Happy Crazy Love Boxed Set

by Melanie Harlow

  No longer caring about my head banging the door, I grabbed his ass and pulled him into me, rocking my hips beneath him. He buried his head in my neck as he came, his body going still as his cock pulsed inside me, and my body answered in kind, contracting around him over and over again in blissful harmony.

  When his body had gone still, I held him close to me, stroking his back, his hair, his neck.

  “God, I’m going to miss you when you’re gone.” Still breathing hard, he picked his head up and looked down at me quizzically. “What the fuck is that about?”

  I smiled, but a pang of longing shot through me. I’ll miss you too. “No, you won’t. You’ll have some other girl on your couch as soon as you’re back.”

  He tipped his head to one side, like he was thinking about it. “Probably. But I’ll still miss you.”

  I rolled my eyes to cover up how hurt I was before squirming out from beneath him. “I better go shower. We’ll be late for dinner.”

  He let me go.

  Nineteen

  Miles

  Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that to her.

  After Natalie went upstairs to get in the shower, I pulled on my jeans and sat on the couch with my head in my hands, trying to regain my sense of balance, figure out which way was up. I knew I’d hurt her feelings just now, I’d seen it in her eyes, but fuck! She had me all out of whack. The entire day had been perfect, from the wake-up sex to the breakfast to the nap to the walk in the rain to the floor sex. Too perfect. So perfect I was off my game. She was making me FEEL things, and I was not OK with that.

  For example, I felt like I didn’t care if I never had another girl on my couch if only I could have her forever.

  WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

  And I felt like I’d never get enough of her body, her face, her brain, her voice, her laugh, her cinnamon buns.

  HER FUCKING CINNAMON BUNS.

  I felt like I was ready to give up anything I had to in order to have a chance with her—and it wouldn’t even be a sacrifice.

  I felt like I wanted her. Like I needed her.

  Like I loved her.

  I WAS MESSED THE FUCK UP!

  As if I’d been caught doing something wrong, I jumped to my feet and paced in front of the couch. Now what was I supposed to do? I had no experience with Feelings. What if she didn’t feel the same way? And why should she? My timing sucked fucking hairy balls—she was just getting out of a relationship. And I’d told her she was too serious all the time and needed to just relax and have some fun. I fisted my hands in my hair. Why the fuck had I done that?

  Because you were right. She does need time off from a relationship. She does need to have fun. What she doesn’t need is another guy telling her he loves her right away, putting pressure on her. Especially a guy like you who doesn’t want any of the same things she does in life. So slow the fuck down.

  It was true. As much as I cared for Natalie, I wasn’t ready to promise that I’d be up for the role of homeowner, husband, and father. And she wanted that. She deserved that.

  I’d only disappoint her.

  I heard the water go off upstairs, and I knew I had to go get ready for dinner or we’d be late. I scooped up the rest of my clothes and headed upstairs, reaching my room just as she opened the bathroom door.

  Something gripped me hard at the sight of her standing there in a towel, hair dripping, face flushed, skin damp. My stomach knotted, my throat went dry, my hands flexed.

  Oh, Jesus.

  I couldn’t speak. I felt sort of sick to my stomach, too. And my chest—what the hell was going on in there? Was it love or cardiac arrest? Fucking hell, did people actually like this feeling? It was horrible!

  I was going to die.

  Twenty

  Natalie

  The look on his face was one I’d never seen before, somewhere between shocked and nauseated.

  “You OK?” I asked, holding the towel tightly around me as I walked toward him. I’d spent the last ten minutes feeling kind of aggravated with him, but he really did look bad.

  “Uh. No. Yes.” He swallowed hard. “Maybe.”

  “We don’t have to go out if you don’t want to.”

  “I’m fine.” Now he just looked frightened. “I want to go out.”

  “OK.” He didn’t look fine at all. Had I done something wrong?

  He went into the bathroom without another word, shutting the door behind him.

  What the hell? I threw my hands up. I get that you don’t do relationships, but could you please do civilized, if not friendly?

  Men.

  Seriously, why did women even bother?

  Grumpy, I towel-dried my hair and pulled on my panties and dress, zipping it up as far as I could. I took my blow dryer and makeup bag to the downstairs bathroom, and while I blew out my hair, I let my resentment stew and gave myself a good ten minutes of envious grumbling that Skylar had managed to find someone like Sebastian—gorgeous, sweet, smart, kind, and totally devoted to making her happy. I knew it hadn’t been easy for them, but they sure made it look that way now.

  When my hair was dry, I pinned it up in a twist, brushed my teeth, and put on my makeup. Upstairs, the door to the bathroom was open, and my breath caught when I saw Miles standing at the mirror in a blue suit, fussing with his hair. I’d never seen him in a suit before. He looked so…mature. Classy. Stylish.

  Like a real gentleman.

  He caught my eye in the mirror. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks,” I said, feeling the heat in my cheeks. And my panties. “You look very handsome. I love the suit.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Can you zip me up all the way?” For some strange reason, I felt shy as I walked into the bathroom and turned around. For heaven’s sake, we’d been naked and sweaty less than an hour ago.

  “I think I can manage that. Although usually I’m unzipping dresses.”

  “Ha, ha.” I didn’t exactly like the reminder of how many dresses he’d unzipped, but I was glad he’d made a joke. He seemed so on edge. And was it my imagination, or did he touch me as little as possible while zipping the dress? Now you’re just making shit up. Relax.

  “Ready to go?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He didn’t take my hand as we walked down the hall, he didn’t stand too close to me in the elevator, and he barely spoke to me on the ride to the restaurant. Something was definitely off with him. “Are you OK?” I asked as we pulled up at valet parking.

  “I already answered that question. Yes.” He didn’t even look at me.

  A doorman ushered us down the stairs into a dark, cozy underground space. Intimate booths lined the walls, black linens topped the tables, and candles gave the room a soft warm glow. We were seated at a table at the edge of the dance floor, and I hoped maybe Miles would ask me to dance at some point in the evening, just for fun, but he never did. In fact, the night was just one disappointment after another where he was concerned. The setting was romantic and elegant, the food and wine delicious, the jazz standards played by a trio next to the small dance floor enchanting—it should have been the perfect date, and it would have been, except that Miles was kind of an asshole all night.

  Never mind the limited conversation and eye contact. Once he got a drink in him, he made several comments about our waitress’s awesome rack, he took two phone calls from his editor, he texted at the table, and he flirted openly with the female bartender when we moved to the bar after our meal. He even gave her his number! Right in front of me! By the time we paid the bar tab, I was fuming. I’d known he was a flirt and player, but he’d never been so disrespectful to me. It wasn’t like him at all.

  Clearly the magic was gone.

  My throat constricted, and I swallowed hard. Is this it, then? This is how he pulls away?

  It pissed me off, actually. I got that I wasn’t his girlfriend, but I wasn’t just another one of his blog bunnies or whatever. Or wait…was I? After all, there was a post about me now. Good old
Cinnamon Buns. I chewed my bottom lip.

  Still, he shouldn’t treat me this way. And if he thought I was going to jump into bed with him when we got back to his apartment, he had another thing coming.

  The ride home was uncomfortably silent, as was the elevator ride up to his floor. I could have laughed aloud thinking about how different our earlier return to his apartment had been—we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. What the hell had happened since? I racked my brain trying to come up with what I must have said or done to scare him off, but I couldn’t think of anything.

  It’s nothing. This is the way he is. He’s the kind of guy who just wants sex and once he gets it, he’s done. Even with you. Why are you surprised about this? You’ve known this about him for years!

  You never should have slept with him.

  Angry at myself and him, I stomped down the hallway and waited stiffly for him to unlock the door. When he opened it, I stormed through the apartment and went right upstairs to pack my stuff. I wanted to be ready to go first thing in the morning. Biting back sobs, I folded up clothes, wound the cord around my hair dryer, and tossed everything in haphazardly. Once everything was packed, I took off my heels and dress, but realized I hadn’t brought anything to sleep in.

  Of course, Miles chose that moment to come upstairs, and he found me standing there over my suitcase in my underwear, arms folded across my chest. “Hey,” he said grimly.

  “Do you have a shirt I could sleep in, please?” I asked, careful to keep my tone and expression impassive.

  “Sure.” Moving slowly, he went into his closet and came out with a folded gray t-shirt.

  “Thanks.” I grabbed it from him, turned away, and threw it on.

  He sank down onto the bed and sighed. “Natalie, I’m so sorry.”

  “For what?” Avoiding his eyes, I pulled the pins out of my hair and dropped them into my makeup bag.

  “For being an asshole tonight. I’ve been downstairs hating myself ever since we got back.”

  “Whatever. No big deal.” I breezed by him and went into the bathroom, where I pulled a clean washcloth from a bathroom drawer, wet it with warm water, and started scrubbing off my makeup. I had no intention of letting him see how much he’d hurt me.

  He came and stood in the bathroom doorway. “It is a big deal. You’re angry.”

  “I was, earlier. But now I realize that was stupid. You were just being you. You don’t owe me anything.”

  He flinched. “Yes, I do. An explanation, at least.”

  I shrugged and rinsed out the cloth, hanging it on a towel bar.

  “Hey. Look at me.” He took me by the shoulders and forced me to face him. “I need to tell you something.”

  “OK.” I hoped my expression read Cool and Detached, but my stomach was churning.

  “I’ve been a dick all night, and I can’t keep it up.” He cocked his head. “But that will be the only time I ever say something like that. I can always keep it up.”

  I remained stone-faced.

  “Wow. You’re really mad. OK.” He cleared his throat. “Here’s the thing. I’m…”

  His eyes searched mine, for what I don’t know. It almost seemed like he was going to make a big announcement, but couldn’t find the words.

  “You’re what, Miles?”

  “I’m moving to San Francisco,” he blurted.

  “Huh?”

  He dropped his hands from my shoulders. “Yeah. I’m moving to San Francisco. I’ve always wanted to check out that area, and I’m kinda done with Detroit, so I figure now’s the time.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Good for you. I hope you’re happy there. That still doesn’t explain your behavior tonight.”

  “Oh, right. That. Um…I was concerned.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “About?”

  “About your feelings. These last few days have been…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Intense.”

  “And?” I wondered if he was going where I thought he was going with this, and if so, I might be up for kicking him in the nuts. He better not blame me for that intensity. It was his idea to bring me here.

  “And you’re in a really weak and vulnerable state right now, having just broken up with Dan, and things with us just sort of got serious quickly.”

  “Serious?” I rolled my eyes. “We fucked in your closet last night, Miles. That isn’t serious.” I knew that wasn’t what he meant, but I couldn’t let him see he’d been right to worry about my growing feelings for him.

  His face went a little red. “OK, maybe that part wasn’t serious, but it seemed like…feelings got serious. And I think we should just take a moment to remember that we’re friends, that in the end, we don’t want the same things. I don’t want the whole marriage and house and kids kind of life, and you do. So we just have to make sure things stay friendly.”

  I screwed up my face. “So that’s what you were doing tonight? Being an asshole so I didn’t get feelings for you and you wouldn’t leave me heartbroken when you go to San Francisco?”

  He looked a little relieved that I’d explained it better than he had. “Yeah. That’s it. Exactly.”

  “Oh my God.” I shook my head. “Well, you can relax, Miles. Despite the nice time we’ve had, your little display of assholery tonight was quite sufficient to remind me that we are not compatible for the long haul. And yes, I did just break up with Dan, but I have to say, I’m not feeling all that weak and vulnerable right now. In fact, I feel stronger than I have in a long time.”

  “Good. I’m really glad to hear that.” He gave me a hopeful smile. “Does that mean we can still have sex tonight?”

  “No. We will not be having any more sex. Not because your dick is some kind of mystical love wand that will put me under your spell, but because you’re right—we are friends and need to remember that. This last week has been totally insane, but it’s time to go back to reality.” I put a hand on my chest. “I’m going back up North, where I own a home and a business and have roots and family. Those are the things that are important to me.” I poked his chest. “You can go flying off to anywhere you please and fuck all the girls you like, watch cartoons and porn, eat cereal, drink beer, and never have to worry about me again.”

  His face fell, and I swear to God his eyes teared up. “I’ll always worry about you, Natalie. I just…can’t be what you want.”

  “Stop it, Miles. Just stop it.” I was doing my best to control my emotions, but he wasn’t making it easy. “I’ve never asked you to be anything other than what you are. Do I think we could have been good together once upon a time? Yes, I’ll admit it. Do I think it would work now? No. Because you were right—we don’t want the same kind of life. You’re not capable of it, and you’ve shown me that repeatedly.” I put my hands on his chest and pushed him backward. “Now get out. I need to pee and then we are going to sleep. I’d like to leave early tomorrow.”

  I shoved him out, shut the door, and locked it. Then I stared at myself in the mirror, hands gripping the edge of the sink, legs trembling.

  Don’t cry. He will hear you.

  And you have nothing to cry about.

  I got on the toilet, like peeing might distract me from crying, but instead I found myself peeing and crying, which, if you’ve never done it, is probably the most pathetic you will ever feel as a human being. You realize you have no control whatsoever and everything is horrible and you might as well just give up.

  Angry with myself, I balled up some toilet paper and wiped my nose. I wasn’t even sure why I was crying. Was I sad about the argument? Was I sad about Miles moving to San Francisco? Was I just scared of being alone? I thought about it for a moment, and decided it wasn’t that. I could’ve handled being alone after the breakup with Dan. What I couldn’t handle was this crush on Miles that couldn’t go anywhere. But it was my own fault—I’d let myself think I could turn off the emotional switch and just fuck around, but that wasn’t me. And now I was left with these powerful unrequited feelings f
or him, feelings that he’d never return. I dissolved into tears one more time, and gave myself permission to mourn something that could never be.

  After a few minutes, I pulled myself together, cleaned up and opened the door, switching off the bathroom light. The bedroom was completely dark, which I was glad about because I didn’t want him to see my puffy, tearstained face. I felt my way along the foot of the bed to the side I’d slept on last night, crawled in and pulled the covers up to my shoulders, totally focused on not touching him.

  Except that once I was there, I missed him. I wanted to touch him. But I couldn’t let him know I missed him. The touch had to be accidental.

  I let one foot stray toward him. It strayed, and it strayed, and it strayed…nothing.

  I bolted upright. Felt around.

  He wasn’t there.

  What an asshole!

  Really? He wouldn’t even sleep next to me if there was no promise of sex?

  Fuming, I threw myself back onto the pillow and punched it a few times. Good! I’m glad you’re not here, asshole! I didn’t want your stupid amazing body next to me anyway! I’d have probably ended up banging you in spite of myself!

  Wide awake, I shoved my face into the pillow. It smelled like him. I missed him. I wanted him. Even though I knew exactly what he was and that sex would probably only make me feel worse afterward…I still wanted him. What the hell was the matter with me?

  After lying there sleeplessly for at least a half hour, battling with my urge, I got out of bed and tiptoed down the stairs. The TV was on with no sound and Miles was asleep on his back on the couch. He’d taken his jacket and shoes off, and his white dress shirt was unbuttoned and untucked. I bit my lip, wishing more than anything it was my place to take his hand and guide him up the stairs. Peel the rest of his clothes off him. Pull the sheets up to his chest and tuck my body in next to his.

  But it wasn’t. He didn’t want that.

  He’d made that clear tonight.

  So I went back up to his bed and curled up alone, telling myself this was how it had to be.