Читать книгу As Long As You Love Me - Ann Aguirre - Страница 11

CHAPTER FIVE

After I ran the power sander like a boss, finishing the dining-room floor, Rob fixed one-pot macaroni and cheese for lunch. He started it while I was sweeping up the dust. I didn’t even know it was possible, but he boiled the pasta in butter and milk, so by the time it was soft, he just added cheese and bacon crumbles. It was pretty close to the best thing I ever tasted. On a hot plate. In a real kitchen, he had to be amazing.

We took our bowls up to his room, and he turned on the TV. I made incoherent this-is-so-delicious noises as we ate. I probably would’ve licked the bowl, if I hadn’t noticed him staring. “What, this is really good. Tell me what else you can cook, preferably with pictures.”

He smiled at me, an easy warmth in his expression. “Sorry, no food porn for you, or I’ll never get you back to work. But I’ll brag a little. Should I start with breakfast?”

“I’ll allow it.”

“Oatmeal, omelets, sausage scramble, French toast, pancakes.”

“How the hell do you make all of that on a hot plate?”

“The key is preparation. I have cooked bacon and sausage in the fridge at all times.”

I nodded sagely. “In case of a meat emergency.”

“You never know,” he said.

Suddenly I wasn’t in a bad mood anymore. I hadn’t set out to let Rob solve my problems, but I’d be an asshole to blame him for caring, just because his affection didn’t take the shape I preferred. Surreptitiously I licked my spoon.

“Lunch,” I prompted.

“That’s usually a sandwich. I’m showing off because you’re here.”

That made me happy. “And dinner?”

“Stir-fry, various soups, quesadillas, country-fried steak. I can’t make anything that requires more than one burner and a microwave. If I get in the mood for something else, I go to my mom and dad’s.”

Or you take Avery out for dinner. His receipts had told me that much.

“It sounds like you enjoy cooking.”

“In a better kitchen, I do.”

“Yours will be beautiful when it’s finished.”

“I hope so. Once we finish the dining room, it’s next on my to-do list.”

“Most people would’ve done the kitchen first.” I didn’t mean to criticize; it was just an example of how Rob’s thought processes differed from the rest of the world.

His pleasure dimmed. “Yeah. But I’m already taking my food up, and even if I finished the kitchen, there’s no room to eat it in. So I wanted to have somewhere to go first.”

“You mean when you christen your new stove and cook something complicated, there should be more ceremony than just carting it up the stairs.” Put that way, it made sense to finish the dining room first, even if it seemed backward and lengthened inconvenient meal preparation. It also established the fact that such milestones mattered to Rob; he was sentimental.

He seemed relieved, flashing me another bright smile. “Yeah, exactly.”

“You should invite me over. After all this effort, I’d like to be part of the inauguration.” After I said it, I realized my mistake. He’d be cooking for Avery, not me, when the kitchen was pretty and polished, the dining room ready to receive guests. My next breath actually hurt.

“Maybe.” He didn’t mention her, much to my relief. “We should get back to work.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Rob did, in fact, have running water, but he washed up in a basin. I went back to the dining room and got the right grit sandpaper to complete the final pass on the floor. If I’d processed everything he told me correctly, the next step would be staining. After that, we’d wash the walls and paint them, along with the baseboards. It was possible I’d never see the finished product, of course. Once I had a job, there would be no excuse to hang around.

I was on my hands and knees when he came in; I didn’t look up. He stood over me long enough for me to feel weird, so I finally sat back on my heels. “What?”

“Let’s do something else.”

“But we’re almost done with the floor.” The perfectionist in me was going to be annoyed if he decided the built-in hutch was more important.

“Not in here. Out there.” He gestured at the world beyond the windows.

“Like what?”

“I’m wondering if you know how to drive stick.”

Shit. Now that he mentioned it... “The green truck’s a manual, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

Sighing, I shook my head. “My mom never taught me. I don’t think she’s ever owned anything but automatics.”

“You need to learn.” His tone was no-nonsense, as he plucked the keys out of a basket by the door. There were so few on the ring that I knew this was his spare set.

“Right now?”

“I’m feeling cooped up,” he admitted.

“Then by all means, let’s uncoop you, chicken-man.”

Rob laughed and slung an arm around my shoulders. When I leaned against him, my eyes closed. This was the first time he’d hugged me since I was seventeen. Interesting that making him laugh had the same effect as my tears. I didn’t know what I’d do with that information, but it fascinated me. I expected him to shove me away or to hear the impatient jingle of keys, but his other arm came around me, closing the circuit.

Surprised, I tipped my head up, waiting for the punch line. “Are we having a moment?”

His eyes were warm and soft, roiling deep like a thunderhead, and he wore a half smile that melted me down to the bone. “I’m glad you came back.”

Then he ruined it by messing up my hair and shoving me out the door ahead of him. I could absolutely envision him treating Nadia this way, and I ground my teeth against the certainty that he didn’t see a pretty face or nice rack, cute butt, none of my feminine attributes. I could honestly say that Rob loved me like a sister, and that was a deep hole to climb out of. I mean, he’d been looking after me and keeping me out of trouble for, like, fourteen years.

Glumly, I followed him to the garage, shivering while he hauled the doors open. The green truck looked a bit better than I remembered, which meant Rob had been working on restoring it, too. That fit with what I knew of his personality; he didn’t discard things or give up on them. It was in his nature to tinker and repair, even if it took forever and other people would’ve given up long ago. Not for the first time, I thought, Lucky Avery.

“You should be wearing hat, scarf and gloves,” he said as we climbed in.

In the dim garage, I could only make out the strongest angles of his face: slope of nose and curve of jaw. My breath misted before me, and I rubbed my palms together, afraid to touch the steering wheel. “How old are you again? Forty-six? Besides, I thought I’d be working in your nice, warm house all day, no need for winter bundling. So you should really apologize for springing surprise stick lessons on me. I’m coping like a champ, right?”

He grinned and reached over to stick the key in the ignition. Ridiculous as it was, when his arm brushed close to me and the metal clicked in, my stomach fluttered. I was too flustered to listen when he explained how to start the car, so he had to repeat himself, and then I felt like such a dipshit that my cheeks burned like twin emergency flares. So much for learning to relax around him. Somehow I managed to pump the gas while doing whatever with the clutch well enough to start the motor. The truck sounded like it was in good shape.

“Let it run for a few minutes, get the engine good and hot.” Seriously, did he have to say stuff like that? In anyone else, I’d be sure it was a double entendre, but that wasn’t how he operated, and certainly not with me. He proved it by continuing, “It’ll take a while for the heater to kick in, too.”

Nodding, I rubbed my hands together, trying and failing to warm them. Rob took over, pressing my fingers between his palms. My toes curled. “You know, the ancient Norse had a long tradition of warming their hands on each other’s bellies.”

I didn’t expect that to work, but Rob rewarded me with another smile. I’d say all kinds of crazy shit to keep him looking at me like that...while holding my hands. The next moment proved definitively that I didn’t have mind-control powers, though, because the frantic refrain of kiss me kiss me kiss me running through my head didn’t stop him from letting go.

“Good thing I’m not Norse,” he said, checking the vents for hot-air flow.

You’re better, like Thor’s hotter, sweeter cousin. But I didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t enjoy being praised for his looks; in fact, it made him feel bad, probably because nobody but me could find any other good points to mention. I could’ve written a dissertation on The Ways Robert Clayton Conrad Is Completely Awesome, but for some reason, no graduate program was offering credit for this expertise.

“Explain the gears to me one more time?” The imprint of what gears were located where had faded somewhat over the years. Rob doubtless knew it by touch, but I was a manual novice. Any other guy would be making all the penis jokes in the world, but he only repeated the information with imperturbable calm.

“Got it?” he asked.

I huffed out a breath. “I’m freaking out. I’ll ruin your truck. You shouldn’t trust me to do this—there’s snow on the ground.”

“But not on the roads,” he said patiently. “Put it in Reverse, give it some gas. You can do it, Lauren. You’re smart and it’s not that hard. If I can learn, anyone can.”

Only the fact that I was doing things with both feet and backing out of his garage while trying not to hyperventilate kept me from yelling at him. Even though I grew up multitasking, I could only do so many things at once. Swear to God, I was seeing stars by the time I cleared the doors, and my hands were shaking on the wheel.

“You weren’t kidding,” he said, brows furrowing. Then his hands were on my shoulders and he brought my face really close, to the point I could feel the warmth of his breath and see the dark stubble on his chin. I’d never been this close to Rob’s mouth, his amazing, perfectly shaped mouth. But he maintained eye contact, intent on calming me down. “It’s okay. You’ve got this. You can do it. Breathe for me. Okay? In. Out.”

He probably didn’t mean for me to think about sex when he said that, but I couldn’t help where my mind went. Ironically, it took care of my nerves and made me squirmy, suddenly aware of the powerful engine rumbling the seat of the old truck. I’d much rather climb on top of Rob than learn how to drive stick, but he registered that I was no longer a vibrating anxiety ball and let go of me.

“Better? I don’t want to force you.”

This wasn’t even a full-on panic attack. Imagine how he’d react if he ever saw one. Because I couldn’t stand for him to think of me as broken, I nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Then the lesson commenced for real. I stalled out the first time I switched out of Reverse and it took me forever to turn the truck around. But I did not launch the vehicle through the wall of his house and I eventually made it down his driveway. I had another mini-panic attack about getting out on the open road, but once I made the turn, upshifting wasn’t such a problem. He explained how I’d likely have the most trouble at stop signs and traffic lights—that downshifting was trickier, unless I was going up a mountain.

At that point, I laughed and shook my head. “I have no plans to take your truck any farther than work and home. I’m afraid I’ll ruin it.”

“Don’t be nervous,” he said. “You’re already better than I was my first time. My granddad predicted I’d strip the gears, the way I was going, and the transmission would fall out.” He paused. “That didn’t happen, either. In time, you’ll be so good at this, you’ll wonder why you were ever scared. Turn here.”

Here was the Walmart parking lot. I managed to stop the truck and shut it off without anything catastrophic happening. “Thanks.” At the inquiring tilt of his head, I added, “That wisdom applies to every new thing I’ll ever try in my life.”

He shot me a surprised look. “Seriously?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Nobody’s ever said that to me...when they weren’t fucking around.”

“It’s good advice.” Hesitating, I wondered if I should admit this, but he’d said that we were friends. “I’m not very adventurous. It stresses me out to change my routine. In some respects I’m close to obsessive about doing things the same way.”

That was part of why I was so unhappy in Michigan— because I was fighting my instinctive tendencies, playing a role and thinking if I just tried hard enough, I could just feel like other people did, and I could act like the stress of seeing hundreds of people daily didn’t bother me. Nadia was fine with it, but she was closer to normal. She didn’t spend an hour bracing for social contact and when we went out, she was more or less herself whereas I was always playing a part—the role of extrovert Lauren.

For a few seconds, he didn’t reply, and I wished I hadn’t opened up. Swallowing hard, I dredged up a cheerful expression. “Too much, huh? So did you want to get something or—”

“I count things,” he said.

“Huh?”

“I don’t like odd numbers, either.”

Astonished, I studied him, trying to decide if he was screwing with me. But the slightly anxious pleat between his brows promised sincerity.

“I’m not crippled by it or anything, but when I take nails out of a package, I always get two, and I decided not to buy the first house I liked because the address ended in three.” He stared at his hands like he expected me to condemn him for being weird, when I’d just confessed to being overly attached to my little rituals.

Learning this made Rob feel more like a real friend, less the guy who solved my problems and who I’d never get to be with for oh-so-many reasons. It helped to discover he had quirks, too, in addition to the insecurity over the looks-versus-brains dichotomy I already knew about.

I leaned over and bumped my shoulder against his. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Rob’s gaze was steady on mine. For a few seconds, I felt like he actually saw me—not as Nadia’s friend or his surrogate sister, but as a person—and that moment was electric. His fingers flexed against his knees, then he cleared his throat.

“I don’t need anything from in there. I just thought you could practice driving around the parking lot. It’s empty over there.”

“Got it, boss.” Without prompting, I started the truck, and the engine only sputtered a little when I backed out, swapping from Reverse.

We had been looping for half an hour while I practiced going from first to second when a blue Honda Civic pulled into the lot. I didn’t recognize the girl driving it, but Rob clearly did. From what I could see through her window, she was in her early twenties, shoulder-length dark hair, round face and turned up nose. I’d call her plain, but that might be a result of the scowl. After a few seconds, I placed her as someone who’d hung out with Avery in high school, though she’d put on some weight since graduation, judging by the fullness of her cheeks.

Staring at Rob, she nearly hit us, and he shifted all the way around, clearly torn on how to handle things. Since it was a near miss, not a collision, I didn’t have to stop or give insurance information, but he signaled for me to park near the other vehicle. The girl glared until Rob hopped out, hands in his pockets, and he went to the driver’s side. He didn’t ask me to come, so I stayed where I was, but a nosy impulse made me crack my window to eavesdrop.

“This is what you’re doing when Avery’s out of town?” she was snapping.

“What?” He glanced over his shoulder at me with a puzzled look.

“I can’t believe you’re hooking up with some skank behind her back.”

Hey. This is not a skanky outfit. At most, these sweats are hoochie. They didn’t even claim that my ass was “Juicy.”

Sadly, there was nobody to appreciate the genius of my silent retort. Besides, Rob had more class than to cruise the Walmart parking lot with his side piece, but this girl didn’t know him at all. If she did, she wouldn’t be spitting accusations like that. I half wanted to get out of the car and pull her hair, then shout at her that he’d never cheat on Avery, especially with me, but that would likely make things worse and escalate the situation to reality TV levels of awful.

Shock must’ve paralyzed him for a few seconds. Then he said, “Lauren is my sister’s best friend. And I’m giving her driving lessons.”

“Let me guess,” the girl purred. “You’re teaching her all about how to handle stick?”

Rob’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer. She screeched off, nearly running over his feet in the process. He was pale when he came up to the window, anger written all over his face. No good deed goes unpunished. When Avery found out he was loaning me Tessa Green-tea, her head would explode. She couldn’t understand what kind of guy Rob was, or that he was thoughtful without expecting sex in return. Or maybe I was just being judgmental; for the sake of his relationship, I should probably hope I was wrong.

“Sorry,” he said, “for getting you involved in that. It never occurred to me that anyone would take this the wrong way.”

I found it pretty surprising, too. Avery’s friend had leaped to that conclusion so fast, I had to wonder what kinds of reports she had been getting. Were there problems I didn’t know about? Rob didn’t talk that much about his girlfriend with me...not that I wanted him to. It was painful hearing about her and then imagining them together.

“Is there anything I can do?”

He shook his head. “Looks like we’re cutting this short today. I have to call Avery before Jillian does.”

I understood why he wouldn’t want to with me sitting here, listening in. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for messing things up for you.”

“You didn’t. It’s a misunderstanding. I’ll fix it.”

A tiny, horrible part of me hoped that he couldn’t.