Not So Happily Ever After

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Not So Happily Ever After Page 9

by Christina Phillips


  She rakes her hand through her hair, pushing it from her flushed cheeks, and gives me a smile that warms something deep in my chest.

  “Let me guess.” Her voice is soft, and she traces a finger along the line of my jaw. “You’re sleeping in here tonight, right?”

  I wind my hand around her nape and pull her down for a teasing kiss. “Try keeping me away.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Mackenzie

  Don’t want to wake up yet.

  I stretch, awareness seeping through my sated body like a distant dream. It’s too warm, too snug, to move, and takes way too long for reality to catch up with my fluffy, cloudlike haze.

  Will and I had sex last night. And not just regular, that-wasn’t-bad sex either.

  It was freaking spectacular.

  Fire burns through me, curling my toes and heating my cheeks. After everything I promised myself, as soon as he kissed me I was a hot, hormonal mess.

  You kissed him back, Mac. And how. Needy tremors stir between my thighs, and there’s no point trying to deny it. Not that I want to.

  Last night was the best night of my life. And I want to do it all over again.

  Since I can’t pretend to be asleep all day, I tentatively slide my hand across the bed.

  It’s empty. I force open one eye, and Will’s crouched by the side of the bed, wearing nothing but boxers and a bone-melting smile.

  “Morning. I made you tea.”

  I push myself upright and wrap the sheet around my chest. My beautiful, expensive bra was tossed across the room at some point during the night. Not that I’m complaining. The lingerie was worth every penny.

  Not that I expected this outcome, obviously.

  Who am I trying to fool? Isn’t this exactly what I was hoping for, deep inside, where all bad ideas lurk?

  Don’t answer that.

  “Thanks.” I take the tea, secretly impressed that it’s peppermint, since he isn’t into herbal teas. I eye him through the steam as I take a reviving sip. God, he’s hot. We had sex three times last night, and I’m still hungry for more.

  Stop right there. It was just a one-night stand. Probably. What else can it be?

  “Why are you up already?”

  He sits on the edge of the bed and places his hand on my calf as if he’s staking his claim. Reel it back, Mac. I’m relieved the cup hides my silly smile.

  “You okay, Mac?”

  I fall back to earth so fast it hurts. Hello again, reality. How stupid of me to think we could just pretend nothing had happened last night and get away without having to discuss it. The one other time I woke up next to him, I was under the delusion that, just maybe, there was something special between us. Besides the great sex.

  Wrong. That delusion shattered within minutes. We even trashed our friendship.

  Oh fuck, I don’t want this to ruin things between us. What was I thinking?

  I ignore my rising panic.

  “What do you mean?”

  His smile looks strained, and unease snakes through me. Don’t say you regret last night. I’d die.

  “About last night.” He pauses, and my stomach churns. If I could just get my brain into gear, I could come up with a brilliant one-liner. Something to stop him saying…whatever’s tying him up in knots.

  My mind’s a scary blank. I take another sip of tea, so I don’t have to keep smiling at him.

  He clears his throat and shifts on the bed. “Are you okay about what happened?”

  My panic deflates, leaving me lightheaded with relief. “Why wouldn’t I be? It was fun, wasn’t it?”

  Good response. Keep things light. Don’t let him guess how much it meant to you.

  Some of the tension leaves him, but there’s still an odd wariness, as though he’s expecting me to scratch his eyes out at any second. “It was great. I just don’t want you regretting anything, that’s all.”

  For the second time, my mind flies back to the only other time I slept with him. Or, more to the point, the morning afterward. Embarrassed heat curls low in my stomach, spreading upward. If I blush, I’m going to be so mad. There’s only one way to deflect. And that’s by grabbing the offensive by the proverbial horns.

  “At least this time my brother didn’t barge in and spoil the moment.”

  Will doesn’t laugh, which was my hoped-for result. He looks like I just dealt him a low blow. And now that my tongue’s loosened by tea, it won’t bloody stop.

  “Not that I’m saying I wanted him to find me in your bed. But hiding under your covers isn’t the best moment of my life.”

  Oh fuck. Shut up.

  “Yeah, sorry about that.” He looks uncomfortable. That makes two of us. “It was instinctive. I’ve always meant to tell you that. Never got the chance.”

  Move on, Mac. I don’t want to rehash the past. But my brain doesn’t get the memo. “That’s okay. I always understood why you did it. It was the my-dick’s-bigger-than-yours chat you and Lucas had that was the real winner.”

  What. The. Fuck? It’s like I’m trying to antagonize him deliberately. But I’m not. I don’t know what I’m doing. Self-sabotage, much?

  You’re telling him because you want him to know how much that hurt.

  Sod off.

  “Uh.” He looks like I just punched him in the solar plexus. “What?”

  All I want to do is tell him it doesn’t matter, because this is so not the conversation I want right now. Or ever. But since I started it, it’s only fair I finish it. I just hope my big mouth hasn’t managed to kill the mood between us.

  Yeah, keep hoping.

  “The boy talk. You know.” By the look on his face, he still doesn’t have a clue. Heat crawls up the back of my neck. “Notches on the bedpost?” Please don’t make me draw you a diagram.

  “Jesus.” A stricken expression flashes across his face. “I didn’t mean any of that crap. I was just working on autopilot, trying to get him out of the room without making him suspicious.”

  “I know.” Well, I’d sort of guessed, but it had taken a while before the sting completely died. “It was…” Let go of the fucking horns, Mac. I slump against the wall and groan. “Seriously, can we change the subject now?”

  “Sure.” He’s staring at me as though I’m an unexploded bomb, and I can’t say I blame him. “I’m so sorry.” There’s a gentle note in his voice I’ve never heard before, and he caresses my leg in what I imagine he thinks is a comforting manner. But even through the sheet, the warmth of his hand is sending frenzied lust-drunk signals careening around my body.

  Except, although I appreciate his apology, the whole bedcovers over the head thing was never the main reason why it went so bad between us. I’ll cut out my treacherous tongue before I tell him that.

  “It’s fine. It’s—honestly, I’m so over it.” Because I don’t know what else to do, I hand him my half-drunk cup, and thankfully he takes it without a word. I hitch up the sheet and cross my arms. “If I wasn’t, why would I have dropped my jeans last night?”

  It’s not one of my best lines, but at least he’s no longer giving off awkward vibes.

  “I thought Christmas had come early. You were like a sexy present, with those ribbons on your knickers.”

  He’s grinning, so obviously it’s only me who has a flashback to that Christmas.

  “Glad you noticed them. I don’t usually strut about in lingerie that costs the earth.” Why did I say that? It sounds like I was expecting something to happen last night.

  His hand slides farther up my leg. “I liked what was underneath it a lot more.”

  “Sweet talker,” I mock, and allow the sheet to slip a little so there’s a glimpse of my natural cleavage. Which isn’t nearly as impressive without the bra, but whatever.

  “Do I need to sleep in the car tonight?” His tone is teasing and totally slays me.

  Is it a good idea, spending a second night with him?

  The answer’s a no-brainer. “Not unless I’m in there with you.”

/>   “Might be tricky, parked right next to the lodge. But I could always drive to a secluded cove.”

  Is he still messing around? It’s hard to tell. “It might be safer to keep our fornication confined to the pod.”

  “I love it when you talk dirty.”

  I snort with laughter. “Are you coming back to bed?”

  His face sobers. “Can’t. There’s a partners’ meeting in half an hour. It shouldn’t take long. An hour tops. Then I’m all yours.”

  “I like the sound of that.” A happy glow envelops me, and it’s not until a wary frown creases his forehead that I realize I’m smiling at him in a totally gooey way. Reality crashes through me like a blast of icy water. He’s told me the reason why he doesn’t do serious. I don’t want him freaking out, thinking that I expect more than a couple of sex-fueled nights with him.

  Except…

  Brooklyn’s voice echoes in my head. You need to get him out of your system once and for all.

  I told her the fuck buddy idea was a disaster. But we’ve crossed that line now.

  Am I seriously considering this?

  Why not? It’ll only be for a short while. My last fling until I graduate. My heart hammers and mouth dries. Why is it so hard to say? We just spent all night shagging. It’s hardly going to shock him. And besides, once I explain what I mean, it’ll wipe that frown off his face. “You know. Nothing serious. Just until I go back to Uni. We could do a friends-with-benefits thing.”

  Is it hot in here or what?

  “Friends with benefits,” he repeats, like the concept has never occurred to him before. “Us?”

  What does he mean by that emphasis? I’ve no clue if he thinks it’s a great idea or the worst one ever. Not that I can back out now.

  Brazen it out. I’m good at that. “Yes. Why not? Are you going to hold out for a better offer this weekend?”

  He grins and gives my knee a gentle squeeze. Which shouldn’t be such a turn-on, but let’s face it—all he needs to do is look at me, and I’m metaphorically at his feet.

  Only until I go back to Uni. Because by then, I’ll have bonked him out of my system.

  “I’ll never get a better offer than that.”

  Oh. Right, good. Relief washes through me that he didn’t decline. Or laugh. I’m not sure which would’ve been worse. And then something occurs to me.

  “There’s just one thing. You’d need to be exclusive.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Okay, then.” I’m kind of shocked he agreed so quickly.

  “On one condition. It’s mutually exclusive.”

  I stare at him. “Well, obviously. Duh.”

  “Do you want to shake on it?”

  “I’ll write you up a contract if you want.”

  He laughs, leans across the bed, and kisses me. “I haven’t been able to get you—us—out of my head all week.”

  “Aha! There was an ulterior motive in inviting me here this weekend.”

  “Hey, I’m not the one with a bag full of condoms.”

  I give him a mock scowl. “What, you didn’t even bring one? Just in case you got lucky?”

  “I might have one in my wallet,” he concedes, “but that’s for emergencies. It wasn’t for you.”

  This time I frown for real. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to take that comment.”

  He threads his fingers through mine. “It means I didn’t expect this. Even though I wanted it.”

  Don’t say it, Mac.

  But as usual, I don’t listen to my good advice. “Wanted what, exactly? A weekend fling with me?”

  “Isn’t that all you want?” There’s a watchful expression on his face. Does he expect me to suddenly get all clingy and emotional or some shit? Wow, his ex really did a number on him.

  “Uni starts in ten days.” The last thing I want is him imagining I harbor a secret crush on him.

  You do have a crush on him.

  Yeah, but not in the sense that I can’t live without him or want to spend the rest of my life with him. “Ten days, and then it’s over. Agreed?”

  “And then we go back to being friends without the benefits?”

  “Sure.” I nod, so he knows that’s exactly what I mean, even though I have serious doubts that’ll work in real life. It didn’t last time.

  Last time was different. It was my own fault I was so devastated when he didn’t keep his midnight promise to me and come to my art exhibition. Guys say anything in the heat of the moment, and the stupid thing is I knew that, even then. I just didn’t think Will was like that. Not when we’d been friends for so long before we fell into bed.

  This time my eyes are wide open. And I won’t make the same mistake in thinking what we have is anything more than fantastic sex.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mackenzie

  Something’s not right.

  I finish my raisin toast and sneak a peek at Will. We’re having breakfast in the village bakery, and he’s sitting opposite me at our tiny round table. True to his word, his meeting only took about an hour, but when he returned, there was a tension that wasn’t between us before.

  Is he having second thoughts already?

  I glance through the medieval oriel bay window by our side, which gives a fantastic view of the duck pond, and an unintentionally loud sigh escapes me.

  “Hey, are you okay?” He reaches across the table and squeezes my fingers, which totally doesn’t fit if he really has changed his mind about our arrangement.

  “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

  “Huh?” An adorable frown creases his forehead.

  “You’ve hardly said anything since we left Oakland. Are you getting cold feet?”

  He grins, and the tension vanishes. “About us? No way.”

  I’m relieved he doesn’t want to back out. Must be something to do with the meeting, then. “What’s the problem?”

  “Sorry. It’s just business. Didn’t mean to spoil your day. Do you want to stay here for the morning then have a tour of the site this afternoon?”

  Wow. Talk about trying to change the subject. I lean across the table but don’t give in to my urge to kiss him. I’ll do that in a minute. “Tell me what’s bugging you.”

  He sighs, and I kiss his fingers, anyway. “It’s not bad news. It’s good for Oakland. We’ve landed a great sponsorship deal which means we can expand earlier than we originally anticipated.”

  “But?” I prompt.

  “There’s always a but.” His smile is kind of sad, and an odd little pain drives through my chest. “They want to get things moving within the next six months, or the deal’s off. Which means I won’t be able to spearhead it.”

  “Well, that sucks. Isn’t there any way they can extend their deadline?”

  “We’ve been working on it for months. The final offer came through yesterday, and there’s no more negotiation. We’re going for it. Obviously.”

  I’m indignant and upset for him, and I don’t even know what exactly he’s talking about. Not that it matters—it’s a big deal for him and that’s all that counts. “What kind of expansion?”

  “Back in Uni, when we were first talking about opening a place like this, it was my dream to have a program for sick kids. Somewhere they could experience the kind of adventures that wouldn’t usually be accessible for them.”

  My heart aches. This isn’t anything like I’d imagined, but it makes so much sense. Although he’s never had health issues in all the years I’ve known him, he did when he was a kid. According to things Lucas said back in the day, it’s the reason Will had such a hard time persuading his parents to let him try anything that had even a minimal risk factor.

  Just over a week ago, I thought I knew all there was to know about Will Hamilton. How could I have been so wrong? “But this is your baby. It’s not right if you can’t front it.”

  “Not much I can do about that. It’s not as though I won’t be involved at all. Just not the way I always expected.”

>   My mind’s racing ahead. “What’s so important that you can’t leave the company for another few years?” Reason catches up with me, although it doesn’t stop the sense of injustice burning through me on his behalf. “Unless there’s something top secret going on that you can’t discuss.”

  “Nothing as dramatic as that. Just the usual shit.”

  “It’s not like you’re in the middle of a big deal that might fall apart if you’re not there to see it through, are you?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  Is that a euphemism for mind your own bloody business, Mac?

  Maybe. But he sure isn’t giving off an irritated vibe. “If it’s a contract issue, seeing as you’re the CEO, I should think you could find some legal loophole to get out of it.”

  “That’s not the problem.” He frowns, and I have the mad urge to climb onto his lap and kiss away his worries. I compromise by pressing his knuckles against my lips. “After Mum had her stroke, she was paranoid about the company collapsing. I promised I’d stay on for four years, to maintain stability and offset any concerns about her no longer being in the public eye.”

  “Oh, right.” I sure as hell understand why he feels stuck, and guilt eats through me. Not just because I forced him into a corner where he had to tell me that, but because it reminds me of the promise I made my own mum. But unlike my situation, his mum isn’t dead, and he didn’t make a lifelong commitment. Maybe he just needs to take a step back to look at things more clearly. “No wriggle room now that she’s so much better?”

  He gives a faint smile. “I can’t let her down, Mac.”

  I know that. “It’s so unfair, though, having someone else come in and take over your dream.”

  “I’m still a consultant. It’s not like I’m being shoved out in the cold.”

  “That’s not what I meant, and it’s not the same thing.”

  “I know what you meant.” His smoldering smile should come with a public health warning. Or at least be confined to when we’re alone and I don’t have to keep my hands to myself.

 

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