“Uh, yeah. Good news? Floor is actually pretty comfortable. So there’s that.”
“Bad news?”
“We don’t have anything coming, we need to go buy new stuff.” I took a deep breath and blew it out quickly. “And I’m starting to think that’s what Mason was sending you over here for.”
She’d been slowly nodding her head at the beginning, but then she stopped and tilted it to the side. “Starting to? What did you think we were talking about earlier?”
“Uh—so would you like to go furniture shopping with me?” I scratched the back of my neck nervously and she narrowed her beautiful eyes at me.
“No! I would not like to go furniture shopping with you, Kash. Did you already forget just telling me that you didn’t need anything from me?”
“I—that was a misunderstanding. I thought you . . . that Mason . . . it doesn’t matter. Like I said, misunderstanding. If you don’t want to come with me, that’s fine. You can hang out here, but obviously, you’d just be sitting on the floor.”
“What misunderstanding? What did you think was happening?”
I groaned and grabbed the keys out of my pocket. “Forget it, Rachel.”
“No, I deserve to know why you were so rude when I was offering to help you!”
I flung my arm out to the side and practically growled at her, “I thought he sent you over here to fuck me, and I thought you agreed to it!”
Instead of laughing at me, like I’d have expected any normal person to do, her stubborn expression fell, and all color drained from her face. Her mouth fell open and she quickly shut it, licking her lips as she forcibly swallowed. “I d-don’t want . . . I don’t want to have sex with you,” she whispered, and backed up until she hit the wall.
“Okay, Rachel, that’s fine.” I spoke like I was talking to a scared victim. What was going on with her? “That’s good to know, I don’t want to have sex with you either, that’s why I was an asshole earlier.”
That was a lie. I’d even freakin’ dreamed about this girl last night and woken with a painful hard-on I had to take care of in the shower, all the while Rachel flashing through my mind. And I’d lied to Mason earlier. Rachel wasn’t a bitch, though she’d definitely shown her bitchy side at our first meeting and before we got to the restaurant last night. But it didn’t take more than a handful of minutes watching her to realize it was her shield. It was her way of protecting herself. What she was hiding, I had no idea, and apparently it’d been obvious I was trying to figure it out last night. But there was something, and for some reason, I wanted to find out what it was and be whatever shield she needed.
And that was dangerous.
I’d been serious when I was talking to Mason about keeping focused, but he’d seen through my bullshit. I’d needed to say it to someone so I could try to get it through my head too. Anything with Rachel would be a bad idea. It wasn’t that I couldn’t have meaningless hookups; Mason and I had faced that a couple times with different groups we’d had to get into. To say we were paranoid about making sure we were still clean after being with those girls was an understatement. But from the moment Rachel had practically fallen out of her car yesterday afternoon, there was no doubting there was something different about her. There’s no such thing as meaningless when you find a girl like Rachel.
Rachel squeezed her eyes shut and took two deep breaths in and out before opening them again. But she wouldn’t look at me.
“Rachel?”
“What?” she snapped.
Shield. “Are you feeling okay, do you need something to eat or drink? I don’t have anything here but I can go get something.”
“I’m fine.” She took one more deep breath and forced her eyes to my face. “Tell me why you thought that’s why Mason would have me come over here.”
“It’s just something we were talking about.”
“You were talking about having sex with me?!”
“No! Jesus, no. We just—” I groaned and shifted my weight. “He was going over there to be with Candice and told me I needed to get laid. That’s all. Then you showed up saying what you said . . . and I just thought . . . It doesn’t matter.”
“Okay. Look, can we get out of your apartment? I’ll go help you pick out furniture or whatever. I just don’t feel comfortable being in here with you right now.” Her chest started rising and falling quickly and I just stood there staring at her.
I was scaring her? She was scared of me! That was fucking awesome. I couldn’t think about anything but getting to know her in every damn way possible, and I was freaking scaring her. Perfect. “Yeah, let’s go.”
We walked in silence out to my truck, and no, it didn’t escape my notice that she stayed an awkward distance from me. As soon as she was in the passenger seat, I ran to the driver’s side and hopped in. Just as I turned the ignition she cleared her throat and looked down at her hands, which she was twisting together. “Can we just get it out there right now that I don’t want anything with you or from you?”
I’m not going to lie; it felt like she’d punched me. But I still nodded.
“I’m not looking for, or interested in, a relationship. It’s nothing against you. I just—I can’t—I don’t. Um, I—”
“Rachel.” I waited until she looked up at me and again found myself wishing I could figure out what she was hiding from me. Did she have a boyfriend? Just get out of a bad relationship? “It’s fine. Nothing between us, I got it.”
With a quick breath in, she nodded her head and forced a smile. “We kind of got off on the wrong foot, but since we’re going to be neighbors I’d like it if we were friends. I’m sorry for how I was toward you when I met you, and I’m sorry for the confusion this morning—can we just start over?”
Only being friends with her sounded about as fun as kicking puppies right now. But this was good; I didn’t have time for a distraction and Rachel would definitely be a distraction . . . I don’t know why I even try lying to myself. The real problem was I couldn’t put Rachel in my world. I couldn’t put her in this danger, and being with her would put her right in the middle of it. So friends it was, then. “Sure,” I said softly, and watched a genuine smile cross her face.
She stuck out her hand. “I’m Rachel Masters, from far West Texas.”
God, she was cute. I grabbed her hand and tried to ignore the warmth coming from her body and how I wanted to lean into her, press my mouth to her neck, and breathe in the sweet scent coming from her. “Logan . . . Hendricks, from far East Texas. But you can call me Kash. It’s good to meet you, Rachel.”
“You too, Kash with a K.”
“You know, my apartment is pretty bare.”
“That’s an understatement,” she whispered on a laugh as she sat back and put her seat belt on. “I happen to be locked out of my apartment and have nothing to do today . . .”
“You want to help me pick out new furniture?”
“Took you long enough to ask me!”
I smiled and threw my truck in reverse. “Smart-ass.”
“SO TELL ME honestly.”
I glanced over at Rachel, who was lying down beside me, and raised an eyebrow.
“Can you feel it, Kash?” Her eyes widened and she slapped down on the mattress. “Can you feel the difference this mattress makes?”
The saleswoman kept rambling on about the statistics of this bed and I tried not to laugh as Rachel acted as if what she was saying was from the Bible.
“Isn’t this one just great?” The woman leaned over the bed to look at us. Her drawl was so thick that her great sounded more like gright.
“Feels just like a cloud, you were so right!” Rachel smiled sweetly at her.
“Oh, I knew y’all would just love this one! But c’mon over to the other side of the store, I have a few more to show you. And they just blow this one right out of the water,” she said, and walked away to the next set of mattresses.
Rachel swung her legs over to the side and looked back at me, that same sweet smile plastered on her face. “It feels exactly like the last six except it’s an extra two thousand dollars. So that just makes it so much better!” She scrunched up her nose on the last few words and smacked her hand down on the mattress again.
I rolled off the mattress and pulled her with me as I followed the saleswoman. “You look like a Miss America contestant on shrooms,” I whispered to Rachel, and she snorted.
She began waving at no one in particular like she was in a pageant, and her smile widened. “In case you’re wondering, the snozberries do taste like snozberries.”
“Oh, I thought y’all were right behind me!” The saleswoman had stopped and turned to face us a good twenty feet ahead. “Well c’mon, you two, you’re gonna love this next one!”
I groaned and Rachel’s fake smile faltered. “Since when does me sound like maaayyy?” I asked quietly when she began walking again.
“She reminds me of Dolly Parton. She has got to go.”
I barked out a laugh and tried not to picture the saleswoman as a Dolly clone.
Three beds and four couches later and I thought I was going to strangle the Dolly impersonator. And we still weren’t done with this store. How had I gone day in and day out with drugged-out scum and hookers and not clawed my eyes out, but an hour with this woman had me wanting nothing more than to take off running out of the store while screaming at Rachel that it was every man for himself?
I swear, if it weren’t for Rachel and her smart-ass comments, I would have been hiding underneath one of the beds. But even Rachel was starting to look worn out. Her fake smiles were a little less Barbie and a little more ermahgerd, and she looked ready to pass out on the couch I’d just gotten up from.
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