Kay laughed finally. “Girl, will you stop with the baconwrapped dates. Yo’ ass better eat everything else, then.”
“What is a veggie tartlet?” I asked.
“Enough.” Kay sliced a hand through the air. “Talk. Is this about Wes?”
Yes.I pointed my fork at her. “No,” I lied.
It wasn’t my fault that I’d reverted back to drowning my sorrows. In my defense, Wes’s charms had waged a full-on assault on my emotions. So much that I’d spent the last few nights dreaming about him. Our last interaction had only made my desire for him stronger.
Bri’s eyes widened. “Uh-oh.” She smirked. “She lost our bet.”
“No.” My denial was as lame as a cucumber sandwich because as much as I wanted that to not be true, she was probably right. I was going to lose the bet. “Shut up.”
“What bet?” Kay asked.
“I’m just sayin’.” Bri shrugged, ignoring her sister. “You look flushed. Just like you did when you and Wes came back in the house from the balcony.”
“Stop,” I hissed. Glancing at Kay, I grumbled, “Get your sister.”
“Oursister,” Kay corrected with a smirk. “I have to say, though. You’re glowing.”
I muttered a string of curses as I waved the waitress over. To sober up, I placed an order for coffee and waited until we were alone again before I put their suspicions to rest. “I did not fuck Wes.”Yet. Although the thought did cross my mind several times since I moved in. It was a big part of the reason I’d gulped down three mimosas in less than an hour. Because I wanted to forget. I’d even skipped a potential client meeting in favor of bacon, pancakes, and scrambled eggs.
Bri rolled her eyes. “Girl, then why are we here getting day drunk?”
“I know why I’m here drinking,” I retorted. “Why are you?”
Bri’s mouth fell open. “Solidarity. And Hendrix gets on my fuckin’ nerves, so there’s that.”
Shaking her head, Kay massaged her temples. “This is stupid. Just answer the question, Albany.”
“Work is stressful,” I offered.
The legwork involved in any case was rejuvenating. Yet, being so close to Wes, interacting with him on a daily basis, was torture. I ran into him in the hallway on most mornings, and I found myself looking forward to seeing him in his gray sweatpants after a run. I liked watching him interact with Erica and his cousins.
Despite everything that happened between us in the past, he was still a pretty awesome guy. The proof was in his willingness to do small things that mattered. Bringing me coffee from the shop around the corner in the morning before he left for the office. Assembling my new ergonomic office chair. Helping me set up a few security cameras in my place. Just in case.
Our banter.I swear, I couldn’t get away with anything. He called me on my bullshit every time. Lord, he stayed on my last nerve. I liked it, though.I kinda like him.
And he was right … I picked arguments on purpose when I felt like we were getting too close. Yesterday, I yelled at him for not getting my Big Mac without pickles. He didn’t even have to buy me anything, but he did because I told him I was craving McDonald’s.
The Wes he’d been for the past several days was the Wes I’d always known, the man that would burn the world to the ground for me because he cared so much. Hard shell. Soft, chewy inside. Like Skittles. It was difficult to reconcile that person with the one who broke my heart. And I reminded myself of that every time I saw him. Still, the more time I spent with him, the more I wanted to spend with him.
Then, there was that almost kiss. The way his gaze had dropped to my lips, the smell of his skin, the stubble on his jaw. The lean, the way he’d slowly inched closer. So close I felt his breath on my mouth and the heat of his body against mine. And damn it, as much as I hated to admit it, I had wanted him to kiss me that night.
My phone buzzed. I glanced down at the screen.
Wes: Not looking good, Bug. They fumbled the bag not holding on to the Bama running back.
See! It was little shit like this. He knew I was a diehard Lions fan. And I liked that he talked to me like he respected my opinion on the game. But it wasn’t just messages like this. I’d grown accustomed to random texts in the middle of the day. About the weather, about sports, about politics, and even about my favorite TV shows. Yesterday, he sent me an old song we used to listen to, and it immediately transported me back to a time when a copy of the latest Pretty Little Liars novel was my idea of the perfect romantic gift.
Bri leaned forward and whispered, “Do you know who Ms. Tea is?”
I shook my head. “No.” While I had a strong suspicion of Ms. Tea’s identity, I wasn’t ready to divulge that information to anyone—not even Wes. Because the truth could have far-reaching implications for his family relationships.
“Hendrix thinks it’s Jackson,” Bri said with a shrug.
“It’s not,” I told her. “He’s not smart enough.”
