What is it about me that’s so repulsive? Am I too old for him? Too washed up? Too snarky?
I asked him directly if he wanted to stay, and the only thing he could come up with was, “I like having you around.” Like I’m a pet. Is that really someone I want to sleep with? Am I so starved for intimacy that that’s what I’m willing to accept?
“What’s the big growl about?” Fiona turns onto Cove Boulevard. “You sound like you’re about to punch through my car window.”
Twisting my lips into a pinched grin, I shake my head. “Just pondering why-oh-why I continue to try to date when I know for a fact that men are useless lumps of meat without two brain cells to rub together.”
“That bad, huh?” She parks the car outside my building, turning to look at me.
“I just… I thought we were going somewhere. We kissed, it was hot, and I thought something was happening. Then he played this whole hot-and-cold thing, and then as soon as his uncle left town he basically told me to go sleep in my own bed.”
Fiona chews her lip. “Maybe he’s scared.”
“Of his big bad feelings for me?” I scoff.
“Well…yeah.”
“I doubt it.”
“Cut the guy some slack. You guys had this weird arrangement and he wasn’t expecting to actually like you.”
“You’re really good at this pep-talk thing, you know. Please, tell me more about how unlikeable I am.”
Fiona’s smile fights its way onto her face. “If snark were fuel, you’d have enough of it to power an entire fleet of vehicles. That’s what people see when they meet you. Irreverent, incorrigible, totally unexpected. But now, he’s seen your squishy insides and he knows there’s more than meets the eye. It took him by surprise.”
“No, see, that’s the problem. He hasn’t seen my squishy insides.”
Fiona bursts out laughing, swatting at my arm. “You’re disgusting.”
“Sex is not disgusting. I’m a woman, Fiona. I have needs. Just because you’ve got your sexy hunk of a man ready to attend to your every desire doesn’t mean I’ve been so lucky.”
Fiona lets out a sigh. “At least Wes is better than Nate. Wouldn’t you rather a guy who plays hard to get over one who pesters you all the time and pounces when you’re vulnerable?”
I wrinkle my nose. A few months ago, before I decided to move to Heart’s Cove, Nate did exactly that. He could sense I was lonely and took me out, wined and dined me, and I ended up in bed with him. Old habits and all that.
“You know what? No.” I pop my seatbelt out of its latch. “I don’t want hard-to-get or pestering. I refuse to believe those are my only options where men are concerned. I want a man who is mature enough to tell me what the hell he’s feeling, listens to me when I tell him what I want, and enjoys going down on me often and enthusiastically. Simple! I don’t ask for much. But does this mythical creature exist?” I spin to stare at my best friend, needing a willing audience for the rant currently building inside me.
She doesn’t oblige. Instead, Fiona just grins. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble as I slip out of the car. I wave at my best friend and make my way upstairs, collapse in bed, and groan.
The morning greets me with a grey drizzle. I throw on whatever clothes are closest and make my way across the street with my laptop under my arm.
Sven jerks his head at me in greeting. “The usual?”
“Hot latte today, please. Too cold for iced coffee.”
“I thought there was no such thing as too cold for iced coffee?” He flashes a smile at me and I swear—I freaking swear—I’m not attracted to him, but it still makes my stomach tighten in that particular way. My body has official gone off the rails. I’m no longer in control of this locomotive, and heaven help the next man who tries to hit on me. It ain’t gonna be pretty.
I need to get laid. Desperately. Sven isn’t even my type! Way, way too young. Being attracted to twenty-five-year-olds with big holes in their ears and half their heads shaved is not what I wanted for my life right now.
Plonking myself down on a chair in the back corner of the café, I start going through emails and trawling through online freelancing forums for my next gig—which, by the way, is also not what I wanted for my life right now. Then my phone dings. My bank is alerting me of a large deposit.
Wes’s December payment just came through.
Sven drops my steaming-hot latte on the table and gives me another dazzling smile, but I barely even see it. My mouth tastes like acid and I lean back in my chair, staring at the phone screen. I should be happy about this money, but all I can think about is how I’d rather be waking up in Wes’s bed than looking at a slightly higher bank account balance.
Ugh.
The cafe door opens, bringing with it a blast of cold, damp air. I’m ready to present the new customer with my very best scowl when it melts right off my face. Wes has the door propped open with one shoulder, moving his crutches over the small ledge at the threshold. His eyes meet mine immediately, then move to Sven as the barista rushes to grab the door. Wes nods in thanks, then hobbles directly over to me.
Wonderful. Fantastic. Just what I wanted for my morning.
I sip my coffee, licking the milk froth off my top lip. Wes’s gaze snags on the movement, and I take back what I said before about Sven. That was a tiny little speck of a shadow of what I feel when Wes looks at me like that. Wes’s eyes on my lips make my body feel like I’ve just dropped into a bonfire. I squeeze my thighs together as my heart skips, my cheeks flaming so hot I wish someone else would open that door.
He props his crutches on the wall and sinks down in the chair opposite mine. “Hey.”
“Hi. I got your money.”
A curt nod. A deep inhale. “I’m sorry about yesterday.” His green eyes lift to mine. “I wanted you to stay. Not just because I like having you around, but because I like you.”
I gape. It takes me a few minutes to recover, and I snap my mouth shut. Then I blink a couple of times and remember I’m supposed to answer. “Oh.”
Real smooth, Simone.
Wes looks down at my coffee, then over to Sven. He doesn’t even have to say anything; the barista just gives him a thumbs-up and starts making a coffee. Wes looks back at me. “I don’t know what we’re supposed to do.”
My brain still isn’t working. “About what?”
“About…us.”
“Us,” I repeat.
Spots of red appear on the apples of his cheeks. He takes a deep breath. “I like you, Simone. A lot more than I thought I would.”
“How flattering.” First Fiona, now him? Can’t a woman get a break around here? Just someone to give me a compliment that’s an actual compliment for once? Not, Hey, I thought you’d be horrible but it turns out you’re not that bad!
Wes combs his hand through his hair and blows out a breath. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean…I like you. I’d like to…see where this goes. But with my uncle in town we had to pretend about so many things, and I don’t know what’s real and what’s not anymore. And…” His face twists.
“You don’t know if your feelings for me are real?” I arch a brow.
“They are.” He meets my gaze. “It’s just…a lot. My last real relationship ended six years ago. It was Alina. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, and I don’t want to make the same mistakes I made back then.”
Cool air washes over me. Honesty. That’s what he’s giving me. An honest conversation about his feelings—exactly what I asked for last night. Swallowing down another mouthful of coffee, I nod. “Okay. I understand now.”
“So when I say I want to take it slow, it’s not because of you, Simone. It’s because I have no fucking idea what to do with…this.” He moves his pointer finger between us. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
“Apology accepted.” My shoulders relax, and I let my lips slide into a smile. “Basically, you want to wait until the business portion of our arrang
ement is concluded. Once your uncle leaves, we can…start over. See where this goes.”
Wes lets out a huge sigh and nods, relieved. “Yes.”
“I can do that.” I tilt my head. “For the record, my last relationship ended eight years ago. You’re not a freak.”
“Or maybe we’re both messed up.”
“Highly probable.”
His lips curl, both dimples visible. Damn this man and damn his dimples. He’s too handsome for his own good. He nods to my laptop. “Working?”
“One day I’ll make enough to afford an office space.” I grin.
He smiles as Sven drops his coffee off at the table, and finally looks around the coffee shop. “Is Grant here? He told me the roof repairs were finished. I was supposed to meet him here at eight.”
“Ah. So you weren’t here to profess your undying sort-of-maybe-probably-like for me at all.” I pop a brow.
Wes laughs. He laughs. That sound shakes something loose in my heart, and I know I’d wait as long as he needs me to. Nothing else I’ve felt in the past decade, the past two decades, even comes close. Shrugging a big, strong shoulder, he smiles at me. “If you weren’t here, I was going to go across the road and bang on your door until you let me explain myself.”
My chest warms at that, and I can’t even blame the hormones for it. I can’t blame anything except the fact that I might be falling for this man—and falling hard.
21
Fiona
On Christmas Day, Candice arrives early with armloads of food, decorations, drinks, and all kinds of other supplies for the party. She hauls them into the kitchen and onto the island, blowing a strand of hair away from her face.
“Extras from Thanksgiving.”
“Hopefully today goes a bit more smoothly.” I glance across the kitchen to where Clancy is peeling potatoes. “No secrets to reveal today, kiddo?”
“I’m not a kid,” she grumbles, then flashes me a smile over her shoulder. She’s doing that more often these days—smiling—and it makes my entire soul tingle with happiness. Our relationship is brand new, but this kid has already wormed her way into my heart. Even when she takes off and goes to parties and defies our rules.
Grant strides into the kitchen holding bits of wood that apparently will extend the dining room table to seat all the guests. “She’d better not have any secrets. What did the counselor say?”
“Honesty and communication, Dad.” Clancy salutes him with the potato peeler.
A curly blond head bobs into the kitchen. Allie smiles when she sees Clancy, immediately sliding over to her friend and showing her something on her cell phone. Both girls start giggling, Allie’s face turning bright red. Probably a boy.
Candice glances at me, letting out a sigh, and uncorks a wine bottle. “Allie, make yourself useful and help Grant with the table. When you’re done, you can go to the car and grab the presents.”
Within minutes, there’s a hum in the kitchen. I love having people over at the house. I love hosting parties and dinners, and I love knowing that there are so many people we care about in this town. I’m not expecting Simone and Jen until later, but someone still knocks on the door.
Grant ducks down the hallway and reappears with Agnes, her grandson Rudy, and Mr. Cheswick—a silver-haired older gentleman who has been a furniture maker longer than I’ve been alive—trailing behind him. Agnes has a Santa hat on. It has little LED lights flashing around the rim and a ridiculously large pompom. I repeat: Agnes the she-devil has a Santa hat on.
“Oh! Agnes.” I move to the sink to wash my hands.
Agnes thrusts a wrapped, book-shaped present toward me, and another toward Candice. “For you two. A thank you for all the work you’ve done with Four Cups. It’s added a lot to the town. I’ll leave Jen and Simone’s under the tree. I assume they’ll be here later?”
I’ve never seen a surlier Santa Claus, but I just smile at her and accept the present. “Thank you, Agnes. You’re too kind.”
“She’s an angel,” Mr. Cheswick croons. His gnarled fingers curl over Agnes’s, and her face softens ever so slightly.
I asked Dorothy about the two of them once, and she said they’ve been courting each other for the better part of a decade. All I know is Agnes is a lot nicer when Mr. Cheswick is in the room.
I nod at the old man. His silver-white hair is neatly cropped, and he’s wearing a vest over a shirt and a bright-red bowtie with snowflakes on it. “You’re looking very dapper, Mr. Cheswick. Did you get a haircut?”
“No, I got them all cut.” His eyes sparkle, and I can’t help but laugh. Clancy just rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile on her face.
When I look at Candice to see her reaction, there’s an odd gleam in her eye. Rudy and she are gazing at each other, both slightly blushing, both not wanting to look away. She’s fiddling with the strings of her apron, and Rudy’s doing his best to take on a casual pose as he combs his fingers through his hair. Huh. I remember a time when Candice told me to pursue Rudy—when she said a younger man might be exactly what I needed. Maybe she wasn’t talking about me at all.
My attention is pulled away when Grant pulls a present from a cupboard and gives it to Agnes and Mr. Cheswick. He’s spent hours carving a picture frame for them, and even found a photo where the two of them are actually smiling. It must be the only photo in existence where Agnes isn’t scowling. Don’t ask me where he got it—I have no idea.
When they open it, I see Agnes smile in my presence for the first time since I arrived in Heart’s Cove. She looks almost…friendly. Grant sees me notice and winks. After a few more minutes, Agnes, Rudy, and Mr. Cheswick leave, and Grant slides his hands over my back. He places a soft kiss on the crook of my neck, tightening his hold on my waist. “This is very different from the last ten or so Christmases I’ve had.”
“Same here.” I spin in his arms and lay a soft kiss on his lips, my heart full of happiness. “Let’s hope we have many more like it.”
The sound of a loud engine pulls me away from Grant’s arms, and I head to the front of the house to see Wesley arriving on a riding lawnmower, his crutches tied across his back like two very bulky spears. I open the front door as he cuts the engine.
“That’s quite an entrance.”
He grins at me. “My truck has a manual transmission. Can’t drive it with this ankle.”
A voice calls out from the driveway, “A couple of days without me and you’re already falling apart, Wes.” Simone appears around the corner carrying a big bag over her shoulder, filled with presents and food, I assume. “Couldn’t you just call me to give you a lift?”
“I don’t see you driving a car,” he shoots back. “And I’d hardly call this falling apart. More like being resourceful.”
Simone’s face splits into a smile. Wow. I haven’t seen her smile like that in ages. Her gaze shifts to me, and she seems to remember I’m standing here. Her face rearranges itself into a more neutral expression, but I know the truth—she’s got it bad, and Wes is no better. They’ll either get over themselves and admit they want to be with each other, or this will end in tears.
I know, because I just went through this a couple of months ago.
“Bickering like an old married couple already?” I grin. “Come inside, lovebirds. We’ve got booze and food and central heating.”
Simone pointedly ignores my jabs, choosing instead to help Wes off the mower. They exchange a long glance, and yet another one of my friends ends up blushing all the way to the tips of her ears. I head inside to give them a bit of privacy.
22
Simone
I’m full of food, wine, and I’ve laughed so much my cheeks will ache for hours. By the time people start making moves to leave Fiona and Grant’s house, my heart is overflowing. Wes’s eyes meet mine from across the room, his eyelids drooping.
“You need a designated driver?” I ask.
“Are you offering?”
“I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. The
forest is dangerous at night.”
“I’m not sure you’re any more alert or sober than I am.” Wes smiles easily, arching his eyebrows at me. I haven’t seen him scowl all evening, and I wonder if he needed an evening like this as much as I did.
Within minutes, I’m loading Wes and his crutches up on the riding mower and planting my hands on my hips. “How is this going to work?”
Wes pats his lap. “More than enough room for you here.”
I laugh, only to see Fiona appearing in the doorway. “Should I be worried right now?”
Grant walks up behind her and slings an arm over her shoulders. “We better not have to unwrap you two from a tree later on.”
“This thing tops out at four miles per hour,” Wes replies. “I think we’re safe.”
“Brave words.” I laugh, waving to Grant and Fiona as they close the door. Then, with a nibble on my bottom lip, I climb on top of Wes’s lap. His arms wrap around me, and I put my hands on the steering wheel. “Let’s go.”
Wes leans forward and turns the mower on, his breath brushing against my ear. I resist the urge to arch my back against him.
The engine roars, sounding too loud in the quiet night. I laugh, maybe a little bit drunk off wine and happiness, and start driving the mower down the winding driveway. We bounce and rumble, and all of a sudden I become all too aware of the parts of me that are touching parts of Wes. My legs against his. His arms wrapped around my waist. My back touching his front.
And these damn vibrations. I grip the steering wheel, a smile curling my lips.
He leans forward, resting his chin on my shoulder. We don’t speak, but my heart still flips in my chest.
I like this. I want this. I want to be able to go home with him after a nice evening and wake up next to him in the morning. I want intimacy.
Dirty Little Midlife Mess: A Fake Relationship Romantic Comedy (Heart’s Cove Hotties Book 2) Page 17
