Page 14 of Built to Last

Maybe he’s jealous of Marco.

I snorted, spit in the dirt, then rolled my shoulders to tell myself just what I thought of that stray thought. Gilbert didn’t give a shit about me. He’d proved that in college. Why would things be different now?

Yeah, remember that kiss? That wasn’t one sided, dude.

I brushed the rebellious thought away as I squatted behind home as the next batter approached the plate. I needed to stop going around in circles where Gilbert Meyers was concerned. The man was a nuisance. And while we were at it, Marco Andreotti was nothing but a client. Gilbert had no reason to be jealous. The two of them were just potential business partners, so I had nothing to be jealous of either.

The pinch of anxiety that came with that thought was underscored by the crack of ball against bat as the Flamingos’ player hit a ground ball zipping out past the pitcher’s mound. Neil scooped it up fast and threw it my way as I caught Gilbert’s movement out of the corner of my eye.

Everything from there happened fast. Gilbert ran all-out, sliding into home like he was gunning for someone’s highlight reel. I caught the ball and stepped toward him, glove outstretched to tag him out. Gilbert’s foot hit my ankle, knocking me off balance, and before either of us knew it, Gilbert was laid out flat on his back in the dirt with me splayed and heavy on top of him.

“Out!” the umpire called.

I barely heard him. All I felt was Gilbert’s lithe, firm body under mine, his limbs warm and solid, his panting breath close to my face. I wore a mask, which meant I couldn’t have kissed him if I’d wanted to, but that didn’t stop the moment from crackling with tension that had only grown over the past five days.

And even though somewhere in the background I heard the cheers of my teammates celebrating the spectacular out, all I could think was that Gilbert Meyers belonged on his back under me.

I have no idea how long the moment lasted. Probably way longer than it should have. Next thing I knew, Warren was somewhere just a few feet away, laughing. “Geez, you two. Get a room.”

I reeled back as fast as I could and stood. At least I had the good grace to offer Gilbert a hand up. He took it and muscled himself to his feet. We stared each other straight in the eyes, hands still joined for a second once he was on his feet.

Neither of us said a word, but the message was loud and clear. We’d started up something between us again, and it wasn’t going to stop until we dealt with it.

We let go, and Gilbert walked off in one direction as I headed off in the other, since it was the end of the inning. This wasn’t what I needed. Gil was part of my past, a part that still hurt to think about. I had a business to run, and I didn’t need to put that in jeopardy by revealing to a bunch of guys who I couldn’t afford to lose finding out that I’d never gotten over my male college crush.

CHAPTER 5

Gilbert

“So you don’t mind if the lettering on my sign is in a different font than the sign for Common Grounds,” Marco restated as the two of us sat in one of the booths near the window, going over the decorating plans he had for his gourmet shop, which he was calling Provisions.

“I don’t mind at all,” I said, leaning back and gripping the handle of the mostly empty coffee cup I had on the table in front of me, like it could provide some sort of shield against Marco’s charm. “None of the other shops in the strip have matching signage. You’ll be fine.”

“I did notice that,” Marco said, gathering up his plans and papers like he had somewhere to go. “Wouldn’t it be cool if we could get matching signs for all our businesses? It would really elevate the whole place. We could be as fancy as Jenkintown.”

He laughed. I didn’t want to smile at the sound, but, dammit, Marco was just so freakin’ charming. He gave Diccon a run for his money when it came to being a little ray of sunshine.

Marco stood and scooted out of the booth. I stood with him and asked, “Where are you heading next? Are you taking these plans over to Ivy at the dry cleaners to discuss ways to provide snacks for people waiting on their loads?”

Part of me worried the question was too sarcastic and Marco would be offended, but he laughed like he understood the friendly teasing I’d aimed for. “That’s not actually a half bad idea,” he said, blue eyes lighting up. “I should do that. But no, I’m heading over to say hi to Kyle next.”

My heart sank. The good will and friendliness I felt toward Marco threatened to take a nosedive. I couldn’t really begrudge Marco wanting to hang out with Kyle, even if they would just be talking literal shop, but I could already see how the whole thing was going to unfold.

Marco was personable and cute and radiated availability. Kyle was a stick in the mud who was long overdue for someone melting him and bringing him out of the closet. Marco would cozy up to him, listen to his deepest concerns with care and compassion, and tell him he wouldn’t force him into anything he wasn’t ready for.

Kyle would be charmed to bits, of course, and would rethink his entire closeted lifestyle. He would decide that Marco was wonderful enough to come out for. The two of them would be one of those postcard perfect couples who sent out Christmas cards where they were wearing matching Christmas sweaters. They would get a dog or two, buy a house nearby, and retire Kyle’s RV or convert it into an office for good.

God, they would probably buy the house next door to my family’s house, where I still slept in the same bedroom I’d had when I was a kid and lived with my brothers. I would have to watch the two of them gardening in their backyard, throwing cookouts for the Walruses, and generally being the most adorable couple ever together, all while I muddled away alone, knowing I hadn’t been the one good enough to help Kyle live his life authentically.

“You okay?” Marco asked, staring at me curiously.

I shook my head, realizing I’d gotten deeply lost in my thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. “I just, um, saw the delivery truck for the bakery down the street drive past and remembered I need to do an order.”

Marco’s concerned face pulled back into a smile. “The work is never done when you own your own business, is it,” he said, then thumped my arm before hoisting his satchel over one shoulder. “Anyhow, don’t work too hard. I’ll see you soon!”

I waved as Marco left the café, then dropped my arm like it weighed a thousand pounds.

Then I shook my head at myself and the stupid, soppy mood I’d fallen into before turning and heading for the office.