Page 92 of Full Circle

CHAPTER 43

END OF THE BALL

WESLEY

Seeing Celeste materialize in Shirley’s—my—backyard looking like a literal wet dream would be permanently imprinted on my mind until the day I died. I had zoned out completely, mulling over Marla’s advice, and then Celeste appeared like I manifested her into being. She was breathtaking with the rain cascading down her face, long hair trailing down her back, and those tiny damn jean cutoffs that made me jealous for hugging her ass so tight.

Something just came over me the moment I touched her. The same pulse of intensity charged the air between us, more powerful than any storm ever could be. While the lightning might have illuminated the sky above, the real electricity surged the second Celeste and I made contact. I couldn’t hold back any longer. Kissing her was more important than inhaling my next breath.

On the other side of our antics, now that the rush of heat, lust, and serotonin died down, I was terrified of what awaited me downstairs. I didn’t even bother to change my own soaked sweatpants, just grabbed a cotton t-shirt and pair of gym shorts for her. Celeste Hendricks was my personal hurricane, and I would happily drown if it meant being in her presence. I just didn’t want her to hate me for it.

Back in the kitchen, I allowed myself to drink her in as she scrambled into my clothes. The round curves of her body were fuller now compared to when we were teens, sexier, and I loved the change. No model I worked with could ever hold a candle to Celeste’s beauty. It probably creeped her out to see me ogling her like a pizza, but damn it, I was a glutton for punishment.

“That wasn’t why I came here,” she finally said after wringing out her long, wet hair in the kitchen sink. “I need to talk to you.”

I nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Celeste glanced at me and her cheeks flamed. “Can you please put a shirt on or something?”

Now she was just stroking my ego. “No.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe. “I’m pretty comfy the way I am.”

She rolled her eyes. “In your wet pants?”

“Lovebug, you don’t have to beat around the bush if you wanna get me out of my pants.”

The pink in her cheeks turned red. Her shy smile, my favorite, returned as she whispered, “Some things never change with you.”

I grinned, loving that I could tease her like I used to. I would take this reaction any day of the week. And it gave me hope that our future together was possible. We could work through this. If I could only convince her to give me a chance.

“What do you wanna talk about?” I asked.

That lit the fire in her. I could tell from the way she bristled, standing straighter and holding her head high.

There’s my girl, I thought.

Celeste stared me down, gauging my reaction. “Are you here because of the deal with The Comfy Cushion?”

“What are you talking about? What deal?”

My father was a savvy businessman, I had to give him that. He could sense a good deal from five miles away and he was typically three steps ahead of the competition. While I knew Madden Enterprises invested as a silent partner in other companies, buying a small town diner wasn’t really something I could imagine on his radar.

Celeste didn’t respond, just continued staring me down. Hostility rolled off her in waves and I desperately wished I knew how to fix it. It aggravated me that she wouldn’t explain. She came here to talk, didn’t she? How were we going to fix anything if she shut me out?

“I’ve been wanting to come home for a while,” I finally told her to break the silence. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Home?” she repeated. Except it was a loaded question, meant to be used as ammunition. “This isn’t your home. You don’t belong here, Wesley.”

Okay, so we were doing this with the gloves off. “My home is anywhere you are,” I argued. “You’re all I’ve thought about since the day I left.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” she countered, crossing her arms over her chest. I tried not to smile at how good it looked to see her in my clothes again. Focus, Wesley.

“Do you know how many times I tried calling you at the diner? The number changed and I’m pretty sure mine was blocked at some point because all I ever got was a dial tone?—”

“THAT’S your effort?!” she screeched. “After the way you left, you thought a phone call where I worked was gonna fix everything?!”

I ground my teeth before slamming the palm of my hand into the wall beside me. Red was all I could see. “Maybe if you hadn’t put a fucking restraining order on me, I could have done more!”

To my surprise, she laughed in response. It was a bitter, resentful sound, not her usual soft giggle that softened me. “I had a bit too much on my plate to get a restraining order, Wes. I don’t even know how to do something like that.”

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