My heart pounds. What is wrong with me? It’s not like I’m afraid of ghosts. Why does every part of me want to scream no? It’s that woman. I don’t want to witness more of Wyatt with his beautiful girlfriend, all kindness and caring. Everything he’s not with me.
Am I actually jealous? Hell no. It just rubs me the wrong way because he goes out of his way to antagonize me.
“I don’t know if I can get away,” I say, gesturing around us. “Lots of work to do.”
“He told us to stop by any time,” Harper says. “We can go late afternoon. Don’t you close for a few hours between lunch and dinner?” This is true. There’s a gap in shifts and two hours of dead time.
I blink, the walls closing in on me. “Yes, but there’s still work to do.”
“Oh, Syd, are you still fighting with him?” she asks.
Like it’s my fault? Wart is the one who nonstop criticizes everything around here. He can’t even remember my name! It’s not that difficult. I work hard to sound calm. “No. I was never fighting with him.” He antagonizes me, and I respond in kind.
She exchanges a look with Garrett before turning back to me. “This might be a good opportunity to mend fences, you know? Meet him on his home turf, find something nice to say about his place, and you’re on the first step to the road of…friendship.”
My head snaps toward her, instantly suspicious. “Why did you pause there?”
“Pause where?” she asks innocently.
She’s a fantastic actress, but I know her too well for that. “Before friendship.”
She leans close. “It’s no secret that tension between a man and a woman is often…” She mouths sexual.
I fight back a blush. All those sexy dreams. “Nope. That’s not what’s going on here. Besides, he has a girlfriend. I saw her last week.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that.” She turns to Garrett. “Did you know?”
“No, but guys don’t share as much by text as you women do.”
“What exactly did he say in his text?” Harper asks.
Garrett shrugs. “He said come up and see the place, and I said, okay, when? No further sharing happened. Other than some renovation stuff.”
Harper smiles, grabs him by the shirt, and pulls him close for a kiss. “I just love how you get it, honey.”
I look away. Harper is not normally mushy like this. She was raised by her tough grandmother. This is what love does to a person. Makes them completely unaware of how ridiculous they sound. Not me. I’ve been in love before, and not once have I been as ridiculously mushy as she is.
I clear my throat. “I’ll, uh, text Jenna and Audrey. Maybe they’d like to see the old place.” I send a text through our group text and stand. "Back to work for me. I’ll let you know if I hear from them.” My phone chimes, and I check the screen. "They hit the mall for the January sales."
"Bummer,” Harper says. “At least we’ve got you. Maybe they’ll be done by late afternoon, and we can all go to Wyatt’s place together."
“Why does everyone have to go see Wyatt?” I ask with more bite than I intended. It just feels like everyone and everything is pulling me toward the one man on earth who makes me nuts.
Her eyes widen. “I just thought it would be cool to see the haunted house we were terrified of as kids together. What’s your problem with Wyatt?”
I clench my teeth. “I don’t have a problem with Wyatt.” Except that my friends keep pushing me to make nice with him. It’s as if everyone’s forgotten how much he’s insulted me and my place, all with a smirk on his face. He knows very well what he’s doing. Even ignoring all that, I’m not sure I can work with him, given how he takes a piece of every business he invests in. Unfortunately, I still need to consider approaching him, but I’m not ready to do that until I can figure out a deal that leaves me as full owner of my restaurant. I’m just not sure what I can offer that he’d want.
Everything with Wyatt is so damn difficult. The man knocks me off balance in every way, which is why I’m not ready to visit him and “make nice.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she says. “Tension.” But she says it like sexual.
My cheeks heat, and I quickly turn away to hide it, waving over my shoulder as I go back to work.
How did I get conned into this? I’m sitting in the back seat of Harper’s black Mercedes SUV with Jenna and Audrey on our way to Wyatt’s place. Audrey’s in the middle seat because she’s the smallest.
Adrenaline races through me as the car makes its way up the winding hill to his house. It’s a large two-story with gray clapboard siding. The gray lighthouse with a white top is to the right of the house. I stare at the lighthouse. Why?
“I only have an hour before I have to get back,” I say.
“We know,” a chorus of voices returns.
“The place is mostly empty,” Garrett says from the driver’s seat. “We’re just going to take the tour. I doubt he even has anywhere for us to sit.”
“Aren’t you guys dying of curiosity?” Harper asks with an enthusiastic smile at those of us trapped in the back seat.
“Yes,” Audrey says.
“Totally,” Jenna says.
I’m so tense I’m about to leap out of the vehicle.
“Syd?” Harper asks.
“Yes, of course I’m curious. That’s the only reason I’m here.” I stare out the tinted window. Almost there.
“Syd and Wyatt have a thing,” Jenna says.
My head snaps to her. “We do not have a thing.”
“You kinda do,” Audrey says.
“It’s sexual tension,” Harper says matter-of-factly.
“He has a girlfriend!” I exclaim.
My friends titter.
“Syd has a huge buildup of tension,” Jenna says. “It’s been what…” She starts counting on her fingers.
Months. Too many months.
I glare at her. “Would you shut up? Garrett doesn’t want to hear about my sex life.”
He grins. “Pretend I’m not here.”
“Six months!” Jenna crows. “Right? Since Todd.”
Todd was the guy I briefly dated when I lived in Hoboken before I came home to take over the restaurant. And I’m not going to share that it never got that far. I tried, I really did. But he touched me so gently, with barely there feather-like touches, I felt like I was with a girl. I need a man who’s not afraid to grab on and take. That’s how I am. I probably scared Todd away with my boldness. So, yeah, it’s been more than six months. Whatever. There’s more important things in life than sex.
I’m just so sick of crappy lovers. At my age I know what I like and don’t like, and why is that so hard for a guy to get? I’m tired of directing—harder, no, not there, here. More of that, a little to the right.
It’s a basic problem of incompatibility for the most part. It’s not me.
The car comes to a halt alongside a red Jeep. There’s also a silver BMW SUV. I bet his girlfriend’s here. Welp, he must’ve made her feel better after she cried, or she wouldn’t have stuck around. I force myself to take a deep breath over the tightness in my chest. It doesn’t make sense to feel hurt. So he’s a beast to me and a sweetheart to her. Why do I even care what he does?