No Bunny But You (Holiday Romance Series) (11 page)

Clearing his suddenly thick throat, Drake said, “It
could be a big mistake though. What if they don’t get together?
Then the guy’s lost the girl he’s hot for and his best friend is
gone forever.”

“It could go down that way, but more often, people
are staying friends after breaking up. She might be okay with going
back to being friends.”

Drake looked at his friend, potential scenarios
flashing though his head. He couldn’t deal with seeing Molly,
knowing some other guy was kissing her sweet, pink nipples and
thrusting into her hot, tight body. “What if this woman stomps on
him?”

Again, he thought. What if she dumped him again?
“Kicks his heart into the goal posts. Then he’s lost a friend and a
vital organ.”

Levi laughed. “Yes, that would be bad.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Drake envisioned himself
being dumped by Molly and her going off with another guy. “I think
he should just call it a day on the romance angle. You know, if he
kissed the girl or maybe more, he could say they should just go on
being friends. Nothing more.”

“He could do that.”

“Sex with her could be a big mistake.” Draining the
last of his drink, he sat the glass on the table and tried not to
think that he may have already screwed things up by screwing
Molly.

* * *

“I slept with Drake,” Molly said miserably, squatting
next to the raised vegetable bed Abby was weeding.

Abby glanced around at the others working in the
Austin area community garden, straggled out over the acre set aside
for the various plantings.

Keeping her voice low, she exclaimed, “Wow. Finally!
Great.”

Leaning closer, she lowered her voice even more. “I
mean, it was great, right? You didn’t hate it?”

“It was fantastic.” Molly knew she sounded as
mournful as if her grandmother had died.

Going back to tilling the dirt in front of her and
pulling out loosened weeds between rows of tiny green seedlings,
she glanced over. “Ummm. Okay. Not sounding happy about this.”

Perched on the edge of the raised bed, Molly looked
at the clump of various neighbors—all weeding different vegetable
beds—without really seeing them. “Abby, this is bad!”

Her friend glanced up. “How exactly? I mean,
was
it bad?”

“No, it was great. Really great! But it’s bad because
he’s still relying on my help for the home improvement blog. At
least a little. I’m still helping him to learn some things and, oh,
I threatened to tell his boss about our arrangement, and he’s been
my best friend for the last six years. All that. This isn’t simple.
How do I know he even likes me that way? I mean, maybe he had sex
with me just to keep me helping him. It could have been that,
right? Maybe he’s not into me that way, at all.”

She glanced at her watch and over at Molly as she
began to gather up her gardening tools. “I’ve got to go pretty
quickly here, but you said you guys had good sex.
Great
sex.
Guys can’t fake this. At least I’ve never known one that did. But
Drake clearly was having a
great
time. That would be an
indication that he
likes you that way
.”

“Don’t be too sure of that.” She gave Abby a deadpan
look. “Won’t men pretty much jump any woman who’s willing? I mean,
I’d have to have bad breath and a visible sexually-transmitted
disease before he’d turn me down.”

“Not true. Drake’s never been that desperate. He’s
too good-looking and he’s never had to work that hard to get women.
Come on walk with me to the faucet.” Abby and she tramped across
the plot of land. “Haven’t you always said that he’s more sexually
fastidious than most guys you know? He’s not the kind who whips it
out for just anyone. Other than the sex buddies, I mean. You did
say he has had a couple, but he doesn’t even see them that often.
Do you think you’re just another sex buddy? Did he say that?”

Molly smiled at her word choice, but felt the need to
point out. “He’s never hidden the fact that he has women he just
has sex with sometimes. No strings. But, no, he didn’t actually say
we were bed buddies.”

Abby turned on the faucet and then said to her
friend. “He got a little crazy after college, but heck, most of us
do. Did he say anything before you guys got it on?”

“No.” Molly was miserably aware of having failed the
smart modern girl requirement of finding out what a guy wanted,
exactly, before ripping his clothes off. “He—he and I kissed and
everything started like a flash fire. We didn’t talk much, if you
get my drift.”

“Drift gotten,” her friend said with a grin.

“What about afterwards?”

Shaking her head, Molly said, “Afterward was just
bad. We didn’t know what to say to one another. We walked to the
parking lot and both drove away. I haven’t talked with him since
and it’s been several days. To be honest, Abby, I don’t know what
to say.”

They slowly walked toward Abby’s car.

“Tell him you liked it a lot? Say you’d like to do it
again real soon and, oh, by the way, what does he think this is? I
think those would be good things to start with.”

Molly turned her head to look at her friend. “I’m
afraid, Abby. You know how I feel about Drake. What if I was just
an itch he wanted to scratch? What if he’s just stringing me along
so I’ll keep feeding him material for his blog? His life is so
messed up right now—and I’m in the middle of this crazy Easter
Picnic job—that this…thing between us doesn’t make sense, at
all.”

They stopped when they reached the asphalt.

“Look.” Her friend put an encouraging hand on her
arm. “You need to talk with Drake. He might not give a crap about
the blog anymore. You don’t know. After all, he hasn’t contacted
you, asking for more help, has he? Maybe he’s finding his
feet.”

“I hope so,” she said, trying not to sound as
miserable as she felt.

* * *

“Okay,” Mike Tanner threw his arm over Drake’s
shoulder as they walked from the make-up trailer to the set where
the five-minute spot for House Today was being set up, “this is
great. You’re a great-looking guy and you’ll do well at this. Just
imagine you’re talking to a friend.”

Drake didn’t know how to break it to him that his
friends didn’t normally come to him with questions on how to fix a
toilet-or do any home repair. He was better with word tenses and
definitions. Hell, his kitchen faucet had been dripping for months
and he hadn’t even considered fixing it himself. He kept thinking
Molly would bring her tools over when she came to hang out one time
and they’d make the repair together.

Not that he and Molly had been hanging out after they
had sex.

Great sex, really.

He missed her. When he’d called to tell her about the
video shoot today, the conversation had been awkward. After he’d
asked how she’d been doing, he hadn’t known what to say.

A million thoughts had crowded his head. He’d raced
through them all, discarding each as stupid. So, he’d just blurted
out that he was shooting his first video spot for House Today and
then he’d hung up, feeling like a fool.

Nervous as hell about this, he just wished she were
here, even though he didn’t know why. Having had phenomenal sex had
made everything weird between them.

Walking down a long hall with Mike, they went into a
studio set up to look like a regular house interior.

“Hey, Drake.” The producer he’d talked with earlier
came over, followed by another guy in a casual shirt, open at the
collar, who appeared to have several people trailing him like
satellites. “This is our director Silvio Sanchez.”

“Hi, Drake.” A dark-haired man with a quick smile, he
reached out and shook Drake’s hand. “So, we’ve got the bathroom set
and a toilet, of course. I think they’ve set it up to have the
problem you described, so you can fix it. Right over here.”

Feeling awkward and like a total idiot, Drake
followed him into the small space.

“You see the guy with the hand-held camera?” Silvio
gestured toward a guy with a camera. “He’s going to be shooting and
you talk directly to him as you fix the toilet. We have another
camera over here—see? But you just ignore him. He’s doing
supplemental shots that will be edited in for viewer clarity.”

“And the tools are?” Drake tried to act like he knew
what he was doing.

“Over here. That’s right. We put them in this tool
box. It’s made by one of our sponsors. Their name is on the side.”
Silvio turned to talk briefly with one of the assistants following
him.

Taking the moment, Drake waved at Mike—standing off
to the side—giving his visibly-nervous boss the thumbs-up signal.
Mike couldn’t be any more nervous than he was. He was just grateful
he’d never really shown his feelings much.

In a moment of panic, he’d decided all he could do
was fake his way through the situation. His stomach felt like he’d
swallowed nails and Drake wondered how he’d gotten himself into
this mess.

But what choice did he have? He needed to keep the
blog going, since it was currently paying his bills.

“Okay, Drake,” Silvio said with another encouraging
smile, “let’s try this. Just talk right at the camera guy as you
fix the toilet and don’t forget to explain what you’re doing
step-by-step. Think of this as if your viewers are going to DVR
this and watch it before they attempt to fix their own toilet.”

He’d gone over the steps to fixing the toilet at
least a hundred times, conning his notes and rehearsing the
directions Molly had given him. Trying to ignore his desire to
throw up, he took a deep breath and told himself again that, even
if he sucked—which he thought he would—all that could happen was
that the people at House Today declined to have him appear on the
show. Not the end of the world and not the end of the blog. Even if
his bosses did decide to can him, he’d find another way to make a
living.

Maybe even go back to writing about serious
journalistic subjects. He’d thought about that with longing.

“Just start talking when you’re ready,” Silvio said,
standing behind the camera guy. “Do a little intro—keep it
brief—mention who you are and then launch into how to fix the
toilet.”

Drake had seen the home improvement shows. He’d
studied a number of them when Mike told him about this possibility.
Even though just thinking about it made him nauseous, he’d done
whatever prep work he could to keep from looking like a total
ass.

Presenting himself like an “expert” seemed silly—even
though he did that in writing on the blog—so he’d decided to just
try to be regular. A regular guy.

He still wanted to throw up, even having that plan.
Drake drew in a breath, forcing himself to smile as if he were
happy to be there. Shifting to kneel by the toilet, he glanced up
at the lights and the camera guy and—just beyond all the tangle of
wires and people holding microphones—he saw Molly standing off to
the side.

She looked a lot more confident than he felt. Neither
of them were used to this, but she didn’t seemed fazed, just
standing out of the action, watching. Without thinking, he smiled
and waved at her, seeing her small wave in return.

Drake realized that just having her there had him
drawing in a deep breath of relief. He still felt jumpy and on
edge, but seeing Molly made him feel better.

Looking into the camera now, he started, saying,
“This is Drake Hampton of the Fix Your House blog on the
Doing-It-Yourself website. Today, we’re going to get personal with
this broken toilet. It’s running all the time and making the owner
crazy, which I’m sure you all understand.”

“Have you ever looked inside your toilet’s tank?” He
lifted the heavy ceramic lid off the tank and, sure enough, the
mechanism inside was running. “Hear that? Not a good sound and it
will raise your water bill, so we need to fix it.”

He could hear Molly saying that.

The camera operator stood up, moving closer to bring
the shot in tighter on the insides of the tank.

“This is the part that makes your toilet flush when
you push the lever.” Drake went on explaining the parts briefly as
Molly had told him. “These here are the tools you’ll need to fix
this puppy….”

He listed off the various implements as the camera
guy shifted to peered into the tool box, the name displayed
prominently.

Despite his nerves, Drake began seeing the humor in
the situation. Here he was—clueless fixit guy—explaining to viewers
how to fix their damn toilets. He was supposed to be the expert,
but he knew just how the average guy and gal felt about their home
improvement projects.

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve always felt a
little intimidated by plumbing.” He hoped the smile he sent the
camera was sheepish. He was so damned nervous, he wasn’t sure.

“We have to change this part, starting with cutting
off the water at the wall.” Drake sent the camera a deadpan look.
“Don’t—whatever you do—take this tube out of here. Trust me on
this. You’ll end up spewing water everywhere and then you’ll have
to clean that up before you get back to fixing the toilet.”

The network might have wanted a self-assured
know-it-all for these spots, but Drake knew he couldn’t pull that
off. He could only present himself like every other home owner who
couldn’t afford to have someone repair all the stuff that needed
repairing. Some people might enjoy this and do home repair because
they liked it, but Drake didn’t think he could pull off the
lie.

Writing words on paper was one thing. Looking into
the camera was a different story.

“Once you’ve turned off the water at the wall, you
can flush the toilet to drain the water out.” Step-by-step he
parroted what Molly had told him. He’d never particularly thought
he had a good memory, but fear of looking like a fool brought
everything back to him.

“Newer toilets have this thingie—an overflow tube, a
water inlet. The flapper at the bottom with a chain attached sits
on top of a flush valve seat. The part with the chain sits on this,
blocking the toilet water until you push the flush lever to open
it.” Drake stopped again and grinned at the camera, the feeling of
bravado growing. “This is all if you have a newer toilet. The older
ones have a ballcock—yes, you heard that correctly—and we’ll talk
about them next time.”