Who says I’m pretending, indeed.
When Grant drops Wesley and me back home—well, at Wes’s house, but doesn’t it feel like home?—there’s a touch of awkwardness between us. I need to get to town to check on the café and start looking for new clients, and Wes needs to…do whatever it is he needs to do.
The kiss we shared blazes inside me, still hot and alive. We make our way to the kitchen, and I find myself sliding a hand over Wes’s side. He’s so solid. Muscular. Warm.
But he flinches away, eyes flicking toward Sean and Alina’s room. “Simone.” He closes his eyes, inhaling. “Last night…”
Oh, God. Blood rushes to my cheeks, flushing all the way down to my neck and chest. I read everything all wrong. He doesn’t want this at all. He said he didn’t regret it, but he made no move to touch me again. We’re still just pretending. He doesn’t want me at all. Last night was a mistake.
“I meant it when I said I want to take things slow.” His eyes, emerald green in the early morning light, look earnest. “I just want to make sure we’re not getting confused here. We’ve been spending a lot of time together, and sleeping in the same bed, and… I don’t want you to get hurt.”
My face turns to stone, if only to hide the hurricane raging inside me. He doesn’t want me to get hurt? What a fucking hero. He’s pulling away and making me feel like a fool, and then giving me nice words to soothe the sting. How can he come hobbling through the woods to find me because I left before he woke up, then turn around and flinch away when I touch him?
This is why I don’t do more than first dates. I get too excited. I fall too far, too fast. I end up doing things like crawling back to my ex-husband after eight years apart just to get laid.
Not that I’d do that now. The thought of it repulses me.
Still…it’s telling. I crave intimacy so much that I’m willing to debase myself for it. Wes is no different. I should listen to what he’s telling me—really listen.
He doesn’t want this.
But before I can turn away, Wes’s hand reaches for my cheek. His touch is soft, calluses rough on my cheek, and his thumb teases my bottom lip. Then, he dips down and lays a kiss on my lips. It’s quick, but it rips through me like lightning. I part my lips and Wes hesitates, pulling back, then lets out a sigh and deepens his kiss. It’s like he’s trying to resist, trying to pull away, but he can’t help himself.
“All right, lovebirds,” Sean’s voice says from the living room. “We get it. You’re in love.” He guffaws, gliding past us and angling for the coffee pot.
Wes and I fall apart. His eyes are warm, but I can’t quite return the stare because I know exactly what’s going to happen. He doesn’t know what he wants, and he’s going to play hot and cold with me—and I’ll be the fool who falls for it.
19
Wesley
I’ve never taken things slow with a woman. Not like this. Not sleeping in the same bed as her and not being able to touch her. Not kissing her whenever I can’t resist anymore, only to tear myself away from the want and the need roaring in my blood.
But I’m taking things slow with Simone.
There’s a constant tug of war inside me that only gets worse as the days go on. I want… I want her. But a voice in my heart tells me to hang back. Every time Alina walks into the room, I remember how easy it was for her to leave me. I remember how it felt to be reduced to nothing by the woman I loved because I couldn’t provide for her. I couldn’t pay for all the things she wanted, and she decided it wasn’t worth it. I wasn’t worth it.
Simone doesn’t make me feel that way, but…but…
She kissed me right after I told her about the trust. In the moment, it felt natural. Our kiss was like a dam breaking, pressure rushing out of me as I did the things I’d been dreaming of doing to her, to her body…
But that voice. That voice in my head just won’t shut up. The one that says it’ll happen again. Simone found out about the money I stand to inherit if I marry someone, and she kissed me not two minutes later. What if she’s playing me as hard as Alina was? What if these feelings bubbling up inside me are going to blow up in my face?
So, I keep my distance. I make excuses about my ankle, about wanting to be able to make love to her the way she deserves—but that’s not all there is. I need…time. I need to figure out if this is real, or if I’m just making the same mistakes all over again.
Taking things slow, day by day, hour by hour…it makes me notice things about her. Appreciate them.
She once told me that my smile made me look more attractive. “From Broody McBrooderson to sex on a stick.” As the days wear on, I find myself cataloguing her smiles, too. There’s the slight tug at the corners of her lips when she says something snarky. She won’t quite bring herself to laugh at her own jokes, but I can tell she enjoys them all the same.
Then, there’s the polite veneer of a smile. Lips closed, eyes blank. My least favorite of her smiles.
There’s the happy, peaceful smile that she sometimes graces me with first thing in the morning, when sleep hasn’t quite cleared from her face. That smile never fails to stab me in the heart.
But my favorite smile of Simone’s is one of full-blown delight. The first time I saw it was when I agreed to lease her the café. That day, it was tinged with relief and a hint of desperation. The next time I saw it on her face was when the trees cleared and she saw my parents’ house for the first time. That smile isn’t contained. It’s wildfire brimming in her body, untamable.
I saw it again that day I stumbled out of the woods, after she was done berating me and calling me a bumbling idiot oaf of a man. When we were settled inside Fiona’s house, Grant and Clancy shuffled into the kitchen, looked at the two of us, then at Fiona, and back at us. Simone glanced at me then, and her smile was pure sunshine.
Simone has this incredible ability to make me feel. So, as the days turn into weeks and the weather turns colder, I find myself hoping my uncle never leaves. He and Alina look for a temporary place to stay, but they haven’t found anything to their taste. They stay in that room on the ground floor, and Simone stays in my bed.
Fine by me.
When he goes, Simone will move back to her place, and my life will turn dull and grey again. I won’t feel the heat and energy that Simone gives me with nothing more than a smile or a touch.
Maybe there’s something else between us, but I’ll have to wait to find out. I can feel Simone’s frustration mounting, though. Ever since we kissed, there have been questions in her gaze. Once or twice her hands have wandered, but I always catch them and press her knuckles to my lips.
“I don’t want to take it slow,” she says to me one night, breathless, when we’re alone in our room.
Me neither.
There’s a constant need inside me to claim her. To wrap my arms around her and drag her closer…but I hold myself back.
Nothing in my life has ever gone right. Nothing has fallen into my lap the way Simone did. It’s too good to be true. A part of me doesn’t believe…doesn’t believe that I deserve it. That I deserve her.
Two weeks after our disastrous Thanksgiving dinner, my uncle confirms he’s opening a store in Heart’s Cove. He’s found a space for the store and his corporate team has started doing research on competition in the area, and he sees a good business opportunity. He’s going for it.
If he’d told me that a few weeks ago, dread would have seeped into my heart and I would’ve had to force a smile onto my lips. I would have wondered if it was some power play, some way to get the money in my parents’ trust, an intimidation tactic. Maybe it is, but when he tells me, I find a smile already there.
“That’s great,” I say. “Heart’s Cove is going to grow in the next few years.”
“That’s what I think,” Sean says, smoothing his meaty hands over his hair. It gleams silver in the lamplight of the living room as my uncle meets my gaze. “Alina and I will be out of your way soon. We’re going to her family’s place for t
he holidays, leaving on Monday. When we get back, we should have a place of our own sorted out.”
My face turns blank as my fingers and toes grow cold. I jerk my chin down, hoping I don’t look as uncoordinated as I feel. He’s leaving, which means Simone and I…
We’ll have to decide what this means. What we want.
“I wanted to say thank you for hosting us. I can see you and Simone have made a home here. I”—he clears his throat—“I’m hoping to do the same with Alina.”
I’m not sure when, but some time over the past couple of weeks, the sting of my uncle and Alina’s relationship has faded. When he says her name, I feel nothing. No jealousy, no hurt, not even any sense of familial duty to be happy for him. I’m just…blank. And it feels good.
A part of me still thinks my uncle is opening a shop to keep an eye on me. To see if this thing between Simone and me is real, to see if that trust money will end up in my hands or broken up and partially in his.
Then a thought pops into my head, and I can’t quite keep the tension out of my voice. “You’re moving to Heart’s Cove?”
Sean laughs, shaking his head. “God, no. We’ll get a vacation home here, somewhere close to the ocean. It’s too small for us. Alina likes the city.” My uncle stands, dropping a hand on my shoulder, and shuffles toward his bedroom.
I sit in the living room for a few more minutes, until my hands find my crutches and I heave myself up. The muscles in my shoulders have strengthened over the past few weeks, and they no longer ache so much after a long day on the crutches. My ankle, too, doesn’t pound with every heartbeat. Times like now, in the late evening, it gets sore, but it’s manageable.
The front door opens, and Simone appears in the opening. Silhouetted in the night, she looks like a fiery, wild angel. She gives me one of her smiles—dazzling, bright, blinding. I respond with one of my own, and Simone kicks her shoes off before looping an arm through mine, crutch and all.
“Fiona’s hosting Christmas dinner. She called Candice and Jen, and we’re having a do-over. Your uncle, Alina, and Eli are invited, of course.”
“They’re leaving on Monday to spend the holidays with Alina’s family. I’ll have to check what Eli’s doing. He might want to stay.” I grin.
She smiles back, then my words sink in. My uncle is leaving… Understanding flits across Simone’s face, then some other emotion I can’t read. Her body goes still, the only movement a slow swipe of her tongue over her bottom lip. Slowly, she lifts her eyes to meet my gaze. “Do you… Would you like to come to Fiona’s anyway? I know Thanksgiving wasn’t much fun, but I promise Fiona knows how to throw a party, and I don’t have any skeletons in my closet that will ruin another meal.”
My heart stutters. I should say no, shouldn’t I? Whatever’s going on is complicated enough already. The words bubble up inside me. A thousand and one questions for Simone about her and us and what the hell this thing between us is.
None of them come, though. I find myself nodding. “Sounds good.”
Simone’s arm tightens around mine, and she gives me a new kind of smile. Warm, soft, and almost shy. It pierces through me like a spear. Then, as if catching herself, she shakes her head. “Let’s get you to bed, sugartits. That ankle must be killing you by now.”
So she noticed it hurts more in the evenings. She cares.
I follow her up the steps and let her help me onto the bed, then watch her duck out of the room to go brush her teeth and get ready for sleep. Mundane routine isn’t something I’ve ever cherished. I never thought I could have something so comfortable with a woman…but I have it with Simone.
Sean and Alina leave a few days later, on Monday morning. Eli drives them to the airport in the rented car, having decided to stay here a few days before heading to see his daughter in Vermont. Simone grins at him, and we both know he’ll be spending his days off at the Heart’s Cove Hotel with a certain animal-print-wearing lady. Simone and I wave them away on the front porch. We stand there, unmoving, until the noise of the engine fades and all that remains is calm, winter-cooled silence.
“That’s that, then.” Simone looks at me, a question glimmering in her eyes.
“That’s that,” I repeat. “They’ll be back in three weeks.”
“Oh.” She shifts her weight from foot to foot, opens her mouth and clicks it shut again.
I clear my throat. This awkwardness…is it my fault? Is it because I told her I wanted to take things slow? I gulp and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “I guess you’ll enjoy sleeping in your own bed, huh.”
Simone freezes, looks at me, and as if it takes all her effort, gives me a slow nod. “Yeah. I will.”
“I mean,” I stammer, “I figured you’d prefer to sleep at home. You always complain about me hogging the blankets, and with my uncle gone, I thought you’d want to go back.”
“Of course.” Simone looks at me, her face still frozen in that unreadable mask. “I guess I’ll grab my things.”
My joints lock up. I can’t move. She thinks I want her to leave. She thinks I said that to kick her out.
“You can stay if you want,” I add, but it sounds like an afterthought. It sounds like I’m throwing her a lifeline out of pity. “I mean it.”
She shrugs, a casual gesture—but doesn’t meet my gaze. “Two weeks in our own beds isn’t a bad idea.” A tight smile. “Won’t take me long to pack my things up.”
Pain flashes across my chest, my throat clogged with emotion. Words don’t come, so I don’t try to speak. I just gesture to the door and follow her inside, then sink into the couch while Simone heads upstairs. Distantly, I hear her moving around. I hear the clink of metal hangers against each other in the closet. A zipper. The bathroom door opening and closing again. Plastic knocking while she puts things in a bag.
I never thought packing made such noise. I never thought each of those sounds would make me wince with some invisible pain.
As I sit there, listening to Simone gathering her things, I realize I don’t want her to leave. I don’t want this to be fake, or a business arrangement, or some sort of half-baked plan to get my uncle off my back. I want her to stay. Tomorrow, I want to wake up with her by my side and see that first smile on her lips.
I’m falling for Simone. The truth of that thought blazes through me, bright and impossible to ignore.
But…does she feel the same way about me? Can I move past my demons and accept another woman into my life, especially when she knows everything that hangs in the balance? That trust money is like a weight around my neck. It makes me doubt her. Makes me think I’ve just attracted the same kind of woman all over again.
Then Simone’s foot appears on the top step, then lower, and lower, until she’s standing on the ground floor with her little suitcase propped up beside her. She glances at me, then over at the kitchen.
I stare back. “Simone, I meant it. You can stay if you want to.”
“Do you want me to stay?” Each word is measured, weighted, slow.
Yes. God, yes. “I don’t want to force you to do anything. I…I like having you around.”
Her eyes dim. “Let me know if you need anything from me for your ankle. I’ll be happy to help.” The doorbell rings, and Simone gives me a sad smile. I haven’t seen that one before. She jerks her thumb toward the entrance. “I asked Fiona to drive me to town.”
She disappears for a few moments, then comes back with Fiona in tow.
Fiona’s wearing a black beanie, almost the same color as her hair. Her cheeks and nose are rosy with fresh air, and she gives me a small wave. “Hey, Wes. Simone said you’d come to Christmas dinner?”
My tongue feels heavy, but I manage a nod. “Yeah.”
“Good. She’ll text you the details. See you in a few days!” Fiona smiles and gestures for Simone’s bag.
Simone shakes her head and hauls it up herself, then glances at me once more. “Call me if you need anything, okay?” She sounds sincere, and I thank her, but I already know I w
on’t.
I’ll spend these days alone, just like I used to spend my days before she came crashing through the forest. Relying on no one but myself, protected from the hurt and the pain that someone like her can inflict upon me.
It’s better that way.
20
Simone
“You’re running away.” Fiona shoots me a meaningful stare from the driver’s seat. When I ignore it, she huffs. “Did you hear me?”
“I’m not running away from anything. And don’t use your mom voice on me, Fiona.”
Fiona snorts, turning off Wesley’s driveway and onto the road that will lead us to Cove Boulevard and back…not home, exactly, but to my apartment.
“I saw his face, Simone. He didn’t want you to leave.”
“It’s complicated.”
“You’re running away.”
Frustration rumbles in my chest, but how can I put it into words? A couple of weeks ago, I was sure things with me and Wesley would progress. But every time I’ve tried to get close, he’s backed away. He gave me some excuse about taking it slow and wanting to make love to me properly when his ankle was healed, to which I say, Horseshit. Does he think his injured ankle would stop me from orgasming? Does he think I’d be unable to climb on top of him and ride him? Are his hands broken? His mouth? His tongue? Did his cock suddenly malfunction because his foot is in a cast? Last time I checked, ankles weren’t necessary for good sex.
No—I can read between the lines. Even when I told him about Christmas dinner, I saw him hesitate. Whatever happened in that room, with that kiss…he doesn’t feel the same way I do.
But, coward that I am, I haven’t been able to speak to him about it. I’ve just clung to the hope that one day he’ll wake up beside me, tug me closer, and give me what I’ve been craving.
I’m not opposed to taking it slow. I can respect that, of course. But with Wes, it doesn’t feel like it’s sex itself that’s holding him back. Every time I touch him, he flinches away. It’s like it’s me that makes him react that way, even if he says he wants to take things further.
Dirty Little Midlife Mess: A Fake Relationship Romantic Comedy (Heart’s Cove Hotties Book 2) Page 16