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“What about Sean?” I asked.
“Sean is also great,” she said, “but he hasn’t called me.”
“After you…”
She laughed it off, though I wasn’t buying it. “Slept with him? Yeah, twice. But you know, this is college. I plan to have loads of fun. No committing to one guy right away.”
I didn’t get the whole casual sex thing. Maybe because I’d never actually had sex, but I couldn’t get myself to think of sex as a one-time thing. Maybe after I lost my virginity I would, but I doubted it. Not when I felt so strongly that Brad Steel was my ultimate destiny.
“You don’t have any regrets?” I said.
“About screwing Sean? Heck, no. He’s great-looking and a lot of fun. I hope I’ll hear from him again.”
“I’m sure you will.”
“Maybe. You can always put in a good word for me with the roomie. What’s going on there, anyway?”
“Not a lot.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.
“Not a lot? Are you kidding? You’ve been out with him the last three nights.”
“And you notice I made it home each night.” I twisted my lips. Foot in mouth. “I didn’t mean—”
“No worries. I’m not insulted. It’s pretty clear you don’t have a lot of experience with guys, Daph.”
My cheeks warmed, probably making them redder than the blush I’d brushed over them. “Not really.”
“Brad seems like a good guy. I’m really surprised he hasn’t tried anything with you.”
“He says we can go slow.”
“And you’re okay with that? I’ve got to tell you—I couldn’t wait to ditch my virginity.”
I hadn’t been okay with that last night. I’d wanted him to take me, and I’d been ready to let him. Brad had stopped it, and I still wasn’t quite sure why. “Yeah, I’m okay with that. I appreciate him going at my pace.”
“You’re not horny for him at all?”
I laughed. “I didn’t say that.”
For sure, I’d been horny as all get-out last night, but Brad had probably done the right thing for me. How he knew what I needed, I’d never understand.
Or maybe it was all part of our destiny.
“Maybe you’ll find someone great tonight,” she said. “Let’s go!”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Brad
Driving to see Wendy wasn’t what I’d had in mind for this evening, but she had to know what she’d done to Daphne and Murph was unacceptable and I wouldn’t put up with it.
I was the one person who could control Wendy—in the bedroom, at least. I planned to exercise that control tonight, outside the bedroom. Early, before I met Daphne at ten.
Wendy attended a different college but cut class the majority of the time and stayed in Denver to be close to me. Her brilliant mind and photographic memory allowed her to ace classes she didn’t even attend by speed reading all the textbooks. I’d never known anyone quite as brilliant as Wendy Madigan, but intelligence of that level seemed to come with some other issues.
From what I’d seen lately? A lot of crazy.
I’d never known Wendy to be violent. Pulling a gun on Murph yesterday was new, and something I needed to nip in the bud straight away—especially since I was responsible for her knowing how to wield a pistol.
I pulled into the driveway of the rental she used when she was in town, left the car, and pounded on the door.
The door opened, and Wendy stood there.
Buck naked.
“I’ve been waiting for you.” She opened the screen door.
“For God’s sake, anyone on the street can see you.”
“Do you think I care?”
No, she didn’t care. Wendy had a killer body, and she knew it. She loved showing it off…especially to me.
This woman had everything—beauty, brains, a family who seemed to love her. Why was she troubled?
The issues had emerged slowly in the six years since I’d met her. Little eccentricities that at first had added to her charm. Now? Pulling a gun on Murph and confronting Daphne in her dorm room? She’d graduated to the beginnings of insanity.
She needed help.
I walked in. “Put some clothes on.”
“I don’t think so. Drink?”
“No.”
“Mind if I have one?”
“Actually, I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Don’t be such a square, Brad. A few years ago, you loved to tie one on with me.”
“A few years ago, I was a teenager.”
“With the body and sexual prowess of a man.” She raised one eyebrow. “I miss those days, don’t you?”
No. I didn’t say it, though. Getting her angry wasn’t the best way to begin this conversation that I knew would end with her mad as hell.
“Sometimes,” I said. Not a lie. I missed a few things about those days, just not anything having to do with her.
She poured herself a glass of wine. Red. Always red. Wendy said once that red wine reminded her of the deep red of blood as it ran through arteries. I’d brushed it off at the time. Now it made me kind of nervous.
She took a sip. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Brad?”
