Always For You (Always Love Book 1) (13 page)

“Um.” I swallowed hard. “Uh, Smith, this is Tim. And he brought me flowers. Tim, this is Smith. We’ve been friends since college.”

“And now we’re partners.” Smith set the flowers back down and stood next to me, hooking his thumb in his jeans. He was close, I swore I could feel the heat of him on my one side.

“Partners at the clinic.” I added that caveat quickly.

“And we live together.” Smith smiled down at me, and I shot him daggers.

“He lives upstairs, in the apartment. I’m his landlord.”

Tim glanced from me to Smith, a frown between his eyes. “Okay.”

“By the way, Reen, I turned off the lights in the bedroom after I came out.” He grinned at me, mischief dancing in those bewitching gray eyes. I wanted to swat him.

“He was . . . Smith was talking to me while I was getting dressed. Getting ready, I mean.” I stumbled over myself to explain to Tim. “I was dressed. I had my clothes on. We were talking about work stuff.”

Smith, the horrid man, laughed. “Oh, that’s what we’re calling it?”

“Shut up.” I growled the words between gritted teeth and then smiled brightly at Tim. “Okay, well, that’s enough small talk with Smith, don’t you think? Shall we go?”

“Uh . . .” Tim’s eyes darted from me to Smith, unsure. “I guess so.” He nodded in Smith’s direction. “Good meeting you, man.”

“Same here.” Smith leaned over to pump his hand. “Have a great time, you two. I’ll be upstairs, keeping the home fires burning. Oh, and hey, if you want to, uh, hang out after you guys get back, just give me a yell.” He winked at Tim. “You know, Reenie and I love group activities.”

I wanted to sink into the floor, preferably taking Smith with me so I could beat him senseless. “Let’s go, Tim.” As we exited the kitchen, I looked over my shoulder and leveled a gaze at Smith that promised painful revenge.

“So I got my masters at NC State, and I worked in a middle school there for a few years. But I really prefer offering therapy to the younger kids. There’s so much we can do for them, when it’s a matter of early intervention.” He smiled a little sheepishly as he took a drink of his wine. “And let’s face it, the littler ones are easier to deal with. Middle school isn’t for the faint-of-heart.”

“I bet.” I played with the napkin under my own wine glass. Usually, if I were at the Road Block on a Friday night, I’d have had a beer, but when Tim had ordered a glass of white wine, I’d felt obligated to follow suit.

But other than that, the evening was going well. Tim had asked me a few pointed questions about Smith as we drove to the bar, but when I assured him repeatedly that Smith was not my boyfriend, not my live-in lover and that I most definitely was
not
on the prowl for a third to join in our threesomes, he seemed to relax a little.

“How about you? How did you end up a veterinarian?” He leaned forward, creating an intimacy within the noise and bustled of the club.

“Oh, it was pretty much all I ever wanted to do from the time I was six. My dad was a teacher at the high school, but as you might know, the pay’s not always great. So during the summers, he went back to his first trade, which was masonry. Sometimes I’d go with him on jobs, and one day, he went out to a farm to build a fireplace. While we were there, Dr. Yancey came out to do a calving. He let me watch, and what’s more, he even let me help. And that was it. I was hooked. My dad used to tease that he’d taken me on all those jobs, hoping I’d find a love for the trade, but he thought it’d be
his
trade, not animal doctoring.” I smiled, my eyes misting a little as I remembered. Dad had been proud of me, always. I’d been a daddy’s girl all my life, and God, how I missed that man.

“That’s a great story.” Tim reached across and covered my hand. I appreciated the gesture of comfort, but when he touched me, all I could think of was Smith holding my hand earlier, looking at my fingers as though he’d like to lick them. In that dizzy moment, I’d gotten the feeling that he’d have started there and then devoured me, bit by tantalizing bit, and I’d have begged him never to stop.

“But you never thought of working anywhere else? I mean, Burton’s wonderful and all, but I’d think you’d want to get out and see a little of the world.”

With no little difficulty, I pulled myself back to the conversation. “Uh, no. I love it here. I left all the world traveling to my brother Flynn. I was away for six years at UGA, and honestly, that was long enough. When they let me come back to do my residency and internship here, I jumped at the chance.” I took a sip of my wine. “But I guess you’ve traveled quite a bit, huh? You’re from Virginia, went to school in North Carolina, and now you’re in Georgia.”

“Yeah, I haven’t found the perfect place to settle down yet. I love the west coast, though. California’s expensive, but I could live in Seattle or Portland.” He smiled. “Ever been there?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Doesn’t it rain there all the time?”

“Not all the time. But it’s a lot cooler than it is in the south. Great neighborhoods, restaurants and shops—and the people are terrific. So much diversity, and freedom of thought. That’d be my dream spot to live.”

The idea didn’t sound good to me at all. “Really? I like living where I know everyone, or just about. And where they know me. I can go just about anywhere in Burton and run into someone I know. I love that.”

Tim nodded. “I guess I can see the appeal of that. My grandmother thinks the same way. I never had that, so I don’t really get it.”

I smothered a sigh. I liked Tim. He was a decent guy, honest as far as I could see, likable, and handsome in a city-boy way. I couldn’t see him getting down on his knees with me in the straw on the floor of a barn as we nursed a sick ewe. Not that I’d done that with Smith, not yet, but I’d seen him with the animals we took care of. He wasn’t afraid of getting dirty if it was in the line of duty. And he sure as hell didn’t think less of me for doing the same.

We finished eating, sticking to innocuous small talk. It was, I assumed, typical date stuff, but it made me want to squirm. I hated wasting time talking about things that didn’t matter, and it occurred to me that I’d far rather be back home, arguing with Smith, talking about our patients and our shared memories.

“Do you want to stay for dancing?” Tim rolled up his napkin and tossed it onto the table.

I hesitated. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not. I had a really long day, and I’m exhausted. Can I take a rain check?”

“Sure.” He paid the check and then excused himself to use the men’s room. I leaned my head against the back of the booth and let out a long breath.

“You doing all right, honey?” I looked up at Mason, who was looming as only he could, arms crossed over his wide chest. “I was keeping my eye on you. Looked like the guy was respectful. I didn’t notice him making any moves on you.” He smirked. “And I don’t know whether to think he’s a moron for not doing it or be glad I don’t have to plant my fist in his face.”

“God, Mason. You too? Are you on the take from my brother?”

He shrugged. “No need. I look out for my friends. Which, by the way, I made a new one this afternoon. Met your boy Smith. Nice guy. I invited him around for a beer on the house.”

“Of course you did,” I muttered. I glanced at Mason. “I heard about that. Also heard you got yourself a new family member, huh?”

“I did. And I’m a very popular man in my house right now, thanks to Smith. Piper is in love, and Rilla is, too.”

“Glad to hear it.” I stood up as Tim came back. “Tim, do you know Mason? He’s the owner here. Mason, Tim’s a speech pathologist at the elementary school.”

The two shook hands, gravely, as only two men could, and then I kissed Mason’s cheek. “Give Rilla and Piper my best. I’ll talk to you later.”

Tim talked all the way back to my house, telling me stories about his students and making me laugh at the funny things they said and did. I didn’t have to say much, which was all right with me.

When he pulled his car into my driveway, I turned to face him with a smile. “Thanks, Tim, for a lovely evening. And for dinner, of course. It was a lot of fun.”

“I enjoyed it, too.” He cupped my face with one hand and leaned in to touch his lips to mine, just the slightest brush of a kiss. It happened so fast that I didn’t have time to react, and before I could, he’d pulled back. “I hope we can do it again soon, Maureen. I like you.”

I stuttered out some words that I hoped made some kind of sense, smiled in a way that probably made me look like an imbecile, and almost fell out of the car when I opened the door. I managed to climb the porch steps and get inside without falling flat on my face.

“So, that went well.”

I jumped and nearly screeched when Smith spoke. “God, what’s your problem? What’re you doing in my house?”

“I was under the impression that this was my house, too.” He was sprawled on my sofa, legs spread wide, hands behind his head as he regarded me.

“And right there’s where you’re wrong. This is my house. I let you live upstairs, but now you’re invading my space.” I kicked at his foot. “And I’m mad at you.”

He affected an air of innocence. “Why would you be mad at me? I’ve done nothing but helped you get ready, been friendly to your date, made you chocolate chip cookies and cleaned up the kitchen. I’m a freakin’ gem, Evans. You should be much nicer to me.”

I rolled my eyes. “You gave Tim the wrong impression about us. I spent the entire drive to the Road Block convincing my date that you and I are just friends and that you weren’t trying to proposition him to have a three-way with us. Strangely enough, that’s not how I like to start out a date.”

Smith grinned. “Did you miss the part where I made you cookies?”

I sniffed the air. “I did not miss that part. I just wanted to be clear on where I stood before I went into the kitchen and devoured them, because there’s a better than good chance I’ll have to forgive you after I do that. And I felt morally obligated to take a stand against your behavior before I forgive and forget.” I pointed one finger at him. “I don’t condone your actions. I’m not going to reward them. And you can’t just do whatever the hell you want, say whatever the hell you want, and then make me cookies and think you can get away with it.” I paused, letting my words sink in. “Sometimes you might have to mix it up with brownies.”

A huge smile spread over Smith’s face. “Duly noted. Now the big question is, do you prefer milk or coffee with your cookies?”

I tilted my head. “It depends. Are they small, crisp cookies or large, gooey ones?”

“Large and gooey.”

“Easy. Milk.”

“Coming right up.”

We sat at the kitchen table with the plate of cookies between us and a glass of milk each.

“You know what I like about you, Reenie?” Smith spoke around a mouthful of cookie. “You have whole milk in your fridge. None of that skim or two-percent crap.” He took a long drink.

“And here I thought it was my sexy body or my scintillating personality.” I bit into a second cookie and closed my eyes. “Oh my God. Smith. I thought you said you couldn’t cook. These are better than sex.”

I heard him chuckle softly. “Oh, baby, I don’t know where to start with what you just said. Let’s start with your sexy body and scintillating personality. The answer to that is, hell, yes. To both. But the milk plays into that, see, because you’re not always starving yourself and pretending to diet. Or really dieting. You look like a real woman, not a stick figure. And yeah, you make me laugh more than anyone I know.”

I took another bite and just stared at him, almost afraid of what he’d say next.

“And I can’t cook, but I can bake. My mom is an excellent baker. She used to make all her own tea-time stuff that ladies like when she had parties. She taught me how to do it. But as for my cookies being better than sex, honey, if you think that, you’re doing it all wrong.”

My mouth went dry, and when I set the last bit of cookie back on my napkin, my fingers were trembling. I tried to take a deep breath, but my lungs weren’t exactly working, it seemed.

“Which reminds me. Did the famous Tim kiss you good night?”

I dropped my eyes to the table. “Do you think that’s any of your business, Smith?”

“Probably not, but I’m asking anyway. Call it my right as your cookie supplier.”

I huffed out a short laugh, but Smith didn’t even smile. His eyes were fastened on my face, as though my answer really mattered to him.

“He did. Sort of. I mean, just a light . . . kiss. Not even. He barely touched me.”

“Ah.” Smith nodded. “I guess that was one way to go. A man kisses a woman like that, it means one of two things. Either he isn’t really into her and just wants to be kind to end the evening, or he does want her, but he’s taking it slow. Building up. Setting the stage for when he gets serious.”

“Really.” I meant for my voice to sound amused, but it came out as almost a whisper. “And suddenly you’re the expert in how and why people kiss?”

“Oh, I’ve definitely got some expertise there. And in this case, judging by how he looked at you when he was here, I’d say it’s more likely the second. He thinks he’s got time to pull you in. Next time, next date, he’ll step it up. A little more of a kiss. Maybe a little tongue. Maybe not.”