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Chapter Nine
Summer
I’d already had my ankle X-rayed. All that was left to do was wait for the doc to come back with the results. My ankle had already swelled up to twice its normal size, and it hurt like crazy, but I wasn’t about to let my discomfort show.
Matt was in here with me. He’d refused to leave at my insistence, and truth be told I didn’t want to be alone. I would have rather it not been Matt, but the pickings were slim.
The doctor’s examination room, just off his quaint office, was filled with ocean breeze and pictures of white sand beaches. The view out the window was of the city, rather than the beach, so I’d forgive the images, even though it seemed silly to have so many when the guy’s office was right around the corner from the ocean.
The cushy exam table I sat on squeaked slightly when I shifted my weight, and Matt stood in the corner, his phone out and his gaze on the screen as he scrolled.
I hadn’t figured he’d be one of those guys. The type that was glued to their phones. Maybe he was following Instagram models or leaving comments or chatting with some hot chica who—
Doesn’t matter. He’s not your guy. Remember what he said.
It had always been just physical. Nothing more than that.
I hated to admit that hearing those words hurt like crazy, and I would never let him know it. I blocked a yawn with the back of my hand. Last night had zapped my energy in a big way. After Matt had gone, it had been tempting to slip into a sex coma, but that had passed real quick.
The questions about everything had come rushing back all over again. I’d taken my bubble bath, listened to Alanis Morissette and crooned along appropriately. Independent woman, booyah. Except now I had to depend on him to help me with my ankle.
“You OK?” he asked, tucking his phone away.
“Oh hi, nice of you to join me,” I said.
“Huh?”
“Your phone,” I said. “You should just glue it to your face.”
“Oof, someone’s in a good mood.”
“I did just nearly snap my foot off,” I replied with some snark. Not that it helped. And he was right. I was in a foul mood because I had to spend time in the same room as him, wishing that I didn’t still want him.
“Melodramatic.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I needed your confirmation of my inner landscape.”
“Summer.”
I shook my head and looked out the window at the passing cars. Meeting his gaze would mean opening up to what had happened last night.
“Summer.”
“What?”
“Is this how you want it to be?” he asked.
I met his gaze at last and caught my breath. Why did he have to be so damn handsome? He strode across the room and stopped in front of me. He cupped my cheek. “I’m here,” he said. “If you need anything.”
It was a tender thing to say, and it set me off all over again. Confusion reigned supreme. “What are you trying to do?” I asked. “Is this a game to you? Why would you say that?”
“You’re Emmy’s best friend. Christ, Summer, we lived together for years after my parents took you in,” he said. “Of course, I want to look out for you.”
Just physical. Remember that. Just physical.
“I didn’t walk away years ago to hurt you,” he said. “It was to protect everyone.”
“Oh, you mean by going off to be a soldier?”
“That too,” he said and flashed me that sexy smile. “But you know that’s not what I meant.”
His palm was still warm against my cheek. His fingers stroked near my ear, and heat traveled through me again. The temptation was back. The tension of having him this close and inhaling a scent that was part lemon, part leather, part him. Just him.
“Do I?” I didn’t move.
I wasn’t sure whether I wanted that hand gone or not, and I silently judged myself for that.
“I’d hope you do now.” He inhaled through his nose.
“What?”
“It’s difficult for me not to stare at you. Or kiss you.”
“Why?” I nearly stammered it out, barely kept my composure.
“Because of who you are,” he said. “And you’re so fucking gorgeous. Watching you out there on the sand was torture today.”
“I don’t want things to get complicated.”
He drew closer, brought his other hand up and stroked my cheek. “Neither do I.”
“We should probably stop this.” But I leaned toward him, inhaling his scent and appreciating his warmth.
“You’re right.” He let go of me but didn’t step back, his arms at his sides, occasionally fidgeting. “We should stop this.”
I snaked my hands up the front of his shirt. “How is it possible that you make me furious and horny at the same time?”
“I could ask you the same question.” He lowered his lips toward mine, and the heat exploded.
