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“Is something going on with you two?” “We’re friends,” I reply, swiping an orange from the same bowl. “Right, but West doesn’t bring women around his kids—it’s a whole thing with him. And you’re staying here. And Ollie and Emmy have been here all week.”
“I heard Ollie talks to you.” I smile,
“I hope you understand how special that is.”
“I promise you, I do.” “West too.” My brows jump in surprise. “What?” “He might seem like a big, dumb, happy-go-lucky kind of guy, but it’s all an act. He’s cautious, short on trust, and a hell of a lot more sensitive than he seems. Please don’t hurt him if you can help it.”
“Don’t bother denying it. He’s had a hard-on for you for years, dumped his hookup the minute you got to town, and has you living under his roof. I know my brother.”
“Where’s Ford?” Rosie smirks. “This isn’t his scene, and I know better than to drag him here. Poor guy would be miserable, but he’d do it for me.”
“And, well, after years of living in a world run by the patriarchy, I feel like men could use a little objectification.”
“You can bid, you know,” she whispers. I scrunch my face and shake my head. I’m an interloper here, and I don’t need to be territorial over a man I barely know. He can go on a date with someone. I’ll be fine.
West props his hands on his hips and drops his head, body shaking with laughter. He looks fucking edible.
“Good lord, man,” West chuckles as he scrubs a hand over his stubble, cheeks flushing pink above the neatly trimmed line of his beard.
They can take him on a date, but they’ll never have that.
West is special. But he’s also mine.
In a world of things that have never been my own, it feels like he is. And I’m fucking sick of sharing. With my parents. With my record labels. With Bree.
But now I’m coming for her.
“West, I…” she says, but I’m not listening. I’m fixated on the fucking nerve of her. Trying to win a date when I made my feelings clear. Touching me like she has the right. The only hands I want on me are Skylar’s.
“She needs a home, not more bullshit. Don’t be the reason she runs.”
Seemed good for her mental health. Hadn’t really considered mine.
I told her not to worry about the press or the headlines, but so help me, if I see another one making her out to be some sort of idiot, I’m going to hop on a plane to Los Angeles and let fists fly. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Where would she run? Home.
If she’s not there, I don’t know what I’ll do. Start tearing this entire town apart, probably.
And she’s there. Sitting on the old tree swing. Swinging.
“You’ve been ignoring me for twenty-four hours. Then you drop ten grand on me. And now you’re going to continue to ignore me?” “I don’t want my date right now.” She swings again. “Skylar, I have been searching high and low for you for the past thirty minutes, and so help me, if you don’t turn around and address me—”
“Not once have you made a fool of yourself.”
I kiss a guy who tells me he only wants to be friends. I kiss that guy again and then I tell him we’re better off as friends. And then I…I…I throw a jealous fit and buy him at some small-town man auction. And now I’m sitting here trying to train my brain into thinking I did that because it was for a good cause.”
“First of all,” I bite out, clenching my fists to keep from grabbing her, “you should be fucking proud of yourself. You are strong and you are capable, and you’ve done nothing but prove that to yourself and everyone around you for the past several weeks.”
“Second of all, I’m buying you a phone because not knowing where you were made me fucking sick.”
“And third of all, the only foolish thing you’ve done is continue to refer to us as friends.” I spit the word. “That word makes me want to break something.” “Well, great. Thank you for that—” Her eyes roll, and I snap. I step up to her and grip her chin, the defiance in her eyes a match for my own. “Don’t you fucking get it, Skylar? How much clearer can I be? I moved you into my house. I’ve included you in my family. I cleared any other complication without a second thought. I spend almost every waking moment with you. I fist my cock every night thinking about you. You see any other friends
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turn, peering around dramatically. “’Cause I sure as shit don’t.”
“You’re the only one who’s never treated me like porcelain. Don’t start now. Do. Them.”
baby?
Bare feet and an oversized shirt. Sun streaming through the windows in the middle of the afternoon. Just the two of us. Her arms wrap around me from behind and she rests her head against my back. We’re in a hazy, happy bubble, and I never want to leave.
She doesn’t let me go until I start to fry the sandwiches, and I’d be a fucking liar if I said I didn’t want her back here, clinging to me.
“And a sun on the pinky, because, well, I guess I’m an optimist. There’s always a bright side.” She looks me dead in the eye when she says, “I love that about you.”
“It’s infectious. You make me feel like everything will be okay.” “It will be.” Her expression turns serious. “Even us?” Us. Neither of us knows what this is, but we know it’s not a connection you walk away from. It’s… With her, it’s different. “Especially us.”
“Hey, Sky?” “Yeah?” “You good if I treat you like porcelain, just for a little bit?” She blinks, then stares down at the plate resting on her legs, our feet where they lean together. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Are you jealous, Weston?” She has a playful gleam in her eye. I chuckle at that. “If I had ten grand to spend on fucking your exes over, I would.”
“I would bid on you every time,”
So I decide to soak it up for as long as I’ve got it.
All I know is that she and I were meant to meet on that road.
BREAKING NEWS: Skylar Stone declares that Weston Belmont has a “massive pole.”
Within moments, he saunters to the front door. And tosses an arm right over my shoulder. All casual. Like we do this all the time.
The sentiment of his mom’s saying hits me hard, and I hug him tighter, nuzzling into his side. He kisses my hair and murmurs, “How about we eat and go get you a phone, so I don’t tear this town apart the next time I can’t find you?”
He tosses me a wink as I lean back on the bleachers.
This may give me wrinkles when I’m older, but I’ll love each one as memories of this blissful little stop in my life.
“There you go, sweetheart,” he says in a gentle voice, and I bite down on my bottom lip.
I was a nervous wreck when I got here too. And West soothed me. Never pushed me too far. Always made me feel better about myself, never worse. God, he’s treated me with such love. It makes my heart race. It makes my heart ache. It makes my heart a little more his than it already was.
It agitates me to feel like I have found someone who fits me so perfectly and to know I can’t keep her—not really. Not the way I want.
“Where you headed, fancy face?”
But I also realize I’ve loved every iteration of this woman. The terrified one on the highway. The frantic one in the bunkhouse. The introspective one at the beach. The jealous one at the fair. And the one who’s looking at me right now like she wants to eat me alive.
“I can’t believe you like red grapes better than green grapes.” We hop into my truck after leaving the grocery store, and Skylar is shaking her head over my grape preference. “We got the green ones, didn’t we? Don’t kick a guy while he’s down.” She beams back at me. “We could have gotten both.” I wave her off. “Nah, I’ll learn to love the green ones.”
