Dashing: A Friends to Lovers Romantic Comedy (Unleashed Romance, Book 2)

by Kylie Gilmore

  I wave airily, though my heart is thudding hard. “I always tell guys I’m waiting for marriage before having sex. That’s my rule, but I think it might be time to break that rule, you know?”

  He hits the gas so hard my head smacks the headrest.

  “Ow!”

  Adam

  Kayla is a twenty-five-year-old virgin, and now she doesn’t want to be. I do not need to know this. I shouldn’t know this. And that rat bastard, Rob, rushed her into a wedding just so he could get sex. They were only dating two months. Kayla told me the story before. He did the full-court press—flowers, candy, cards with all that poetic love crap. And poor Kayla believed his love was true.

  I glance over at her. Her head is bowed as she fiddles with the borrowed engagement ring on her finger.

  I clench my jaw. And then that bastard had the balls to bring it up right in front of me just to humiliate her. “I so want to turn this car around, track that asshole down, and punch him right in his smug face.”

  She pulls off her sister’s engagement ring and tucks it into her small beige purse. “As tempting as that sounds, I’ll pass. The important thing is that he knows I’ve moved on.”

  But she hasn’t. She’s not seeing anyone or she would’ve asked someone else to step in today. She doesn’t see me as a risk to her heart, which is fine because she’s right. I’m never getting close enough for that to be an issue. We’re both well protected in this friends thing.

  She sighs. “Was it horrible for you? The party, I mean.”

  Actually, I felt like a rock star. She spent the whole time bragging about my skill as a craftsman. “It was fine. I didn’t realize how much you absorbed about what I do.”

  She smiles. “I listen. While you were at the job at Wyatt’s house, didn’t I spend weeks asking you what you were doing and why?”

  Warmth fills my chest. She always wants to know about my work and my thoughts on things. She’s so smart and well read, she can talk about any topic, and the thing she seems to find most fascinating is me. “Yeah, you did.”

  It occurs to me I know very little about her. She’s mostly asked me questions about myself. I know she studied biostatistics, that she was left at the altar, and she’s a virgin wanting to change that status. Ugh, I know too much.

  “I can’t thank you enough for stepping up for me today,” she says. “You’re the best.”

  I glance over at her smiling face. Beautiful. If I had the skill, I’d paint her portrait. It’s her dark glossy hair in contrast to her creamy skin, those big brown eyes, delicate cheekbones, her plump pouty lips. My gut tightens with inconvenient lust.

  She crosses her legs, exposing more skin as her short skirt rides up.

  Think cooling thoughts. I should try to meet someone soon. It’s been a while.

  We drive in silence, me trying not to notice her floral scent, the curve of her cheek. Her staring thoughtfully out the window. The only sound is the album from a band we both like, Fitz Round. It’s part folk, part blues, part rock. I like the unique blend of music. Kayla likes the harmony of their voices.

  She reaches forward, turning down the music. “Adam, I have a problem, and I think you might be the solution.”

  My mind races and then slams into the one thing I don’t want her to say. Don’t go there.

  And then she says it. “My virginity has become a burden.”

  I keep my mouth shut.

  She continues matter-of-factly, “It was a mistake to wait all these years, which is why I’d like you to help me out and take my virginity.”

  My heart thumps out a warning call: danger, danger, danger.

  She sighs. “I mean, we’re good friends. I trust you, so I know I have nothing to fear.”

  I don’t know the right thing to say here. No, obviously. But how do I explain it’s not because she’s not desirable—she’s too damn desirable—it’s because I can’t get involved with her in that way. I’m not the man she needs. She’s the marrying kind. Her brother even told me that’s what she’s looking for in a not-so-subtle warning to keep away, which is fine because I’m never going there ever again.

  “No, thank you,” I say.

  She stiffens. “Well, that was polite. Can I ask why?”

  “No.”

  She slides her fingers through her hair and groans.

  “Nothing personal,” I say. “You should wait for the right guy, your future husband.”

  “That’s the whole problem! I waited too long. My mom gave me this terrible advice that sex was better with love, especially married love. Now it’s this giant pink V on my chest!” She thumps her chest for emphasis.

  I’m about to assure her that no one would guess she’s a virgin just by looking at her—I had no clue and I spend a lot of time with her—when she continues.

  “My sisters told me I was missing out. They said Mom only told us to wait so we wouldn’t end up pregnant and dropping out of school. It was different for my mom since she married at twenty. I’m such an idiot. Look at me, twenty-five, begging my friend to help me out. Ergh!”

  I hate that she’s beating herself up about it. “You’re not an idiot. And it wasn’t terrible advice.” I know the difference when love is involved. Sometimes I wish I didn’t.

  “I took Mom’s advice to heart and held on to it way too long. Pathetic.” Her voice cracks.

  I reach over and squeeze her upper arm, where she’s safely covered by her shirtsleeve. “You’re not pathetic.”

  She blinks rapidly, her lower lip quivering. Please don’t cry. “Honestly, I didn’t think waiting was a big deal before. I’ve never felt swept away like I had to rip my clothes off and tumble into bed like you see in the movies and TV. You know what I mean?”

  I gulp. She shares way too much with me. “Yeah.”

  “But now it’s getting in the way of my social life. It’s like a conversation we need to have before things get too far. I just want it gone, and I thought…never mind.” She takes in a deep, quivering breath.

  “I’m sure it’ll happen when the time’s right.” It sounds lame even to my ears. I need to stop talking about sex with her. My body’s involuntary lust makes it really hard to remember why I have to keep my distance. And then she’d get hurt and it would be all my fault.

  Her lips form a grim line. “I can’t wait any longer. I need to take things into my own hands.”

  Alarm shoots through me. She sounds serious.

  She starts muttering to herself about single guys she knows, and I get tenser and tenser. She pulls out her phone and starts tapping away. “Or maybe I’ll try one of those hookup apps I’ve heard about.”

  I grab her phone.

  “Hey!”

  “No.”

  She gasps. “Excuse me, but you passed on my request, so it’s no longer your concern.”

  “The hell it isn’t.” I shove her phone into my back pocket and focus on the road. No way she’s going to have her first time with some random guy she finds online.

  She purses her luscious pink lips. “I’m only doing what I feel needs to be done. I’m tired of waiting and, honestly, I’m curious what all the fuss is about.”

  Curious? More like reckless.

  “You’re fine just the way you are,” I say with a note of finality. Can we please stop talking about this?

  She’s quiet, and I can almost feel the gears cranking in her brain. She’s working up her next angle to fix the problem.

  “Kayla, you don’t have to do anything. This thing is not a problem.” I can’t bring myself to say virginity. It just feels too intimate between friends, even though she’s said it plenty.

  After a while, she says, “Oh-h-h, I get it now. I keep asking favors from you, and I haven’t offered anything in return.”

  “That’s not it,” I mutter.

  “Is there a new saw you’ve been eying? I imagine saws for you are like purses for me. Or I could take care of Tank, give him some cuddle time when you’re away on a job. Would that help
?”

  “I’m not taking your damn virginity, so there’s nothing you need to do!”

  She huffs. “My damn virginity. See? I told you it was a problem. You think so too, but you’re not willing to help. And I thought we were close.”

  I barely hold back an eye roll at her assessment. “This is why I don’t have women friends. Boundaries. You’re the exception because you hung out with me at your brother’s place, and now we’re related.”

  “We are not related!”

  “Your brother married my sister.”

  “That’s related by marriage. Eww. You think I’d want a relative to make love to me?”

  Make love. My God, she’s innocent. “When you’re not in love, it’s fucking, okay? Can you even say what it is?” I’m being snarky to make her shut up about it.

  She leans close, her voice throaty and sexy as hell by my ear. “Fucking. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I want you to fuck me, Adam.”

  I go rock hard and grip the steering wheel tighter.

  “We could keep it casual so no one gets hurt,” she adds.

  I clench my jaw against what I want to say, which is that she’ll only regret sex with me. She thinks she can handle casual, but it’s just not her. And there’s no way in hell I’m letting her first time be with some random guy who might not treat her right. She’s a good person, a great person, and that means she deserves someone who’ll treat her like a queen. I say nothing because it’s not my business.

  I shouldn’t even know any of this.

  This is exactly why men and women can’t be friends because then the woman says sex stuff and it’s all the guy can think about.

  I put the music back on loud, hoping she’ll get the hint that I’m done talking about this topic forever.

  Once I park in the lot of The Horseman Inn, where she lives in the apartment above, I hand over her phone. And then I can’t help but say, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “I know about safe sex, Adam!” She gets out of the car and stalks off, disappearing behind the restaurant, where her apartment entrance is.

  I rest my forehead on the steering wheel. This is not good. I’m sorely tempted to bring Wyatt into this to shut the whole thing down. He’ll lecture her and then watch her like a hawk, intervening at every opportunity. I can’t. Kayla would never forgive me. But someone has to stop her.

  I lift my head and put the car in gear, pulling out of the lot. I have to be the one to step in. But how can I keep her from other guys without being the prime candidate?

  My lips curve up. She chose me. I’m not taking her up on it, but it’s an honor to be chosen like that. Sweet Kayla. Of course I’ll look out for her.

  It hits me that all I have to do is put her off her mission for a short time. She’s not going to stick around. She’s looking for a job in pharmaceuticals. Then she’ll move wherever her new job is, meet a fellow biostatistician or scientist type at her new company, get married, and then make nerdy love. I like thinking of her with someone nerdy. I don’t know why. It’s not like she’s nerdy. She’s a goddess.

  Stall her. Now that’s a plan.

  3

  I drive home with my next-door neighbor, Levi, around noon the next day after a relaxing Sunday morning fishing on Lake Summerdale. He’s two years younger than me, longish brown hair with a beard, and our mayor. He’s also a third-generation Summerdale resident (I’m fourth generation).

  “Expecting company?” he asks as I pull into my driveway.

  There’s a red Corvette with a Florida license plate parked in front of my house. I don’t know anyone from Florida. Could be a rental.

  “Probably just one of our neighbors has company,” I say, though an uneasy feeling rolls through me.

  We get out of the car, and I open the trunk so he can grab his fishing rod and tackle box.

  “Until next time,” he says and heads over to his place next door.

  I incline my head, shut the trunk, and make my way to the garage, tucking away my fishing gear. I had a night to sleep on it, and I feel much better about the whole Kayla on a mission thing. She was just upset, reacting to seeing her ex. I’m sure she’ll come to her senses once she calms down, and this whole quest to get rid of her virginity won’t even be an issue anymore. It hasn’t been all this time, right? Things will go back to normal soon.

  I unlock the door that leads to the kitchen, step inside, and freeze. There’s a bouquet of flowers in a vase on the kitchen table. I didn’t put that there. And Tank didn’t rush to bark at me. He always barks when he hears someone come in.

  “Tank?”

  I hear his paws scrabbling on the hardwood floor to get to me. And then she steps into the room, and I go cold.

  “Hello, my gorgeous fiancé!” Amelia calls, wiggling her fingers at me. Adrenaline spikes through me. My ex is back from Panama and made herself at home. Tank rushes back to her and leans his big head against her leg. That’s why he didn’t bark. He was probably cuddled up with Amelia. He was hers to start with as a puppy.

  My voice comes out hoarse. “What are you doing here?” She’s wearing a long bright orange dress with skinny straps, showing off her cleavage. There’s a slit in the dress that ends by her hip, exposing her long tanned leg. All that exposed skin and I feel nothing. She destroyed everything when she cheerfully walked out the door last year.

  She gestures for me to take a seat at the kitchen table, and I move in slow motion. She sits in the same spot she always did, facing the patio doors in back. Surreal. It’s like she never left. Tank settles under the table, probably hoping food will appear soon.

  I take a seat adjacent to her. Up close, she looks worn down. Is she sick? Is that why she came back? Her blond hair is dull and longer than it used to be, halfway down her back. She has lines around her green eyes, her entire expression fatigued. I want her out of my house, but I don’t wish her harm.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  She smiles brightly. “I’m fine, thanks. Panama didn’t work out.”

  “Okay,” I say slowly.

  She lifts her hands in a ta-da gesture. “So I’m back. And I’m very sorry I ran off like that. I truly regret my actions. I guess I got cold feet and…” She sighs, attempting to look contrite. “I’ve had some time to think about it and, like I said, I’m sorry.”

  “What happened to Gary?” That was the guy she ran off with.

  “He moved on to Venezuela for his next adventure.”

  “And he didn’t invite you?”

  She frowns and quickly clears her expression. “I didn’t want to go. I realized I missed you and wanted to come home.”

  Right. “Is that really the reason?”

  “What else would it be?” She peeks under the table at Tank. “My sweet Tank. I missed you too!”

  My gut clenches. “You gave him to me. He’s mine now.”

  She looks up, smiling serenely. “He’s ours. Adam, I know it will take some time, but if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I’d really like to move back in and pick up where we left off. I kept the ring.” She holds up her hand, showing me the square diamond on platinum ring that cost me three months’ salary.

  The shock of seeing her in my house wears off, and I’m suddenly angry. Amelia, who ripped my heart out and stomped on it on her way out the door, is acting like none of that matters. The four years we were together, our engagement, her cheating on me with some random guy from work, and taking off for Panama. And she was so damn cheerful when she left, saying she was finally with the guy who understood adventure and having a good time.

  I hold out my palm. “Give me the ring.”

  She pulls her hand away. “It was a gift. You can’t take it back.”

  “And I want my key.”

  She pouts. “Why’re you being this way? Can’t you even give me a chance?”

  I clench my jaw, and then an idea takes hold that will both shut down any hope she has of us getting back together and give her a taste of her own callous medicine. �
�I’m engaged now. My new fiancée would be upset knowing you were here. Now give me my key and the ring, and then you need to leave.”

  She stalks to the living room, grabs her purse, rummages through it, and produces the key. She returns to me, yanks off the ring, and drops both on the kitchen table with a clatter. “I wasn’t gone that long. Who are you engaged to?”

  I speak through my teeth. “You left more than a year ago.” Obviously she expected me to wait for her.

  “Who is it?”

  “You don’t know her.”

  She crosses her arms. “At least I didn’t get engaged. I only had cold feet. Are you really going through with it?”

  “That’s the idea when you get engaged.” I stand and walk to the front door, holding it open for her.

  She follows me at a slower pace, stopping at the door. “I want to meet her. I need to know she’s good enough for you.”

  “I’m no longer your concern.”

  “I’ll find out. I’m renting a lake house with my family all summer. I’m between jobs at the moment.” That’s how we met. She was one of the summer people. How convenient for her to move back in with me—recently dumped, unemployed, and homeless. Not a chance in hell.

  “Bye, Amelia.”

  I shut the door behind her and let out a breath. Talk about a blast from the past. I shove a hand through my hair. If she’s here all summer, I’m going to run into her. It’s not that big a town. All activity centers on the lake; all streets lead to it as well. She knows where I hang out.

  An unexpectedly brilliant idea makes goose bumps break out over my skin. I was Kayla’s fake fiancé in front of her ex, and she wanted to return the favor. I’ll ask Kayla to be my fake fiancée this summer to keep Amelia away, which will completely eliminate any chance of Kayla hooking up with some random guy. It’s the perfect solution. That is, if Kayla’s still thinking along those lines.

  I pull my phone from my jeans’ pocket. It’s like insurance or something, a safety net for my good friend Kayla. I’m a frigging genius.