Fixed Infatuation Read online

  “Not childish, but I like that it ruffles your feathers so easily.”

  Sandra chortled. I swung back in her direction. “This isn’t funny. What—why are you laughing?” This must be some really bad joke they were both playing on me or something because I couldn’t fathom why she found this entertaining.

  “Honey”—she placed her hand on her hip—“the man is being an ass, which men do frequently. Shake it off.”

  I looked up at the ceiling. She was right. I was overreacting and it was uncalled for. He was baiting me and I took the worm. If he was twistedly enjoying getting me flustered, then maybe I could play his own game. I closed my eyes and loosened the muscles that were tight as a knot in my spine. Opening my eyes, I looked back at Blake and grinned.

  Allowing my eyes to travel down his body and back up to his face, I watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. I tried my best at being seductive with my perusal of him, but I had no idea if it seemed sultry, or if I was sneering. He narrowed his eyes at me.

  Tilting my head to the side, I curiously asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be wearing flannel or something? Have a beard?” I leaned forward and nearly pressed my nose to his collar. “Or smell like wood?”

  I resumed my position next to Sandra and caught what seemed to be him collecting himself.

  “You watch too much HGTV.”

  I quirked my brow. “On the contrary, I don’t really watch television.”

  “And this”—he rubbed his chin—“this is a beard.

  I scoffed. “That’s scruff.”

  “Which is a beard.”

  I glanced at the man standing behind him, who was getting some mild entertainment from our banter. He was stalky and very burly-looking. He was wearing forest-green-rimmed glasses and had a round face, which the bottom half was coated in hair.

  I pointed. “That’s what a beard looks like. You have a five o’clock shadow.”

  He barely peeked over his shoulder before glaring at me. While this was fun and all, I was hardly interested in continuing to have what felt like a preschool argument over facial hair in the middle of a coffee shop. It was also making my mood sourer.

  I decided to give him my back and continue to wait my turn in line.

  “For the record, I love the beard,” Sandra chimed.

  I gaped at her and heard Blake chuckling behind me. “You know what? I’m done with you today. Buy your own damn coffee.”

  She tugged at my arm, which I’d crossed over my chest. “Down, girl. It’s a game. He’s just like a little boy who likes you but pulls your hair and leaves a frog on your desk. Just go with it.”

  Sandra had spoken low enough that he didn’t hear what she said.

  “No, thanks. I’m not interested.”

  “Oh, please. Anybody who can get a rise out of you like this is someone worth looking in too. And I say you start with your kitchen cupboards.”

  “No,” I stated firmly.

  We stepped up to the register, as it was our turn to order. The girl behind the counter had a small ring in her nose, bright blue eyes, and her hair was parted down the middle with long amber-colored strands twisted up into two buns on either side of her head. I couldn’t see what she was wearing behind her apron, but tattoos were showing around her wrists. I’d seen her two other times before, but I’d yet to ask her name. If I was going to be a regular, I should probably learn these things. I smiled at her as I approached, but she didn’t reciprocate.

  “Hi, I’ll have a caramel macchiato and a blueberry muffin. Plus whatever she’s having.” I resigned and decided to pay for Sandra’s. She could make up for her betrayal to my ego later with a bottle of wine.

  She stood beside me and ordered a large black coffee. Of course she didn’t get anything to eat. I whipped out my debit card before she had a chance of finding her wallet in her massive bag. I was reaching across the counter when a male forearm brushed against mine and handed the tattooed girl a twenty. I inhaled. My eyes shot up to Blake, who was looking down at me, daring me to say something. Oh hell, I don’t think so, pal.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Morning, Lauren. I’ll have my usual, and include theirs on my bill,” he replied, completely ignoring my question or my reaction to the skin contact.

  It took point-zero-one seconds for the cashier’s face to morph from blasé toward Sandra and me, to beaming and batting her long black lashes at Blake. I was getting a firsthand taste at the effect he had on women. At least it wasn’t just me, but I did a much better job of hiding my attraction to him. The level in which I found him annoying cranked up another notch. He reciprocated her smile. The brief flash of his white teeth and dark eyes made him appear almost predatory. Jesus, the man knew what he was doing. This one little girl was all I needed to witness to know Blake Whitmore was a cheetah in a desert full of thirsty women. I took a step back and my eyes took in what I sensed. Just about every female pair of eyes noticed the most attractive man in the room.

  My brows came together as even men noticed him. Some puffed their chests very subtly as they knew their wives had looked. Others did a casual glance.

  “How’ve you been, Blake?”

  Lauren, as I learned was her name, started filling a cup with black coffee. She handed it to Sandra without so much as acknowledging her. Sandra wasn’t in the least bit miffed by it. I continued to watch their exchange as my friend walked over to the condiment counter to stir in a packet of sugar.

  “Good, just busy as usual.”

  The barista finished my drink and called my name. I snatched it off the counter but continued to watch their exchange with rapt attention. Lauren ignored the man behind Blake as she thickly smeared on her desperation for a piece of my neighbor.

  She tilted forward, pushing her chest out, and ran her tongue across her teeth. “Well, if you ever need a way to decompress, you know I’ve been taking classes for massage therapy. I’d totally give you one for free. Do you still have my number?” She handed him his change.

  I saw his eyes widen so subtly, but she was too intent on her mission to realize it.

  “Yes, and thank you for the uh, offer. I’ll check my calendar to see if I have any time.” He cleared his throat. “Let me step out of the way so this gentleman can place his order.” He tipped his head, nodding to the man I’d complimented his beard.

  While Lauren didn’t seem pleased, Blake came to stand beside me and gave her his back. I had a passing thought that maybe the two of them might have had a short-lived thing, but after that exchange she was definitely more into him than he may have ever been with her. Relief settled into my stomach and annoyance flared on my face.

  I hadn’t the foggiest clue who he was. My reaction wasn’t warranted. I didn’t know his family life, if he’s been married before, or what type of music he enjoyed. I knew nothing besides my brief interactions and what I’d read online. Relief wasn’t a feeling I should be allowing. Jealousy was not welcome here.

  Pressing my lips into a thin line, I pulled out the ten-dollar bill I’d planned on using to pay for the drinks and pressed it into Blake’s palm. “Here. While I appreciate you buying my coffee, it wasn’t necessary. Have a good morning.”

  I mentally patted myself on the back. Short, sweet, and to the point.

  “I don’t need you to pay me back.”

  “I didn’t ask for you to pay for me either.”

  The corners of his eyes squinted, and his jaw clenched.

  “Welllll, it’s finally stopped raining,” Sandra said, sidling up next to me. “Suppose it’s a good time to start our day of walking and exploring. Blake, are you going to the crab festival?”

  If she so much as invited him to join us, I was walking out of here and going home. She could find her own way back.

  “Nah. I grew up here and have had my fill of crab and clams.”

  Thank God.

  “Oh, clams! That sounds delicious.”

  “There will be a few booths with fried ones. They’r
e worth trying.”

  They casually smiled at one another. I saw the barista place another coffee on the counter and looked at Blake.

  “Seems your usual is ready.” I mustered a pleasant face and started walking backward toward the door. “Sandra, let’s head out.”

  He looked to his right and saw the drink.

  Thankfully she didn’t skip a beat and came to my side. “It was good seeing you.”

  A sinister smirk crossed his beautiful mouth, and light danced in his dark eyes. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you both sooner than later.” Then he gave us his back.

  We stepped outside into the cool air. I tried to let the briskness sweep over me and clear my head. Besides the clouds, the temperatures were only slightly milder than they were in the New England area this time of year. It felt good to me. The rain had ceased, but the sidewalks were covered in little pools.

  “What did he mean by that?” I inquired curiously.

  Wrapping my hands around the warmth of my cup, I took a sip. She remained quiet. There was something I needed to remember walking away from this situation. Blake was my annoying neighbor. There were not going to be any romantic feelings here. While I would acknowledge my attraction to him, I needed to catalog it in my brain as a basic feeling any person could feel toward another human being. It didn’t mean it grew into a relationship. He wasn’t my type. I liked nice, calm, and less smug.

  “Let’s stop in that art shop up here. I wanted to talk to them about getting a print sent out to my apartment. There’s no way it would make it on the plane unscathed.” She ignored my question. Which was fine. I don’t think I was really looking for a response.

  I marched ahead, effectively forgetting about Blake for the rest of the day.

  Blake

  Eighteen years ago

  “LET’S GO, MOM. I’m going to be late to the game,” I called up to my mother, who was finishing getting ready.

  It was the homecoming game, and I had to walk the field with Haley Maslow. She was nominated for homecoming queen and I was nominated for king. Something I couldn’t give two shits about. If I was late, I didn’t even want to think about what my punishment would be. This was a big game for me. Coach had benched me at the start of the season because of a small fight I’d got into with some asshole from another school, and then my grades started slipping. I slacked off and my GPA dropped below what the school deemed acceptable to continue in activities. Not being played gave me the jitters. It didn’t take many games for me to get my crap together and bring my grades up to at least passing.

  I had a chance to get a scholarship to play at Washington University, but it wasn’t something I’d be taking advantage of. My dad was grooming me to come work for him when I graduated high school. My older brother was meant to go work for him as well, but after the summer of his senior year, Thomas dropped the bomb on Dad that he had no intentions of taking over the business. He and my dad had one of the worst fights I’d ever witnessed. I was kind of shocked it didn’t come to blows. The disappointment my dad had ran deep. Thomas went off to architecture school, and I got the pleasure of dealing with the leftover anger at home.

  “Okay, I’m here, I’m here, let’s go.” My Mom rounded the corner, her long chocolate-colored hair pulled into a bun on top of her head. She had light makeup on, and she was wearing red and white, representing Port Townsend’s High School colors. She was more excited about seeing me play than even I was.

  I glanced at the time on the microwave. “I’m going to be late.”

  “Nah. Watch your mom bob and weave through traffic.” She winked at me.

  Mom and I had a special bond. She wanted big things for me. My parents had only planned on having two kids. They were supposed to stop with me, except a trip to Cancun for their anniversary resulted in my baby sister nine months later. They adored her and had wanted a girl, but I was my mom’s little man. At least that’s what she always called me, despite my stature being almost a full foot taller than she was.

  I tossed my bag in the trunk of the car and we were off. It was a short drive, but we had plenty of twists and turns through the forest to get down to the football field.

  “You nervous?” Mom asked from the driver’s seat.

  “Nah. If my stupid coach had played me last game, we would have won.”

  She smiled. “You have your dad’s ego.”

  “I don’t take that as a compliment.” I frowned.

  “Well, it just means you’re a smart boy and have your whole life ahead of you. Football isn’t everything, Blake.”

  “Mom.” I sighed. “I’m a senior. It’s the last year I’ll be playing any sort of sport. It is everything.”

  She reached over and patted my leg. “I have no doubt you’ll do amazing things tonight. Just don’t let your head get ahead of you. Play as a team, not as if you’re the only player on the field. You all win together.”

  It wasn’t the first time I’d heard this lecture. As a running back, it was my job to get my hands on that ball and take it to the goal. It was a single-man effort. Sure, I relied on my teammates to keep their defensive away from me so I could get there, but it was me holding the ball, and it was me who was expected to score. No other player on my team scored as many touchdowns besides the quarterback than me. I was good.

  I was good at everything I did.

  “I know,” I said, just to pacify her.

  I reached forward and flipped on Bluetooth so my phone would connect to the radio. I picked out a heavy metal song I liked listening to to pump me up before every game. I turned it up as loud as I could before I knew my mom would slap my hand away and turn it back down.

  I was just starting to close my eyes to tune everything else out when something happened. It was kind of true what people say. When you almost die, it’s an outer body experience. You see things happening so slowly, as if you can somehow change the outcome or make it different. Except you can’t. I simply opened my eyes and blinked. Then it was all over.

  That’s all it took.

  I don’t remember the logging truck that pulled out in front of our car when we rounded a nearly one-hundred-eighty degree turn. I don’t remember my mom swerving to try and miss hitting it on my side of the car. I don’t remember the glass shattering, the airbags slamming me in my face as the dashboard came close enough for me to kiss. Nor do I recall the car rolling several times before it came to a complete stop against a thick evergreen.

  What I do remember is the sound of high-pitched wailing ringing in my ears. The near blindness I had because blood was oozing from my head into my eyes. There was a person standing over me trying to speak to me, but I could hear nothing. My chest felt heavy and I was no longer inside the car. I thought I’d been moving my arms as I tried to brush off whatever was sitting on top of me, but it wouldn’t move. I remember thinking ‘could whoever was talking to me wipe my damn eyes so I could see what in the hell was happening?’

  Even that moment, the one I could recall, happened in slow motion, yet was over so quickly. I lay on the ground and realized in the midst of branches jabbing into my back, the smell of earth in my nose, that something more was wrong. In a brief moment of panic I blinked through the shit in my eyes. Where was my mom? Why wasn’t my mom holding my hand and talking to me? Was she okay? Three people put me on a softer surface and raised me in the air. I noticed I was being moved toward the flashing lights.

  It was getting incredibly hard to breathe. I had a sharp pain in my stomach, and that weight on my chest was heavier. I wanted to close my eyes. Before completely blacking out, I looked out in front of me. I saw the car and what a mess it was. Panic started rising in me, but then I saw her. There she was. My mom. She stood right beside the car, without a scratch on her. Her brown bun was still in place, and she was okay. She looked at me, and I looked at her. Relief washed over me.

  She was okay.

  The next thing I remembered was nowhere near as pleasant. There was this god-awful beeping next to my l
eft ear, and something was in my nose. I lifted one of my arms to try and take it out. Someone grasped my forearm and pushed it back down to the bed.

  “Don’t move, Son. That’s helping to give you oxygen.”

  I needed help with air? What the hell for? My eyes opened barely a sliver. A light blue blanket was over my legs, two vases full of flowers were in a corner, and my dad was standing next to me. Now I was really confused.

  I opened my mouth to talk, but all that came out was air. I tried clearing my throat, which sent pain across my stomach. Wincing, I tried again. “Where am I?” It barely came out a whisper.

  “You’re in the hospital. You were in an accident. The doctors had to do emergency surgery on a torn spleen and a few other spots where there was bleeding, but they told me they got it all.”

  A torn what? How did I not know this? I felt my brows pull together, which caused a new pain by my scalp. I lifted the arm that didn’t have tubes sticking out of it. There was a soft bandage I ran my fingers over, and I was slowly starting to realize little by little the severity of what I’d just gone through. This must’ve been why I was having trouble seeing before. I remember from my health class that if you cut your head, it bleeds worse than other places. I had blood dripping into my eyes.

  “There are twenty-five stitches in your head. You have a concussion but no brain swelling. I guess when the car rolled, you hit the side window.” My dad sounded very robotic.

  I put my arm down and looked at him. Like really looked at him. That’s when I saw his face. His eyes were red. There were bags under them and he looked like he’d lost weight. I didn’t know what day it was or how long I’d been out, but it couldn’t have been that long. If I had to guess, though, I’d say he hadn’t slept in the past forty-eight hours. There was something else, though. He should be happy that I was awake and trying to talk.

  “What is it, Dad?”

  He stood there, barely seeing me. He’d been spouting off facts from the doctors, but something else was wrong. I looked around for my mom. Maybe she could tell me what was going on. I would have expected her to be sitting on a chair beside my bed, or standing next to my dad, but she wasn’t. Where was she?