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“I’m learning more about you with every word out of your pretty little mouth.”
She pushed away from the counter and folded her arms. “What’s that?”
“You are horrible at taking a compliment, like spectacularly awful at it.”
“Am not,” she insisted childishly.
“Are too,” I shot back because I couldn’t resist. Her lips curled into a smile in response to my own and I turned back to seasoning and shaping the burgers in front of me. “Platter?”
She disappeared into the walk-in pantry and reappeared with several serving trays and busied herself with them. “I can take a compliment just fine,” she said grumpily as she lined each tray with parchment paper. “I just don’t appreciate pretty words the way most women do, because in my experience, they lack substance.”
“Believe me when I tell you that I think you are beautiful. Gorgeous. Stunning. And sexy. Smart and kind. And sexy.”
She smiled and a small blush stained her skin. “You said that already.”
I shrugged. “It’s true. Twice.”
Augusta rolled her eyes. “See? Pretty words from a man who’s ex-wife is professionally beautiful.”
“Trishelle is pretty on the outside, sure, but it’s only on the outside.” She stared at me, studied me, as if trying to figure out if I meant what I said, and I let her look. “You’re pretty everywhere. All over.” She laughed again and I spent the rest of the afternoon working to hear that sound again. “You’ll see Augusta.”
Gus
“You’ll see. That’s what he said,” I sighed and looked across my kitchen table at Megan’s smiling face, a box of pastries between us and an iced tea pitcher beside it. “What in the hell does that mean?”
“I’m not completely sure, but Antonio is right. You really don’t see how wonderful you are.” She shook her head, dark ponytail swinging behind her, and reached for a lemon bar. “Maybe that’s why you end up with jerks and losers, and not because of your need to take care of everyone. Men see that you don’t know how wonderful you are and they prey on that, make you feel that you’re not great, so you’ll keep taking care of them.”
I shook my head instinctively at her words but they gave me pause. Was that true? Had I been blaming my childhood and my dad for my terrible choice in men when the truth was, I was just insecure? I don’t really think so.
“I’m not all that great, Megan. I’m all right and that’s plenty.” Everyone couldn’t be fabulous and beautiful and kind and all that. Some of us had to be plain and nice enough, smart enough. Just, enough.
“Wrong,” she shouted loud enough to make me jump in my seat. “You are pretty damn great, Gus. You moved to this town a few years ago and already you’re one of us. You pitch in when you’re needed and every kid in town thinks you’re the bee’s knees.”
“Bee’s knees?”
She shrugged. “It’s retro and I’m bringing it back,” she insisted. “The point is that you are great, and the fact that Antonio knows it and wants you so badly, means he sees it too. Better than you.”
“How do I know it’s not just pretty words to get me in bed again?” Not that I was opposed to more sex with Antonio, but I couldn’t with how I felt for him. Not now.
Megan rolled her eyes and took a long sip of spiked tea. “Men love sex, Augusta. It is just a fact of life. Casey is insatiable, he always wants it, even after hours spent in the operating room. Does that mean he only wants me for my body? No.”
“You’re not seriously comparing your relationship with your childhood sweetheart, your husband, with my fling with Antonio?”
She laughed. “Why not? The outcome doesn’t matter, Gus. The fact that Antonio sees you means he will value you for the woman you are, successful and stunning and smart and sweet. And sexy.” She wiggled her eyebrows with the last part.
I laughed. “Did you read the ‘S’s’ on the thesaurus toilet paper today?”
“No, smart-ass. I just figured alliteration would bring my point home better.”
It worked, dammit. “Good job.”
“Thanks.” She flashed a wide smile and refilled our glasses. “What are you going to do about Antonio?”
“No idea.” I wish I knew what the right move was, but I didn’t, which meant I—probably—would do nothing.
“But you want him?” It wasn’t really a question but I nodded anyway.
“I do. It’s a terrible idea, but I do want him. A lot.” It was a fool’s errand to want Antonio, to wish things were different. I knew that. “I also want a three layer caramel cake and to be a size five.” My baking skills left much to be desired and I’d been stuck at a size ten for more years than I cared to count.
Megan nodded. “The man you want desperately can help you with the cake, and his body,” she said with a grin. “The rest, you’ll take care of it when you’re ready.”
