is smaller and more petite, but the weight of her bottom... it fucking haunts me.
“Nice to see you too, Roe,” I murmur, trying to regain control of my thoughts.
I follow her through the small hallway and hang a right into her kitchen. It’s surprisingly large for such a small space. I would have laid out this property with a galley-style kitchen to give more square footage to the bedroom and bathroom, but I think this was the selling point for Roe. The girl loves to cook.
“It’s been ages since you’ve come by,” she calls over her shoulder as she tips her bowl into a glass baking dish, using a spatula to scrape out the chocolate batter.
“I know.” I rub at the heaviness I feel in my chest. “If you recall, our last conversation here was me telling you that going on Grindr to find a husband was not a good idea.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Roe bites her lip and shoots me a coysmile. “I upgraded to asking Chuck, Bullhead, and the guys at the yard if that makes you feel any better.”
“Oh yes, I feel great about that,” I huff, dropping down onto a stool at her small kitchen island while she opens her oven and puts the brownies inside. “I want to talk to you about your husband hunt, actually.”
