The Book Boyfriend Series Box Set

by Carly Phillips

  He figured they’d both just had a busy day, with no down time for chitchat or smexy texts. But now that the rest of his evening was free, he wanted to spend it with Natalie, especially since they only had three more days left together.

  Only three more days. That realization made an inexplicable sense of dread settle in his chest like a heavy weight. He absently rubbed the spot right above his heart, the one that told him just how difficult letting go of her was going to be. More so than any other woman who’d warmed his bed. And not just because of the phenomenal sex they had. No, he was going to miss those sweet and sexy smiles that were just for him. Her humor and her smart mouth. How she didn’t let him get away with shit, and she had no qualms about calling him out on his boorish behavior. No other woman had ever come close to challenging him the way that Natalie did, and he never thought he’d ever admit it, but he actually liked her unpredictable personality.

  But the fact remained that they’d both agreed to a casual affair, and she’d been straightforward about him being her transition guy. The guy who would sex her up for two weeks, then watch her walk away to find a man more capable of offering her a committed relationship than he would ever be. It shouldn’t have bothered him—Jesus, he was a fucking pro at no-strings-attached sex—but it brought back those feelings of inadequacy and not being quite good enough.

  And he hated it.

  He exhaled a harsh breath, refusing to let old, bitter memories resurface. Instead, he picked up his cell phone and tapped out a playful text to Natalie.

  Chinese food for dinner tonight at my place at seven? I want to show you all the clever things I can do with chopsticks. He followed that up with a winking emoticon, and hit send.

  A few minutes later, she replied. Ugh. Not unless you want me to barf.

  He frowned. Okay, not the response he was expecting. Care to explain what you mean so I don’t take your comment personally? He added a smiley face and forwarded the text.

  The bubbles on the screen told him she was in the process of typing out an answer, and he waited patiently for the message.

  I’m sorry. I either ate something yesterday that didn’t agree with me or I caught a twenty-four-hour flu bug. I woke up at five this morning puking my guts out and I’ve been home in bed all day. Three barfing emoticons followed that statement. I look and feel like something the cat dragged in. Like roadkill. She included a skeleton face with two x’s over its eyes.

  The picture she painted wasn’t a pretty one, but it made him chuckle. While most women would have explained the situation a bit more . . . delicately, Natalie didn’t bother sugarcoating the truth. Bold and to the point, that was his girl.

  Shaking his head, he moved his thumbs quickly over his phone’s keyboard, grinning as he typed. Why don’t I bring over something that sounds good that you’d like to eat and won’t test your gag reflexes? We can watch Netflix and chill. And by chill, I really do mean chill. It’s not code for sex, I swear.

  He waited a good thirty seconds before her next text came through. Did you not read the part of my text that said I look and feel like roadkill? Trust me, I’m not exaggerating. Thank you for the offer, but I’ll be fine. I’m feeling much better than I was this morning.

  He felt bad that he hadn’t checked in with her sooner, that she’d been home all day sick. Reluctantly, he sent a response. Okay, then. I’ll talk to you later.

  As soon as he dispatched the text, he regretted it. It really didn’t matter how she looked, only that she’d had a crappy day and he wanted to do something to make her feel better.

  And that’s what motivated his next actions.

  * * *

  Natalie was curled up in bed, hugging a pillow to her chest as she watched back-to-back rerun episodes of the now defunct Friends sitcom, her body feeling as though it had been through a boxing match—and lost. Every once in a while, she’d chuckle at Joey’s stupid antics on the show, which told her she was definitely on the mend.

  The worst of her nausea had passed—and no, she wasn’t pregnant—along with the raging headache that had been pounding in her head most of the day. Her abdominal cramps were completely gone, though her muscles still ached. Her empty stomach had grumbled hungrily a few times, and when she thought of ingesting something, she no longer felt like she wanted to throw up. Except she just didn’t have the oomph to get up, go to the kitchen, and make something to eat, though she knew she’d eventually have to.

  A while later, a loud knock sounded at her door, followed by her cell phone buzzing with a text. She read the incoming message first, which was from Wes.

  Let me in. I’m here to take care of you.

  Natalie rolled to her back and groaned. As thoughtful as the gesture was, she really wasn’t in the mood for company. She was in her rattiest pair of sweat pants and an old cotton T-shirt, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail because she didn’t want it getting in the way of her bending over the toilet earlier. She’d only recently had the energy to brush her teeth, but that didn’t make up for her ghastly appearance. She couldn’t remember looking or feeling worse than she did today, and this flu’s dreadful aftermath was not an impression she wanted to leave in Wes’s head.

  Don’t bother ignoring me. I’m not going away. And if you don’t open the door in two minutes, I’m calling Connor to come over with his key to make sure you’re still alive in there, and then you’ll have two of us to deal with.

  “Goddamn it,” she muttered to herself. He’d actually pulled the brother card. No way did she want Connor here, too.

  Come on, Minx. I even brought you your favorite Ben & Jerry’s for when you feel better later. Chocolate Fudge Brownie.

  The man was resorting to bribery, and despite herself, she smiled. Okay. Fine. But I’m only opening the door because you have B&J’s. It had nothing to do with the man himself, she thought, trying to convince herself of the lie.

  Getting out of bed, she shuffled through the living room in her fuzzy socks and made her way to the door. She checked the peephole and saw him grinning on the other side, looking so hot and sexy and full of himself, and damn if just seeing him didn’t lift her spirits and make butterflies take flight in her stomach—and yes, they were butterflies. After today, she had intimate knowledge of the difference between a fluttering sensation and intestinal pain.

  She opened the door, speaking before he could. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

  “I know. I really wanted to,” he teased right back, but then grew serious as his dark blue eyes searched her face. “I wanted to see for myself that you’re okay.”

  She swallowed hard, so not used to this kind, caring side to Wes when they’d spent so many years butting heads and antagonizing one another—and most recently, the past eleven days getting naked as much as possible, in an attempt to fuck their attraction out of their systems. Unfortunately, for her, Wes was even more entrenched in her heart than he’d been before.

  “I told you I was going to be fine,” she said, suddenly self-conscious as she played with the hem of her faded T-shirt. “I look and feel gross, and I wasn’t expecting company.”

  “You don’t look that bad,” he said, and grinned. “Not even close to roadkill.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a liar, but I appreciate you sugarcoating the truth.”

  “I wasn’t. You always look beautiful to me.” And to prove his point, he leaned toward her and placed a soft, achingly sweet kiss on her cheek, as if she hadn’t spent the day hurling up her toenails.

  Her throat closed up with emotion, and because she wasn’t able to talk past that knot in her vocal chords, she stepped back and opened the door wider for him to enter. He was holding two plastic grocery bags, one in each hand, and he took them into the kitchen with her following.

  He started unloading the items onto the counter . . . canned soup, crackers, applesauce, Gatorade, a small pack of chamomile tea bags, and as promised, a pint of her favorite Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. She wasn’t quit
e ready to indulge in the latter, but the soup was beginning to sound really good.

  “What can I do to help?” she asked automatically.

  He started searching through cupboards, found a small pan, and set it on her stovetop. “You can go prop yourself up in bed with some pillows, make yourself comfortable, and wait for me to bring you your dinner. Oh, and you can get started on drinking this Gatorade to make sure you’re hydrated.” He pressed a chilled bottle of the drink into her hand.

  It felt weird being doted on, and he must have seen the indecision on her expression because he pointed a finger toward her bedroom door and gave her a strict order. “Go. Now.”

  Knowing what he was capable of when he was in one of his bossy moods, she did as she was told. In her bedroom, she fluffed the bigger pillows up against the headboard, settled onto the mattress with the covers pulled up to her lap, and took a few sips of her drink.

  By the time she’d finished watching the episode of Friends she’d paused when she went to answer her door, Wes walked in with a steaming bowl of the chicken soup and a plate of crackers. He gave her a dishtowel to hold beneath the hot bowl so she didn’t burn her hands and placed the saltines on the nightstand next to her Gatorade. Then he walked around the bed to the other side, toed off his shoes, and made himself comfortable beside her with the extra pillows stacked behind him. She’d never seen him fully clothed in her bed before, and oddly enough, it seemed more intimate than him being completely naked.

  She swallowed a spoonful of the delicious soup, then glanced at him, her face warming when she caught him looking right back at her. “Wes . . . thank you for the food, but you don’t have to stay.” She was sure he had things he’d rather be doing than tending to her.

  “I know I don’t have to.” He picked up the remote and pointed it at the TV and started pressing buttons. “We’re going to watch Netflix and chill, like I told you. And by ‘chill,’ I mean relax. Do you want to watch another episode of Friends, or something else?”

  He looked like he genuinely wanted to stay, and she was finding it difficult to argue when she wanted him to stay. “Whatever you want.” The least she could do was let him pick the show or movie.

  A slow, sinful grin eased up the corners of that gorgeous, talented mouth of his. “I guess watching porn is out of the question tonight, huh?” he asked, just as she put another spoonful of soup into her mouth.

  She almost snorted a noodle out of her nose for swallowing and laughing at the same time, and he chuckled, too. God, she wasn’t supposed to be laughing after the rotten day she’d had, but it felt good. And oddly normal with Wes. “Porn is definitely not an option tonight.”

  “Can’t blame a guy for asking,” he teased as he winked at her, then returned his attention to the catalog of movies he had to pick from.

  He ended up choosing Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, surprising her.

  “I love this movie,” she said, though it had been a while since she’d seen it.

  “Me, too,” he said, giving her a quick smile before pressing the play button. “With Elf coming in a close second.”

  “Yeah, they’re total classics that are underappreciated these days.” She munched on a saltine cracker, realizing just how grateful her stomach was to finally have something in it.

  He nodded in agreement, then spouted off one of the movie’s most iconic quotes. “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

  His gaze was locked on hers, and after the sentences left his mouth, he looked at her, really looked at her, as if he was truly seeing her for the first time. Or seeing her for the first time in a whole different light than the frenemy she’d always been, based on Ferris Bueller’s wise words. He wasn’t gazing at her sexually or with lust but with the kind of emotion that went so much deeper than just a physical connection. The kind of emotion that would have made her weak in the knees had she been standing. As it was, her heart was knocking around in her chest, and it took more willpower than she possessed to break eye contact with him and let the moment fade.

  They were both quiet as the movie started and she finished her soup and crackers and drank more of her Gatorade. After a while he paused the show, then took her bowl and plate to the kitchen, and she heard him cleaning up and washing dishes. When he returned, he turned off her bedroom light, got back into bed beside her, and scooched down a bit on the mattress so he wasn’t totally upright.

  He patted the space next to him, his smile affectionate. “Come here, Minx, so I can cuddle with you.”

  God, she loved that pet name, and she was going to miss hearing it once they went their separate ways. “You’re not worried about catching my cooties if it’s the flu?” she asked, certain he’d change his mind after the reminder of how sick she’d been.

  He shook his head, not looking the least bit concerned. “Nah. I’ll totally risk it for you.”

  Such simple words, but they made her melt inside. After readjusting the pillows, she snuggled up to his side and rested her head right where his chest tapered into his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, and she placed a hand on his abdomen—wishing he wasn’t wearing his shirt—and relaxed one of her legs over his. They were tangled together in the best possible way, and while she thought he might feel too smothered and he’d want his space, it never happened.

  So, Wes was a cuddler, she thought with a smile as she fixed her gaze on the movie they were watching. And a really good one. And he smelled amazing, too. Warm and masculine, the scent of him was both arousing and comforting, and she had to resist the urge to burrow closer, deeper, so she could memorize everything about this moment and this man and how something so simple as bringing her soup when she was sick made her feel so . . . special.

  She couldn’t remember the last time that a man she was in a relationship with had gone out of his way, above and beyond what was expected, to take care of her. To just be with her. No pretenses of anything else. No expectations.

  The one big thing she’d discovered in their two weeks together was that cocky, arrogant Wes Sinclair with the panty-dropping smile had a soft side he’d kept to himself. Until now.

  He had all the makings of being perfect, swoon-worthy boyfriend material, except he didn’t want the commitment that came with it.

  And that was a deal breaker for her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “So, when are you going to tell Wes about the job offer in Atlanta?” Richard asked right before he lifted his Manhattan cocktail to his lips and took a sip.

  Natalie sighed as she absently rubbed away the condensation on her glass of soda water, garnished with a lemon wedge. After being sick all day yesterday, she’d gone back to work today, but she wasn’t ready to test her stomach with alcohol. But when Richard found out that she wouldn’t be spending the evening with Wes like she’d normally been doing over the past two weeks, he’d coerced her into going to the Popped Cherry with him for a drink.

  She was kind of bummed that Wes had to cancel any plans he might have made with her for tonight, their last night together, but she understood his reasons. A wealthy client of his from New York had unexpectedly flown into town for the day to view a piece of property he was interested in purchasing, and the visit had turned into a business dinner to discuss negotiations.

  He’d texted her throughout the day to see how she was feeling, which she thought was sweet, and she appreciated his concern and his sexy and humorous messages. They’d made her smile and laugh . . . and also made her realize just how much she was going to miss him after tomorrow, when she no longer had a reason to see or talk to him on a daily basis. Who would have ever thought she’d feel that way about a man who’d once irritated the hell out of her?

  “Hello?” Richard said wryly, bringing her thoughts back to the present and the way her friend looked a little miffed that her mind had wandered. “Are you even listening to me, or am I talking to myself?”

  “I’m sorry.” She shook her head a
nd focused on him. “Yes, I’m listening.”

  He exhaled an exasperated breath. “Well, when are you going to tell Wes?” he asked again. “Or are you not going to tell him at all?”

  She still hadn’t made a final decision on the Atlanta job, but she was definitely leaning in that direction. Initially, she’d seen it as a positive career move and a great asset for her resume, but she’d always had reservations about leaving her family to go and live somewhere that was completely new to her. But currently, it was sort of a blessing in disguise, because now that her feelings for Wes had changed, living in another state would give her a fresh start. She wouldn’t have to see him all the time. Wouldn’t have to feel like she’d been stabbed in the heart every time she heard about his escapades with other women.

  “Yes, I’m going to tell him,” she pushed out, despite how much the words hurt. “There just hasn’t been a good time to bring it up yet.”

  Richard smirked. “Obviously, great sex has been a priority.”

  Not so much a priority but a welcome and pleasurable distraction to the alternative of discussing her job offer with Wes. To keep her emotions from spilling over and crowding their way into their temporary affair.

  Oh, wait. That had happened anyway.

  God, she sucked at having flings—no pun intended. She’d always been a relationship kind of girl and that hadn’t changed, nor had her dreams for her future. It just wasn’t going to happen with Wes, so there was no sense in dragging out the inevitable.

  “Tomorrow,” she said, trying to sound more determined than she felt. “I’ll tell him tomorrow once the bet is done.”

  It was a fitting way to end their affair, as well.

  * * *

  Today is the final day of our bet and your last opportunity to take advantage of my services. Anything come to mind?

  Wes grinned as he read the text from Natalie, though the message was like a punch to the stomach and a squeeze to his dick at the same time. A punch because she’d brought up the fact that it was their final day together and a squeeze because his fantasies when it came to her were endless. And after nearly two days apart due to their conflicting schedules, he was excited to see her. Quite the novelty for him.