Stand (Black Addiction Book 3) (13 page)

I was almost certain the dude wasn’t a fan, and I knew exactly where he knew me from, but I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction.

“I saw you the other night at Christina’s.” The asshole rounded out his shoulders, posturing like the fact he was almost seven-feet tall wasn’t enough. And funnily enough, it didn’t do shit because I couldn’t give a rat’s ass how big he was.

“Yeah, good food there. I go there a lot.” The mention of Beth purposely avoided. If he wanted to ask me about her, he was going to have to man up and ask. I wasn’t giving him a freebie.

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never eaten there. My sister is the host.” And so continued our dance. I swear, conversation with Layla was more enthralling and the kid couldn’t talk.

“Nice, well. It was great seeing you.” I gave him a patronizing tap on the arm as I moved to the side. “Enjoy your tossed salad.”

“I saw you there with Beth.” The words barely coming out of the neanderthal’s clenched grill. “She dating you now?”

It could have gone on longer, me curiously asking how he knew Beth or why he gave a fuck but I knew the answer and was already bored. Add to that hungry and couldn’t understand what she’d ever seen in this guy, and you were somewhere in the neighborhood of my level of displeasure.

“Listen buddy, you seem like a nice guy but who Beth decides to date isn’t really your concern is it?” And I was lying about him seeming like a nice guy, he
seemed
like a douchebag.

“It is when I assumed
we
were dating.” The dumbass proved how much he didn’t know as he continued. “That’s fine, I’m not the possessive type. Just don’t expect your little fling to last.” It was his turn to be smug, except he sucked at it and didn’t even come close to pulling it off.

No seriously.

Could this dickhead be more clueless?

Which is why I couldn’t help but laugh. His big face contorted in confusion as I chuckled my ass off on the sidewalk. The bulge at the side of his neck only made it worse, my amusement kicked up a notch with his added fury.

“I’ll be sure to let her know when I’m holding her tonight. And every night after.”

So a few things.

It was a complete dick thing to say, but this asshole was trying my patience. And sure I could have gone another way without rubbing his nose in it but I think short of a note strapped to a brick aimed at the douchebag’s head, he wasn’t getting the hint. Which brought me to my last point,
saying
I was going to be holding Beth didn’t make it true. Nor was it the gentlemanly thing to do, which I’m sure if she found out about it, she would be mega pissed. She’d be completely entitled to kick my ass or chew me out. All of which I would take willingly because I’d have deserved it. And yet I couldn’t make myself take any of it back.

“See ya.” I pushed past the asshole, his bulging neck and his bad attitude and proceeded to eat my burger, even though I’d lost part of my appetite.

It did highlight a pretty valid point.

If she assumed we were friends there was a chance she was probably going to date. Hopefully she’d recovered from the brain injury she’d suffered when she’d agreed to date that asshole and would raise her standards, but I’m sure there were more assholes to fill his spot.

Fucking great.

This was going to be soooooooooo much fun.

Dick.

Yep, I just called myself a dick.

Here we fucking go.

The coffee Max had
hand delivered the morning after our
moment
hadn’t been an isolated incident. And it wasn’t just restricted to coffee. With Max proving what an amazing guy he was, even though he wasn’t going to get lucky.

Monday morning had come and gone without incident with Jules and I reviewing our eventful weekend. Class was usual, with nothing remarkable happening through the day.

A runny nose here, a grazed knee there but all in all stock standard for a Monday. Except for late afternoon when instead of Jules meeting me at my classroom door to head home, Patricia, our assistant principal, appeared instead.

“Hi, Beth, just reminding you about the bowl-a-thon next Friday evening.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Every time I saw her, I had a hard time concentrating on what she was saying. Her well-coiffured hair was filled with so much Aqua Net, it hadn’t moved since 1985. Which I could only guess tried to act as a distraction to the five pounds of foundation she was wearing, the thick matte finish getting caught in the deep crevasses of her face.

“The fundraiser for the art department,” she announced slowly like I should know exactly what she was talking about. “We know it’s not as much fun as a bake sale, but we really need for as many of our teachers to get behind it.”

“Oh, yeah that.” The mention sounded vaguely familiar, probably brought up at a staff meeting where I should have paid more attention.

“Yes, and lots of parents will be there too, it’s a great opportunity to show your support for the school and their children. I’ve signed you up for the red team.”

Which essentially was a courteous way of telling me my attendance was required unless I didn’t value my job. Or I didn’t support my kids, which would have been equally as bad. I guess my plans for next Friday night were set.

“Red team, are we having a pie eating contest?” Jules’ face beamed at the doorway, her timing perfect.

“No, of course not.” Patricia laughed obviously not aware at how serious Jules was. “It’s a bowl-a-thon. I’ve signed you up too, Julie. You and Beth are partners.”

It was only fair if I was roped into throwing a nine-pound ball and wearing someone else’s shoes that she should get to share in that pleasure with me.

“Aww thanks, Patricia. I couldn’t think of anyone better to be my partner.” My grin widened as I glanced at Jules. No matter how much I was going to hate it, she was going to hate it more.

“Of course, it was the least I could do.” She clapped her hands enthusiastically. “It’s going to be so much fun, and the kids are so excited. We’re even having pizza and soda.”

“Wow, that
does
sound exciting.” At least there was food there, beer would have been great too, but everyone was so PC these days. Alcohol at school functions was frowned upon, sadly.

“It sure is, and I have even managed to get a hamper donated from Bath and Body Works. Some lucky person is going to get a wonderful prize.”

“Great. Can’t wait.” I nodded, thankful I had a couple of weeks to build some genuine excitement.

“Yeah, me too. How cool we get to do this together,” Jules added, no one fooled by the fake smile she’d tried to muster up.

“Well, I’m just pleased you’re both coming.” Patricia straightened her strand of pearls, satisfied. “See you there.”

We both watched as she left, the echo of her heels against the floor finally fading after she disappeared from view.

“This is our punishment for you being late, I hope you are happy.” I laughed as I closed my classroom door, ready to get home and relax.

“Me? Please. She would have cornered you tomorrow or the day after, she had plenty of time to guilt us into going.” Jules shoved off the blame as she kept up beside me.

“You’re probably right. Ugh, you have no idea how much I hate bowling.” My dislike was only superseded by camping, which I broke out in hives just at the thought.

“Don’t even go there.” Jules held her hand up, no doubt a story responsible for her strong reaction. Last time I bowled I slipped in the lane and landed on my ass. It didn’t help that I was wearing a skirt at the time and flashed my panties. Worse still was my date didn’t want to leave because he’d just bought a jug of beer.”

“Who bowls in a skirt?” My head fell back as I laughed. “You were asking for trouble.”

“Yeah, where were you then? Your advice means nothing now.” She mused sarcastically, our bowling night bound to be interesting.

It was when we eventually got home—having missed our original train—that my next surprise visit happened.

Having just changed out of my work clothes, a glass of wine in my hand when Ben the doorman knocked at our door, his shift having just ended.

“Hi Beth, Julie.” He nodded politely at both of us. “I was told to give you this when you got home but was busy when you both came through the lobby. Here you go.” He handed over a crisp white envelope that had my name handwritten on the front.

“What is it?” I turned over the envelope hoping that might gain me a clue, the back not presenting any further details.

“Ah, it’s from Max Reynolds.” He straightened on his heels as he eyed the envelope. “He mentioned you were old friends?”

“Yes, we are.” I nodded, my heart racing a little faster than it should over stationery.

“He said sorry he wasn’t able to deliver it himself but he was getting in late this evening. Have a good night, ladies.” Ben delivered a curt bow before turning back down the hall.

“Ooooooo what is it?” Jules hovered over my shoulder as I peeled it open.

“I’m trying to find out.” I pulled out a piece of thick card, Max’s unmistakable handwriting all over it. My eyes scanned over the letters, my ability to read obviously missing.

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense, what does the note say?” Jules tugged at my arm, her patience lasting less than a minute.

“He bought us dinner.” I stared at the note confused, the information it contained making my head spin.

“Say what?” Jules stopped her tugging clearly as surprised as I was.

“Here read it yourself.” I passed over the card partly for confirmation I hadn’t either misunderstood or misread it. Yeah, because I had such a poor grasp on the English language that a few sentences would be too much.

“Beth, hope you had a great Monday.” Jules’ eyes glided over the note as she read out loud. “Stopped into Matteo’s today, it’s the Italian place down the street. His kid is a fan so I took some photos and signed some stuff. Figured you and Jules might want a night off from cooking. Call Matteo and he’ll deliver whatever you ladies want. It’s on me. PS. I ran into your “friend” from the restaurant yesterday, he was a
real
catch. I told him we were still dating. Don’t be mad. Just remember what a nice guy I am—allowed you to poison me, and I am buying you and your roommate dinner. Smiley, winkey face.”

Yep, she had read exactly what I had.

“Girl, I have to tell you.” Jules handed me back the note that I stupidly reread. “Between this and the coffee, he is seriously winning some brownie points. He’s not even sticking around for the adulation.” She returned to tugging at my sleeve, her point of view not over. “And kudos on his work with micro penis. I wouldn’t be mad; I’d be giving him a round of applause.”

“Yeah, I know.” Both gestures being incredibly sweet. “He has always been a great guy.”

As Jules grabbed the phone—the allure of dinner cooked by someone else so exciting she couldn’t wait another minute—I tucked the note away in my purse, not able to bear tossing it away. Our order placed a few minutes later.

The delivery came sooner than we expected. No doubt courtesy of a certain name that had organized the delivery in the first place. And the food had been absolutely beautiful. Jules and I even shared a bottle of wine, camping out on the living room floor as we watched television, the alcohol and full stomachs making us drowsy.

“I should call him.” The thank you text I’d sent earlier not seeming thankful enough. “Should I call him?”

“You should call him.” Jules nodded, fighting her own food coma. “And tell him I’m in love with him. Then tell him next time he needs to bring us dessert. I want banana cream pie, the nice kind from the place on 2
nd
.”

Not that I needed Jules’ endorsement—I was totally going to call—my fingers grabbed my phone and dialed, my breathing increasing while I waited for him to answer.

“Beth,” Max answered, my name the only hello I needed. “You enjoy your dinner?”

“Yes, it was fantastic.” I rolled onto my side, the last mouthful of pasta one bite too many. “Thank you so much.”

“Tell him that I love him,” Jules hollered from her place on the floor, not bothering to lift her head.

“Jules said she loves you,” I repeated, almost positive he’d heard without my echo.

“Tell Jules, thanks.” He laughed, the beautiful sound filling my ear.

“And that he should bring us pie, the nice one,” Jules again called out, my foot managing to kick her but not before he’d heard.

“What about pie?” Max asked, clearly amused.

“She said next time you visit you should bring banana cream pie, from the bakery on 2
nd
.”

I figured I might as well relay the message. Short of muzzling her, she was going to say whatever she wanted. I was surprised she hadn’t already grabbed the phone.

“I’ll do my best,” he said, probably because he was too polite to tell Jules to take a hike. “But only if the two of you agree to come out and see us again Saturday night.”

“Of course. What’s your name this time?” That deal, an easy one to make.

“Dirty Secret.” His voice rumbled through the phone causing us both to laugh.

“Okay, well send me the details through the week and I’ll make sure we’ll be there.”
I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

“Awesome, will do. Goodnight, Beth.”

“Goodnight.”

“I’m gonna kill you.” I tossed a pillow from the couch, my aim on target as it found its mark—her head. The blow not as hard as I would have liked but I was dealing with limited projectiles.

“What? He knows I was kidding. Lighten up.” She tossed the pillow back and we continued to laugh.

It had been fun and games on Monday night—the good food, the wine, the safety of talking through a phone—but the conversation with Max had been great. No sexual undertones, no innuendo—just friends.

Tuesday brought its own surprise. Jules and I had noisily entered the foyer of our apartment building, still talking about work when Ben waved us over, calling our attention.

“Hey Ladies, hold up a minute. I’ve got something for you.” Ben briefly disappeared into the office before emerging. A beautiful cardboard box placed on the counter in front of us.

“He didn’t?” I looked at Jules as we both approached the box.

This time there had been no note, there didn’t need to be. We all knew who it was from. My hand lifted the lid tentatively. Like there would be anything
other
than baked goods housed inside.

“The pie, of course.” A perfectly-baked banana cream pie sat proudly at the bottom of the box, the freshly baked smell wafting up to my nose. “Thanks so much, Ben.” I don’t know why I was surprised. This was Max Reynolds, considerate, kind and a man of his word.

If I was honest with myself, it was probably more neighborly than needed, and even with our history he was going a little above and beyond the call of duty. But at that moment I didn’t want to think about ulterior motives, the fact that I enjoyed it so much making me more than a little uncomfortable. I would happily bury my head in the sand a little while longer, I couldn’t stop what I wouldn’t acknowledge.

“No problem, ladies; enjoy the pie.” Ben grinned, discreetly leaning over the counter to whisper. “He got me one too. It’s from that nice bakery on 2
nd
.”

“Okay, I said I loved him last night but now I
really
love him.” Jules made ga-ga eyes at me, her hands clasped together like she was a Disney princess.

“You are not allowed to ask for anything else.” I balanced the box while shoving her towards the elevator, happy to deflect my own feelings on Max’s generosity and attention. “I swear, you’re a menace.”