He’s handsome. I’m not too much of a man to admit that. Decent, strong body, and the easy grace of a man with confidence.
And he’s looking at Simone like he wants her.
Fire blazes in my core, hot and bright and possessive. I turn, keeping my body between him and Simone, ready to stop this asshole from doing whatever it is he’s planning.
But Simone lets out a soft sigh and puts her hand on my shoulder. She steps around me and crosses her arms. “Nate,” she says, her voice flat. “What are you doing here?”
“After everything, that’s how you talk to me?” He clicks his tongue, then slides his hazel eyes to me. “Who’s your friend?”
Simone’s shoulders tense as she gulps. Her eyes dart to mine, and something like resignation flashes in her gaze. “Wes, this is Nate, my ex-husband. Nate, Wes.” She waves a hand between us.
I didn’t get a label. I’m not her boyfriend, or her lover, or her friend. I’m just Wes.
Judging by the gleam in Nate’s eyes, he noticed it too. “Is this my replacement?”
“Oh, please. Is there a reason you’re here?”
“You haven’t been answering my texts.”
“So you came up here to ask me about it?” Simone’s face hardens in a way that usually has my pulse kicking.
Nate takes a step forward, and I do the same. He pauses, a cruel grin on his lips. “So, he is my replacement.” He looks me up and down, assessing. “You found someone else to take care of you, huh.” His eyes flick to Simone. “Don’t need me anymore as a backup?”
“You know what? Go haunt some other poor woman, Nate.”
“A word to the wise,” Nate says, facing me. “She has expensive tastes. I’d work that into whatever budget you currently have and make sure you plan for lots of designer clothes.” He looks at the table, sees her purse, and snorts. “And bags.”
Everything goes still as my heart slows. Ice forms in my veins, a dull ringing growing louder in my ears. My head swivels, looking at Simone, and I vaguely hear her dismissing her ex-husband. He says something back and turns.
I take in the tailored suit, the trendy haircut, the shiny shoes. He oozes wealth. He’s her ex?
She has expensive taste.
My heart thumps, hearing still filled with a high-pitched noise. I flinch when Simone puts her hand on my arm, her brows lowered. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I croak. “I’m fine.”
In a daze, I walk to the truck and get in. Simone slides into the passenger seat and holds her purse on her lap. My eyes snag on it, on the blue leather, the gleaming buckles.
You found someone else to take care of you, huh.
The engine roars so loud I can’t hear myself think. I can just hear Simone’s ex-husband’s words playing over and over in my head. I can see his sneer. The possessiveness he swaggered in with, followed by his contempt when he saw me. Chump, he seemed to say. You’re a chump.
We drive home in silence, a long stretch of asphalt then a gravel road wending through the trees.
Is this my replacement?
I cut the engine, staring at the house that made Simone smile so brightly when she saw it. That smile… Was it just the joy of seeing the house, or was it something else? Was she seeing its value? Was she seeing me as someone she could latch onto?
Every interaction we’ve had, every moment—it’s tainted.
I turn to look at Simone, who has concern written all over her features. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she whispers. That concern—is it real, or is it just worry for her own future, her own stake in my inheritance?
Has she been playing me this whole fucking time?
25
Simone
Something’s changed. Wesley doesn’t speak as we exit his truck. I follow him into the house and watch him open the refrigerator to pull out a beer. He cracks it open and takes a glug, still not meeting my gaze.
My purse thuds softly as I put it down on a console table. My coat whispering as I slide it off. Those are the only sounds in the room apart from the hum of the refrigerator and the distant creaking of the wind in the trees.
Wes takes another pull of his beer, and still, the silence stretches. A shuttered, unreadable expression has masked his features as he stares at me from across the room.
“Talk to me.” I take a step toward him.
Tension stretches between us. The seconds drip by, oily and thick, and I wait. Wait for the blow that will knock me down.
It only takes a few seconds for that blow to come. Wes’s jaw clenches, his teeth grinding so hard I can hear them across the room. “Is any of this real?” Bitterness drips in his tone, his lips curled in an ugly snarl. I haven’t seen this side of him before. I don’t… I don’t know how to react.
So, I freeze. “What?”
“This whole relationship. Us.” He points the bottle of beer between us. “Did any of it mean anything to you?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
I thought he’d be mad about my ex-husband showing up. I thought he’d maybe be irrationally jealous that I’d slept with Nate last summer, before we were ever together. But this—questioning if my feelings are real—it shocks me so thoroughly all I can do is gape.
“You kissed me mere minutes after I told you about the trust, about my inheritance. We got closer after my uncle left, when you had me to yourself. Have you been faking it this whole time? Has it all been some game to you?” he snarks, his words laced with poison.
They sting, and I finally dislodge the ball of emotion from my throat long enough to speak. “Excuse me?”
“Answer the question.”
Thunder crackles in my veins at the tone. The sheer fucking audacity to question my intentions like this. I picked up the pieces of him in that bedroom and carried his pain with me. I didn’t kiss him for his money, I kissed him because we’d been teasing and taunting each other for weeks.
But he thinks… He thinks…
I curl my hands into fists, nails biting into my palms. “Answering that question would give it too much credit.”
“You never told me your husband was that wealthy. All you said was that his family was difficult, that you understood those ‘circles.’ Is that the type of man you typically try to ensnare?”
“Ensnare?” My breaths are jagged. I can hardly keep up with the fucking bullshit coming out of his mouth. I stand there in the living room, right next to the spot where we had sex against the wall, staring at the man I’ve been falling in love with.
Ha! Love. I’ve been a fucking fool. I’ve been an idiot all over again, blinded by my lust or my own sheer stupidity. Once again, I looked at a man and saw what I wanted to see instead of what was actually in front of me. I thought Wes was different. I thought he was brave and strong and resilient, but…
I don’t know him at all. This bitterness, the anger twisting his features…it scares me.
He lets out a snort and shakes his head, as if he can’t believe me. As if I’m the one who’s whirled around and changed my personality from one moment to the next. His eyes are black. “Simone, your ex-husband took one look at us and called you out. He said you were just trying to find some other dumb bastard to provide for you.” His gaze flicks to my bag, arms spreading wide at his sides. “Another schmuck to buy you more of those bags that supposedly mean nothing to you.” A scoff and a shake of the head. “I can’t believe I actually bought that bullshit when you’ve carried that bag around everywhere for weeks like it’s a goddamn trophy.”
Fire builds in my veins, so hot I feel like my skin will crumple and burn. The bag—he’s mad about the fucking bag? He thinks me carrying it around was placing value on it? It was only when I stopped caring about that stupid sack of leather that I started actually using it. There are scuff marks on it now, stains. It’s worth a fraction of what it was worth in pristine condition. Using that purse was a liberation, not some sad attempt at reviving my old, empty life. It was me proving to myself tha
t I no longer needed a designer bag tucked away in my closet. Using that purse every day was proof that it didn’t mean anything to me.
But Wes doesn’t see it that way. He’s looking at me like I’m a stranger. Like he can’t believe he fell for it. If I try to explain anything about the stupid bag, it’ll distract from the true problem here—that he thinks I’m after him for his money. He thinks I’m so shallow that I saw him and thought, Provider. Safety net. Money.
I take a deep, steadying breath. We can bridge this growing gap. He can come back to me, understand. He can see the truth in my eyes. “I’m not with you for your inheritance, Wes. I don’t give a shit about the money. I’ve spent years building up my business, and it means more to me than being a kept woman. I tried that lifestyle with Nate, and I left it behind.”
He crosses his arms. “I don’t believe you.”
“That’s your fucking problem,” I snap. Anger roars back to life inside me, and no amount of deep breaths is keeping it down.
The distance between us is too vast, and it’s only growing larger. He stands behind the kitchen counter as I seethe in the living room, the walls closing in on me with every excruciating second.
“I thought I made my last mistake with women by dating Alina. She played me for a fool and left me when I was at my most vulnerable. I promised myself it wouldn’t happen again.”
“Let me get this straight.” I steel myself, holding up my hands as I fill my lungs. “You think I heard your story about your parents’ trust, decided I was going to be the one to get my grubby little paws on that money, and started working to seduce you? You think I hatched a master plan from the moment you told me you had a bit of money?”
Something like hesitation flashes across Wes’s green eyes, but he clamps it down. “As soon as I saw your ex-husband, it made sense, Simone. You’ve told me countless times how broke you are. How much of a grind it is to start a new business.” He shakes his head. “And that bag. How comfortable you were at that fancy restaurant we went to with my uncle. How you seemed to miss that kind of luxury. How your eyes just lit up when you saw this house…” His lips are a thin slash across his face, arms still crossed in a way that makes his biceps bulge even larger than usual.
He looks as immovable as a brick wall.
And he thinks all I want is his money.
Hurt zings through me, rattling across my bones as I grit my teeth against it. The fire inside me gutters, fading. Pain replaces it.
I thought… I thought we had something. I thought my life was finally starting to fall into place. I thought Wes might be the first man in decades who understood me. Who liked me for me.
But this person in front of me…he doesn’t know me at all.
My shoulders drop, and I can’t quite keep the venom from my voice when I say, “You’re a weak, sad little man, Wes. You gave into your fears at the very first test without even questioning them. Without hesitating. Like you wanted things between us to fall apart, and you were just waiting for the right excuse.” I suck in a trembling breath, my whole body so taut and brittle I might snap into pieces. “You believed two or three of my ex-husband’s sentences over weeks and months of time with me. If you think I’ve been concocting some master plan to screw you out of your inheritance, you’re sadly mistaken, and I hope you enjoy your lonely, pathetic little life.”
Grabbing my twelve-thousand-dollar bag—the bag that might have been the nail in this relationship’s coffin—I gather the scraps of my pride and straighten my spine. Steel pours into my veins as I hold my head up high, throwing on my jacket before heading out the door.
The door closes behind me, the soft clicking of the latch that sounds like thunder in the quiet woods. A heartbeat passes as I stand on the front porch, then I pull myself together and walk home.
I really need to get a new car.
My apartment is still as a tomb. The musty, closed-in smell that smothers me reminds me I haven’t been here in days. I drop my things on a table and head for the refrigerator, only to be greeted by some wilted lettuce and an impressive assortment of condiments.
Sighing, I close the fridge and slump down on the sofa. I don’t even have the energy to light a candle to get rid of the stink.
I almost, almost regret what I said to Wes, but anger still buoys my sense of self-righteousness. I shouldn’t have called him weak or sad or small. Name-calling isn’t what I want to do. I’m better than that.
Still, when I think about all the things he said to me, all the accusations he leveled at me…I feel justified. I can’t quite bring myself to feel sorry for what I said to him.
After everything, all it took was Nate appearing and making some very typically Nate comments for Wes to change his whole opinion of me. How long has he suspected that I’ve been after him for his inheritance? How long has he been faking it with me? How could he even think I was capable of that?
Fishing my phone out of my bag, I stare at the blank screen. Nope—he hasn’t texted or called to apologize. I toss the phone aside and head back to the couch, wrapping a blanket around me as I flick on the television.
I watch some stupid reality show and switch my brain off. Whenever my thoughts start to drift toward Wes, I rein them in—mostly because I feel like such a damn idiot. Once again, I looked at a man and was blinded by the possibility of who he could be instead of who he is. Instead of Wes stepping up and defending me when Nate said those awful things to me, he kicked me in the knees and watched me crumple.
No, I’m not going to think about him. At least not tonight.
26
Wesley
My anger and betrayal carries me through most of the week. I ignore the pangs in my chest when I wake up alone in the morning. I ignore the niggle in my gut that tells me I might have made a mistake.
Wrapping myself in a cocoon of righteous indignation, I don’t let myself think about what happened with Simone.
She was lying to me the whole time.
She never cared about me.
All she wanted was money.
None of it was real.
…Right?
27
Candice
Fiddling with my keys, I stand on my front porch next to Rudy. Handsome, charming Rudy, who’s been flirting with me for months.
We went on a date. He asked me out a week ago and took me to a nice dinner. We had wine, we talked, we laughed.
It was nice.
“I had a really good time,” he says, ducking his head to meet my eyes.
I smile, heart thundering. “So did I.”
God, I suck at this. I haven’t been on a date since I was nineteen. I know what’s supposed to happen now, when I’m standing on my front porch with a handsome man and a belly full of wine.
But…
I don’t have time to think, because before I can escape, it happens. Rudy’s hand tugs mine as something heats in his eyes. He hesitates, a shy-but-not smile on his lips. Flicking his gaze from my eyes to my lips, he angles his head and kisses me.
Ohmygod.
The first man I’ve kissed since Paul. The first date I’ve been on in decades. The first…gah! Feels like the first everything.
His lips touch mine. They’re warm. Softer than Paul’s were. He tastes like wine and he smells like cologne. He parts his lips and teases mine open, swiping his tongue into my mouth. It’s intense. It’s really intense. Too intense.
Pulling back, I shake my head. “I’m sorry.” I stare at his chest. “I’m really sorry.” My voice is nothing more than a whisper. All I can hear is my own heartbeat.
Rudy’s hand squeezes mine. “Hey. Look at me.”
Breath coming in short gasps, I squeeze my eyes shut, then force myself to open them and meet Rudy’s gaze. His expression is soft, understanding. “I’m sorry, Rudy. It’s too soon.”
He nods, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “Okay.”
“I’m really sorry.” I arch my brows. “I thought I was ready, Rudy, I really did.”
/> “Stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He squeezes my hand, then leans over and brushes his lips over my cheek. “I had a good evening, and I hope you don’t mind if I still stop by Four Cups for my daily fix.”
Gosh, his smile is handsome. But it doesn’t twist me up inside. Somehow, being with him makes me feel more alone than I was before. There’s something wrong with me—there has to be.
I pull myself together and shake my head. “Of course I don’t mind. I hope things won’t be weird between us.”
He grins and shakes his head. “Not weird for me. I wasn’t lying when I said I had a good night, Candice.” He nods, and a weight lifts off my shoulders. He really is a gorgeous man with a big heart. There’s no animosity in his eyes when he winks at me, a smile tugging his full lips. Then I unlock my door and slip inside, peeking through the window to see him sauntering down my driveway. Rudy doesn’t look back, and I let out a long breath, leaning against the door.
Maybe I’m broken. Maybe I’ll never get over Paul’s death, I’ll never meet anyone who makes me feel the way my husband did. I met the love of my life when I was young, and I had twenty-two beautiful years with him. Isn’t that something to be grateful for?
Still, my heart jags. Tonight was nice, and it made me realize I miss that. I miss being wanted. Needed in the way a man needs a woman.
But that man isn’t Rudy.
As I shed my scarf and jacket, Allie pokes her head out from the mouth of the stairway. “How was your date?”
I give her a tight smile. “It was fine.”
She takes another step, tucking a strand of curly blond hair behind her ear. My daughter recently discovered eyeliner and has been applying it often and excessively. Her piercing blue eyes stare out at me from the smokey makeup, a thousand questions in them.
Dirty Little Midlife Mess: A Fake Relationship Romantic Comedy (Heart’s Cove Hotties Book 2) Page 20