Rare Blend (Red Mountain #1)

14. Marisa

CHAPTER 14

Marisa

LIKELY RESEMBLING A CLOWN

I ’ve reached a new low. I’m baking for a man. A man who can’t stand me.

Suzy got my mind rolling with her suggestion that I do something nice to encourage Ethan to hear me out and agree to an interview. The first thing I did after getting off work was stop at the grocery store for some supplies.

If there’s anything that brightens my spirits, it’s baking. I’m of the mindset that sugar is good for the soul. Plus, the smell beats just about anything. Who needs an overpriced candle when there’s a batch of snickerdoodle cookies in the oven?

I have the first batch cooling on a cooling rack, one in the oven, some dough chilling in the fridge, and I’m making more dough, because once I get going, I can’t stop. Never mind that I only intended to bake enough for one person. When it’s all said and done, I’ll have enough for an army.

Ethan sounded pretty adamant yesterday about keeping our distance from each other, but I’ve decided I’m done playing by his rules. I’m not going to walk on eggshells and be made to feel uncomfortable for however long I’m stuck here. I don’t care who he is. I’m going to take these damn cookies over to him, and he’s going to love them, because everyone loves my cookies. And hopefully that’ll soften him up enough to let me do my job. Frankly, he’s the one who should be apologizing to me for his outburst. Another man who can’t regulate his emotions. Original.

He got home about an hour ago. I wasn’t staring out the window, watching for him or anything. Definitely not.

The oven goes off, indicating the second batch is ready. I get them situated on the cooling rack and scoop the first batch into the cute tin container I picked up in the baking aisle.

I quickly glance in the mirror, checking for any food in my teeth and ensuring my makeup isn’t smudged. Satisfied, I’m ready to go.

My heart beats loudly in my ears, mingling with the crunch of gravel under my pumps. He’s going to say yes. He has to.

I knock, my hands jittery with nerves. Holding my breath, I listen for footsteps between my pounding heartbeat. There’s a long pause, and I almost turn away, wondering if maybe I was wrong and he isn’t home. I blow out a relieved sigh when I hear the creaking of his wood floors.

He answers, and I’m greeted with a white T-shirt being pulled down from his chest and smoothed across his stomach, providing a peek at the trail of dark hair scattered down his abdomen. His eyes look hooded and heavy, as if I woke him up. There’s something so boyishly charming about his sleepy expression and mussed hair that I almost forget about his outburst yesterday. But as soon as he blinks a few times, back is the man I’m more familiar with. Hard lines, tense expression, and ever-present scowl.

I wasn’t expecting him to be asleep this early. And I see now this probably isn’t going to go well.

He rubs his face, his hand dragging down it slowly. “Yeah?”

His groggy, deep voice gives me a full body tingle, knocking me temporarily out of focus.

“Marisa,” he says, his voice more forceful this time.

Right, the cookies.

This attempt at getting him to warm up to me is already going to shit.

I smile, probably too brightly, likely resembling a clown. “Hi, neighbor.”

He frowns. “Is there something you need?”

I imagined this going much better in my head. Though I’m not sure why, because nothing has gone smoothly with Ethan since we’ve met.

I hand him the tin, and he looks down at it like I’m handing him a bag of garbage. It hangs between us awkwardly as he makes no attempt to grab it. I give it a shake, hoping that makes it more enticing. It doesn’t.

“I baked you some cookies.”

His face scrunches. “Why?”

I laugh, and it comes out breathy, desperate. “To thank you for rescuing me yesterday. I also feel really bad about…well, you know… Anyway, I thought I would make it up to you with some homemade cookies. Seeing that we’re neighbors and Red Mountain is so small, I was hoping we could start over. Get to know each other, maybe even try to be friends?”

“What’s rule number two?”

My skin heats, embarrassment washing over me. “You were serious about those?”

His dull eyes meet mine.

“I know a bribe when I see one. What do you want?”

When I don’t answer, he continues. “I’m not even into sweets, so there’s your first mistake.”

I fold my arms, hating the raw, unsettled sensation building in my chest. My determination from earlier slips away more and more by the second. I take a deep breath, hoping I can turn this back around. “Here’s the thing, I don’t know if you heard, but I’m temporarily working at the Herald , and my first assignment is to do a piece on you. I couldn’t get out of it. I tried.”

His eyes narrow. “Not my problem. And I don’t do personal interviews. You’re welcome to write about the winery, but that’s it. Leave me out of it.”

He starts to close the door on me, but I put my hand out to stop him.

“Please, I promise it won’t be invasive. And I really would like to be friends. Really.” I’m begging now, and it’s not a good look.

He crosses his arms and takes a step back. Goose’s face peeks at me between his legs.

“So, is that a yes? A maybe?” I chuckle, nervously.

“The answer is no.” He laughs, but there’s no humor behind it, and rubs between his eyes. “We’re never going to be friends.”

What?

My chest sinks, and my face burns in mortification. He’s proven exactly the kind of person he is time and time again, and I keep expecting a different outcome. I’m done making excuses for him. He’s shy, he has anxiety, he’s stressed. News flash, we’re all suffering. It’s not justification to treat me like I’m less than. Silly me for thinking tacos and a ride home meant there was a nice guy buried somewhere in there. He wants to keep to ourselves and avoid one another? Well, he’s sure as shit going to get exactly what he wants now.

“Oh, well, okay then.” I bend and drop the tin of cookies on the doormat. “I’ll just leave these here and fuck right off. Don’t mind me.”

I turn and walk down the steps. I can’t get out of there fast enough.

“Marisa…”

Without turning, I keep walking. “No, it’s fine. I heard you loud and clear.”

Right before my door closes, I swear I hear him grumble fuck , but I don’t care enough to check. Or speak to him ever again. I’ve had enough. There’s only so many times I can humiliate myself in front of him.