I looked up to find Barney staring at me.
“Enjoying the show?” I hid a wince at the aggravation that slid into my voice.
He looked up, meeting my gaze unflinchingly. “Quite a bit.” There was a sincerity and heat in his reply that scorched my already hot skin.
“Sorry about him.” Fred elbowed Barney. “His filters don’t always work right.”
Barney didn’t look fazed. “She asked, I gave her an honest answer.”
“While she’s all sticky and covered in coffee.” Fred started undoing the buttons on his shirt. “Take this.”
I held up a hand to stop him. Not that I would have minded the show. “I’m okay, really.” I didn’t look cute in a guy’s shirt, the way some girls did. It would probably fit, but I wouldn’t drown adorably in it. “Besides, we can’t both be showing off our assets. People will get the wrong idea about this place.”
“Do they have coffee shops like that? They should,” Barney said.
If they were going to pretend this was no big deal, I could summon some phony self-assurance. Sex, fake confidence, and self-effacing humor had been my shield most of my life. “The kind where they spill your coffee on you instead of letting you drink it?
Barney looked me over again. Every time he did that, I swear I felt his gaze. “Assuming they is you, do I get to lick it off after?” he asked.
Was he hitting on me or making fun of me? It didn’t matter. The coffee was drying and my clothes were getting uncomfortable. “I’m sorry about your shoes. Thanks for your help, but I need to get home.”
I turned away, eager to escape the embarrassment and confusion.
Chapter Two
I was halfway to my car, when I heard, “Betty.” Fred jogged up next to me. “Wow, that really does sound weak.”
“It really does.” I looked at him with raised brows, it probably wouldn’t if it were my name, but it didn’t escape me he still didn’t offer his real name.
Barney joined us. “If you get in your car now, it gets covered in coffee too, and you have an uncomfortable drive home. We’re staying next door. Walk over with us, and you can clean up in my room. Borrow something dry. Be on your way.”
“Wow, that’s...” I had no words.
“Super generous, right?” Barney winked. His cute was becoming creepy.
Fortunately, it helped me grab an answer. “A unique, but not super convincing way to get me to come back to your room.”
Fred shrugged. “You’re the one who spilled the coffee.”
I didn’t appreciate the reminder, but he said it without accusation or cruelty. He almost looked hurt at my tone. That hardly seemed fair. “Then this isn’t a ploy to get me to join him in his room?” I asked.
“His room, my room. It absolutely is.” Barney grinned.
It should have occurred to me to wonder before now, which of them was hitting on me? I’d say Barney, but Fred was working awfully hard to keep me happy. He was either one hell of a wingman, or...
No. There was no way it was both of them. Because that was what I’d been fantasizing about, and getting it would either be too much of a coincidence, or a cruelty when it went badly.
“But more people than you think tend to balk at the idea of two men from out of town trying to pick them up at the same time.” There was a trace of humor in Barney’s voice.
I pinched myself. Ow. Nope. I was still here. I did it again. Still hurt. Still didn’t change the sexy dual scenery.
“What are you doing?” Barney asked.
“Trying to figure out what kind of dream this is.” Are you a good dream, or a bad dream? The voice in my head sounded like the good witch from the Wizard of Oz. Maybe I’d dream of yellow brick roads next.
They chuckled, and Barney’s smirk melted to something less cocky. “Since you don’t seem interested, I’m making a genuine offer to let you clean up, which will be followed by a genuine offer to buy you a fresh cup of coffee after. And then we’ll try again to seduce you.”
“That sounds like a lot of trouble to go through for the woman who just spilled coffee all over herself.” My brain wanted to say chubby girl, but I’d let the insult gnaw at me from the inside, rather than exposing it to them. “You could have let me walk away and found someone—” cuter, thinner, and less abrasive “—else to win over.”
“If we’d been interested in someone else, we would have approached them instead.” Did Fred sound... wounded?
A guy like this—like them—could smile at any other woman and have her. If he was hurt that I wasn’t falling for the charm, he may be more concerned with hearing no or yes than who it came from. But he hadn’t struck me that way up to this point. If I’d gone to the bar instead of the bookstore, I probably would have accepted their offer. I’d have been there for a hook-up, and they seemed sincere enough.
Except for the fake names.
They were cute. They were flirty. I did hate being covered in coffee.
And if it was so easy to lie to me about who they were, they were hiding other things as well. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m going to call it a night, gentlemen. I hope the hotel elephant shower has hot water, and that the stone houses aren’t too drafty when you get back to Bedrock.”
Barney laughed.
Fred gave me a short bow. “Yabba dabba doo, Betty. Maybe we’ll run into you again before we leave town.”
“Maybe.” Unlikely. I’d probably avoid this bookstore for the next couple of weeks, specifically to keep that from happening. I was socially awkward that way.
There was a whisper of regret in my mind telling me stories of what could have been as I drove toward home. I couldn’t help but replay the conversation in my mind. I was used to pick-up lines that reached hey baby, let’s fuck without much hesitation. Fred and Barney actually made an effort. Plus, they were hitting on me together.
I’d made the right decision walking away, but everything about their attention painted a little smile on my face that didn’t want to leave. Their company was fun while it lasted, and it had been a while since I walked away from two attractive maybe-hookups, and felt good about myself.
I parked around the back of my house. My café was up front, and took up the entire ground floor of the converted Victorian home. The rear stairs led up to the bedrooms and living area on the second floor.
I’d gotten the house for an amazing price in auction. Low enough I could pay cash, and still have a little—very little—left over for renovations.
Until about a year ago, I’d always operated in the black. But I took a risk based on how well business was going, and secured a large loan to upgrade a lot of my equipment. Renovations slowed business enough both during and after, that I was struggling to pay that new bill.
There was an envelope slipped through the mail slot when I stepped inside. As I skimmed the formal notification on city letterhead, my heart sank.
A request for a zoning change had been filed, to remove residential properties from my area.
I’d had to fight to get my housing here to begin with. I couldn’t afford to move to a new place now.