“Why can’t we just let this happen?” he asks. “Maybe I don’t know. Why can’t we find out?”
Tears spring to my eyes and a lump in my throat threatens to choke off my words. “Because I like you too fucking much. And I don’t want to get hurt.”
The look on his face makes me ache. His eyes turn into deep pools of emotion and his lips part. He starts to say something, but I shake my head.
“Don’t lie to me,” I say. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t hurt me. We both know you would. You could take me back to your bedroom right now and fuck me senseless, and maybe it would even mean something. But probably not. Because it never does, does it? Sex is just a thing you do for fun, because it feels good. That’s not how I am. I’ve tried it, but casual sex never works for me.”
“I never said this was casual,” he says.
“No, but do you ever have anything else?” I ask. “Is any woman more than a diversion to you?”
His jaw tightens and his eyes turn flinty. I keep waiting for him to blow up at me, but he just keeps staring.
“I’m sorry, Weston,” I say, my voice quiet. “If we let this happen, I’ll only get attached to you in ways you don’t want.”
Leaving the groceries sitting out on the counter, I brush past him and walk quickly to my room. I need to get out from under those eyes. I know I’m doing the right thing, but the ache in my chest—and between my legs—is making it so hard. If he keeps staring at me like that I’m going to cave.
He doesn’t say anything when I walk away. No angry reply. Part of me wants him to come after me. To lie to me and say I’m different. That I’d be more than a quick fuck, and he wouldn’t bail when things got real.
But he doesn’t.
I shut my door softly behind me, and for once it latches on the first try. I touch my lips, still sensitive and swollen from his kiss. I can’t deny how good it felt. There was something there, like an unspoken word passing between us in the heat of our kiss.
Finally.
I flop down on the bed. I have to stop thinking like that. But I’m so confused. The swirl of emotions inside me is leaving me dizzy.
I think I should get out of the house for a little while, so I grab my phone to text Mia. But it buzzes as soon as I pull it out of my pocket. It’s a text from Weston.
My hands tremble as I swipe the screen.
Weston: You’re not a diversion.
Me: Then what am I?
Weston: I don’t know.
Me: Exactly. You don’t know.
Weston: If you were any other woman, I’d know exactly what I wanted. None of this makes any sense to me.
Me: You’re in good company there. None of it makes sense to me either.
Weston: I’m sorry, Kendra. This is hard for me, I never know the right things to say. I don’t want to hurt you.
Me: Okay, well, that’s a start.
Weston: I don’t know what else to say.
Me: Me neither.
There’s a pause and I wonder if he’s going to leave it at that.
Weston: Do you want me to go?
His question brings the sting of tears to my eyes.
Me: No. I just need space tonight.
Weston: OK
I put my phone down and take a deep breath. The floor creaks a few times, but I’m not sure what he’s doing. About five minutes later, my phone buzzes again.
Weston: I put away the groceries.
I burst out laughing—a testament to how ragged my emotions are.
Me: Thank you.
I lie back on my bed and stare at the ceiling, wondering what the hell is happening to me.
18
Kendra
The house is quiet when I get up in the morning. Weston comes out later, while I’m sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee. He doesn’t ignore me, but he doesn’t engage in conversation either. He meets my eyes, mutters good morning, then goes about his business.
We orbit around each other for most of the day. I try to be where he isn’t, without making it look like I’m avoiding him. I know we can’t go on like this forever, but I’m not sure what else to do.
Afternoon rolls around and I change my clothes. My birthday is tomorrow, but I’m having dinner with my dad and brothers tonight. At least that will get me out of the house and my mind off Weston.
I come out of my room to find Weston putting on a coat.
“Hey. I’m leaving too,” I say. “I’m having dinner at my dad’s tonight.”
“I know,” he says. “So am I.”
“What?”
“I’m having dinner at your dad’s.”
I blink at him a few times. “You’re having dinner at my dad’s?”
“Yes,” he says. “Alex invited me.”
“Alex invited you?” I ask.
“Are you just going to keep repeating what I say in the form of a question?”
I put my hands on my hips. “Alex invited you to my birthday dinner with my family? You’re kidding.”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps the screen a few times, then holds it up, showing me their text conversation. Alex did indeed invite Weston to come to dinner, and he accepted.
“Why didn’t he tell me?” I ask.
Weston shrugs. “Maybe he figures we live together, so we actually speak to each other.” He puts his phone back in his pocket and looks away. “I won’t go if you don’t want me to.”
Weston having dinner with my family? This is obviously a terrible idea, but there’s something in his tone. I think if I tell him I don’t want him to come, I’ll actually hurt his feelings. When we first met, I would have said Weston didn’t have feelings to hurt. But I’m not so sure about that anymore.
“No, you should come,” I say.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” I pick up my purse. “I’m sure.”
He nods and opens the door, holding it for me. I grab my coat and head outside.
“Don’t worry, I won’t try to make out with you at the dinner table in front of your family,” he says as I walk past.
I glance at him over my shoulder and laugh. “Oh, he’s making jokes now?”
He just smiles and walks out to his car.
We pull up to my dad’s house and park on the street. Caleb and Alex’s cars are already here. I take a deep breath as I get out of the car. This should be interesting.
I open the front door and Weston follows me inside. Caleb is sitting on the couch with Charlotte, reading her a book. She looks up and ducks behind her dad’s arm.
“It’s okay, Bug,” he says and stands. “Hey, birthday girl.”
I step in to give him a hug. “Hey. Thanks.”
He shakes hands with Weston; he doesn’t appear to be surprised to see him here. “Reid.”
“Lawson.”
I roll my eyes at their stoic bro-greeting. “Where’s Dad?”
“Kitchen,” Caleb says.
“Hi, Bug,” I say to Charlotte. She waves at me and gives Weston a shy smile. I nudge Weston. “Hey, look at that, she likes you.”
“Are you shocked?” he asks.
“No, she’s just a little shy when she meets someone new,” I say.
“Ah,” he says. He smiles at Charlotte. “Hi, Bug.”
“Hi,” she whispers, then jumps up and runs to hide behind Caleb.
“Hey, baby sister,” Alex says as he comes out of the kitchen. “Happy birthday.”
I give Alex a hug. “Thanks.”
“Hey man, thanks for coming,” he says, and shakes hands with Weston.
I watch Alex, hoping for some hint as to why he invited Weston. But he’s sporting his poker face.
“The bad news is, none of us cooked,” Alex says. “The good news is, Mia and I brought Indian food.”
“Sounds perfect.” I glance up at Weston. “You like Indian food?”
“Yeah, Indian is great,” he says.
We head into the kitchen and my dad is getting a stack of plates out of a cupboard. I love
seeing him doing so well after his back surgery. He still walks with a cane, but he’s much more mobile than he was before.
“Hey, Daddy,” I say.
“Happy birthday,” he says and gives me a kiss on the cheek. His eyes move past me and a look of confusion passes across his face.
“Oh, Dad, this is Weston.” I realize I haven’t told my dad about Weston moving in, and I’m hit with a wave of guilt. It didn’t come up last time I was here, and I’ve been so busy lately. “He’s my roommate.”
“Excuse me?” Dad says. “What happened to the woman Caleb works with?”
I laugh. “Oh, no, Dad. There was a bit of a misunderstanding. Caleb said colleague, and I assumed he meant female colleague, but it was Weston.”
Dad looks Weston up and down. “Is that so?”
I’m caught between laughing—because all my dad needs to complete the protective father motif is a shotgun in his hands—and wincing because Weston is standing stiff and straight, a bewildered expression on his face.
I wonder if Weston’s ever met a girl’s father before. Maybe not.
“Yes, Dad, that’s so. He’s renting the extra bedroom while his house is being remodeled. And he’s…” I pause and glance up at him. He’s what? My friend? An amazing kisser? So sexy I could die? “He’s my friend, so it’s cool.”
Dad glares at Weston and grumbles something under his breath, then walks to the dining room, leaning on his cane.
“Sorry,” I say to Weston. “He’s, you know… a dad.”
Weston shrugs. “It’s okay.” His eyes linger on my face and I’m momentarily transfixed by his gaze. He’s hypnotic.
“Hey, Kendra…” Mia’s voice trails off.
I blink, rousing myself from… whatever that was. “Hi.”
Her eyes move between me and Weston a few times. “Oh-kay. Happy birthday.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey, Weston,” she says. “It’s really nice of you to bring Kendra to dinner.”
I raise my eyebrows at Mia and her word choice. Bring me to dinner?
“Sure,” he says.
I let out a heavy breath. This awkward-introductions thing is wearing me out. “So, are we going to eat, or what?”
“Yeah,” Mia says, grabbing the plates my dad got out. “Everything’s on the table.”
We file into the dining room and find seats. Weston and I wind up sitting next to each other. Everyone dishes up and the spicy aromas fill the room. Conversation buzzes around the table. Caleb talks about work. Alex and Mia discuss their wedding plans. I let everyone know how freelancing is going. Caleb brings up sports and pretty soon my dad and brothers are deep in a discussion about football.
Weston doesn’t talk much. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, but he doesn’t seem uncomfortable, despite the occasional glowering look my dad shoots at him. He’s quiet, but it’s normal-quiet. Weston-quiet.
His leg touches mine and he doesn’t move away. But neither do I. My cheeks warm and I pretend I’m not hyper-aware of how close we are. He moves a little and his leg rubs against mine. My heart beats faster. Calm down, Kendra. He’s oblivious to the world half the time. He probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
Suddenly I feel his hand on my leg. Oh god, what is he doing?
His hand moves and I struggle to keep my expression calm. Warmth pools between my legs. Just this small touch is enough to make my mind go to places it really shouldn’t. Especially in front of my brothers—and my dad. Is he messing with me?
But then the strangest thing happens. Weston doesn’t grab my leg or run his hand up my thigh. Instead, he shifts a little and crosses his wrist over my forearm. Then he slides his fingers through mine, our palms pressing together.
Did Weston Reid just reach under the table to secretly hold my hand?
Outwardly, there’s no change in his demeanor. He seems relaxed, almost bored—the usual for him. But I sneak a peek at him and a hint of a smile plays on his lips. He squeezes my hand and after hesitating for a beat, I squeeze back.
I’m wondering who this is and what he did with Weston.
Eventually, everyone finishes eating and the conversation dies down. Mia and Alex bring in a chocolate cake. Weston squeezes my hand again before letting go. I flick my eyes to his face and he’s watching me, his eyes smoldering.
After dessert, Mia gives me not-so-subtle nod toward the kitchen. Everyone else heads for the living room, but I follow Mia.
“Holy tension, Batman,” Mia says. “Did something happen between you two? He was totally fucking you in his mind.”
“Wow, straight to the point,” I say.
She wrinkles her nose. “Sorry. You know I have no filter.”
“No kidding,” I say. “But you answer my question first. Why did Alex invite him to dinner tonight?”
“Oh, so you see… he was… I mean… I said…” She sighs. “Alex was impressed by what Weston did for you last weekend. And I might have told him about the whole they’re roommates who started out hating each other thing, and we both got a little overexcited. I don’t remember who had the idea to invite him first, so I guess you can blame both of us.”
“You guys need to quit meddling,” I say.
She grins a little. “Yeah, but it’s nice having him here, isn’t it?”
“Maybe.”
“Okay, now you answer my question. Did something happen?”
“No. Yes. Oh my god, Mia, I don’t know what’s going on.”
“I need specifics,” she says.
Deep breath. “He kissed me yesterday.”
Mia looks like she’s going to explode. She scrunches up her shoulders and puts a hand to her mouth, like she needs to hold back a squeal. “Where? How? When? How was it? What happened then?”
“It was at the grocery store,” I say. “Don’t ask me why, I don’t get it. So he kissed me and then we went home, and he did it again in the kitchen.”
“Oh, in the kitchen,” Mia says. “So hot.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Liar. “Okay, yeah, it was. But I stopped it.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s Weston,” I say.
“So?”
“You don’t know him like I do.”
“I know you thought he was an asshole,” she says. “And then maybe not such an asshole?”
“He can be, but that’s not the problem,” I say.
“And the problem is?”
“I doubt the guy’s ever had a serious relationship in his life. He’s not the commitment type.”
“People can change,” Mia says.
“Can they?” I ask. “I mean, can they really, truly change? I don’t know. Maybe they can uncover something that was already there. But what are the chances of a grown man letting go of years of being an egotistical man-whore? I’m supposed to believe that he’s suddenly going to change for me?”
She shrugs. “What makes you think he isn’t uncovering something that was already there?”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Mia, he’s an ass. He’s always been an ass. Doing a few nice things once in a while doesn’t change who he is. Overall, he’s out for number one. The man makes his living giving women bigger boobs. He chose that specialty specifically because of the money. He’s not like Caleb, who really cares about his patients.”
Mia’s mouth twitches in a smile. “He doesn’t talk about his other patients, does he?”
“What other patients?”
“He does post-mastectomy reconstructions,” she says. “For free.”
“What? How do you know?”
“A few months ago I was assigned a patient who’d undergone a double mastectomy,” she says. “She was in remission and pursuing breast reconstruction. Ultimately, she couldn’t afford the portion her insurance didn’t pay, so she dropped off my patient list. But a week or so ago, her file came back to me, with a certain Dr. Reid listed as her surgeon. So of course I looked up the details. Kendra, not only is he doing the surgery
for free, he’s paying for her hospital stay.”
“He’s what?”
She nods and adjusts her glasses. “Yep. And I did a little digging; this isn’t the first one. Just at my hospital, he does a bunch of these every year. He doesn’t always pay all the costs, but he doesn’t charge for the surgery, or the follow up treatments. It’s quite a process, and really expensive.”
I’m so stunned, I can’t even respond for a few seconds. Oh my god, his mother. “Holy shit, Mia, his mom died of breast cancer. I bet that’s why he does them. I bet these women remind him of his mom.”
“Ouch,” Mia says, holding her hand to her chest. “That hits you right in the feels.”
“Yeah, it does,” I say. “But still. That doesn’t change who he is. He’s still been man-whoring his way through life. I don’t need a guy who’s a project. I’m too old for that shit.”
“Okay, that’s fair,” she says. “I agree with you, most people won’t change, at least not when someone else wants them to. But what if Weston wants to? It’s not like you’ve been trying to change him. What if he wants something more in his life—specifically you?”
“But how do I know if that’s what he wants? What if he’s just hard up?” I ask, fully aware that after his little hand-holding stunt just now, I don’t really believe my own argument. “He probably hasn’t had sex since before his car accident. Maybe he’s just horny and I’m an easy target because we live together.”
She rolls her eyes. “Kendra, I saw what happened at the club the other night. I saw the way he was looking at you.”
“How was he looking at me?”
“Like you’re his.”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “He was not.”
“Oh yes he was. Why was he even there? Were you expecting him to come out and join us?”
“No,” I say. “But Alex was there too.”
“Yeah, following me, like I didn’t know,” she says with a laugh. “I wasn’t surprised Alex showed up. I know how he is, and he’s my fiancé. But when I saw Weston walk in, I was pretty floored.”
“Why didn’t you tell me they were there?”
“Uh, you were drunk off your ass, for one,” she says. “I was pretending I didn’t know Alex was there—didn’t want to blow his cover. And when Weston showed up… I had to see how that played out.”
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