Page 2

rowan

I watch the door close behind Cilla, her auburn hair catching the porch light one last time before disappearing into Michele's house. For a second, I consider hanging around like some lovesick teenager, but even I'm not that pathetic. Yet.

The walk back to my truck feels longer than it should. Cedar Bay's quiet streets are peaceful tonight, the calm that makes a man overthink. Lately, all my thoughts have circled back to one frustratingly brilliant woman who seems completely immune to what Fox calls my "small-town charm offensive."

Twenty minutes later, I'm pushing through the door of The Anchor, the familiar smell of beer and fried food hitting me like an old friend. Fox and Cole, two of my oldest friends, are already at our usual corner booth, beers in hand and shit-eating grins on their faces.

"Look who finally showed up," Cole calls out. "How's the professor?"

I slide into the booth, snagging his untouched beer. "Her name is Cilla, which I believe is short for Priscilla."

"We know her name," Cole says, signaling the bartender for another round. "The whole town knows her name because you won't shut up about her."

The waitress drops off a beer, and I take a long pull before answering. "She's fine. Just walked her to book club."

"Book club," Fox repeats, sounding like I said, "strip club." "Jesus, Malone. You've got it bad."

"It's getting sad, man," Cole adds, leaning forward. "Tobias says you rescheduled that Miller job just so you could 'accidentally' bump into her at the coffee shop."

I shrug, not bothering to deny it. "The Miller job could wait. They've been dragging their feet for weeks."

"She's not interested," Fox says flatly. "How many times has she shot you down now? Five? Six?"

"She hasn't shot me down," I protest, though the words sound weak, even to me. "She's just... focused on her work."

Cole snorts. "Right. And I'm just focused on becoming the next Bachelor."

"Seriously," Fox continues, his voice taking on that annoying big-brother tone he gets when he thinks he's being helpful. "At least a dozen women in this town would drop everything for a chance with you. Remember Amber? She literally left her number on your windshield last week."

"I'm not interested in Amber."

"You're not interested in anyone except the one woman who won't give you the time of day," Cole points out.

I stare at my beer, watching the condensation run down the glass. These guys don't get it. Hell, I barely get it myself. All I know is that from the moment I saw Cilla struggling with those boxes on moving day, those two ridiculous dachshunds tangling themselves in her legs, something clicked into place.

"You don't understand," I finally say. "Cilla's different."

"Different, how?" Fox challenges.

"She sees me." The words come out before I can stop them. "Everyone in this town—hell, everyone since high school—they see the quarterback or the soldier, the guy with the construction company, or whatever the hell else they want to see. She doesn't care about any of that."

Fox and Cole exchange a look I know too well. It's the "Rowan's lost his mind" look.

"So she... what? Ignores you completely, and that's somehow better?" Cole asks.

I shake my head. "No, she challenges me. Last week, I mentioned reading that book about the Pacific Northwest maritime history"—

"You read a maritime history book?" Fox interrupts, looking genuinely shocked.

"Yes, asshole, I read books." I run a hand through my hair, frustrated. "Anyway, she didn't just nod and smile like most people do when I say anything remotely intelligent. She argued with me about the author's take on indigenous fishing rights for twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of conversation where she wasn't looking at her watch or phone."

"Sounds riveting," Cole says dryly.

"It was," I say, dead serious. "And when Cilla talks about her research or those damn whales she loves so much, she gets this light in her eyes..." I trail off, realizing I sound like a character in one of those romance novels my mom keeps on her nightstand.

Fox leans back, studying me. "So you're really not giving up on this one?"

"Not a chance."

"Even though she thinks you're just another pretty face trying to get in her pants?"

I wince. "Cilla doesn't think that."

"You sure?" Cole asks. "Because from what I've seen, Cilla treats you like you're one of her students who forgot to turn in his homework."

That stings because there's some truth to it. Cilla's polite but distant. Like she's built a wall specifically designed to keep out men like me.

"Look," I say, leaning forward. I know what it looks like, but there's something there. When I helped her with that leaky pipe last month, we talked for hours afterward. And sometimes, I catch her looking at me when she thinks I won't notice."

"Probably wondering why you keep showing up on her doorstep," Fox mutters.

I drain my beer and set it down with more force than necessary. "You know what? You guys can think whatever you want. I'm not quitting on this."

"Even if it means making a complete fool of yourself?" Cole asks.

"Wouldn't be the first time," I say with a shrug. "Besides, Cilla's worth it."

Fox sighs heavily. "Fine. But when this blows up in your face—and it will—don't come crying to us."

"I'll cry to Tobias instead," I say with a grin. "He's more sympathetic."

"Tobias would only go easy because he works for you," Cole points out.

I laugh, but my mind's already drifting back to Cilla. To the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when I dropped her off, that slight hesitation before she thanked me for the walk. There was something there, something real. I'm sure of it.

"Another round?" the waitress asks, appearing at our table.

"Definitely," I say, then turn back to my friends. "Look, I get it. You think I'm setting myself up for a spectacular crash and burn. But here's the thing—I've dated half the eligible women in this town, and it's always the same. They like the idea of me, not the actual me."

Fox rolls his eyes. "Poor Rowan, too handsome for his own good."

"Fuck off," I say without heat. "You know what I mean. With Cilla, I don't have to be Cedar Bay's golden boy. I can just be... me."

Cole's expression softens slightly. "And who exactly is that? Because from where I'm sitting, you've been playing the same role since high school."

His words hit harder than I expected. Have I? The thought is uncomfortable enough that I push it aside.

"Maybe that's why I need someone like her," I admit. "Someone who doesn't care about my touchdown record or how many houses we built last year."

The waitress returns with our beers, and there's a moment of silence as we all take a drink.

"Alright," Fox finally says. "If you're really serious about this woman?—"

"I am."

"Then maybe you're going about it all wrong. The Rowan Malone charm offensive clearly isn't working."

I frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Cole leans forward. "It means stop trying so hard to impress her. From what you've said, she's not looking for another relationship, right? Especially not with someone she probably sees as just another distraction."

"So what, I should just give up?" The idea sits like a stone in my stomach.

"No," Fox says slowly, like he's thinking it through. "You should be her friend."

I stare at him. "Cilla's friend?"

"Yeah, her actual friend. Not the guy who's obviously waiting for his chance to ask her out again. Get to know her without all the pressure."

"That's... actually not terrible advice," I admit, surprised.

Cole nods. "Besides, you said she's into all that academic stuff, right? Maybe show her you're interested in that, too. And not just because you want to get in her pants."

"I never said?—"

"We know, we know," Fox interrupts, holding up his hands. "You respect her mind, ambition, and extensive knowledge of killer whales."

"Orcas," I correct automatically. "They're actually dolphins, not whales. Cilla mentioned that the first time we talked about her fascination with them."

Cole and Fox exchange another look, this one tinged with something close to sympathy.

"You've got it worse than I thought," Cole says, shaking his head.

I run my thumb along the condensation on my glass, not bothering to argue. Fox and Cole are right—I do have it bad. And maybe they're right about the rest, too. Perhaps I've been coming on too strong and too obviously interested.

"So what would that even look like?" I ask after a moment. "Being her friend?"

Fox shrugs. "I don't know, man. What do friends do? Talk about stuff they both care about. Help each other out without expecting anything in return."

"I already do that," I protest. "I fixed Cilla's porch step, helped with that pipe, walked her to?—"

"While making it obvious you want more," Cole interrupts. "That's different."

He's not wrong. Every interaction I've had with Cilla has been tinged with my attraction to her, and hope that she'll see me differently this time. No wonder she keeps her distance.

"Alright," I say slowly. "So I back off. Be her friend. Then what?"

"Then nothing," Fox says. "Maybe that's all it ever is. Are you ready for that possibility?"

The question lands like a sucker punch. Am I ready to accept that Cilla might never see me as anything more than a friendly neighbor? The automatic "hell no" that rises to my lips surprises me with its intensity.

"I don't know," I admit. "But I'm willing to try. Cilla's worth knowing, even if..." I trail off, not wanting to finish the thought.

"Even if she never falls for your considerable charms?" Cole supplies with a smirk.

I flip him off, but there's no heat behind it. "Something like that."

"Well, I'll be damned," Fox says, leaning back in his seat. "Rowan Malone, willing to be friend-zoned. I never thought I'd see the day."

"Don't be an ass," I mutter, but I'm smiling despite myself. "Besides, who knows? Maybe once she gets to know the real me?—"

"And there it is," Cole laughs. "The eternal optimist returns."

I shrug unapologetically. "Can't help it. But I'll try it your way. Friendship first."

"To friendship," Fox says, raising his glass in a mock toast. "May it bring you exactly what you deserve."

I clink my glass against him, then Cole's, ignoring the doubt already creeping around the edges of my resolution. Can I really be content with just being Cilla's friend? I think of her smile this evening when I made some dumb joke about her book club selection, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners, and I know the answer.

No. But I'll take what I can get.