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My curiosity or attraction—whatever the hell this is—needs to be squashed before it even gets started. Nothing good can come from me being interested in her.
Joanna.
Chelsea.
Layne.
Bree.
All nice girls/women that I’ve gotten a little too attached to.
Joanna lived here and we dated off and on in high school. She was my first, and while I wasn’t sure I wanted forever with her, I was disappointed when she left for college and never came back.
Chelsea was a tourist who stayed for six months longer than she intended to. I suppose it could boost my ego to think she lasted that long for me, but it’s minuscule since she didn’t end upstayingfor me.
Layne had family here and used to visit a few times a year. She wanted me to move to California with her, and I couldn’t imagine myself there…honestly, I also couldn’t imagine forever with her.
And Bree…she’s one who has come through town the past three years for a week and expects us to pick up where we left off…which is mostly bed and a few dinners and drinks here and there. The last time, it just felt like a sad cycle, and I wanted to get off the ride.
It’s not just them, it’s me.
I know this.
I’ve made it clear to everyone in my life that Landmark Mountain is my home, and no one has made me want to change my mind about that. If I can’t be enough to make someone want to stay, I don’t need them. If that’s close-minded and keeps me alone here forever, so be it.
I like my life.
But it’s a little different with Ruby in my space. She’s barely been here a minute, and already my head feels off-kilter.
For all the experiences I’ve had with women over the years, I haven’t had them in my space. Joanna, Chelsea, and Layne were all before I lived in this house, but Bree—I guess I’ve known that was never going to be more than a tourist fling, and I don’t want to invite potential drama into my home when that’s all it is.
So yeah, looks like I will be a bachelor forever, and I’ll keep my home my sanctuary, thank you very much.
I get up and toss my bottle into recycling.
Why the hell did I tell her she could stay as long as she needs? That was such a huge lapse in judgment.
“Did I say something wrong?” Her voice is tentative behind me, and I turn to see her concerned honey-brown eyes.
“Nah, I should just get to bed. You have everything you need? Are you still in a lot of pain with the burns?”
“I’m okay,” she says. “Thanks.” Her fingers fidget with her sweater.
I’m not sure why she looks disappointed, but I think about it all the way to the shower and the whole time I steer clear of my dick.
I lie in bed thinking about it, and toss and turn through the night with those eyes haunting my dreams.
Pierre can’t get back in town soon enough.
The next morning, I walk out of the bedroom in my briefs, still absentmindedly scratching my chest when I collide into her soft body in the kitchen.
“Oh!” she yelps.
“The hell?” I grumble.
“I was trying to be quiet in here.”
“Need some light?” I flip one on and wish I could turn it off immediately because her long legs are on full display. My already alert dick leaps to attention and her eyes drop.
