“And what about me, huh?” Emery planted her hands on her hips. “Where’s my string of compliments?”
“You’re prickly as a cactus and twice as stubborn.” She nudged Emery with her elbow, making sure she knew that—despite the truth—the ribbing was well-intentioned. But her friend’s expression was a little misty. “But I love you anyway.”
“Did I ever tell you I was engaged once before?” Isla asked.
McKenna blinked. “No. I had no idea.”
“I left him at the altar.” She toyed with the magnetic closure on an eyeshadow palette, her gaze fixed on nothing in particular. “I was all dressed up in this big, expensive gown. Vera Wang, of course, because that’s what I thought I had to have. My hair and makeup were done. The bridesmaids had all gone to sort out an issue with the groomsmen. They left me alone for five minutes and I ran like a bat out of hell.”
“Why?”
“Cold feet, I guess. It was like a total out of body experience.” She laughed bitterly. “The truth is, I wasn’t sure if he was the one. But he ticked all the boxes, and I didn’t know why I had this gut feeling that something wasn’t right…but I did.”
“You made the right call.” Emery nodded solemnly.
“What happened?” McKenna shook her head, shocked by Isla’s very un-Isla-like revelation and the fact that Emery had never told her. “You just left the church?”
“Yup. I snuck out in my dress and made it all the way to the parking lot before Em spotted me.” She pressed her fingertips to her temple, her enormous engagement ring flashing like a star. Emery, for once, was without a sarcastic response. Instead, she rubbed her sister’s back in slow circles. “They tried to talk me into walking down the aisle but I couldn’t do it. I’ve never felt like more of a failure in my whole life.”
If Isla had made that kind of mistake, then what the hell kind of hope did anyone else have? This was the woman whose birth certificate likely read: Isla “I’ve got my shit together” Richardson.
“So now I’ve spilled my secret,” Isla said. “How about you tell me what’s going on with you?”
McKenna sighed. “I went off track with Operation Self-Love.”
“How off track?” Emery pushed her glasses up over the bridge of her nose. “Are we talking a misdemeanor or a full-blown pre-meditated violation?”
“A misdemeanor. Let’s call it reckless kissing.”
“Under the influence?”
“No, I can’t even blame it on being drunk. I’d come back from dinner with my parents and I was sober as a judge.” She spun a lipstick around, watching the light catch on the grooves in the gold casing. “I’d had a really crappy day and Beckett was there, being all sweet and sexy. He even designed a new website for my business without me asking him to, and he told me he believes in me.”
“He sounds really sweet.” Isla frowned. “Is it so bad that you kissed him? I mean, in the grand scheme of things? I get why you want to do this whole ‘self-love’ thing, but it doesn’t have to be a hard and fast rule.”
“He’s the guy I’m helping to get his ex back.”
Isla pressed her lips together. “Oh.”
“And I found out that one of the reasons he wants her back is because her father is funding his startup.”
Emery raised a brow. “So he’s into her because she’s rich?”
She drummed her fingers against her knee. “You know, every time I think that…it just…doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He seems like a genuinely good person. He cares about his family, he’s passionate about his work.” She huffed. “He’s not a loser deadbeat in the making like some of the guys I’ve dated—but he’s not a pretentious dickhead, either.”
“So you kissed him. What changes?”
“That’s the thing, I don’t know. I hightailed it out his apartment after it happened. Real mature.” She rolled her eyes. “And then this morning I sent him a four-point plan on how he can get his ex back.”
Isla cringed. “Did he respond?”
“I haven’t heard a peep from him all day.”
“What do you want to happen?” Emery asked with a pointed look, as though she already knew the answer.
McKenna had learned a long time ago that wanting was a dangerous thing, because it set you up for failure. The second you admitted you wanted something, not getting that thing made you feel like a piece of crap. But in her quest to do her own thing—and to avoid feeling disappointed in herself, since she got enough of that shit from her family—she’d apparently set the bar so low she tripped over it on the way to her front door each morning.
She’d been stuck in her retail job for several years, only now taking a leap to build her freelance business when she should have been doing it from the start. But fear of failure had kept her stagnant.
Maybe that was why she always chose the wrong men. Either picking ones who weren’t her type so she wouldn’t feel bad when they broke up, or aiming for someone too perfect so she wouldn’t give herself the chance to get attached. But Beckett didn’t fall into either of those categories. He wasn’t perfect, far from it. But he had all the things that attracted her: ambition, intelligence, and personal quirks that made him interesting. Not to mention that the packaging was spot on.
“It wasn’t a trick question,” Emery said, nudging McKenna with her elbow.
“I want him,” she whispered, hating herself for not being able to deny it.
Dammit. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was supposed to be worrying about herself, focusing on her work and taking a break from the cycle of relationship failure.
Who says it has to fail?
The whisper may as well have been the roar of a typhoon. Because now she’d admitted it aloud, there was no taking it back.
“I know I shouldn’t. He’s supposed to be engaged to someone else…”
“But he’s not,” Emery pointed out. “She called things off, correct? They are officially broken up.”
“Right.”
“And he hasn’t seen her in that time?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Not to my knowledge.”
“Then you haven’t done anything wrong and neither has he.” Isla placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up for this.”
“But I feel so guilty.” McKenna dropped her head into her hands. “God, why am I so stupid?”
“You’re not stupid. There’s obviously chemistry between you two, or you wouldn’t be feeling like this,” Isla said.
“And so what?” Emery threw her hands up in the air. “Sorry to be the blunt one, as usual, but she dumped him. It’s finito. Over. Donesky.”
Isla rolled her eyes. “Yeah, we get it, Em.”
“Ergo he’s single,” Emery said. “So what the hell is the problem?”
The memory of her body sparking under his touch shot through her, burning her up. “He still wants to be with her, not me.”
“Do you think he goes around building websites for everyone?” Emery asked. “From what you’ve said, the guy barely speaks two words unless he’s forced to, but suddenly you’re going to his place for ice cream.”
“Talk to him,” Isla said. “If he kissed you, then he must feel something. But if he’s still hung up on the ex then walk away.”
The thought of cutting ties with Beckett made her stomach flip, and not in the good way. Lately, seeing him had been the highlight of her day. Watching his serious expression morph into a crooked grin when she said something funny, seeing the anger in his eyes on her behalf…it made her feel desired. Cared for.
Which was more than she could say for any of her exes.
“You’re right.” She bobbed her head. “I’ll talk to him and clear the air. I don’t want to go on not knowing if these feelings are mutual. It’s sad, but…with most other guys I could take them or leave them. But I really like him.”
That was the difference. Breaking
up with Gage had dented her ego. But losing Beckett would dent something far more important—her heart.
“Then it’s worth exploring. But don’t let him think he can have his cake and eat it, too.” Isla slung an arm around her shoulders. “You deserve better than that.”
McKenna swallowed, a fluttering sensation like the beating of butterfly wings filling her with nervous energy. “Yeah, I do.”
The women pushed up from their chairs and grabbed their bags. “We should get going,” Isla said. “I promised Mum I’d go with her to look at some outfit options for the rehearsal dinner and I’m dragging this one along with me.”
“Ugh.” Emery rolled her eyes and broke into a laugh when her sister pretended to strangle her.
“Have fun.” McKenna leaned over the table to tidy the makeup, slotting each item back into their respective packages.
“We will.” Isla laid a hand gently on McKenna’s shoulder. “And if you need to chat or vent about the guy thing, you know I’m here for you.”
“Same here.” Emery leaned in and gave her a quick hug.
“Thanks, ladies. I appreciate it.”
She walked the two women to the front door and waited while they grabbed their coats and scarves, bundling themselves up to face the cold.
“Let me know how it goes,” Isla said. “I’m going to be an old married woman soon, so I need to live vicariously.”
“Ha. Consider yourself lucky that you don’t have to go through this anymore.” McKenna pulled the door open. “It’s not easy.”
“What’s not easy?” The male voice made McKenna jump and she found herself pinned by Beckett’s laser-like blue gaze.
“Uhh…” McKenna’s brain sputtered.
“Looks like that’s our cue to leave,” Emery said, mouthing “call me” once she was out of Beckett’s field of vision.
He stood in her doorway, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, which had “if at first you don’t succeed, call it beta version 1.0” printed in white letters. Is that what this was? A test?
He planted his palm against the wooden frame of her door. “We need to talk.”
Chapter Twelve
This was a first for Beckett. The words “we need to talk” had never before left his lips. He’d discovered early on that those four little words were woman-code for trouble. No matter who said them—his mother, his sister, or Sherri—it never ended well.
But if he didn’t clear his head of all things McKenna, there was no way he’d be able to get back into his work. And if he couldn’t work…then what the hell was the point of any of this?
“Never thought I’d hear you say that,” she said. She hadn’t invited him in yet, nor had she shrunk back from the way he leaned toward her. “Now, if you said we need to grunt about it on the other hand…”
“You know me so well,” he drawled.
“I do, don’t I?” This time there wasn’t any sarcasm in her voice—no teasing, no deflection. Just raw vulnerability.
That, combined with her bare face—which he didn’t think he’d ever seen—and her dressed-down outfit of an oversized blue My Little Pony hoodie and leggings, made her look stripped. Exposed.
“You have freckles,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “I’ve never seen them before.”
As much as he thought McKenna looked beautiful with her sparkly eyelids and fringy lashes, he liked her this way, too. Maybe because it made him think of how she might look in the morning—fresh faced and disheveled.
Stop that right now.
“I get them on my shoulders and my arms, too, come summer time.” Her lips quirked. “Come on, get out of the hallway before people start gossiping.”
He walked into her apartment and she shut the door behind him, flicking the lock. The loud click echoed in her quiet apartment. This was the first time he’d been inside…and it was so perfectly her. A little messy, bright and welcoming. Makeup was strewn all over a small white dining table. A pink couch faced a small TV and was littered with mismatched cushions in shades of purple and blue. Some had sequins on them, others were made of velvet or silk. And the place smelled like vanilla cupcakes.
The pulse of desire that shot through his body, causing a tightness in his muscles—and behind the fly of his jeans—shook him. “I want to talk about your email,” he blurted out a little harsher than anticipated.
Smooth moves, Walsh. Why don’t you bark at her next time?
“What did you think of the plan?” she asked. Her fingers tugged at the hem of her hoodie, picking at a loose thread.
“I wasn’t sure if it was a serious suggestion or not.”
She fidgeted as he studied her, silent. For once, her mouth wasn’t running a mile a minute and he desperately wanted to know her game plan. It felt like they were two dogs circling one another, neither one ready to make the first move.
“What do you want me to say?” she asked, shaking her head. “I’m trying to do the right thing.”
The right thing was drawing a line in the sand. Pushing him away. He swallowed. Logically, she was right. Logically, he agreed with her. But, for once, he wanted to tell logic to go and fuck itself. He wanted McKenna. Wanted to throw all his rules and overthinking and rigidity out the window and just live.
You should be with someone who excites you.
Those words were stuck on repeat. It was like a glass shattering into a million pieces. It couldn’t be reversed. He couldn’t un-think that thought.
No, that’s not what you want. You have control here.
Maybe he’d been stifling his life this whole time, by being too worried about financial security. By being too worried about making sure his mother had everything she needed because he thought it was his responsibility to take care of her. By thinking that work was the only thing he was good at.
But since he and McKenna had made their pact, he hadn’t thought so little about his work in his whole life. She distracted him. Made him question the things he thought he wanted.
That’s not a good thing. You need to be focused. Stay on track!
But his control was evaporating, drifting like smoke through his fingers so that no matter how hard he tried to grasp it, he couldn’t. That’s what she did to him. McKenna made normal things feel different. She’d turned everything on its head.
She made him ask questions he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to.
“What’s the right thing?” he asked, taking a step forward.
Her eyes widened, and her shoulders rose as she sucked in a breath. “Sticking to the plan.”
“The four-point plan?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “You want Sherri back and I agreed to help you.”
Did he want Sherri back? He swallowed. His head said yes. The whole thing had started with McKenna because he’d wanted to get back to how things were before—stable. Secure.
But if he was being honest with himself—with her—his heart said no.
Guilt rocketed through him. In his quest to chase the things that had been so lacking in his childhood, he’d been chasing the wrong woman for all the wrong reasons. And not only did he deserve better than that…she did, too.
“What if I decided I don’t want your help anymore?” he asked.
“Look, I know the plan might not have seemed that good. But—”
“Screw the plan, McKenna.”
He was sick of it—sick of acting like he wasn’t attracted to her. Sick of pretending that everything could go back to normal. Normal was gone and he felt…free.
…
“Don’t.” The words stuck in her throat.
God, why was this man so hard to resist? If his ex couldn’t see what a great guy he was, then she was blind and she didn’t deserve him.
“Don’t what?” Concern laced his tone. She swallowed and stayed stock-still.
“You don’t have to keep pretending like you’re attracted…”
She couldn’t force herself to finish the sentence. Because he’d shown again and again
that he was attracted to her. From that time in the elevator, to their bungled test date, to their white-hot kiss last night. But that wasn’t enough to make things work between them. He wanted another woman.
No matter how much she wanted him, she’d never ever use her family’s money to lure a guy in. That’s why she wasn’t supposed to fall for him, because then she wouldn’t have to face his shattering rejection. She could simply skip off into the sunset by herself—dignity intact. Go back to her original plans for Operation Self-Love. Back to creating her own happiness.
But even with Kayla’s wedding looming—the one thing she needed to get her business off the ground and take steps to have the success she craved—she felt empty at the thought of losing him.
You never had him to begin with.
“Keep pretending that I’m attracted to you?” He couldn’t mask the hurt in his voice. “Keep pretending like I enjoy spending time with you? Do you really think this is all an act?”
“No.” Her voice was small.
How was she supposed to tell him that she’d crossed the line? Well, mentally anyway. He thought they were friends and she wanted…more.
If he only wants to be friends, then why is he here?
“I know it’s not an act.” She walked over to the couch and dropped down, hugging a throw pillow to her chest. “But I know we’re not… God. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“We’re talking.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his expression belied the cool, calm, and collected tone of his voice.
He feels it, too.
The couch shifted as he sat next to her. This time, neither of them left a gap in the middle. He was right there, his thigh touching hers. Impossibly close. Her breath hitched. The feeling of wanting had started small—like a bare spark—until it swept through her, a blazing inferno of anticipation.
“Is that all? And don’t hide behind all that literal stuff. I know that’s a front.”
He was a literal guy. But she knew now his silence and matter-of-fact way hid a passion so bright and so hot that it made every other man she’d been with pale in comparison.
“What do you want me to say?” He raked a hand through his hair. “This is unchartered territory.”
Trouble Next Door Page 12
