Page 1 of The Third Wheel
Colby
Tangled Pages Bookstore andCafe.
I stepped back from the freshly painted sign, smiling. The two-story blue and white shop was my pride and joy, a labor of love that I inherited from my very favorite aunt. Things were going better than ever, and my business partner and I had decided it was time to spruce up the facade.
I'd been coming to the bookstore since before I could remember, and though my aunt had taken care of the building, our little Oregon Coast town was close enough to the Pacific Ocean that the weather was rough on buildings. After a harsh, stormy winter, everything had a slightly battered look to it.
And now that I had someone to love the shop with me, I had the money to do the work. Everything was better, really — there wasa lot more joy and a lot less stress. My new business partner, Mira, had seen to that, making the bookstore side of the shop warm and fun, filled with wonderful book selections that drew customers back again and again. The little cafe was doing a booming business of lattes and snacks, but Mira's attention to what was trending in various book genres shone through. Hell, even the children's section had been expanded to include cute toys and all the latest picture books.
I stepped inside, smiling at the sound of the little bell over the door, which was a sense-memory from my childhood, when my aunt had owned Tangled Pages. Mira was busy unpacking a box of the newest romance bestsellers by the window displays. Her warm brown eyes sparkled as she handled the beautiful paperbacks with the utmost care. As she spotted me, her face broke into a smile. Mira was Indian-American and gorgeous, with dark hair and dewy, light brown skin that glistened in the summer sun.
"Hey!" she said, her wedding ring flashing in the light from the window, reminding me that she was not available. "Does the sign look good?"
"It's fantastic! The new paint job looks so good. I'm glad we kept the blue," I said, looking anywhere but at her hand. It had been bad enough to stand up at her wedding last month, to give speeches pretending I was happy for the couple, and not heartbroken.
"It does," she said, her voice sweet and melodic. "I'm exhausted, though. And starving. Driftwood Diner?"
I grinned at the thought of spending more time with her. "Sounds great, Mira. I'm dead on my feet."
"Perfect!" She clapped her hands together, her bracelets jangling. "Let's go then. You can tell me all about that new book you've been raving about, or we can look at the event calendar for next month."
"Not that! Let's just relax and have fun. Is Gunnar coming too?" I was trying to sound casual. The thought of hanging out with Mira's gruff husband didn't exactly excite me.
"Of course." Mira's warm brown eyes sparkled. "He's been looking forward to a night out just as much as we have."
"Great." I tried to hide the irritation in my voice, because I couldn't deny her anything.
We finished up our closing duties, locking the door to Tangled Pages and heading for the diner. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the streets of Hazy Cove in a warm orange glow. I couldn't help but feel a thrill as I walked beside Mira, her arm looped through mine, even if Gunnar would be joining us.
"Gunnar's meeting us there?" I did my best to keep my voice casual.
"Yeah, he's finishing up at Malloy Customs and heading over. He's picking up his grandmother Wanda on the way." Mira was cheerful, but I wasn't looking forward to spending time with Mira's husband. Gunnar was the opposite of me in every way —a motorcycle mechanic who was as gruff and intimidating as he was handsome.
I was a preppy, bookish geek who often got referred to as a golden retriever. And I may have had a hidden, darker side, but it didn't make me anything like Gunnar.
"Fantastic." My sarcasm must have been obvious this time, because Mira laughed and looped an arm through mine, tugging me towards the diner.
"Come on, Colby, it'll be fun," Mira coaxed, giving me a playful nudge. "We can all celebrate how well the bookstore is doing. And you love Wanda."
"True," I conceded, my mood lifting. As much as Gunnar irritated me, his grandmother was a hoot, a wacky 70-something biker chick with a penchant for wild antics. And the recent success of Tangled Pages was something I was genuinely proud of. It was always a pleasure to share that with her. As we walked the five blocks to the diner, I let go of my anxiety, and chatted with Mira about our plans for expansion and the upcoming events we were hosting.
As we reached the Driftwood Diner, my gaze skimmed over the classic red booths and silver tables as I braced myself for the evening ahead. The tension between Gunnar and me was always palpable, but I would endure it for Mira's sake. I would endure anything to spend more time with my best friend.
The Driftwood Diner had looked the same for as long as I could remember, from the red pleather booths to the questionable carpet. Gunnar was already there, sitting in one of the bigger booths, with his grandmother beside him. His blue eyes narrowed when he saw me, but Wanda waved, her smile big and friendly.
Gunnar stood and wrapped Mira in a possessive embrace and kissed her deeply, his hand casually tugging on her shirt collar. I knew he was dominant in their relationship, and as far as I was concerned, a bit of an asshole. But she loved him, so maybe she enjoyed that. Or maybe it was about his looks — he was every bit the biker guy, from his leather jacket and jeans to his dark hair and tattoos. And then there was the man bun. How could my best friend be in love with a guy with a man bun?
Gunnar and I had met her at the same time, when Mira had come into town for a break from her failed attempt at medical school. Mira and I had formed an instantaneous friendship, and I'd fallen hard and fast. Unfortunately, I hadn't realized until it was too late that she had been doing something much more wicked with Gunnar. I preferred not to think of the stories I'd heard — like when he had her on display at a local BDSM party with an anal hook inside her.
I shook away that thought, taking a seat next to Wanda. The quirky septuagenarian was wearing a teal tracksuit and her favorite biker jacket.
"Don't worry," Wanda whispered conspiratorially to me. "Polyamory is becoming more acceptable these days!"
"What?" I shot her a startled look. This wasn't the first time Wanda Malloy had said something strange to me about polyamory, but I did my best to ignore it.
"Gunnar, Mira, sit down." Wanda ignored my question. "I'm hungry, and the server is waiting for you to stop making out to come over."
Gunnar and Mira sprung apart, looking a little guilty, and slid into their side of the semi-circular booth, with Gunnar next to Wanda, and Mira on the outside, across from me. She waggled her eyebrows at me, and I smiled.
