Page 56 of The Trouble with Wanting

“Boyd,” I interrupt, squeezing his biceps. “I’m teasing. I was chatting with Bellamy and enjoying myself. Promise.”

“Did someone say my name?”

Bellamy prances over, returning from wherever she was helping her mother.

“You’re not Beetlejuice,” Boyd grouses, keeping his arms around me and tucking me into his side. “You’re not supposed to just appear when your name is used.”

“But I’m magic like that.”

Boyd rolls his eyes and looks down at me. “I’m glad you came,” he says.

“Me too.”

I reach up and touch the scruffiness on his chin, biting my lip at how prickly it is on my skin. The last few days, Boyd has always been clean-shaven. The tiny bit of stubble around his jawline is new. “I like this.”

He grins, something kind of devilish flashing in his eyes before he tucks it away. “Then I’ll leave it.”

“Just like that?”

Boyd nods. “Just like that.”

“Alright, you two—get a room.”

I blush and try to take a step away from him, but his grip tightens, keeping me tucked in at his side, an arm resting around my waist.

He seems so relaxed, so comfortable with the two of us standing here together, looking so much like a couple in the middle of all his friends and family.

It’s unlike what I was expecting from him, and yet I can’t help but enjoy it. That little space in my chest that fantasizes about something real with Boyd revels in the way he stands with me proudly at his side, unconcerned about the people around us and what they might think.

“If you’re just going to be annoying, you can go do it to one of the few dozen other people that are here,” Boyd says.

Bellamy smirks at him. “The last thing I want to do is spend time with you anyway, so I will take the directive. Adios.”

She wanders off into the crowd, greeting family, friends, and neighbors as she goes.

Speaking of neighbors…

“Did you know Linda was going to be here?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light and conversational even though bringing up my dad’s wife who hates me isn’t exactly a jovial talking point.

Boyd’s neck does a weird jerky thing that says he’s just as confused as I am.

“I didn’t know she was invited, but it doesn’t surprise me that my mom extended the olive branch if she knows you’re staying there,” he says, his eyes focused on mine. “I know she wasn’t that nice to you when you got here. Are you okay?”

I stroke my hand softly against Boyd’s back where my hand is resting, appreciating his concern.

“I’m fine.”

He searches my expression for a minute before nodding, apparently finding whatever he’s looking for.

With anyone else that I’d only known a few days, I wouldn’t necessarily read into it so much, but with Boyd, I relish his focus. He’s a man who pays attention, so it doesn’t surprise me that he thinks he can read my emotions just based on a look.

“Have you eaten yet?”

I shake my head.

“Well then, let’s get you a plate.”

Slipping his hand into mine, Boyd leads me over to the buffet table, handing me a plate before grabbing one for himself. We each take a little of everything, and by the time I’ve finished putting everything together, my mouth is watering at how many delicious things I’m about to stuff into my tummy.

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