Chapter Text
A/N: So… My Facebook group is filled with a bunch of enablers. Lovely, lovely enablers. It all started with a Twitter status about a woman who accidentally stole her contractor’s sweater…
“Don’t stare,” Bella hissed at her roommate.
Jacob’s head snapped forward, away from the window, but rather than look guilty, the grin he flashed was devilish. “Are you kidding? This has to be the crew they based Magic Mike on. All of these guys could make a killing as strippers by night. It’s ri-goddamn-diculous how sexy they are. Do you have eyes?”
Bella had to force herself to keep her gaze on him and not glance outside. “I have eyes and manners. No one wants to get ogled when they’re just trying to do their job.”
“Unless they actually are strippers by night.” Jacob had his head propped on his hand, still staring brazenly out the window at the crew their landlady had hired to build a mother-in-law unit in the spacious backyard.
“So find their show and you can pay for the privilege of eye-fucking them.”
“Come on. Friendly wager. Statistically speaking, one of them has to be at least bi. Which one do you think it is?” Jacob pointed surreptitiously. “The one that’s the size of a house maybe? Look at that curly hair. Maybe the one that looks like an Egyptian god? I like his smile.” Jacob stroked his chin. “The bronze-haired Adonis with the daddy beard?”
Bella almost looked up. Almost. She shook her head, concentrating on her laptop. “Most Egyptian gods have animal heads, I think. Though Adonis was a Greek god.”
“All work and no play makes Bella a dull girl,” he teased. “This is the start of so many construction worker pornos.” Finally tearing his gaze away from the window, he locked his arms around her from behind, his head near her ear, and spoke low as if whispering a secret. “Though, ideally, it would be summer, not fall, so they’d be stripping off those shirts.”
She reached up to ruffle his hair. Jacob was incorrigible. “And just like a porn, none of them are going to touch—”
As she raised her head to look at her friend and roommate, one of the construction workers came to a stop right outside the kitchen’s large window, drawing her gaze and attention. He pressed a phone to his ear, his head tilted up at the sky as he spoke, the words inaudible to her.
He was… Well. There was something about him. He was striking—not classically handsome, but beautiful. The fine features of his face were only enhanced by a neat beard, and his hair…
He raised a hand, running it through his hair in a classic gesture of frustration. As he did, he tilted his head down. Green eyes focused on hers. Bella sucked in a breath, and he offered her a small smile before he turned to the side, looking away.
Bella felt her face flush hot as she stared quickly—far too late—at her laptop.
Across from her, Jacob snickered. “Don’t stare.”
“Oh, so, let me catch you up on the latest,” Jacob said as Bella stumbled into the kitchen.
She narrowed her eyes, blinking at him before deciding she wouldn’t care what the hell he was talking about until she had some coffee in her. She lurched in the direction of the counter, automatically forgiving her friend for whatever nonsense he was about to babble because the coffee pot was full. She took a deep breath. Ah. Strong coffee. Bliss.
“Bella,” Jacob said.
Bella only grunted. She reached into the cabinet and grabbed the first coffee cup her hand touched. She poured in her favorite creamer, a packet of Sweet-N Low, and finally, the life-giving coffee. She closed her eyes, took a long, careful sip, and tucked the cup against her chest.
With one more deep breath, she opened her eyes. Almost instantly, her gaze focused on a figure across the backyard. A tingle of awareness tickled down her spine, waking her up more fully than the coffee had.
It was the construction worker she’d first seen several days ago—the one with the beard and the hair and the eyes.
The eyes that turned away from the man he’d been talking to toward her and widened as they looked not at her face but lower. At her chest? He looked away quickly, his posture tense, and then strode over to one of the other men without a backward glance.
Bella furrowed her brow. She had a horrifying thought that maybe she’d forgotten to put a top on, or maybe her pajama top was open, or…
She looked down and gasped, bringing her free hand to cover the coffee cup she held and turning her back to the window to prevent further damage.
Bella shared the house with three other people—Jacob, Maggie, and her daughter Ciara. All three of the adults in the home had an unhealthy coffee cup obsession; the kitchen shelves were full to bursting. Jacob had said that Ciara might be a baby, but that didn’t mean she should be left out, and he’d bought her a coffee cup he thought she might appreciate even at her age.
It was flesh colored and shaped like a breast. With a nipple. That you could drink out of.
And Bella had been holding it, nipple forward, facing the window.
“So!”
Jacob’s loud voice made her jump. The grin on his face told Bella he’d seen everything.
“The company is called Cullen and Crew, right?” Jacob said conversationally, though he continued to grin his most obnoxious grin. “It’s owned by brothers—Emmett and Edward. Don’t quote me on this, but I think Daddy...” He pointed at the man Bella had inadvertently flashed with ceramic boobs. She grabbed his finger and yanked it down. He only grinned wider. “...is one of the Cullen brothers. I’m just saying, he’s one of the only ones who look old enough to own a business.”
His smile turned more angelic, his eyes dancing. “Though, regardless, he might be the statistical one. If boobs scare him that much, I might have a chance.”
“Don’t stare.”
Bella jumped back a good three feet, hands thrown up in the classic I-didn’t-do-it gesture. Jacob stood at the entrance to the kitchen, hands on his hips. His stern expression was more a smile than anything, but she still felt the need to defend herself. “I wasn’t staring.”
She’d been peering carefully out the kitchen’s smallest window, her body angled so she was mostly obscured if any of them happened to be looking her way—which they weren’t. And they shouldn’t be.
“You’re obsessing over the boob-cup incident again, aren’t you?” Jacob said.
“No,” she lied.
“You’re overthinking this, Bells.”
Bella glowered at Jake. “It was…rude. He was obviously mortified.”
“It was three days ago. I’m sure he doesn’t even remember.”
“I’m sure he does,” she muttered, drumming her fingernails absently on the counter. “Or else why did he stop smiling at me?”
“Wait. What now?”
Bella realized belatedly what she’d said and frowned. “Nothing. Never mind. You’re right. I’m making a mountain out of a molehill.” She hurried past him to the kitchen table and her laptop.
“Uh, no.” Jacob plopped down in the chair next to hers and yanked her chair to face him. “Talk.”
“It’s nothing. Just before the crockery malfunction, he used to smile at me.”
“He used to smile at you,” Jacob repeated the words slowly, his nuance making it sound risqué.
“Not like that.” She rolled her eyes. “Just a polite smile. Like people do when your eyes meet.”
Jacob’s lip twitched. “So your eyes have been meeting a lot.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Inexplicably, her cheeks flamed. “In case you haven’t noticed, this is a huge bay window. And I not only work from this table, but I’m also writing this damn dissertation. My ass is sitting right here for like fifteen hours out of every day. Yeah, occasionally we look up at the same time, and when we do, he smiles at me.”
“Politely.”
“Politely.” She grimaced. “Except it hasn’t happened since the…incident.”
“He hasn’t smiled at you because he hasn’t looked at you,” Jacob filled in. He pressed his lips together, but she could see the grin threatening to break out. “And you would know he hasn’t looked at you because you have looked at him.” A beat. “Staring.”
Somehow, Bella resisted the urge to throw things at her friend. “I wasn’t staring, and even if I was, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? Or is it someone else who obsesses over these guys so much they actually know intimate details?”
“Pfft. It’s not my fault I’ve got good observational skills and way too much time on my hands lately.” He sighed. “The plight of an unemployed man with a severely immunocompromised father to take care of whose friends like gatherings that are just a little too big for comfort at this point of a pandemic. I’m just amusing myself. I’m not making eye contact and smiling at people.”
Bella just grunted and set about sorting her paperwork for the day.
“For the record, I don’t think he’s the statistical one that plays for my team,” Jacob said with an air of innocence.
“And why would I care about that?”
“You know. Just in case.”
“In case of what?” Bella looked up, making a face at her friend. “You know what? Don’t answer that. Anyway, I’m seeing someone, remember?”
Now it was Jacob’s turn to make a face. “You didn’t make it official with Paul, did you?” He said the name like it was dirt in his mouth.
“Be nice.” She sighed and shook her head. “No. It’s not that it’s serious. It’s that I’m seeing him. We’re dating. It’s simple respect, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh.” Jacob shrugged and got up from the table. “Well, nothing wrong with looking, anyway.”
“I’m not looking,” she called to his retreating back.
He just snickered as he closed the door to his room.
“Ah, me butty. Bella, me auld flower.”
Bella leaned into Maggie’s one-armed hug, brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”
Pulling away from her, Maggie bounced Ciara on her hip, grinning widely. “You’ve gone and made a Thanksgiving feast before the Thanksgiving feast. Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Erm.” Bella looked around. “I mean, this is nothing. There were just a couple of things I needed to practice at least once so they come out well tomorrow. I don’t want to be one of the greatest Pinterest fails of 2021.That list goes viral every year.”ֵ
“Oh? This is just some of what it’s going to be like tomorrow? And Jake took off for parts unknown so it’s just me you’ve got to pawn it all off on today. Jaysus, I’m never going to lose the baby weight living in this house; that’s for sure and certain.” She laughed, tossing her red curls over one shoulder. “You’re gas, ducky, really. And thanks a million, but I can’t manage more than this peck.” She gestured to the remains of the pastry she’d given to Ciara who was sucking on it like it was a lollipop instead of a savory pastry pocket. “They’re feeding us at work today too. A right feast, so I’m told. I’ve got to save room.
“Listen, I gotta crack on, but I think you got it right your first go ‘round.” She snatched a second pastry off the tray. “I’d say freeze it, but I know the freezer’s full to bursting already.”
Maggie gestured with her chin out the window. “If you’re lookin’ not to waste, seems to me there's a gaggle of big, burly types out there. The kind that got stomachs like bottomless pits. I’d bet this is a problem they’d be happy to take off your hands.”
With that, Maggie dashed out the door, leaving Bella to consider.
There was nothing wrong with offering a bunch of hardworking guys something to eat, right? That couldn’t be inappropriate in any way. It was neighborly…or whatever word applied to doing something potentially nice for a group of people gallivanting around her backyard. Just because one of them was maybe, sort of, potentially avoiding her…
Bella rolled her eyes at herself and picked up both trays of appetizers. She took a deep breath, dismissing her nerves as utterly ridiculous, and headed out the door.
Her eyes found him as soon as she stepped outside. That was only natural, she thought. She’d been thinking about him. Because of the ceramic nip slip—no other reason. It had absolutely nothing to do with his toolbelt…
For fuck’s sake. She was only human. The whole jeans and work boots thing just gave off an air of rugged manliness. There was something visceral about the sight of him—like she could feel his rough, strong hands on her. And the way his long, leather toolbelt hung low on his hips…
Well, whatever. She wasn’t blind, that was all.
Head held high, she finished her walk of absolutely no shame over to the far side of the yard. “Hey.” She frowned when her voice came out a bit squeaky. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “Hey, guys. I was wondering if you could help me out.”
“Whoa.” A dark-haired man with hair longer than most of the rest of them jumped down from the ladder he’d been perched on, landing near her with a grace Bella hadn’t expected.
Not unlike a dancer.
At a strip club.
He offered her a cheeky grin as if he knew the direction of her thoughts. “If what you need help with involves any of those, I’m in.” He looked longingly at the plates she carried.
The one the size of a house snickered. “You know the rule, Garrett. No side jobs; not while we’re on a rush job like this.” He looked Bella up and down with an amused gleam in his eyes. “Not even if you’re paying us in delicious food.”
“What if it’s just the food?” Bella countered. “This was my practice run for tomorrow.”
“Wait, wait,” the one Jacob had called an Egyptian god said. “Practice run? You did a Thanksgiving practice run? No one does that.”
“They do if they’ve been watching too much of The Great British Baking Show, and they know those savory pastries in ‘Pastry Week’ might look easy, but they’re actually not.”
“You wouldn’t want a soggy bottom.”
The voice sent a thrill down her spine. It was a silky voice, almost melodic, and pleasingly low. She turned her head slightly and sure enough, it was him.
“Soggy bottom?” the house-sized one guffawed. Several of the others snickered too. “Wow, Edward, you shouldn’t be talking about a potential customer’s bottom at all, let alone calling it soggy. That’s unprofessional.”
The man’s—Edward—eyes grew wide and horrified. “I didn’t… I wasn’t… I’m the one who’s unprofessional when you…”
“Whoa.” The large one looked downright gleeful. “That was worth the potential complaint.” He turned to Bella. “Sorry. Soggy bottoms. As it pertains to pastries being crisp and not” —he turned to fix Edward with a devilish look—“moist.”
Edward turned, shaking his head slightly.
“And you had to practice because you’re trying to do something fancy for Thanksgiving,” the large one continued. “And you need guinea pigs.”
“More like human trash compactors,” Bella said, liking this guy automatically in a friendly, teasing way. “I’m fully vaccinated, and there was a lot of handwashing in the whole baking process. And, I didn’t touch them without my oven mitts on, just so you know. But I’m not going to be offended if you turn me down.”
“Those look like they’re worth the risk,” the Egyptian god said, eyes only for the food.
Bella grinned. “Great. I think they came out pretty well. Though, if you have any constructive criticism, I’m all ears.”
“I think you got the right men for the job. It’s break time,” the giant boomed.
And with his words, the men surged forward, each taking a few of the appetizer pastries and thanking her profusely.
The man—Edward—waited until the rest of the crew had gotten theirs before he stepped up. “These look great. Not impress-Paul-Hollywood great, but he’s a bit of an ass, isn’t he?” He winked.
Bella blinked, momentarily befuddled by the wink, and wondered where the flummoxed man he’d been a minute before had gone. This man had a cocksure grin and something in his eyes that was damn distracting.
“Erm...” Bella shook her head sharply, trying to concentrate. “I guess you’re supposed to be a little bit of an ass if you’re giving away the unheard of grand prize of a cake stand.” She arched an eyebrow. “You watch baking shows?”
He shrugged, his expression unapologetic. “I fell off a roof a few years back and couldn’t move much while I healed. I watched…a lot of baking shows. And cooking game shows. But the good news is if you throw some random food at me, I can make a pretty fancy meal.”
“Chopped at home? That’s something I’d have to see if you want me to believe you.”
He pressed his lips together, still smiling, and Bella’s eyes popped wide as she realized how that sounded—like she was angling for a date.
“Anyway. Lots of pre-cooking and chopping to get ready for tomorrow so…uh, yeah. Enjoy. Happy Thanksgiving.” She spun on her heel and hurried back to the house.
“Jacob Black, get your hands off that pie.”
At the sound of her voice, Jacob slammed the fridge door closed. He took the small plate with the single piece of pie and shoved it behind him on the counter. He put his massive body in front of it as Bella got to him. “What pie? I see no pie.”
“You know what pie. That pumpkin chiffon pie Maggie surprised us with on Thanksgiving. That amazing, heavenly pie that she shouldn’t know how to make, and shouldn’t have had time to make, but still made. That pie.” She tried to dodge around him.
He blocked her. “Oh. That pie.” He wagged a finger while blocking her with his other hand. “Isabella Marie Swan. It’s been four days since Thanksgiving. That pie is stale and on the verge of bad. Really, I’m saving your life.”
“For that pie? I’m willing to take that risk. Gimmie. I called dibs.”
Jacob stooped, and Bella yelped as she found herself swept off her feet. “Don’t do it, Bella. You have every reason to live,” he said with mock-dramatics as he struggled to toss her over his shoulder. She didn’t make it easy on him, wiggling and trying to shift her body weight toward the ground. She reached her hands behind him, though the pie was well beyond her grasp.
They wrestled, both laughing and declaring they would fight to the death for the last piece of pie. By the time a knock on the backdoor interrupted them, they’d wiggled their way across the kitchen table and Bella’s makeshift office. Jacob used the distraction to knock her off her feet and toss her, ass up, over his shoulder again. She could hear him open the door even as she squeaked. She tried to tell him to put her down, but she was too breathless at that point to be intelligible.
“Oh,” Jacob said. “It’s you.” He finally relented, pulling Bella up so she slid down his body, one arm tight around him to steady herself as she turned her face forward.
“Usually only Ms. Cope visits us,” Jacob said cheerfully
Edward Cullen was standing on their little back porch, his magnificent beard mostly covered by a simple black mask. Bella cleared her throat and managed to step out of Jacob’s grasp. For some reason, she felt self-conscious to be caught pressed against her best friend. Jacob’s arm draped heavily across her shoulders, though, and it would have been even more awkward to wiggle away from him at that point.
“I’m here to start work,” Edward said, his eyes flicking briefly to her and back to Jacob.
“Work?” Jacob looked across the yard to where the mother-in-law house sat partially built. He pointed. “I mean, if you’re lost…”
Edward gave a huff of what Bella hoped was laughter not annoyance. “On the shelves.” When Jacob and Bella just stared, his eyes flicked beyond them. “In this house. Did Ms. Cope not tell you? She ordered shelves to be made for your kitchen. An early Christmas present. Somewhere to display your coffee cups, she said.”
Bella’s cheeks flamed. “She didn’t tell us,” she said, looking down at her feet.
“Oh. Well. You do have tenants’ rights. She’s supposed to notify you with twenty-four hours advance notice when she needs to enter the property or have someone else enter the property.” He gestured over his shoulder at the other house. “We’ve run into some supply issues, so work is halted for a couple of weeks. I have time now for this project, but I can definitely come back.”
“No,” Bella said too quickly. “Erm.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “No. That’s okay. I don’t want you to waste your time. You can come in.”
Jacob looked down on her, his expression serious. “You sure, Bells? You know I’m going to be at my Dad’s a lot this week.
Bella fixed him with a look. His heart was in the right place, but he didn’t think things through very often. The whole crew was right in their backyard almost every weekday while she was home alone, and it hadn’t bothered him. But she supposed that was a big difference from being alone in the house with the man. “As long as I can still get my work done, I’m fine with it.”
A smirk played around Jacob’s lips as he looked from Edward to Bella. “Yeah. I’ll just bet you are.”
That first day, Edward didn’t stay long. Mostly, he took a few measurements and let Bella know the timeline she could expect that area to be out of commission. Bella probably spent a little too much time pointing out how varied and sundry their combined coffee cup collection was, hoping he would pick up on the fact the nipple cup of doom was one of many oddballs of the bunch.
They didn’t say much beyond pleasantries the second day. Bella had been wrapped up in virtual meetings first with her employers and then with her dissertation advisor. Still, she was surprised to note that it didn’t feel awkward to have someone share the space. Nothing about Edward left her uneasy. A little flustered sometimes—embarrassingly. She’d turned beet red when Jacob pressed her for any little detail about their possible interactions that evening. But all of that was just what happened with annoying little crushes.
It was just that, with the mask on, Bella couldn’t help but look into his eyes more. His pretty green eyes. His expressive eyes.
And it didn’t help that watching him work with his hands just did something for her. There was something about watching the flex of his muscles even through his shirt, and the sure way he moved, dismantling the upper cabinets.
His work, it turned out, wasn’t merely a Christmas present—shelving and a built-in coffee bar for their collection of coffee cups. He was also turning the upper cabinets into open shelving so it would both match the coffee bar and modernize the space.
Christmas present, Bella’s ass. She was no fool. It was a simple way to add value to the house, so it could be sold eventually. But if Ms. Cope wanted to package it as a gift, that didn’t bother Bella. And Edward’s mere presence spiced up the monotony of her often-lonely, socially distanced day.
Even if the way his tool belt hung on his hips was awfully distracting.
That Wednesday, it was Edward who broke the silence between them. Their eyes had caught, again, and he cleared his throat. “I might be speaking out of turn, and I know this is a taboo subject…”
“Taboo?” Bella echoed, sitting up straighter and trying to pretend her heart hadn’t skipped a beat. Several very taboo scenarios presented themselves in her overactive imagination.
“You know, you don’t have to wear a mask in your own house.”
Bella blinked. It took her a few beats to catch up. Right. Professionalism was a thing. “Masks. Right. Uh.” She shook her head to clear away the cobwebs. “I don’t mind.”
“You said you were vaccinated. I am too. All my guys are. I know it’s not a guarantee. It’s completely up to your comfort level, but I thought I would mention it.”
“I’m not uncomfortable. It just doesn’t seem fair if you have to wear one.”
His eyes seemed to spark with amusement at that. “I don’t mind. We wear masks a lot in my line of work—sawdust and all that. It wasn’t a new thing for me at all.”
Bella made a mock-gasp. “You mean wearing masks wasn’t invented in 2020? Weird.”
He chuckled, his eyes dancing even more. “Technically, I’m not required to wear one. I’m the boss, after all. I make the rules for our little company. But it’s part of our safety guarantee. Everyone is vaccinated, all of us get tested every other week, and we wear masks for any indoor work for the comfort of our customer’s peace of mind,” he said as though by rote.
“Well, I know I’m not the one employing you, but I’m the only one here. So I will if you will.” Bella gestured in the direction of the bedrooms, indicating her absent roommates. “Jacob gets tested regularly too because of his dad, and Maggie is as careful as possible because of the baby. We all are. So, if you’re okay, I’m okay.”
Edward tilted his head. He reached up slowly and pulled down his mask.
And Bella knew she’d made a mistake.
Now she would have to add the sexy smile to her list of distractions.
A week into his little project, Edward had finished stripping down the cabinets and had moved on to building the coffee bar. He assured Bella it was no big deal for her to use the stove as he worked.
“Be sure,” Bella warned. “Work is pissing me off, and I’m having trouble interpreting the data right for this part of my dissertation. I always cook something long and involved when I need to think it through.”
There was that distracting smile. “I’m sure. Think away.”
Bella set to work. Enchiladas weren’t complicated, but it was an involved process, particularly when she set out to make everything from scratch—homemade enchilada sauce and hand rolled tortillas. She even put a pot of frijoles de la olla—a slow-cooked bean dish—on the back burner.
As she worked, facts and figures arranged themselves and rearranged themselves in her head.
And…yeah, sure, okay. Maybe she was also a little distracted by the way Edward’s hands moved as the coffee bar took shape before her eyes. She was happy to be an intellectual, but she’d always admired the way the more artistic sorts could create something new.
But mostly, she thought about her data. Really.
She’d slipped the assembled enchiladas in the oven and opened her computer, finally ready to get back to work, when a loud noise caught her attention. It was a sound like a snarl—low, rumbling, and long. Her head turned toward Edward automatically.
He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Oh, man. Any chance I could pass that off as machinery?”
Bella pressed her lips together in a tight line, determined not to laugh at him. “I mean…your chances would be greater if there was a machine in sight. Since I don’t see one, I think you’re just going to have to admit you’re hungry.”
He straightened up, his eyes fixed on a random spot somewhere over her head. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I usually stop for oatmeal and a pastry at my favorite coffee shop. But they’re having staffing shortages like the rest of the country, and they were closed this morning.”
“And you didn’t…I don’t know, go through one of the million Starbucks out there, clearly. That would have been absurd.”
“I’ve been told more than once I can be stubborn about the oddest thing.” He shrugged, and his eyes finally met hers. He grinned and pointed a finger at her accusingly. “And it might have been fine, except you’re obviously trying to torture me. It has smelled like heaven in here for hours.”
“Ah, yes. It’s a less recognized form of torture, but that’s what makes it particularly devious. You’ve uncovered my dastardly plot.” She tilted her head. “You know, it’s almost two in the afternoon—well after what most would consider a reasonable lunchtime.”
His grin turned sheepish. “I always have a fixed point in my head where I’d feel comfortable stopping. I had some trouble this morning, and I’m not there yet.”
“And you’re stubborn,” she said.
“And I’m stubborn.”
Bella pressed her lips together again, but the amused grin couldn’t be tempered. She debated with herself a handful of seconds, weighing pros and cons and judging if it was a really dumb or inappropriate move. “Don’t feel obligated to say yes, but clearly, I’ve made enough food here to feed an army. You’re welcome to take whatever you want. You know…to solve your dilemma about leaving your work before reaching a totally arbitrary goal post that you set yourself and no one is holding you to.”
He opened his mouth, but his stomach growled again.
Bella’s grin widened. “I guess that’s one point for enchiladas.” She walked over to the fridge and pulled open the door. “Or, if you feel more comfortable cooking for yourself, there’s always Chopped at home edition. What kind of lunch could you make out of…” She fished in the fridge. “One single egg—because Jake is the kind of Neanderthal who leaves a single egg in an otherwise empty box—half a container of strawberry cream cheese, and…” She peered and grinned. Opening the bottom crisper, she pulled out a bag and held it up. “Some brussel sprouts that look maybe a little wilted.”
He blinked at her once then chuckled. His expression turned serious, and he stroked his beard. “Well... I think clearly the egg could be turned into an egg salad sandwich, though possibly not if there’s any kind of time limit. We could use some of the cream cheese in lieu of mayo. The brussels can be shredded into a nice vinegar-based coleslaw if I had use of the pantry and one of the carrots I see.”
Bella raised her eyebrows. “Wow. Nevermind the enchiladas. Let’s both have that.”
“Well…there is only one egg.”
“True. So…enchiladas?”
He paused for a beat, but in the end, he smiled. “I’d like that, if it’s no trouble. Sure.”
Bella could already tell it was going to be one of those mornings.
First of all—there was no coffee.
The household coffee maker had been rehomed while Edward worked on the area where it usually sat. When he’d moved on to building the coffee bar, the coffee maker hadn’t found its way back. There was nothing particularly complicated about setting it up again—mostly it was a matter of finding a space on the counter far enough away not to get sawdust on it and plug it in—but even that much was beyond Bella before she had her coffee. Jacob had set off early for adventure, so he was no help.
As a result, Bella had flipped on Maggie’s electric tea kettle and helped herself to a bag of Barry’s Gold Blend.
It was…not coffee. It was what she imagined it might feel like to be a vegetarian vampire, craving the sweet, sweet nectar of human blood but choking down animal blood instead. It worked, and that was about as much as she could say.
The second highlight of her not-so-great day was being called into a morning Zoom meeting. The kind of meeting that should have been an email. The kind of meeting where all she heard was Charlie Brown’s teacher. Whoop wha whop wha wha. She entertained herself wondering which of her coworkers probably wasn’t wearing pants and watching the tiny square of one with two small children quietly making a mural out of the wall whilst their father faced forward, oblivious.
At some point, she heard Edward come in. She’d left the door unlocked for him and settled down on the couch for her meeting so he wouldn’t be the one caught on candid camera. She waved at him without looking behind her as she tried to listen without falling asleep.
It was only a few minutes after he came in that her sense of smell kicked in.
Something warm and savory and buttery was in her house.
She looked over to the kitchen. Edward wasn’t looking at her. He was squatting, rifling through his bag of tools. Bella paused for a moment, her sleepy brain enjoying the ritual of it—the way he sorted and laid out the tools he needed most within reach. He had, she thought around a yawn, a very nice ass. And she liked the way the fabric of the sweater he wore stretched taut, hinting at his musculature as he stretched an arm out to place a neat handful of screws on the counter.
Her brain caught up with her idle, unfocused thoughts and she quickly snapped her eyes away from the sight. She shifted in her seat, tilting her head up in slight defiance. She wasn’t going to apologize, even to herself, for enjoying a nice ass. It had been a passing thought. Who could help that?
Another deep breath in and she remembered what had drawn her attention in the first place. Right. Delicious smell. She knew it couldn’t have been Edward who smelled so buttery. And no, she told the voice in her head—who sounded like Jake, come to think of it—she didn’t need to taste him just in case. No, the wonderful, savory scent in the air had to be coming from that brown paper bag that had appeared on the kitchen table.
Bella had to bite her lip to keep from moaning in pleasure.
Beside the bag were two cups of life-giving coffee. Two. Cups.
For her?
Thankfully, the meeting ended just a minute later. Bella said a hurried goodbye and tossed her headset to the corner of the couch, pushing the laptop off her. She stood, her inferior cup of tea clutched in one hand, and ambled over to the kitchen.
“Good morning,” she said.
Edward, still in squat, glanced up. One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Good morning.”
“What did you bring into my house that smells so good?” she demanded, crossing her arms, teacup still in hand.
His smile got wider as he stood. “Well, my favorite place was open again today, and I wanted to show you why I’d rather go hungry then find somewhere else to eat.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You brought me food?”
“If it’s all right with you.”
Bella let her eyes dart to the bag and back to him. “And coffee?” she asked, unable to keep the hope out of her voice.
He stroked a hand through his beard. “Trust me, you need the whole experience.”
The Jake-voice in her head snickered. Ignoring him, again, Bella’s grin widened. “Well, I’m definitely leaving you a good Yelp review. No one has to know I’m not the one who hired you. You’re the best as far as I’m concerned.”
He looked bemused. “You don’t even know if it’s any good.”
“If the smell is any indication…” She sat down as he opened the bag and pulled out some kind of pastry in a crinkly paper wrapper.
“It’s guava and cheese. Is that okay?”
Bella pressed a hand to her cheek, surreptitiously checking the corner of her mouth for drool. “I’m not picky.”
The pastry looked to be a strudel. Though she was hungry enough to want to stuff it in her mouth, she made herself slow down. She picked it up, flashing him a teasing smile. “No soggy bottom, I see.”
“Of course not. These guys are pros.”
“It’s a good presentation. Nice golden coloring. Good ratio of guava and cheese.”
“You look different in person, Paul Hollywood.”
She grinned and took a lady-like bite.
And for the second time that day, she had to stop herself from moaning. “Oh, hell,” she muttered around a mouthful.
“Right?” Edward’s eyes were bright.
Bella nodded as she chewed another bite and swallowed. “Yep. Almost everything would taste like sawdust if I’d been looking forward to this.”
“And I would know.” Edward raised his coffee cup, taking a sip.
Bella, distracted and buoyed by her tasty breakfast, didn't realize she was staring, her eyes concentrating on his lips, until it was too late. She looked up to find his eyes on her and the air between them sparked with energy.
Her heartbeat fluttered, her brain kicked suddenly into overdrive. Being around Edward felt so oddly natural, she sometimes forgot they were almost strangers, and that he was working, and that...
He really was very pretty.
A knock on the door—the front door—had Bella jumping a mile high. She stood, wincing at the sound of the chair scraping on the floor. She opened her mouth, closed it again, and pointed at the door. “I’m going to…”
She stumbled away from the table, feeling awkward and silly. What in all hells had that been about? He was attractive, sure. And also, this was his job site. And he had to be a solid decade older than she was, if not more, and why the hell was she even thinking about that anyway? She was seeing someone. She was seeing—
“Paul,” her voice squeaked when she opened the door and found the guy she’d been seeing on her stoop.
His smile was wide. “Surprise, babe.” He shook a cup in his hand. “I come bearing coffee.”
“Oh,” Bella said. “That’s…great.”
It was sweet—and a little flattering, she had to admit—that Paul missed her enough to drop by with coffee from her favorite coffee place.
Some months back, the university had put on a socially distanced movie marathon. There was an open field at one end of the campus. The school had borrowed several pick-up trucks and a handful of vans that they’d turned into private viewing pods by spreading blankets and beanbags in the truck beds and taking the seats out of the vans. They rented out the space to groups of two to six people and set up projection screens along one end. Bella and Jacob had been in a truck bed next to Paul and three of his friends in one of the vans. When Bella and Paul figured out they had similar feelings about just how bad the movies were, they’d started trading sarcastic asides across the distance between the vehicles, catching each other’s eyes and giggling until Paul had been evicted from his van and Jacob had been invited to take refuge.
There had been a few dates, a few overnights, and his text messages kept her entertained during the day. She liked Paul—or else she wouldn’t still be dating him—but she hadn’t been sure how she felt about him turning up at her place unannounced.
And now he was here for the second day in a row.
“I just can’t stand to think of my girl without her coffee,” Paul said, sitting down across from her at the kitchen table with a wide grin. “I know how you get.”
Bella’s tongue twisted, not knowing which way to go first. Just what did he know about how she got without her coffee? And “his girl”? They hadn’t had that discussion.
But before she could decide where to start, Paul’s eyes darted somewhere over her shoulder. His wide smile fell. Bella glanced behind her, but only saw Edward, his eyes intent on his work. When she turned back, Paul seemed to have recovered himself.
“Look, it’s really nice of you, but you don’t have to worry about me,” Bella said, opting for a diplomatic response to ease into it.
“It’s no big deal. Besides, I know how it goes when you have someone working on the house. It always seems to get dragged out. You could be without easy access to coffee for months.” He raised his voice a bit, his eyes going over her shoulder again to where Edward worked. “Gotta get those billable hours in, right, my man?”
“Paul,” Bella protested, cheeks heating with embarrassment.
“I don’t get paid by the hour; I get paid by the job,” Edward said, voice flat. “And dragging out a job would only mean I wasn’t free to take other jobs.” A beat. “My man.”
“Hey, don’t get uptight. I was only joking,” Paul said, his hands up in an innocent gesture. “People have all sorts of reasons for dragging jobs out.”
“Okay.” Bella stood. She grabbed Paul by the hand and headed out to the living room. She dropped her voice—the floorplan of the house was more open than not—trying to keep calm. “That wasn’t cool. What’s your problem?”
“I was joking,” he insisted. “Besides, everyone knows contractors play all kinds of games. Getting work done on your house is always a nightmare.” He must have seen on her face that she wasn’t amused by his assessment because he sighed and relented. “Sorry.” He rolled his shoulders, obviously trying to ease some tension. “Something about the guy just rubbed me the wrong way, okay?”
“He’s just here doing his job.”
Paul grunted; his lips pressed together before he looked at her again. “Maybe that’s what’s bothering me. You being here alone with a strange man in the house just doesn’t sit well.”
Bella sighed, some of her irritation dissipating. Just like Jacob, she could believe Paul’s heart was in the right place. “Well, I don’t feel unsafe. He’s working. I’m working. And he’s a nice guy. You really don’t have to check up on me.”
A hint of Paul’s grin came back. He crooked a finger around a loop in her jeans and pulled her closer to him. “I really did miss you, though.”
Bella went stiff as he pulled her in for a kiss. She was just too aware of Edward’s presence nearby, and so the kiss felt too awkward to enjoy. She put her hands on Paul’s hips, pushing him backward gently after a moment.
“I’m at work right now,” she said. “I need to work.”
“Come on, baby.” He wound his arms around her, bringing her close again and nuzzling at her neck. “It’s been ages since we had any time together.”
Putting her hands on his arms, she held him firmly in place while she took a step backward. Boundaries. Now was an excellent time to start establishing boundaries. “This is my normal work time,” she said. “If we were back in the office, you wouldn’t be hanging around at my desk at all.”
Paul was clearly having trouble keeping a scowl off his face. He sighed, but he didn’t try to grab her again. “I get that, but you’ve been off-limits after hours lately too.”
“It’s crunch time. I told you, I have a lot to do before the winter break, especially because my advisor is going to be overseas in a couple more weeks.”
Paul’s grin came back and he waggled his eyebrows. “I know I’m still just an undergrad, but it can't be that different. I know I do all my best work when I've got a paper due the next day."
"That's just...not how it works. Not with a dissertation."
His smile faded again and his shoulders slumped. "This kind of sucks, Bella. I know you have time for Jacob."
Bella's eyebrows shot for her hairline. "What? Jacob lives here."
"Yeah, but the point is, he gets his time with you. What do I get?"
Before Bella could answer, someone cleared their throat. She and Paul both raised their heads to see Edward leaning against the wall, his bag slung over one shoulder. He looked to Paul and offered an easy smile. “For what it’s worth, she’s right. Dissertations are crazy stressful in bursts before you’re done. But it doesn’t last forever.”
Now Paul really did scowl. “What the hell do you know about it?”
Edward shrugged. “I have a PhD in civil engineering. I defended my dissertation and then immediately decided I didn’t actually want to spend my life working for any of the more corporate people I could have. I went into business with my brother instead. Life goes that way sometimes, my man.”
Without missing a beat, he looked at Bella. “Anyway, I need to do a Lowe’s run. I’ll be back tomorrow, and I should be finished by the end of tbr week. Have a good day.”
And with that, Edward shouldered his bag and was gone.
The air felt different—cool and uncomfortable—when Edward came back the next day.
Bella tried to tell herself she was imagining things. She’d been on the phone with her advisor when he came in for the day, and when she got off the phone, he was involved with his work, his expression serious, and his eyes only for the wood. He was a professional. Just because they’d had a few, fun, intimate moments didn’t mean they were buddies.
What was it about silly little crushes that made otherwise rational people go just a little bit squiggly around the edges? Attraction was normal, and it could be annoying in its own right when it caught you off guard. Sometimes, there was just something about someone that caught your attention, and when it happened, the reaction was inevitable in some cases. Maybe you stuttered a bit. Maybe you ran into a street sign like your life was a cartoon, but regardless, it was a fleeting moment.
Crushes were a whole other—irritating—monster.
When Bella was a teenager, she’d once witnessed her steadfast, serious father become a blushing, giggling, boy in front of the bank’s manager—Janet Stanley. Bella had almost died of second-hand embarrassment when he started cracking the most absurdly bad jokes. When she asked if her father liked Janet—liked, liked—he’d rolled his eyes.
“It’s just a dumb crush,” he’d said.
It just happened sometimes. You got fixated on a person for no particular reason. Charlie hadn’t wanted to act on his fixation with Janet. It just existed until it ran its course, and then...poof. Gone as though it had never been, leaving you with only the vague memories of what a weirdo you could be when you had a crush.
And it wasn’t as though crushes had anything to do with desire or attraction. They could, sure, but once, Bella had this odd little crush on a barista at the college coffee shop. There was something about the woman’s exuberance and wicked sense of humor that made Bella smile, and every time she saw the woman behind the counter, it made her whole morning brighter. She’d gushed about the barista so often, her friends had started to wonder if she was thinking of batting for the other team, but it had never been about that.
Her fixation with Edward was just one of those things.
Sure, in this case, there was some level of attraction. He was an attractive man, and could she help it if her wandering, daydreaming mind occasionally edited out his shirt, imagining what she would bet were washboard abs, with his tool belt following the line of a delightful happy trail.
And sure, she knew enough tangible facts about Edward to lend some admiration to her shiny crush. She knew he was hardworking, ambitious, and educated. She knew he could do beautiful things with his hands…
Aaaaannnndd that line of thought was the opposite of helpful.
Though, thinking about his hands might have been better than fixating on the awkward energy in the room—though she was still half-convinced she was imagining that. If she thought about his strong, rough, talented hands, maybe she could stop thinking about how Paul might have really insulted him, and he was pissy about it. Or maybe those other days, he’d just been tolerating her babbling out of politeness, and the rapport she felt was one-sided. Or maybe—
Catching a movement in her periphery, Bella raised her head. She blinked, startled to find Edward standing at the other end of the table, his eyes on her. “Oh, hi,” she said brilliantly.
The corner of his mouth twitched, but his smile was little more than polite. “Hello.” He crossed his arms over his front, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his black T-shirt hugged the definition of his biceps. “I wanted to let you know I’m going to stain the furniture now.”
The look on her face must have been something along the lines of “Uh, duh, wha?” because he explained after a few beats.
“It’s pretty toxic; not great to breathe. There’s good enough ventilation in here not to be dangerous. I’m going to open up the windows to get a good airflow.”
“Oh.”
Bella was processing what he was saying, but she was distracted by the growing certainty that something was different about the way he interacted with her. There was coolness in his gaze that hadn’t been there before—a stiff formality. He was being professional, with absolutely no familiarity.
Why?
And again, did it matter? They weren’t even friends, for fuck’s sake.
Was it bad form to want to make friends with the guy building things in your house?
“Bella?”
Her eyes flicked to his. At least he wasn’t busting out the “Ms. Swan,” or worse, “Ma’am.”
“Maybe it’s best if you set up in the living room again. If that’s not a problem,” he said.
Bella blinked, stung. Just as quickly, she told herself she was being ridiculous. Any rational person would assume she didn’t want to breathe in toxic fumes all day. It wasn’t as though he was trying to get rid of her.
So, she moved her things into the living room and tried her best to concentrate on her work.
It wasn’t long later that she found she was curled in a tight ball, chafing her shoulders.
It was damn chilly.
Right. All the windows were open, and the lingering hot days were finally, reliably, cooler. Today, it was almost cold.
Mid-thought trying to find the right words for the next passage of her paper, Bella glanced around for a solution. She didn’t want to have to dig through her closet for something warm to wear. Why hadn’t anyone in this house draped a blanket over the back of the couch? There was always a blanket or afghan draped helpfully over the couch in the movies or on television.
“Real life doesn’t have set dressers, genius,” Bella muttered to herself, standing reluctantly.
To her delight, a glance around the room solved her problem. A familiar, black hoodie lay draped over the arm of the recliner. She picked it up, trying to remember whose it was. Not Jacob’s. He was a bit too broad for the hoodie to fit him. That left Paul. He’d probably left it there the day before.
Well, it was fair game at the moment. She pulled the hoodie on, sighing contentedly as it chased the chill from her skin. Her tense posture loosened.
As she stretched nonchalantly, she let her gaze wander over to the kitchen. She’d intended only a quick glance, but instead, she stared, trying to figure out what the hell Edward was doing. He was just standing there, head tilted at an angle so it looked like he was looking not at the coffee bar but at the counter next to it.
Where much of the roommates’ coffee cup collection lay stacked neatly, waiting to be put away in the new shelves.
Including the nipple cup of doom.
Which Edward was holding.
Cheeks burning hot, Bella found herself lurching forward. She stumbled to a stop next to him, opened her mouth, and closed it again just as quickly.
“Sorry,” Edward said, putting down the cup as though he’d been scalded. “I didn’t mean to snoop.” He didn’t look at her but down at the coffee cup collection, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “I just… I just realized…” He shook his head, and it occurred to Bella that his cheeks were as red as hers. “It answers a question that’s been nagging me.”
“You saw me with it that day a while back, right?” Now it was her rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah. I felt… I didn’t mean to use that cup. I wasn’t thinking. I’m brain-dead before my coffee, but I wasn’t trying to make you or any of your guys uncomfortable.”
“It’s your house. You can use whatever coffee cup you want in your own house. I just didn’t understand why there was only one.”
Bella furrowed her brow. “One what? One cup? I’m a glutton for coffee, but even I can’t drink from two cups at once.”
“Right, but I didn’t realize it was a cup,” he said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he flinched. “Shit. I mean—”
Bella’s eyes popped wide as his confusing words quickly clicked together. “What did you…? Oh, my fucking god, you thought that was my boob? Like my actual…” Bella covered her face with her hands.
All this time, Jake tried to tell her she was making something out of nothing, when really, she’d been underplaying it.
But then, replaying his words again, Bella giggled. It was a high-pitched, maniacal sound. “Oh, fuck. Oh, no… you said you didn’t understand why one…” She pressed her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter. “You thought I was in the kitchen, just standing there at the huge window with one boob out.”
“I thought you must have been the one with the baby. That… well, that happens. My brother, Emmett, and his wife have a lot of kids. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, but not… out in the wild.”
Bella just squeaked, hiding behind her hands. She pressed her lips together, trying not to giggle again.
Again, she failed.
But then, he chuckled.
And she tittered.
And he laughed.
And soon they were both bent slightly at the waist, his hand braced on her shoulder, her hand on the counter as they both howled with laughter.
“Jesus, and I was standing there, right next to Jacob too,” Bella said when she was able to speak again. “You must have had so many questions.”
For some reason, that seemed to sober Edward up instantly. “That’s none of my business. Who you…”
He trailed off as he straightened up, and finally, finally, looked at her. He tilted his head, his eyes where his hand lay on her shoulder against Paul’s sweater. Slowly, he pulled back his hand.
When he looked at her, his eyes were anything but cold. There was something electric in them, and the air seemed charged with it.
A beat went by, then two, before he spoke. “I need…” He cleared his throat, taking a step back. His words came out low, almost rough. “I need a few things. I’ll be…” He blew out a breath. “Monday. Everything should be done Monday.”
He grabbed his bag from the floor and was gone before Bella could understand what the hell had just happened.
Bella lay stretched out across the couch, staring forward without seeing. She pulled her borrowed jacket closer around her, burying her nose in the collar and breathing in deep. She closed her eyes with a sigh.
She liked the smell of him. That was one for the plus column for sure.
Bella heard footsteps come her way, and she wasn’t altogether surprised when someone lifted up her legs. The couch shifted as he sat and lowered her legs to his lap. Bella opened one eye, peering at Jake with pursed lips.
He smiled back at her as though he hadn’t just interrupted her repose. He reached over, putting the pad of his finger right between her furrowed eyebrows. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Bells? That’s way too serious a look for a Saturday.”
She sighed. This bastard knew her too well. “I invited Paul over.”
“Oh.” He wrinkled his nose. “No wonder you look like that. I wouldn’t be happy with myself either if I subjected myself to that guy.”
“Be. Nice,” she admonished for the millionth time. “What’s your issue with him, anyway?”
“Eh.” He shrugged, but the expression on his face suggested he was considering the question seriously. “I can’t really put my finger on it, really. Just my wolf-sense, I guess. He feels like an asshole.”
Wolf-sense was how Jacob explained how he decided on partners. It was just a feeling he got about whom he was better off not knowing. But, as his friends had pointed out many times, his theory was untested. If he didn’t mess with the guys, how could he know if his wolf-sense was at all accurate?
And besides, Jacob had been there the day she met Paul, and his “wolf-sense” hadn’t gone off then.
Reading her face, Jacob rolled his eyes. “And yet you’re not coming to his defense with stories about what an amazing guy he is.”
“There’s nothing amazing about him.” Bella sat up, crossing her legs and facing him. “That’s not the goal, is it? Am I supposed to reject any guy who doesn’t make birds suddenly appear or fireworks shoot out of my ass?”
“Whoa.” Jacob waved his arms in a crossing motion. “Take it from someone who knows a lot about asses, fireworks should be nowhere near them.”
Bella shook her head. “The point is, I’ve liked the dates we’ve been on. Paul is funny. Fun. He can be sweet.” She grimaced. “He was an ass to Edward the other day, but he was receptive when I called him on it.”
Jacob arched an eyebrow, his grin gone mischievous. “Oh, Paul’s met Edward, has he? And you didn’t tell me about it?” He stroked his chin as though he were the one with the daddy beard. “And you said it didn’t go well, huh? What was Paul’s problem with Edward? Were you staring at him too long?”
“I wasn’t…” Bella growled under her breath. “I wasn’t even looking at Edward. Paul just made some condescending comment, that’s all.” Now Bella grinned wickedly. “Actually, you and Paul might have more in common than you think. He said something about Edward just rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe he has wolf-sense too.”
Jacob scowled. “I’m not Paul. Paul doesn’t have wolf-sense. Have you considered he might just be an asshole?”
“It’s a possibility. But if we’re going to go by the ‘one strike, you’re out’ rule when it comes to condescending remarks, then you can shut up about Edward too. He rubbed Paul’s face in it just a bit. He had to get his mic drop moment.” Bella hid a smirk behind her hand. “Maybe you boys just can’t help but whip your dicks out, in the end.”
“Ooh. There was a dick-measuring contest? You never tell me the good stuff, Bells.” He leaned in, angling himself toward her. “So, tell me the truth. Edward won, right?”
“He did.”
Jacob clapped his hands together. “Oh, yeah. You can tell by the way his tool belt hangs. It draws the eye.”
“You know that whipping your dicks out is a metaphor, right? I haven’t actually seen Edward’s dick. You do get that?”
“Well, you should remedy that.”
“Jake.”
“I’m just saying. Have you ever had a bearded guy before? The whiskers between your legs…” He gave an exaggerated shiver of delight.
Bella banged her head against the back of the couch.
“Right, right, right. We were talking about Paul. And why you’re displeased at the fact you invited over this supposedly not horrible guy you’re dating.”
“He got a little possessive the other day, and acted a little entitled to my time. Not in a red flag way. Maybe a pink flag. Maybe. If he was my boyfriend, he’d have a reason to expect that I make time for him; a reason to be just that little bit, non-scary possessive.”
“But he’s not your boyfriend.”
“Right. And I don’t even know if he’s thinking that way or it’s just… You know, it’s a good thing someone you’re dating wants to see more of you, right? It might just be a matter of me figuring out what boundaries I have to set, but that means figuring out what page we’re on, and what page we might be headed for.” She ran a hand over her eyes. “My brain is so fried with this dissertation and work and…” She waved her hand around helplessly.
“Pandemics and the state of the world, etc.,” Jacob filled in. “Makes for a hectic reality for most. Not a great headspace for anyone.”
“Right. So today, when I have a minute to breathe and not think, I wish I didn’t have to think about Paul and pages.” She grumbled to herself. “Why can’t we deal with one big thing at a time in life?”
“Sometimes timing is all the reason you need to close the book, Bells.”
“Yeah.”
A knock at the door sounded and Jacob patted her knee. “Well, anyway. Good luck.” He made a face. “And whatever way this goes, whatever you decide to do, just remember, there’s a baby in the house, and neither her nor my innocent ears need to hear all that awful.”
Bella delivered a sharp smack to his ass as he passed her on the way to his room.
She greeted Paul with a quick kiss and told him to make himself comfortable in her room. She headed for the kitchen to gather supplies.
The day he and Edward had butted heads, Paul ended up apologizing to Bella about not taking her work on her dissertation seriously. And she got it. Paul hadn’t had the advantages she’d had, and it had taken him several years of adulthood to get to the point he could go to school. He had no context for the tremendous amount of work, energy, and stress that went into a dissertation. It wasn’t something they’d talked about on their few dates. She was worth having some patience for, he’d said.
He’d been very sweet to her.
So, they were going to lounge in her room and binge a little Netflix while Bella tried to figure out how to segue into a conversation about whether or not they were on the same page.
Paul, however, clearly had different ideas. Bella got back from retrieving the snacks she’d put together, she found Paul not lounging on her bed, but sitting, waiting. He took the snacks from her hands, set them aside, and pulled her to him.
“Are you cold, baby?” He ran his hands up and down her back and tugged on the edge of the hoodie. “All bundled up. It’s not that cold outside today, but I have a few suggestions if you need to warm up.”
Bella smiled. “Are you saying you want your sweater back?” she asked, voice coy. “You know what happens when you leave your stuff lying around. Finders keepers.” She wagged a finger at him playfully.
Paul wasn’t smiling. He’d furrowed his brow, confused. “My sweater? That’s not my sweater.”
“What?” Bella looked down and shrugged. “I thought for sure it had to be yours.”
She looked up at him, fully expecting to step right back into the little dance of seduction they’d begun, only to find the look in his eyes had turned hard.
“This is a man’s sweater, Bella,” he said, his voice thick with anger. “If it’s not yours, and it’s not mine, whose is it?”
Bella cocked her head, fixing him with a hard look. “Are you seriously angry this isn’t my sweater?”
“I want to know how many guys you’ve got coming around that you’d mix us up.”
Bella clenched her fists at her side, furious and not a little scared. “Zero,” she said, voice gone frigid. “And I mean that. Zero. Including you. Get out of my house.”
That clearly caught him off guard. While he hadn’t stepped closer to her, he’d been leaning down toward her. He straightened up, blinking, though the anger wasn’t entirely gone from his expression. “What are you talking about? I—”
“This isn’t a difficult thing to understand, Paul. I don’t put up with jealous nonsense. You go from zero to a hundred at the sight of a sweater? I’m not interested. Goodbye.” She opened the door to her room.
He pressed his mouth into a thin line, swallowing hard several times. When he spoke again, he was calmer, placating, but there was still an edge to his voice. “Look, baby, you’re overreacting. I didn’t mean—”
“You’re going to double down with gaslighting? You’re done. We’re done. Get out.”
Paul looked like he was going to argue, but Jacob had materialized just outside the door. And beyond him, Maggie with Ciara on one hip. Jacob crossed his arms. “If you’ve forgotten where the front door is, I’d be happy to help you remember,” he said cheerfully.
“Yeah, I’ll bet. Look, you know—or maybe you don’t, being gay, whatever—women just have to be dramatic sometimes. Give her a second, and we can all talk like grownups.”
“What a feckin’ langer,” Maggie said with an incredulous laugh.
So much for sweet. “Wow.” Bella shook her head. “Listen, dick, I have a zero tolerance, red flag policy, and you’ve hit at least three in the space of two minutes. Get out of here and lose my number.”
Jacob didn’t wait for an answer. He grabbed Paul by the scruff of his shirt and hauled him bodily out of Bella’s room.
“Okay, get off me.” Paul brought his arms up, pushing Jacob away. “I’m gone. You’re all crazy.”
“You’ll be missed, feckin’ muppet,” Maggie said with a jaunty wave as Paul stormed away.
“Feckin’, feckin’, feckin’,” Ciara chanted sweetly. “Bye-bye.” She waved at Paul’s retreating form with a big baby grin.
Kicking Paul to the curb hadn’t been anything approaching a traumatic breakup. Still, Bella had some emotions to process. All things considered, Paul had shown her who he was; there was no resurrecting her dead attraction after that display.
But, had Paul been right about one thing? Was she overreacting? Did her zero-tolerance policy mean she would be alone forever? And, on the flip side, how had she been so dumb as to let that misogynistic jackass inside her?
Maggie and Jacob had been exactly what she needed. They reassured her that one red flag was more than enough reason to pop that balloon, and guided her dissection to more important topics—like how bad Paul was in bed. They made her laugh, then filled her up with carbs and alcohol.