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It’s Sunday, which means we have the day off today. I sit up and lean against the headboard, scrubbing my face to wake myself up. I need to forget how it felt to have Fallon’s hard shaft against my butt—and how much I liked it.
“My sister should be in town around five or six.” Fallon turns his head on the pillow, and warmth spreads through me.
He looks good like this. He’s wearing an old T-shirt that was soft against my skin when he wrapped himself around me. With slitted, sleepy eyes, he looks deliciously undone. His beard has grown out a bit in the last few days, the silvery strands in it stark against the coarse black hair. My eyes slide down to where the sheet has fallen down and his shirt has rucked up, to that dark line of hair below his navel. The sight of it makes my heart thump, and my fingers curl into the sheets to stop myself from reaching over and touching it.
Blinking, I shift my gaze up…to a tattoo? I just spy the edge of a black shape on his rib. “I didn’t know you had a tattoo.”
Fallon goes rigid beside me, pulling his shirt down with a hard yank. “Yeah. I’ll use the bathroom first.” He gets up with a swift movement, not looking at me as he crosses the room.
Um…okay.
The silky, hot feeling that had been weighing me down like a blanket is ripped away—and I remember that this is temporary. All of it. The competition, the guesthouse, Fallon’s presence. I shouldn’t get used to it. Once the competition ends, Fallon will leave. Like he did before. Like everyone does. Why wouldn’t they? It’s not like I have much to offer a man besides too many plants and obsessive baking tendencies. I’m not exactly a catch. I’m the woman that gets passed over. The one that is memorable for all the wrong reasons.
What I need to do is stay focused. Fallon’s happy trail and secret tattoo need to be relegated to the section of my brain that only gets visited when I’ve had too much wine.
His scruffy, handsome head pokes out of the bathroom, and he speaks around his toothbrush. “Are you sure it’s okay for my sister to stay at your place?”
“Of course,” I answer. My eyes drop down to his torso, hands itching to remove his shirt. Why didn’t he want me to see his ink? Does he think I won’t approve? I’m uptight, but I’m not that uptight.
Plus, anything Fallon does is ridiculously sexy.
Blinking, I meet his eyes again. “I mean, as long as Nora doesn’t kill my plants or wreck my house, obviously.”
Fallon chuckles. “I’ll warn her not to poke the dragon.”
I arch a brow, eyes drawn back to his. “The dragon?”
“You’re slow to anger, but once you go off”—he makes an explosion sound—“run for cover.” Eyes glimmering, he returns to the bathroom to finish up.
I huff, insulted. That’s not true…is it?
He reappears, and when he sees my face, Fallon laughs harder. “See? The dragon. I can see it waking up already.” He picks up a pillow from the ground and tosses it on his side of the bed. “I got a stern talking-to from you last year and I’m still reeling. I distinctly remember you waving a spatula around like you wanted to smack me across the face with it.”
Hmm. I did do that.
He yanks the blankets up to make the bed. “I was afraid for my life.”
The twinkling in his eyes tells me he’s joking, but I still cross my arms with a huff. “You asked me to choose between you and my book. What was I supposed to say?”
The laughter in his eyes fades. He gives me a sad smile. “I don’t blame you, Jen. I was wrong to push you. You had every right to reject me when you did. I didn’t read the signs of what Amanda wanted from me. I thought she was just being her usual flirty self. She’s like that with everyone.”
Everyone, huh. Didn’t know Fallon was delusional.
Fallon’s ex-girlfriend was very, very obvious in her intentions any time Fallon was around. I’m not sure if he’s just being dense because he’s a man and he truly didn’t realize she still wanted him—or if he’s trying to downplay what happened.
“My turn in the bathroom,” I announce. At least if I’m busy, I don’t have to think about how good it feels to wake up next to Fallon—or how awful it’ll feel once the competition ends and we go our own ways.
Unbeknownst to me, there’s some sort of party going on at Four Cups when we arrive. Through the big windows at the front of the café, I notice that the tables and chairs are set up facing one wall, where a big screen and a projector are beaming a massive image of my face.
Wonderful.
I cast my eye over the assembled crowd. Of course, Simone, Fiona, and Candice are there with their partners Wes, Grant, and Blake. Blake has his arm around Candice’s shoulders and his mouth near her ear. She’s blushing, and something like jealousy pierces my gut. Not that I want Blake to do that to me, but I’d like to have someone’s arms wrapped around me like that. And by someone I mean Fallon.
Candice’s sister, Trina, is off on a romantic two-week vacation with her man, Mac, to enjoy her time off while her kids are with her ex-husband. No doubt when she gets back, she’ll be loved-up as well.
I glance at Fallon, who’s scanning the space through the window, probably looking for his sister.
In the opposite corner to Candice and Blake, Dorothy and Margaret are huddled around a table with their partners Eli and Hamish. Candice’s mother, Lottie, is wearing a T-shirt with my face on it, and she’s sitting to Dorothy’s left. Beside her are Blake’s parents Gina and Merv. There’s some kind of highly animated debate going on between the seven of them, until Margaret spots me through the doorway and points, and then they all jump up and cheer.
