That made Taylor laugh even harder. He leaned back, grabbed his stomach, and leaned forward again. "Yeah, and the only reason we got caught is because that hobo made a pass at Bryce." Taylor was still laughing but Paul didn't seem as eager about the ending of the story.

"He did more than make a pass at Bryce, Taye. He beat the shit out of him, and if someone hadn't stopped him-that pedophile was about to rip Bryce a new one."

"Well, the rest of us were so shocked. We stood there with our jaws hanging on the ground." Taylor laughed. "I'd just barely figured out boys did that to girls. I had no idea that boys did that to other boys! But you didn't hesitate to jump the guy and start beating the shit out of him. I still remember it like it was yesterday.

"Your fists were flying, and you were screaming, 'I'll fucking kill you, you fucking pervert! No one does that to my friend, you mother-fucker!' That hobo looked dead, man. I thought you'd killed him, but you still kept swinging until the railroad cops showed up. It took three of them, grown men, to pull you off."

Rhees remembered Shanni's story and sat quietly listening, waiting for Taylor to confirm what she already knew, not sure how she'd react. She couldn't take her eyes off Paul, even when he caught her staring.

"I watched that pervert for what seemed like an eternity," Taylor continued. "Thinking it was the first dead body I'd ever seen. He finally moaned and I knew he wasn't dead after all." Taylor put both hands to his face and rubbed his eyes and then started to massage his sore cheeks. "You were always the one looking out for the rest of us, man."

Paul's gaze slid from her to a random spot on the table.

Rhees ran what she knew through her head. Shanni said, Mitch said, Paul said-it was so confusing, but-Paul told Mitch he'd killed someone-but the hobo didn't die. Mitch and Paul were, Shanni had said, 'wasted', when Paul confessed, so most likely, Mitch did confuse the story.

Paul didn't kill anyone after all-or did the hobo die later because of his injuries? Was the hobo a completely different incident? Rhees wondered briefly what was wrong with her, why she didn't want to run, get as far away from Paul as possible, but she'd been having conflicting feelings about it already. Taylor said Paul was only saving his friend. The hobo story only convinced her to give in to her instinct in spite of what Claire warned. Paul equaled safe.

Annetta confessed to Paul how she'd been telling all the other customers they were already out of tiramisu, his favorite, to make sure he got a piece. Paul, trying to tempt Rhees into having dessert, even though she insisted she was too full, said it was common for them to run out before the night was through, so she might not get another chance to try it.

"If they run out every night, why don't they just make more?" Rhees shook her head. "Seems like a pretty simple marketing strategy to me."

"What'd you major in at college?" Paul asked.

"Human Development and Family Science." Rhees blushed. "Where I come from, they call it the MRS degree."

Paul actually flushed a little pale. "You should have gone into marketing. You have a gift for it." She dismissed his comment with a chuckle and Paul offered Rhees the first bite from his spoon. "Taste! Just one bite."

Annetta brought a clean spoon with the dessert, so Rhees finally relented to his persistence and accepted the offering.

It tasted divine and she exaggerated her pleasure with a moan and closed eyes as though she'd died and gone to heaven. She opened them again to find Paul gaping at her with a strange, dumbfounded look on his face, but he jolted back to normal when she caught him. He quickly took a bite himself.

He offered her another with the same spoon. She was hungrier than she thought, at least for the delicious tiramisu, but she shook her head, staring at the spoon. Paul burst out laughing and reached to an empty table, grabbing a clean spoon. He handed it to her. "Now, will you help me eat this?"

It impressed her that he remembered. She smiled sheepishly.

"You eat that side and I'll eat this side." He pointed to the respective sides of the dessert. "You can stop any time before you have to worry we'll start sharing germs."

He made her smile.

Chapter 18.

They finished dessert, and as they walked out of the restaurant, Taylor leaned over to Paul and whispered in his ear. "I want her. You'll have to find your own date tonight."

Rhees couldn't have heard what Taylor said, but she apparently didn't miss the immediate change in Paul's temperament. She placed her hand gently on Paul's arm and moved so she stood between them, facing Paul.

"Thanks for dinner guys, but now, it's time for me to go home." She looked up at him with warm, brown, worried eyes. She'd managed to distract him and soften his expression a bit.

"I'm going to walk Danarya home." Paul glared at Taylor again, turning so she couldn't see this time, but he presented Taylor with the same cold, dangerous expression as before. His previous strategy had failed and he decided on a more direct approach to get his message across to his friend-this one was off-limits.

"You don't need-" she began to protest, but he forgot to change his expression before turning the same chilling glare on her. She didn't finish her sentence, opting to stare with her mouth open. The look on her face-not frightened-but curious, filled him with remorse and he just stood there, not knowing what else to do.

"I knew it!" Taylor roared, snapping Paul out of his daze.

Paul took Rhees by the arm and dragged her away, glancing back at Taylor, obviously vacillating between being angry with Taylor and . . . she didn't understand the expression he was giving her.

She looked back too and saw Taylor bent over, laughing hard. They moved along, putting distance between them and Taylor. She watched Paul the entire way, concerned about his mood and what the whole exchange meant. He pursed his lips, as if concentrating very hard on something.

She stopped in the middle of the road and folded her arms, silently demanding he explain. The grocery bag in her hand swung and hit her elbow. She winced and hoped he hadn't noticed.

"It's nothing." Paul reached down and took the bag, slipping his other hand into hers, and he tugged at her for them to be on their way, but she didn't budge. "It's a private joke-something that's been between Taye and I for years."

"Then why do I get the impression it has more to do with me?"

He sighed. "Okay . . . it's a little bit you, a little bit me, and a whole lot of Taylor. All right?"

Paul smiled his biggest smile, his eyes twinkled and he did the half-wink thing with his right eye.

"You get away with that a lot, don't you?"

"With what?"

She couldn't help her smile, wondering if he really knew. He had to know. "I bet you use that smile to get out of trouble all the time."

"Who, me? I never get into trouble." One side of his mouth quirked up.

"All of your smiles. Even that crooked, cocky smirk you do."

He seemed to be trying very hard not to do that one again but the contorted result still looked good. She finally just gave in with a smile of her own. They headed north on main street, toward her apartment.

"Shoot!" Rhees regretted saying it the second it came out, but she seemed to be searching for an escape route.

She noticed the others from the shop headed toward them from their meal at Coconut Inn. Paul still had a hold of her hand, and he gave it a gentle squeeze but didn't let go.

"Hey, look. It's the shop gang!" He said it loud enough so no one would be able to pretend to slink away unnoticed. Not even Rhees. She stepped so that she stood half behind Paul. The best hiding spot she had. She could see the surprised looks on some of the faces.

She remembered the sting of showing up at Ray's and not seeing anyone from the shop. She'd waited . . . and waited. It took her far too long to figure out they'd stood her up. She'd gone to a small grocery store and bought the spaghetti, though she had no appetite.

She'd told herself she would go home and make dinner, but deep down, she'd known she wouldn't have the stamina to do anything but break down and cry the second she opened the door to her apartment. She'd throw herself on her bed and feel the overwhelming loneliness that had plagued her since she found out her dad was dying . . . so soon after losing her mother, her best friend in the world.

"What've you guys been up to?" Paul sounded so casual and happy to see them.

"We just had dinner. How about you?" The others gawked and stared, curious and concerned about how Rhees and Paul had ended up together. They all stared at her hand, the one Paul held, as if they were a couple. His thumb ran up and down the length of her forefinger affectionately.

"Danarya and I had dinner at Fratelli's." Paul looked down at Rhees and smiled. She tried to smile back, but knew she didn't do a convincing job.

The people from the shop flashed each other strange, uneasy glances. "When did you guys decide to do that? Rhees was supposed to . . ." someone asked, but someone else jabbed her in the ribs with an elbow to shut her up.

"Taye ate with us, too," Paul added, as if it was an afterthought, ignoring their bewilderment. "But I think he's off looking for you guys." He suddenly acted confused. He looked behind them, in the direction of Ray's, and then back at the direction they'd come from. "Oh! We assumed you'd all be at Ray's tonight. Taye went that way." He pointed behind them again.

"No . . . we ate at Coconut tonight. Why didn't you eat at Ray's?" Dorene looked directly at Rhees.

"I saw Danarya headed toward Ray's, and I grabbed her. She said she preferred your company over mine, but I wouldn't take no for an answer. I guess that was a stroke of luck-since you guys weren't there after all." He looked down at Rhees. "Now aren't you happy I forced you to have dinner with me? You would have shown up at Ray's and felt pretty stupid being there all by your lonesome."

Rhees finally caught on to Paul's attempt to save her face. "Um, yeah. A-Paul-o, here, said that Fratelli's was the best Italian on the island." She tried to act natural.

Paul smirked.

"You guys do know that Nary and I have buried the hatchet, right?" Paul stared at them expectantly. His eyes reflected something other than friendliness. Rhees stewed about the names he kept coming up with for her. She'd hoped her name for him would've given him the hint.

"I wouldn't say A-Pauled and I have buried the hatchet, exactly. More like, we stuck a white flag in the sand for now." She glared at him, daring him to push her, the anxiety over being stood up forgotten.

"Are you sure, Arya? We've been getting along pretty well lately."

"Maybe you're right, Paul-bearer. Yes, the hatchet is buried, right below the white flag. Marked where one of us can dig it up readily if necessary."

"Dana hates it when I call her anything but Rhees."

"Paul-ymer tells the truth, but I don't mind it as much anymore. It's better than Mother-Fucking Bitch, but he doesn't call me that anymore since we, you know, buried the hatchet." She smiled sweetly at him and batted her eyes.

Paul couldn't help but stare at Rhees. She was absolutely adorable-confusing as hell, but adorable. He stared at her with wonder, a huge smile on his face, ready to be alone with her again. He finally broke away from her eyes and turned to the gang.

"Yeah, well, now, if you'll excuse us. I'm escorting Rhees home. You guys have fun, and don't do anything I'd do." Paul winked, and then he tugged on Rhees to follow him.

The comments in the group after Paul and Rhees left had to do with how Rhees didn't even know they'd ditched her.

"I'm never letting you talk me into doing that again. I actually like Rhees. There, I said it," Tracy said. "No more of this stupid game. I won't be mean anymore."

"We missed Ray's tonight for nothing," Regina said. She'd been feeling terrible all night about what they'd done, but knowing Rhees had ended up with Paul-Rhees' night couldn't have turned out better, and she was jealous.

"You're very quiet," Paul said when they turned off the main street and headed toward her apartment.

"So are you. You knew."

"I heard. I hoped they'd change their minds, but . . . I waited for you, just in case."

"So tonight was just an act of mercy."

He glanced at her with his icy glare. "Yeah, I sacrificed my evening. What a waste." He looked confused. "You didn't have a good time?"

"I had a great time." She exhaled.

"Good. Me too. I took advantage of a rotten situation, but look what happened. I hope we can have dinner together again sometime."

"Me too . . . but not too soon." She giggled. She'd heard he said that after his dates, heard him tell Bathroom Girl at the Emerald Starfish. He arched a brow and grinned.

"Thank you." She stopped in the middle of the road. She caught him off guard when she threw her arms around his waist. "I don't have any more peanut butter."

"What?" He racked his brain to figure out what peanut butter had to do with making her move on him. She obviously was.

"You just saved me, again, twice in one night. I have no way to repay you, now that I've already given you the only jar of peanut butter south of Texas." She giggled but she meant it.

"Oh." Just gratitude-no move on him. He had to recalculate. "I didn't do anything."

"Well, thanks for nothing then . . . but I'm still very grateful." She didn't let go of him, and he was intoxicated enough to take advantage of the closeness. Since she wasn't making a move on him, he'd try one on her again. He hesitated after what happened the last time he broke his own pattern, but she felt so good in his arms.

He skimmed his hand tenderly down her back and nestled his nose into her hair. She tensed up and pulled away abruptly. She glanced down, as though it embarrassed her to do it, but she made no move to undo it.

He frowned, took her hand again, and started walking. "So, just how far did you get with Roney pud?"

"You remembered his name."

"Yeah. My memory is a freak sometimes," he said under his breath. He meant most of the time, but he didn't like talking about it. He remembered most things, except when he was drunk, drunker than normal. "You said you made out. What does that mean, exaaactly?"

"Kissing . . . for extended periods of time," Rhees answered. For as long as I could stand it.

"Where?"

She made a quick, breathy laughing sound. "On the lips."

He laughed. "That eliminates any inventive images I might have come up with. What location? Any place besides the car?"

Rhees made the breathy sound again. "Mostly just the car, but on the couch, and I told you, in my room. Why?"

"Just curious. Did he feel you up?"

"No!" She shook her head, wondering why he wanted the specifics, but she was too nave to understand that she shouldn't be so willing to answer his questions about that sort of thing. "But he tried. That was always the point I called it quits. The last time, we were on my bed, sitting on the edge . . . he pushed me down and got on top of me, tried to . . . I couldn't breathe. I had to scream at him before he finally stopped. That's when he got ugly and started calling me names. Why are you so interested in the details?"

"Just looking for a reference." He smiled.

"Reference?" She stopped to look at him. "Reference for what?"

He shrugged, evasively.

"Okay, now it's your turn. You said you'd tell me about your first time. How about now?"

"No."