Complicated Girl (Baker Street Romance #2)(5)
Author: Mimi Strong

I casually bring the orange juice back up to my lips and take another drink. I’m careful to swallow this time. I finish the whole bottle, and he takes the empty from my hand.

“Mouth clear?” he asks.

“All out of ammunition.” I open my mouth and stick out my tongue to show him.

“Good, because I have a request.” Staring steadily into my eyes, he says, “I’d like to get my hands on your buns.”

“Tonight?”

“Right now.”

Now, I’m not an idiot. I know he’s making a joke based on the cinnamon buns, but I also know he’s making a play for my other buns. Cute as he is, this needs to stop right here. I’m not as stupid as I used to be.

“Listen, Drew. You are an attractive man, and I’m definitely suffering from low self-esteem right now. Part of me is screaming yes, but my brain is saying no.”

He keeps listening.

I shake my head emphatically. “I’m not into hookups. A few years ago, sure. I would have trotted right out of here with any cute guy who showed interest. But what I’ve learned is that guys like you are… terrible at sex. Just terrible.”

The smile drops off his face instantly. “Guys like me? What do you mean?”

“You good-looking guys make a sport out of sleeping with as many girls as they can. You’re all about the quantity, not the quality. Oh, you’ll buy a quality suit, and a quality car, and one day you’ll get married to a quality woman who’s either an idiot or a liar, but right now you’re only interested in the cheap buffet.” I point my thumb at my face. “But this cheap little carbohydrate is off the menu.”

His eyebrows pull together in a very sexy frown that almost makes me eat my words. “You’re what they call a complicated woman,” he says.

“Complicated. Hmmm. Isn’t that the word they use in magazines to describe someone who’s a bitch?”

“We just met. We don’t even know each other, and you told me I’m terrible at sex. How could you know that?”

“I guess I am pretty complicated after all.”

His shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath. “Maybe complicated is exactly what I need. In my job, I’m the one giving all the orders. Nobody stands up to me and calls me on my bullshit.”

“Is that why you’re here? Bad relationships? Bad choices? What? I’m dying of curiosity here.”

Very plainly, he says, “If I knew, I’d tell you.”

“There’s always next week. I hope you’re more than a sightseer.”

He pushes his left jacket sleeve up to reveal a flashy-looking watch.

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” he says.

He keeps backing away from me, but he’s moving slowly, like this is a game, and he’s waiting for me to say the magic words.

“Don’t let big, bad Meenie scare you off,” I say.

His dark eyes flash with annoyance. I smile inwardly. I’ve struck a nerve.

He stops retreating. “It was nice meeting you, and I hope you find what you’re looking for.” His tone has the ring of someone saying goodbye, not of someone who’s coming back next week.

“Drew, never mind me. This is an excellent support group. You’d be stupid not to come back.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Well, maybe you should call up that girl who took your balls and ask if you can have them back. Get your balls out of her purse, then stick them back on.”

“My balls?” His eyebrows raise higher and higher, until they look like they’re trying to merge with his handsome hairline. Now that he’s speechless, I want to lick his face more than ever. I bet his cheeks taste like orange juice.

I should shut up now. Or I should apologize for insulting him.

Instead, I keep going, my head bobbing with attitude.

“Yes, Drew. Your balls. If memory serves me correctly, they fasten right under your dick. Do that, and then come back next Tuesday, and work on your personal shit. Like a man. Like a grown, adult man.”

He blinks, clears his throat, turns around on the heel of one Italian leather shoe, and walks straight toward the exit of Room 3C.

And that’s the end of New Guy Drew.

He doesn’t say a word to anyone on his way out. He drops the empty orange juice bottle and coffee cup in the bins by the door. He takes the time to sort out which is recyclable and which is garbage.

I feel terrible. He recycles. He might come off as sensitive and touchy, but a guy who recycles can’t be that bad.

He reaches for the door handle.

Time slows down and my surroundings come into focus. Abbie and the other seniors laugh as they declare themselves Chocoholics. They’re such lovable goofs. This group is diverse, but what they have in common is they all have good hearts. Every one of them would gladly give up a moment of happiness to share the sorrow of another.

And then there’s me. Driving people away.

I should stop Drew, if only for business reasons. Feather lets people drop in to their first session for free, so she only makes money if people come back. Now I’ve gone and scared away one of her potential clients.

Drew pulls open the door.

I shouldn’t have said his balls are in a lady’s purse. But if I go after him, the truth will come out about what I said to drive him away. The others will know I’m not kindhearted like them.

Drew slips out without anyone but me noticing.

A guilty, shameful feeling slips over me like a dark cloak.

I’m poison.

I’m toxic to other human beings, and myself.

I am, quite simply, the worst.

But I don’t want to be like this. I want to be sunny and nice. I want a guy to like me. I want Drew to like me.

Things never turn out with me and guys, and I keep thinking maybe it’s the guys I pick. They definitely can’t handle my honesty.

But I’m getting a feeling that maybe the problem is bigger than that.

Maybe the problem is me.

Chapter 4

I wake up Wednesday morning to sweet little kisses.

Muffin is on my chest, licking my chin and rubbing his wet nose on my mouth. I open my eyes. He looks at me like he’s truly surprised I’m not sleeping right through the application of his snot to my face.

“Good morning, Prince Charming,” I say.

He pulls his face back, disgusted by my morning breath. Of course. He licks his own butt, yet my morning breath offends him.

Muffin retreats to the foot of the bed and stretches his ginger-orange body out. You’d think I bought the seafoam green bedding just because it was a perfect complement to his fur. And you’d be right. I did.