Bad Taste in Men (Clover Park, Book 3) Contemporary Romance (The Clover Park Series) (3 page)

To her relief, she heard him settle back at the table. She really didn’t want him following her into the bathroom. She made her way to the bedroom, slipped off the dress, pasties, and undies, took off the brace, and hobbled over to the shower. Fifteen minutes later, she was clean and exhausted. She wrapped a towel around her body and headed to the bed, needing to sit down for a bit.

Shane was already sitting there.

“Shane! Get out of here!”

“Think of me as your nurse, here to help. I see naked bodies all day long. Ho-hum.” He faked a yawn.

She sat on the bed next to him. Sweat broke out and ran down her back purely from the exertion of getting ready.

“Go get me a towel for my hair.” She shoved him toward the bathroom. “Please.”

He went to fetch it.

She used the break from him to make her way over to the dresser and caught her reflection in the large mirror above it. Her hair was a tangled lump, and she wore no makeup.
Oh, who cares! It’s just Shane
. The towel drooped, and she tucked it tighter. She grabbed a bra and pulled it on. One crutch slipped out from under her arm and hit the floor.
Dammit
. She readjusted the towel around her waist and slipped her favorite rhinestone-studded “Reader” T-shirt over her head. It was one of a series of reading-themed T-shirts she’d made herself. She got her panties and shorts. Okay. She’d have to sit down for this next part.

She considered the floor and realized she’d have to drop pretty far with her bad leg out in front of her to get down. Better not.

She considered how to get to the bed with one crutch. She could hop. Yes. With one hand clutching her panties and shorts, the other holding the crutch, she hopped in a little half-circle and made her way to the bed.

Shane threw the extra towel on the bed and headed toward her. “Wait. Let me get your crutch.”

“Stay right there,” she warned, continuing her hop journey. “I got this.” He kept walking toward her. “Back up!”

Hop, hop, whoosh
. Omigod.

The towel had given up its precarious hold and dropped to the floor.

Rachel closed her eyes. Shane saw. She knew he saw. She could just die of embarrassment. Right here, right now.

She felt the towel wrap securely around her waist again. His warm hands tucked it in.

“You are one stubborn woman,” Shane said.

She opened her eyes, expecting to see him holding back a laugh at her expense, but he looked damn serious. His eyes burned into hers, and a frisson of awareness ran through her body. The air felt suddenly charged between them. Her mouth went dry over the sarcastic reply her brain couldn’t seem to formulate.

She quickly averted her eyes and hopped the rest of the way to the bed. “Turn around,” she told him. “No more peep show.”

He turned, giving her his back. His voice came out hoarse. “I wasn’t peeping. The towel just—”

“Never speak of this again.” She yanked on the panties and shorts, leaning back on the bed to wiggle them up over her hips. “I mean it.”

“Never,” he agreed. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Call me if you need me.”

He left quickly, and Rachel collapsed on the bed, unsure how she’d ever look her friend in the eye again.

Chapter Three

Shane poured a glass of ice water and held it against his forehead. The image of Rachel’s lush curves burned into his brain. How could he go on pretending he just wanted to be friends when all he wanted was to strip her naked and lick every inch of that delicious body?

He stuck his head in the freezer.

By the time Rachel returned to the kitchen, fully dressed, hair back in a neat braid, he’d managed to cool off.

“Ready to go?” he asked, looking at a spot just over her ear. She always worked the Sunday shift at her store.

“I’m ready,” she said softly.

He tried not to read into that soft tone. She’d already turned him down flat last night. “I’ll take the crutches down first. Sit.”

She made her way to a kitchen chair and handed him the crutches without a word. Their eyes met and held, and he felt it, like an electric current in the air. There
was
something there. This attraction wasn’t just one-sided. Hope surged through him. He took the crutches downstairs and pondered what his next move should be.

He returned to her side. “Come on, princess.”

She blushed, something she never did, but had done twice today already. Maybe he could make her blush just one more time. He bit back a smile.

She stood. “The doctor said I can put weight on it again after forty-eight hours.”

“Yup.” He scooped her up and briefly considered carrying her straight to the bedroom. She felt wonderful in his arms, warm and soft. Instead, he carried her downstairs as promised, setting her down by the crutches.

“Thank you,” she murmured, putting the crutches under her arms.

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning,” he said.

She met his eyes, and he saw a flash of regret, like she was about to shut him down again. “Shane—”

He moved swiftly before he could lose his nerve. His lips met hers in a soft kiss. He pulled back to gauge her reaction.

Her eyes were wide, clearly surprised. Then her expression darkened, brows furrowed. “That never happened. It can’t. I value our friendship too much to muck it up with a fling.”

“Who says it would be a fling?” He stroked her cheek. “I care about you.”

He was, in fact, stupidly, helplessly, deeply in love with her. But he knew better than to tell her that. She’d run screaming for the hills.

She looked away. “I just don’t feel that way about you, okay?”

His heart squeezed painfully at the slam. She set off for her store.

“I’ll see you,” she called over her shoulder.

“See ya,” Shane mumbled.

He headed across the street back to his apartment, dragging his feet. His own shop didn’t open until noon on Sundays, so he had plenty of time to contemplate Rachel’s rejection. Two painful rejections in two days.
Strike three and you’re out
.

He couldn’t face his empty apartment, briefly considered cooking something in the commercial kitchen in the back of his shop, but quickly nixed the idea. He knew Sam would be there making the ice-cream base as he did every morning, and he didn’t feel up to small talk. He started walking down Catoonah Street, where rows of houses, some beautiful old Victorians, lined both sides of the tree-lined street. Where to? He passed Gran’s house. She was all wrapped up in Jorge now, newly married as of last September. He passed his older brother Trav’s house across the street from Gran. Newly married as of yesterday. His other older brother Ryan’s house was a few blocks away. Newly married as of last month. Everyone around him was getting married.

He was starting to feel like the black sheep of the family. Funny because, of the three brothers, Shane was the only one who’d ever had a long-term relationship. Two, in fact. When he connected with someone, which wasn’t that often, he went all-in. He’d had a three-year relationship in high school, until Kerri left for college, and a five-year relationship with Laura from culinary school. A few several-months-long relationships after Laura. Nothing in a couple of years, though, not since Rachel moved back to town.

He’d waited patiently as Rachel went through loser after loser, finally settling in as her friend. Well, now he knew the score. For whatever reason, despite what felt like A-grade chemistry percolating between them, she didn’t want to cross that line.

He jammed a hand through his hair. Dammit, he wanted to cross that line. Enough with this patient waiting shit. He wanted her, and it was past time he did something about it. He knew her well, very well. She told him everything—every detail of her day, every bad date, every dream for the future—and he listened, soaking it all in, wanting to know all of her. That knowledge should help him navigate those defenses she was so good at putting up, keeping every guy at a distance. He just had to figure out how.

It wouldn’t be easy, that was for sure. Rachel was not an easy woman. She was strong, tough, and sarcastic, but he actually liked that about her. His other girlfriends had been sweet and gentle, and he’d spent a lot of time trying to protect their feelings and keep them happy. With Rachel, he didn’t have to do all that. He could relax.

Whatever it took. He was all-in.

He kept walking, wishing he was the kind of guy who could do casual hookups. It had been embarrassingly long since he’d gotten any. It was part of the reason he’d started lifting weights at the gym. Looking good for Rachel, hoping she’d see him as more than a friend. Not that it did him any good. The other part of the reason he’d started working out was his brother Ry’s relentless teasing about his ice-cream paunch. Ry had been right about that. He did feel better now that he’d lost the gut. As if conjured from his thoughts, Ry called from behind him.

“Hey, bud.”

Shane turned to see his brother out for a jog. Ry was four years older and had been more like a father to Shane than a brother. Their father was an unpredictable alcoholic, and their mother had been severely depressed. Their mom had always seemed fragile, like anything could set her to crying. She’d committed suicide when Shane was thirteen. Ry had been solid as a rock, helping him and Trav through that hellish time.

“Run with me,” Ry said, jogging in place. He grinned. “I’ll go slow so you don’t get winded.”

Shane hated running, but he rarely got to see Ry without Liz glued to his side, so he set off at a slow pace next to him. Not that he didn’t like Liz. It was just that he didn’t always want to feel like the guy on the outside of Loveland.

“How’s Rachel?” Ry asked, picking up the pace.

“It was just a sprain,” Shane said. “After a couple of days she can move to an Ace bandage and hiking boots. Then she has to do exercises at home.”

Ry nodded. They ran in silence for a few minutes.

“How far you going?” Shane asked. He hoped Ry was on his way home.

“Just another couple miles. I’m circling around, going up to the high school and back.”

Shane inwardly groaned. The high school was on top of a hill. But what else did he have to do? He didn’t want to go home and wallow in the bitterness of rejection. Rachel was so damn stubborn too. He’d have to balance working around her stubbornness and pushing through it. Why couldn’t she just see how right they were for each other? It was so damn obvious to him.

“You okay?” Ry asked.

“Yeah.”

Ry said nothing more. That was his way. He was just there for you: solid, strong, silent.

Thoughts of Rachel tumbled through his head. Her surprised expression when he’d kissed her, when that towel dropped and he’d glimpsed paradise, her stinging rejection.
I value our friendship…friendship…friendship.
Shane couldn’t take the thoughts on repeat anymore.

“Did you hear the new fro-yo place opened?” Shane asked just to say something,
anything
to distract him from Rachel.

“Yeah, The Dancing Cow opened in April.”

Shane grunted. It
was
July. But his irritation with Barry Furnukle was a good distraction.

“I heard Barry’s giving away wacky glasses now,” Shane bit out. “Bastard.”

Ry glanced over. “So?”

“So he’s stealing business from me. Kids are excited about stupid wacky glasses and ask for frozen yogurt instead of ice cream. It’s not the same! Those probiotics are dead by the time it gets into their bowls. It’s not even healthy! I bet he doesn’t even make it fresh!”

Ry’s brows shot up. Shane never raised his voice. But Rachel had gotten under his skin, and now that he thought about it, Barry was a real pain in his ass too.

“Pick up the pace,” Ry said. “You need to get some endorphins kicking in to counteract all that bitchiness.”

Shane picked up the pace. His feet were going numb, sweat poured down his face, and he couldn’t suck in enough air to talk. Finally they made it to the hill. He bent at the waist, panting. “I’ll wait here.”

Ry pulled at his arm. “Come on, pokey. It’s just one hill. If you get to the top, I won’t even make you spit out what’s really bugging you.” He coughed out, “Rachel.”

How did Ry know?

“Race ya,” Ry said, taking off.

Shane watched his brother go. Geez, running was for the birds. He never got anything but tired from it. He must be missing whatever triggered those feel-good endorphins. Ry made it to the top and carefully worked his way back down.

“Come on, keep up,” Ry said, elbowing him.

Shane reluctantly started running again back toward Ry’s place.

“Let me guess,” Ry said, not even out of breath. “She just wants to be friends.”

Shane stumbled, and Ry’s arm shot out to steady him. “How did you know?”

Ry raised a brow. “Because if she wanted more than that, you wouldn’t be bitching about wacky glasses.”

“So what’s my next move?” Shane asked.

Ry shook his head. “Friends is your only move unless she starts giving out a different signal.”

“That’s what’s so frustrating. I swear it’s not one-sided, but she’s pushing me away.”

“She’ll let you know when she wants more.” A ghost of a smile crossed his brother’s face. Probably thinking of Liz again.

Shane sucked in air. Where were those damn endorphins?

“You know what would make you feel better?” Ry asked.

Shane panted. “What?”

“A daily run. It’ll give you something to focus on, and it’ll help your mood too.”

“Fuck that,” Shane managed to wheeze out.

Ry laughed. “Language, my dear.”

Shane bent over as a cramp hit his side. They were almost to Main Street, where he lived in the apartment over his shop. “Augh…”
Pant. Pant
. “I’m gonna…”
Pant
. “…walk home.” He waved him away. “You go.”

“See you tomorrow at seven a.m. sharp for our run,” Ry said with a devious smile before hightailing it home. Shane knew his brother would carry through too, pounding on his door until he got up and joined him.

Shane groaned. Fucking older brothers with their fucking advice. Ry told him to cool it, but Trav probably would’ve told him to do the opposite. He’d pursued Daisy for a good six months before he caught her. Now they were on a honeymoon in Bermuda.