Love Me: The Complete Series (70 page)

The rattling and grinding of chatter in the main rooms annoyed him so much, he slammed the book shut, grabbed his keys, and headed back outside. After stowing Conan in the vehicle, he thrust the car in reverse and wheeled away from the house. Whatever happened to
a man’s home is his castle
?

The phrase was obviously made famous by a man who didn’t have an overbearing mother and a bevy of sisters. Without a destination, Roger found himself standing on a pier overlooking Thompson Lake. A few years earlier, Conan wore out the lake’s beach chasing Frisbees and seagulls. Now, the dog only plodded to the water’s edge and soaked his feet.

God, I need a break. A vacation from this massive load of responsibilities, family, work—crap ... everything.

Conan yelped. Roger searched the beach. Where’d he go? He was here a second ago with his feet in the water. The big guy was too old to swim and too slow to run far. Roger rotated. Twenty yards down the froth of water, the dog was tangled ... in seaweed.

Even a trip to the shore wasn’t without peril. Roger worked the dog’s legs free and took him home. On his front door was a sticky note that appeared to be from his home office desk. Had they rummaged through his things? He grimaced.

Let’s meet Thursday eight p.m. at Flannigan’s Brewhouse to discuss my thoughts for your spaces. Thanks so much for the opportunity—see you there!

His nastiness hadn’t deterred the woman one bit. No signature and no phone number to cancel either. Great.

Caroline learned that Roger worked with Abby’s heartthrob the hard way. Abby and Caroline decided to take turns doing plant maintenance at their office after Abby talked the text-o-hunk, Carter into paying them to install and maintain plants for their building.

Caroline nearly bulldozed Roger outside the bathroom of their office. She feigned ignorance and apologized politely as if he were any other stranger, not looking him in the face. But he wasn’t.

Caroline had been mildly surprised to learn about Roger’s suspicion that Abby’s voluptuous curves were medically induced. She hadn’t remembered him being so snide or judgmental when they were in college. People change. God knows she had.

She wasn’t shocked that he’d finished school and now managed projects like the one Carter was involved with. He’d always seemed the type to do big things.

At their shop, she plucked a broken stem from a pot of dahlias and stuck a fertilizer stick near the base. Touching the dirt, she decided it wasn’t necessary to add water yet. The click of computer keys at the counter signified Abby’s bookkeeping efforts were in full force. Abby had been tied up in knots for weeks over the texting confusion. Caroline would have sympathized if not for the fact that she kept making it worse by continuing the charade. The sound stopped for a second, and Abby sighed. “You know, I can’t keep doing this.”

“What?”

“Texting, chatting, all the deception. It’s wrong.”

“You’re right. It’s wrong.” Caroline admitted.

“If I tell Carter, he’ll hate me.” Abby was obviously wrestling with her conscience. “Look how upset he got about me sleeping with Jackson.”

Caroline spun around. “You slept with Jackson?”

“God, no. But when they made that snide remark about my chest, I fired off a response…and…well, Carter thought it was from him. It kind-of inferred that I had.”

Caroline frowned. “Oh. You need to be careful how you phrase that, or a customer might get the wrong impression.”

Abby plucked a pen from behind her ear and wrote something on a notepad. “What’s worse? Pretending that it actually happened in order to
not
hurt him and lying—or actually doing it?”

The door whisked open and the FedEx deliveryman, in tight shorts and a crisp white shirt, rolled through with boxes for the store.

Caroline plopped a hand to her hip and gave her a skeptical frown. “You’re kidding right? You know, for a guy who seemed so much fun in the beginning he sure gets riled up about stuff.”

When the packages were signed for, Caroline pulled the paperwork and tossed it on the counter to add to Abby’s records. Abby sighed. “I can’t exactly fault the guy for having a problem with his best friend sleeping with his girl. That’d be like me going after one of your boyfriends.”

She had a point. Caroline lifted one of the packages and shot her a snarky grin. “Seriously? We don’t shop in the same supermarket when it comes to men, girl. I doubt that’d ever be an issue.”

“Good point.”

Caroline shifted the package to her hip, grabbed the other one and took them to the stock room. She unpacked the contents and started toward the front. “Say, you think we could make requests on who delivers the FedEx packages? That guy was seriously—Oh.”

When the hell had Roger walked into the store? Had he heard her comment?

“Caroline.” He nodded.

“Dickwad,” she acknowledged.

“Hey, he’s a customer!” Abby retorted.

Okay, it wasn’t exactly a customer-friendly response, but it was
Roger.
Why bother.

“You’ve changed, Caroline.”

She forced her face to remain calm. “Yeah, well people usually do when they get older.”

Roger coughed. “I didn’t say it was
bad
, just different.”

Abby’s eyes volleyed from Roger to Caroline as she absorbed the conversation. “You guys know each other?”

Roger nodded. “Sort of. Ask her. We, uh, hung out in college a while before Caroline ran off to find herself.”

His voice seeped sarcasm, and for some reason it tilted Caroline over the edge. “I didn’t
run off
,
and I certainly wasn’t looking for myself in the process. I was pursuing my career,
remember
?
I’m a journalist. I mean, I
was
a journalist.”

After a volley of choice words between the two, Roger stomped toward the door and yanked it open. He stared at her for a heartbeat. “God, you’re angry. Did your hair start spiking up like that when your personality began bristling too? Or is that something you caught over in Germany or Scotland, like the foot and mouth disease they had in 2001?”

That was it. Caroline rattled off a couple of f-bombs along with some other fancy phrases and stormed to the stock room. If she stayed in the vicinity of Roger for one more minute, she’d—she’d—punch him in the nose.

Retreat was safer. She unpacked boxes and applied price tags until her nerves calmed. She barely registered that Abby continued talking with him for a few minutes before he left.

“Soooo, Roger, that was interesting.” Abby tapped a pen against the counter. “Can I help you with something?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” He strode to the counter, pulled his cell from his pocket and showed her the display. Since he was the one responsible for mixing up the numbers, he should have felt a little guilty about using it to his advantage. He didn’t.

“Okay, you caught me.”

She rattled on with all sorts of excuses and avoided his questions. Did she really think he believed her story? Roger walked outside when a customer interrupted. He watched through the window and waited until the person left, then called her cell. When Abby answered, he convinced her to meet him outside when the store closed. His intention of mixing the numbers was to get Abby and Carter together, not cause a freaking technology nightmare. The two of them were a disaster. Abby met him later, but after their conversation, things seemed even more convoluted than before. How the hell could he help Carter if Abby continued to add layers and layers of technology confusion?

He considered the dilemma on the way home. Hell, their communication issues weren’t his problem. At least he’d tried. He hit road construction and sat for over twenty minutes while flashing lights and signs prevented his movement. The bright colors were almost as blaringly obnoxious as those striped leggings Caroline wore. His lips twitched, and he felt a smile stretch across his face in amusement. She’d changed all right, but the wild innocence and crazy bravado was still there. She had simply hidden it under all those crazy layers of fabric. And tons of misdirected anger.

It took him a few more stoplights, but he finally figured out how to handle the situation with Caroline. Reading her blog had made him realize how much he needed closure. To see if there was even a glimmer of a chance that they might be able to salvage something from the past. Or maybe he was a glutton for punishment. He called Abby and set up a time to meet. It was easy to bribe her into arranging a short sit-down with Caroline. After all, she was riddled with guilt over how to resolve things in her own relationship and practically overjoyed to focus on someone else’ communication needs.

When Roger pulled into his drive, his cell bleeped a text. He glanced at the screen.

Hi there, Miranda here. It’s Thursday. Are you still coming?

Oh shit.

He debated cancelling, but his mom would call in a few minutes if he dared—and he wasn’t ready for another bashing session. Besides, Miranda was simply trying to do her job. You couldn’t fault her for that.

He typed in a response and quickly let Conan out before jumping back into the car. He’d see what she wanted to do, then politely refuse her services and end the evening. He glanced at the clock on the dash. If he timed things well, he could get back in time to watch the Astros game at seven.

Flannigan’s Brewhouse was a local favorite with most of his friends. Good food, lots of specials on draft beers, and decent feature bands on weekends. Thursday nights had become the favorite time for young bands to debut on the small stage. He’d never heard of the group playing this night, but he wasn’t picky. He wasn’t staying.

He’d taken four steps inside when a perfectly manicured set of nails wrapped around his wrist and yanked him onto the dance floor.

“Yay. You’re here.” Miranda’s crazy-ass heels put her almost at eye level with him. The pile of curls she’d layered into a knot on her head gave her an extra inch. Scary.

“Yeah, I’m here, but I can’t—”

The band kicked the volume up and his words were lost.
Stay.

She grabbed his bicep and yelled a few undistinguishable words into his ear before bouncing up and down to the music.

It was actually pretty decent music, too. He figured he could dance to one or two songs before he left, just to be cordial. Twenty or so minutes later, he was sweating his ass off, and in desperate need of a drink. Fortunately the band stopped long enough for him to speak.

“I have to have something to drink or I’m going to pass out. You thirsty?”

She nodded and gave an order for a fancy martini he’d never heard of. He hoped he could remember the name long enough to order it. “I’ll meet you at that table over there.” Miranda pointed toward a dark corner, and he nodded.

At the bar, someone tapped Roger on the shoulder, and he turned to see his friend Jackson. “Who’s the Vegas showgirl?”

Roger frowned. “No one.” Maybe her clothes were a little flashy, but he wouldn’t exactly call them stripper style.

Jackson lifted a finger to order a beer as Roger waited for their drinks. “Really? ’Cause she sure doesn’t look like no one. Especially the way she was rubbing rusties with you.”

Roger’s beer arrived, and he took a swig. “Rusties?”

Jackson laughed. “Yeah, but I have a feeling they won’t be rusty after tonight.” He clicked his beer bottle to Roger’s and strode back to his girlfriend, Amanda.
Very funny.

Once the bartender finished Miranda’s drink, Roger took it and worked his way toward the table. Why’d she pick one so dark and hidden ... and right next to the band? There was no possible way he’d hear a word of her presentation. She bopped up and down on her stool like she was going to start dancing on it any second. He glanced around. She hadn’t brought a presentation.

He leaned forward and spoke into her hair after she’d taken the drink. “So what do you think?”

She sipped her martini and yelled, “I think I want to dance some more.” She yanked his free hand toward the floor. Roger desperately downed the remainder of his beer for hydration. What should he do? This obviously wasn’t going to be a quick business meeting. In fact, based on their surroundings, he doubted she intended to talk shop at all.

So much for the game.

Two hours later, he trudged to his front door with Miranda close behind. Her fingers were tucked into his pocket and squeezing his backside. He should have rescheduled their meeting, but that would just mean another potential misunderstanding, and he wasn’t up for it. Besides she said she wanted to
show
him her ideas. He was pretty sure he knew where that led.

He unlocked the door and shoved it wide for her to enter. Miranda stepped out of her heels, and suddenly he was looking four inches down at her pile of blonde frizz. With shoes in hand, she tiptoed into his house. Something about the swing of her hips and the way she rolled the shoes around in her fingers scared the hell out of him. Not because he expected she wanted to make use of his body, but because he wasn’t sure he wanted hers. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never been one to turn down getting laid before.

She rotated, dropped her shoes, and walked her fingers up his chest. “So, I thought we could do something really dark and sexy with this room.”

He quirked a brow. “Like what?”

She leaned up and whispered, “Come here, and I’ll show you.”

Caroline surveyed the crowded shop and filled with pride. She couldn’t stop smiling. Abby had nearly choked her to death by hugging the breath out of her when people started showing up to buy the new deal she’d advertised on her blog. The BFB package was the product of a little too much wine at a very late hour.

And it was brilliant, if she did say so herself.

BFB, Best Flower Budget, allowed busy and perhaps forgetful people to ensure they always remembered special occasions with an appropriate present. It was a subscription service for flowers and gifts. They’d sold half a dozen today, along with numerous other gifts and arrangements. She was exhausted by the time Abby finally closed up shop. The store was a disaster. As Caroline went to retrieve the cleaning supplies, she noticed she’d left the new deliveries unshelved. She tore open the boxes and tagged a beautiful set of crystal candleholders. They’d be a hit.