Must Be Fate: (Cody and Clover) (A Jetty Beach Romance Book 3) (6 page)

“It took me a while to fall asleep, but once I did, I slept like a baby,” she says. “My head hurts though.”

“Yeah, it will take some time,” I say. “Still no vision changes?”

“Nope.”

“How’s the nausea?”

“Oh, fine,” she says. “I think I’m just hungry at this point.”

“Sure,” I say. “I’ll figure out some breakfast. I don’t have much here, so I’ll run out and get us something.”

“You really don’t have to do that.”

I shrug. “Well, I need to eat, too. Do you drink coffee?”

“Yes,” she says. “Lots of it.”

“Okay, you stay here,” I say. “Lie down if you don’t feel well. I’ll be back. Do you want me to stop by your car and pick up anything?”

Clover pulls the blanket up higher onto her lap. “That’s okay. Really, you’re doing too much already. I can deal with my stuff later.”

I run upstairs and change into jeans and a t-shirt, trying not to look at the rumpled bed. I go back down, grab my keys, and pause at the front door. Clover gives me that vivid smile and waves.

I’m in big trouble.

I drive out to Charlie’s Grocery and wander the aisles, grabbing random things. I don’t usually keep a lot of food in my house. I work so much, I’m not often home for meals. It was one of the things Jennifer complained about. She even took to buying groceries—things she wanted to have around when she came over—and leaving them at my place. I ignored the way it irked me, but now that she isn’t in my life anymore, I’m able to admit how irritating it was. I didn’t want to keep her stupid soy milk in my fridge. Soy milk is disgusting.

I have no idea what Clover likes to eat, so I try to include a little bit of everything. Cereal, milk, soup, eggs, bacon, frozen waffles, syrup, hash browns, a carton of strawberries. I’m probably overdoing it. I grab more pain relievers—she’s likely to have a perpetual headache for several days, and I can cycle Tylenol and Motrin for her—and throw in some girly-looking shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and something called a loofah that I seem to recall seeing Jennifer use.

Just as I’m heading to the cashier, someone turns their cart down my aisle. I almost crash into her, and when I see who it is my gut fills with dread.

Jennifer. Of course it’s Jennifer.

“Oh, hi,” she says. Her perfectly straight hair is shiny, her makeup flawless. Even on a Saturday morning, she’s dressed in a blouse, slacks, and heels. She probably doesn’t own a pair of jeans.

“Hi, Jennifer,” I say, purposely not calling her Jen. No sense in continuing with that familiarity.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“Is it not obvious?” I ask. “I’m doing the same thing you are. I’m shopping.”

“Wow,” she says, her voice thick with sarcasm. “You strike out on your own and suddenly you’re all responsible.”

“I’m glad to see we can be civil when we run into each other,” I say, moving my cart to go around her.

“Cody, wait,” she says. She puts a hand on my arm as I try to walk by. “We didn’t have a chance to talk things over the other night. Why don’t we go get some coffee?”

I pull my arm away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” she asks. “Just as friends. We can catch up. You can tell me how things are going with the practice. Anything new there?”

“Nothing new,” I say. “I have to go.”

“What’s going on with you?” she asks.

“I’m not sure how that’s any of your business at this point,” I say.

A flash of anger crosses her face. “Oh my god, you’re sleeping with someone, aren’t you? That’s what this is all about.”

“As a matter of fact, no, I’m not,” I say.
But shit, I’ve certainly been thinking about it.
“But if I was, it wouldn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Yes, it would,” she says, crossing her arms. “You can’t just leave me and jump in bed with some slut.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I say, lowering my voice and leaning closer to her. She doesn’t know about Clover, but I can’t help but feel like she just called her a slut. I’m so angry, I’m having trouble keeping my voice under control. “I can do as I damn well please. You and I were never good together, and I can’t even fathom how I put up with you for two years.”

I push my cart past her, leaving her gaping at me.

My heart thumps hard in my chest, my body full of adrenaline. I go to an open cashier and pay for my cart full of stuff, getting myself out of the store as quickly as I can. The fresh air helps me calm down. By the time I load my groceries into the trunk of my car, I’m more or less back to normal.

I am not going to let Jennifer get to me.

After a quick stop at Old Town Café for coffee, I go home. I find Clover lying on the couch, her head on my pillow, my blanket up to her chin. She has a plastic bag full of ice on her forehead.

“Oh, hey, don’t put that right on your skin,” I say. I grab a paper towel and rush over to her.

She opens her eyes and lifts the ice. “What?”

“You want something between the ice and your skin. It’s too cold,” I say. I take the ice and wrap it in the paper towel, then place it carefully back on her forehead. “There. Better?”

“Yes, thank you,” she says.

She tries to get up, but I put a hand on her shoulder and nudge her back. “No, lying down is good.”

“But, coffee.”

“Fine, coffee, then you lie down.”

I grab our two cups and hand one to her. She scoots herself up to sitting and takes a sip.

“Is Jennifer your girlfriend?” she asks. “I heard your mom say something.”

Her question catches me off guard. “No. She was, but we broke up. Recently.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” she says.

Is it just me, or does Clover not look sorry? “Don’t be,” I say. “It was long overdue. I’m much better off.”

Her face brightens. “Well, that’s good then.”

My phone dings and I take it out of my pocket to check, hoping it isn’t Jennifer. I have a text from Nicole.
How’s Clover? Is her head okay?

I type out a quick reply.
Concussion, but she’ll be fine in a few days.
“My soon to be sister-in-law is checking up on you,” I say.

“Are you serious?” Clover asks.

“Yeah, you met Nicole at the restaurant last night. She texted to ask how you’re doing.”

Clover looks genuinely baffled. She puts the ice down on the coffee table. “Wow.”

I get another text.
She still at your place?

I look at the screen again. How does Nicole know?
Um, yes. How did you know she was here?

Nicole answers.
Your mom called Ryan earlier.

Of course, my mother.

“Is everything okay?” Clover asks.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” I say. “Sometimes I forget how quickly news travels in this town.”

Clover’s hand flies to her mouth and she gasps.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Oh my god, I’m a criminal.”

I don’t mean to laugh, but she’s so serious. “What do you mean?”

“I never paid for my dinner last night,” she says. “We left and I didn’t pay.”

“You’re fine,” I say. “Bob and Diane own the place, and they’re really nice people. I’m pretty sure they won’t press charges.”

She puts a hand to her forehead, then winces. “Ouch.”

“Okay, time to lie down,” I say.

“I need to go deal with this,” she says. “And get my car out of their parking lot. I bet it’s been towed.”

“It hasn’t been towed,” I say.

She lets out a breath. “Cody, you’ve been so nice. I really do appreciate everything you’ve done. More than I can say. But I really need to find a place to live and start looking for a job.”

“I know,” I say. “You will. But you need to heal first.”

She scowls. How does she make that look cute?

“Clover,” I say, adding some doctor sternness to my tone, “that headache you have is your body telling you to slow down.”

“What am I supposed to do?” she asks. “You can’t keep sleeping on your couch.”

No, but maybe I could join you upstairs.

Stop it, Cody.

“Sure I can.”

“Cody—”

“Listen,” I say. “You’re going to stay here with me until you’re better. That’s my prescription. Rest. Quiet. No stress. Everything else can wait a few days.”

“Are you sure?” she asks.

“Positive.” I take her coffee cup and set it on the table. “Come on, lie down. Doctor’s orders.”

She flashes me a grin. “All right, Dr. Jacobsen. I’ll do whatever you say.”

Shit, it’s hot when she tells me she’ll do what I say. I hesitate, watching her as she lies down, overcome with the desire to kiss her. I could lean down slowly, see how she reacts. If she turns away, I could stop. But if she doesn’t…

I clear my throat and get up, my cock straining against my pants. What is wrong with me? She’s hurt. Vulnerable. I have to quit fantasizing about taking advantage of her.

Cody gets my car for me—yet another thing I need to thank him for. As frustrated as I am to be lying down all day, I have to admit, he’s right. I need the rest. I can tell when I overdo it. My head aches and the nausea comes back. So I spend a few days lying on his couch and sleeping in his bed. No matter how hard I try to convince him to take his room back, he won’t hear of it.

I’m so tempted to ask him to join me in bed. Every evening he says goodnight and I wander up the stairs, wondering if I should just ask. What’s the harm in that? We’re both single adults. But I can’t make myself do it. He’s been such a gentleman, it feels wrong.

I swear there are moments when he looks at me as if he wants the same thing. There’s a hunger in his eyes. But he always backs off so quickly. Maybe I’m imagining it, and he doesn’t want me. I decide that it’s best if I don’t complicate things.

By Wednesday, I’m going out of my mind—and not just because I bumped my head. I decide it’s time to get out of the house. Cody works all day, but I figure I can find my way around. Jetty Beach isn’t a big town.

I drive around a bit to get my bearings, then circle back down Main Street. It’s so cute, with trees lining the street, and pretty hanging baskets spilling pink, red, and white flowers. I pull into a parking spot—the second one that’s open, not the first. I get out and look around. Right in front of me, I see what I’m looking for: a coffee shop.

Cody does not understand coffee, so the supplies at his house are less than ideal. I’m dying for a good cup. Old Town Café looks like just the sort of place to serve the good stuff. I resolve to see if they sell bags of whole beans, and I’ll find a good quality grinder and French press. Then I can make it at home.

I roll my eyes. It isn’t home. It’s Cody’s house, and I need to remember that finding a new place to live should be at the top of my list.

The café smells amazing. Fresh coffee, baked goods, and they have a full kitchen. I worked at a café with a full menu once, but despite telling them I can cook, they never let me touch the food.

A pleasant-looking woman in her forties is behind the counter. “What can I get you?”

I look at the case. “Coffee, and a blueberry muffin. Those look amazing.”

“We bake them fresh every day,” she says, opening the case on her side and reaching in with a napkin to grab a muffin.

“Do you? Yum.”

“For here, or to go?” she asks.

“I’ll stay.”

She puts my muffin on a plate and pours my coffee into the cutest ceramic mug. It looks like a chalkboard.

“Cream and sugar are over there,” she says, pointing to a side table.

“Thank you so much,” I say. I hand her the money. “This looks wonderful.”

“No problem,” she says with a smile.

I pause at the counter. Should I? Why not. “Say, you don’t happen to be hiring?”

She tilts her head at me. “I might be.”

I smile. I
knew
it. “Well, if you are, I’d love the opportunity to apply.”

She grabs a towel and wipes off her hands, her eyes still on me. Is she deciding if I look like Old Town Café material?

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to stare,” she says. “It’s just so odd that you asked that when you did. One of my employees quit not ten minutes ago, and didn’t give any notice.”

A tingle runs up my spine. It’s a sign. “That’s not good.”