"We're going with awesome," I said, glancing back to Ben.
"I'd say infuriating," Ben murmured.
"You would," I replied. "You've been going hard for the past month but you're doing a shit job of it." I pointed at Ben while catching Rob's eye. "I went across the street in the middle of the night—"
"Infuriating," Rob muttered.
"And politely asked him to suspend the home improvement games for a bit," I continued, ignoring Rob as he tossed his hands up and shook his head.
Ben pivoted to face Rob. "Dude. She unplugged my saw and then yelled at me about how to work on a house for ten minutes," Ben said. "There was nothing polite about it. It was actually very indecent."
"That's how I roll, buddy," I replied. This time, he got the withering glare. "And if you want me to help you with your projects, you'll—"
Rob's chair screeched against the floor as he pushed to his feet. "You're helping him?"
If there was anyone in this bakery who wasn't engrossed in our conversation, they were in it now. Goddamn, I did not want to be the subject of another live-tweeted date.
"Yes," I replied, as calm and even as possible. Even if I wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up and sit the hell down. "It drives me crazy when virgin flippers do shoddy work and then sell houses that are basically duct-taped together."
"I'm no virgin," Ben announced, tipping his chin up at me.
There was a challenge in that gesture. Something that whispered,Try me.
And those fucking forearms. They demanded attention, a challenge to anyone who spotted them.Just try and get your hand around me, they taunted.
Rob down stared at me, his eyebrows crawling up his forehead and his hands on his lean waist. "Magnolia, I don't—" He stopped himself, shot a sour glimpse at Ben, and then looked back to me.
Holy shit.I was the jam in a Rob-and-Ben sandwich. Not that I wanted a sandwich. Open-faced, sure. Not a panini.
"Yo, Brock," a voice boomed from the other side of the bakery. "Time to roll."
Ben glanced over his shoulder at the crew of firefighters waiting for him. "I'll see you Saturday," he said. Then, facing Rob, he said, "Seems like I'll be seeing you around too."
"Bet on it," Rob replied, smoothing his tie as he settled into his seat.
Ben laughed to himself, nodding, and then hit me with a quick smile. "Saturday."
"Permits," I called as he walked away. Once Ben and the other firefighters filed out of the bakery, I glanced at Rob. "Sorry about that. It was this whole weird thing last night where I went over there and realized he was committing every renovation sin known to building craft and I had to jump in."
I casually omitted all references to my free-boob situation. Just didn't seem relevant.
Rob sat back and clasped his hands in his lap. He smiled at me, a curious, almost amused smile that made me wonder for the second time this afternoon whether I had poppy seeds in my teeth.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing." He shook his head. "I wanted—I just needed to get over my ex. She really fucked me up and I'm…I don't know what I am."
"What happened?" I asked. "What did she do that traumatized you so much?"
Rob shook his head again. For the first time, I saw inside his weariness, into the bleak blankness where his relationships once lived. I understood his desperation to fill that space at any cost. "I don't want to get into it. Nothing atrocious. Just people who had different expectations and different definitions of loyalty," he said. "But I thought I'd find a hot woman who looked nothing like my ex"—I was inwardly squeeing at that—"and fuck away the memories. Instead, I met you."
End the squeeing.
"Oh, well, I guess I'm sorry about…something," I said, stumbling over each word. "Maybe I should—uh, just—maybe I'll go now."
"No, no, not—no." His entire existence seemed to cringe. "I said that wrong. I meant that I had a very narrow objective."
"Mmhmm."
