The love plot, p.8
The Love Plot, page 8
I heard the judgment in his voice and stiffened. “Yes. And I don’t know any three people who are happier.”
“I hope you don’t think you’ll be dragging my brother into a situation like that?”
“Hugo,” Greg admonished.
Gigi threw a peanut at him.
Jen remained silent, watching.
Rafe . . . well, Rafe shocked me once more.
Sitting next to me on the sofa, he shifted close enough that our bodies pressed together, the heat of him licking up my side as he slid his arm around my shoulders and drew me against him. “Oh, Star already knows I’m not a man who shares.”
And while my reaction appalled the feminist in me, my cavewoman brain kicked in and I felt an aroused squeeze low in my belly at the claiming.
Oh boy.
At that moment, it started to dawn on me that I was in trouble and couldn’t forget it was all pretend between us.
Chapter Nine
The Whitmans bid me a friendly goodbye, but it was far less warm than my reception, except for Gigi, who took my hands in hers. “Please come back. You’re the most interesting person anyone has brought home in a while. I think you’re going to be so good for Rafe.”
Guilt flared to life. These were nice people. Hugo was kind of an ass, but I had a feeling he was just doing the overprotective big brother thing. Greg was difficult to read, but Jen, I think, just knew what she wanted for her son, and someone like me wasn’t it. That made her an overprotective mom, and that was better than the mom I had. Now that I’d met Rafe’s family, it felt wrong to deceive them.
“My mom will come around once she thinks this is real. Right now, she’s not sure, but in a few weeks, believe me, she’ll already start planning the wedding,” Rafe muttered in my ear as he held my hand and walked me back to the car with his family watching.
“Seriously?”
“Yes. So wipe the guilt out of your eyes.”
I hadn’t realized I’d been so obvious.
Once we were in the car and I’d waved to them all as Rafe pulled away, I commented, “Your dad didn’t seem shocked by what I had to say at all.”
“Oh, he was shocked. He’s just good at hiding it. Besides, it’s my mom who’s on my case to get married. My dad could not care less.”
“Why is your mom so insistent you marry?”
“She wants me to have the life she had. She and my dad adore each other. They’ve had their ups and downs like anyone, but they’ve had a good life. Her life is the example she thinks we should all live by. Mom can’t see past it.”
“She thinks because marriage made her so happy that it’s the answer to all happiness?”
“Exactly.”
We were silent for a few minutes and then Rafe’s hands squeezed the steering wheel and released. He did that a few times before he spoke. “I want to apologize for not asking about your family.”
Rafe’s look was quick but piercing before he focused on the road.
“When I came to your apartment to go over my family background, it was . . . it was rude and self-involved to forget to ask you about yours. I’m not usually . . .” He sighed heavily. “I got wrapped up trying to maintain a professional distance between us, but a decent person would have asked.”
“It’s okay,” I assured him, finding his apology adorable. “This job is about you.”
“Technically, it’s about us. We’re pretending to date. And I should have known that about your mom and dad before it came out at my parents’ table.”
“It’s fine.”
Rafe nodded, but the tension remained between us, and I wasn’t sure why.
Then he asked, “Do you really believe all that stuff about your parents and your upbringing? That it was all for the best and made you independent?”
There was that fisted knot in my chest again. I sighed, staring out the passenger-side window, watching the world fly by. “It definitely made me independent, but would I recommend it? No.” I smiled ruefully as all the memories of my childhood flooded through me. They were tinged with one powerful emotion.
Loneliness.
“My childhood sucked,” I admitted quietly. The only other people I’d ever confessed that to were Roger, Jude, and Kendall.
“I’m sorry,” he commiserated.
“My parents should never have had a child. I don’t even like them very much. Is that awful?”
Rafe shook his head. “Not at all. They’re awful for neglecting you like that.”
My smile strained as a familiar hurt stole its hands around that knot in my chest. “Yeah, well . . . they got one thing right.”
“What’s that?”
“Freedom is everything and you should never tie yourself completely down to one place and one person. Glad I’m here to help make sure that doesn’t happen to you.”
Rafe’s frown deepened, but he didn’t respond. Silence fell between us and after a while I reached over to turn the dial on the radio up to allow Tom Grennan’s growly voice to fill the car.
Chapter Ten
Pushing inside the pub, I let my eyes adjust to the dim light and then swept the joint for my “date.” The sound of wood scraping against wood drew my attention and there he was, unfolding his large body from a wooden chair, his napkin falling to the table in front of him. As I wound through the tables in the small restaurant area, I smiled at the sight of him pulling out my chair for me.
“Thanks,” I murmured as I sat and Rafe deftly tucked me back in.
No one had ever pulled out my chair before.
It was so gentlemanly.
I must have been gawking at him in wonder, because Rafe frowned as he sat back down. “What?”
“Nothing.” I swept my hair off one shoulder to allow a little air on my hot skin, and Rafe’s eyes followed the movement. His gaze lingered on my bare throat and he might as well have been staring at my breasts for the way it made me feel. Ignore it. “What do you think?”
His eyes came back to mine. “Of what?”
At his seemingly perpetually bored tone, my lips twitched. “This place. It doesn’t look like much, but they do the best burgers.”
“So I’ve heard.” Rafe shrugged. “My friend Alfie lives on the island. He’s in a band and they’ve played here a few times. I haven’t eaten here, though.”
Now I was truly gaping at him. “Your friend is in a band? That has played here?”
“Yes. Is there something wrong with that?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’ve just . . . I’ve probably heard them play.” Where on earth had he met this friend that did not sound like the kind of friend he’d meet via his family?
As if he heard the question, Rafe lifted the menu to peruse it as he offered, “I met him at vet school. He dropped out, but we stayed friends.”
“Cool.” Rafe had friends. First Owen, now Alfie. That was nice. I didn’t want him to be a truly unhappy bachelor with no social life who worked constantly.
But then I supposed that was what I was there to find out. After I divulged some illuminating history at his parents’ dinner table, Rafe realized I was previously correct. We should have taken time to get to know each other better before we pretended to be a couple in front of other people. Luckily, we’d gotten away with it with his family, but his mom and Pippa were insisting on his presence at a charity event next Saturday evening and Pippa had attempted to set him up on a date.
I tried not to feel insulted by that since this wasn’t real between us, but it was difficult not to take it personally that she didn’t want me dating her brother-in-law. Rafe had told her he was bringing me and now, a week after the family dinner, he wanted to meet me to “get to know me” and vice versa.
Since I was definitely getting more out of our bargain considering I’d only had to attend one date since he’d begun paying me, I, of course, cleared my schedule to meet him at my favorite cheeseburger place. Rafe had insisted on coming to Staten Island instead of making me trudge into the city, and that was really thoughtful.
Speaking of trudging . . . “Did you get a cab here? I didn’t see the Pontiac parked outside.”
The left side of his mouth curled up. “I don’t leave my baby lying around in strange places.”
For some absurd reason, those words in his rumbly voice caused a clench deep in my lower belly.
I cleared my throat. “Makes sense. Did you cab it?”
“No. I got the subway, then the ferry and the bus.”
“You did public transport?”
His lips pinched together for a few seconds as he kept his gaze on his menu. “Yes, imagine that: the rich boy worked out how to get on a bus.”
Wincing, I sucked in a breath. “Sorry.”
He looked up from the menu, his expression indecipherable. “I won’t pretend my family isn’t wealthy, Star. I’m not ashamed of it. But I’m also not a frivolous person and I try to be as aware of my privilege as possible. If I don’t need to take expensive cabs everywhere, then I won’t.”
I nodded and was about to apologize again when I realized that I’d never jumped to conclusions about people before I met Rafe. That wasn’t me. I was not a judgmental person. The dynamic between me and Rafe was different and, honestly, I wasn’t going to take all the blame for it. “I rarely judge people. It’s not in my nature, considering I’ve been judged my whole life. But I think you put me on the defense when we first met and it comes naturally to react to anything you say in that way. I’ll stop, though. I promise.”
Rafe studied me for so long I thought he might just get up and walk out. Then he said, “As I mentioned before, I was in a horrible mood when we met.” He sighed heavily. “I’ve been in a horrible mood for months. And you’re right. I might not understand your choices of profession, or like them, for that matter, but they are your choices and it’s not my place to judge. I’ll stop too.”
Not exactly a groveling apology, but it would do. Yet I couldn’t just graciously accept it, could I? It bothered me that he was so against my jobs, and I didn’t know why it bothered me. It shouldn’t! “What is so wrong with my jobs?”
He cut me a look and then lifted his menu. “What’s good here?”
“Don’t avoid.” I shoved his menu down. “And the bacon cheeseburger.”
“Hey, are you guys ready to order?” A gorgeous young woman in a tight polo shirt and an even tighter short black skirt stopped at our table. Her fabulous long legs were bare and she wore cute high-top sneakers because she didn’t need high heels to make her legs look like they went on forever. I glanced at Rafe. It wouldn’t be the first time I was out for a meal with a guy and he’d ogled the server.
Rafe didn’t even look up from the menu. He asked me first, “What are you having?”
“Bacon cheeseburger,” I answered, handing her my menu. “And a soda water and lime.”
“Make that two and just water. Thank you.” He gave her his menu.
As if just noticing him, the server ran her eyes down Rafe’s body and then shot me a nice one, sister look before she walked away.
Rafe sat back in his seat, eyeing me suddenly like a sleepy tiger. He was unfairly attractive. I swear heat bloomed beneath my cheeks with no warning whenever he looked at me. “So . . . where do we start with this getting-to-know-you stuff?”
I snorted. “We could start with you not avoiding my question. Why do you dislike my jobs?”
He stared impassively at me. “I really don’t want to fight.”
“Why will this turn into a fight?”
“Because my opinion will more than likely offend you.”
My mind whirred around the possible reasons for his disdain. As if mere disdain weren’t enough. “Well, now I need to know.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
His eyes narrowed. “Fine.”
I swallowed another “fine” and gave him a well, what are you waiting for? gesture.
“You’re an intelligent woman, and I think you could do so much more with your life.”
I hadn’t expected that. “Oh.” Then something occurred to me. “You didn’t know I was intelligent at Charmaine’s party and you were a . . . unpleasant about my job then too.”
“I was in a mood,” he repeated. “Though you were correct that day. A bad mood was no excuse to expect my rudeness to be acceptable. I don’t think anyone has ever lectured me in such a cheerful way before, let alone actually been in the right.”
I slumped back in my seat. “Wonders never cease.”
“Don’t make me take it back.”
Biting my lip and the laughter that trembled on it, I nodded for him to continue.
“While I heard you when you said you bring joy to people’s lives with the character acting—and I can see that—I still think you can do more. As for the line sitting, I think the entire thing is ridiculous, that people are ridiculous and greedy and lazy, but worst of all, I don’t think it’s safe for you. I don’t like it.”
To be fair, Roger didn’t like it when I had to line sit for days in a tent. In fact, he’d even joined me when he could, so I wasn’t alone. I carried pepper spray and a rape whistle, but I usually didn’t sleep much during the overnight waits. “Okay . . . maybe you’re not wrong about the safety issues. But you should know that my friend Roger usually stays with me when he can during those.”
Rafe’s eyes narrowed.
“As to your other points, maybe line sitting is a little ridiculous, but it’s not always because people are lazy. Lots of people just don’t have the time. They’re overworked and stressed, and these things that I wait in line for, for them, are the things that bring a little joy to their lives. And they deserve that joy. If I can provide that for them and make money doing it, I don’t see what’s so wrong about that.”
Those sexy denim-blue eyes studied me, sweeping over my features, as if tallying every little detail he found. Then he shocked me by replying, “You have a way of humbling me I’m not sure I like.”
I shifted uncomfortably. “Humbling you?”
“You see people with a glass-half-full attitude and yet, from what I’ve gleaned, you didn’t have the best upbringing. I had a wonderful upbringing and yet—”
“You see people with a glass-half-empty attitude,” I finished quietly.
Rafe’s lips twisted and he nodded slowly. “I don’t know how that happens. Human beings are strange.”
“It takes effort, Rafe. I have to choose to see the world that way. Every day. But I think my life is better for it.”
“I still don’t like your jobs.” He shrugged unapologetically. “I think there’s more out there for you.”
A little bite of hurt cut through the warmth I’d felt growing between us. “Why aren’t I okay the way I am?”
For the first time, the hardness left his features entirely as his face slackened with remorse. “I didn’t mean it that way. I just . . . I don’t like the idea of someone as smart as you scraping by.”
My tone was steely. “I’m not scraping by. I’m happy. I’m not overworked or overwhelmed, sitting in some office, hating my work and turning into someone who sees the world with that glass-half-empty kind of attitude. Just because my life doesn’t fit into your idea of what a life should be doesn’t mean it’s bad. Haven’t we had this conversation before? You’re acting exactly like your mom and Pippa with you and this whole dating nonsense.”
That damn muscle in his jaw flexed as his gaze bored intensely into mine. Then he swallowed. “There you go . . . humbling me again.”
At his dry tone, I relaxed. “I think it’s a good thing I came into your life, Rafferty Whitman. If only because you’re about to taste the best damn bacon cheeseburger you’ve ever had.”
Like sunshine bursting through a cloud, Rafe grinned at me. There was that little dimple.
His smile gave me butterflies.
And those winged creatures in my stomach were a warning I was way in over my head.
A little while later, after I’d watched Rafe take a man-sized bite out of his burger, he swallowed, then wiped his lips with his napkin. “You’re right. That’s a great burger . . . but I know of a better one.”
“Hush.” I leaned across the table, smiling. “That’s blasphemy here.”
His eyes gleamed with amusement. “It’s also true. There’s a gourmet burger place in Harrison and I know that sounds pretentious, but trust me, when you taste their burgers, you’ll agree with me.” He said it like it was a foregone conclusion that I would. Taste them, that is. “What other kind of food do you like?”
Realizing he was diving into our getting-to-know-you stuff, which was the entire point of our lunch, I shrugged. “Most foods, except for raw fish and offal. I’m also allergic to strawberries, which is ironic considering my hair.”
Rafe’s lips twitched around a fry as he eyed my hair.
“You?”
He shrugged. “I’ll try anything once. Don’t like oysters, pesto, dates, raisins, and watermelon. What is the point of a watermelon?”
At his boyishly perturbed question, I chuckled. “I’m actually not sure, but I quite like it. It’s refreshing.”
“It’s just water.”
Laughing, I shrugged, giving him that. “Favorite food?”
“My mom makes this steak dinner with these amazing potatoes and fried eggs. It’s my favorite.”
Not fancy at all. I liked that. “Sounds good.”
“Yours?”
“I’m a big fan of pizza.” I shrugged. “My tastes are simple.”
We discussed music, movies, and books, and I vowed to make Rafe find more time for himself. He hadn’t been to the movies in a year, and the last book he read was six months ago. His clinic had totally taken up all of his free time, but I had a feeling he’d allowed it. After all, he was here with me right now. He’d made the time. So he could make the time to do other things. To leave space for the things that brought him joy.
