Page 3 of Close to My Heart

I was lifted out of the car and cradled in Wes’s arms. He carried me to the truck, placing me carefully into the back seat before climbing in and shutting the door. The interior of the truck’s cab was warm and cozy, a contrast to the air outside.

Wes buckled me into the middle seat, then pulled me across his lap. He brushed my hair off my forehead. “You’re going to be okay.”

“I am.” Being this close to Wes was like coming home. I felt safe, warm, and protected. Nothing could get to me here. Not my grandmother’s ultimatum, my parents’ shock, or the weather.

“I think you hit your head hard.”

My hand fluttered to my forehead. “I mean, it hurts, so?—”

“I’m only saying that because you’re letting me hold you.” There was amusement in his tone.

I tried to shrug, but the position was awkward for the movement. “You feel too good.” That was the reason why I resisted touching him and only gave him the briefest of kisses on the cheek. When he filled out as a teenager, I was hyper aware of the man Wes was growing into. I was attracted to him despite my brain telling me what a bad idea it was.

When he started talking about girls he liked, I knew I wasn’t even on his radar. He’d put me firmly into the friend zone, and I couldn’t let on that I crushed on him, or I’d lose the relationship we had. And I couldn’t lose him. He had been the rock in my tumultuous life.

The one I went to when my family was too much. I just didn’t let him consume my life. He had girlfriends on and off, and I was very aware that they hated it when I hung around.

I flitted in and out of his life based on his relationship status and pretended that we were just friends. That I didn’t get a tingle of awareness each time his body brushed mine. That I didn’t enjoy laying in his lap right now even though my head ached and my knee throbbed.

Wes Calloway was a friend. He’d never be anything more. But for tonight, I’d enjoy every minute of laying in his lap and soak up the comfort he provided.

One day, Wes would be doing this with his fiancée or even his wife. I needed to protect my heart around him and not let my expectations run wild. Even if I wanted him to tell me he’d always liked me too.

It was a pipe dream. Not my reality. I knew what to expect out of life, and it wasn’t dreams being fulfilled or happy endings. It was hard work and sacrifice.

The front driver’s side door opened and closed. There was a thud as if Jameson had thrown something on the floor of the car. Then he asked over his shoulder, “You got her?”

“Yes,” Wes said as he adjusted me on his lap.

I breathed him in, enjoying the familiar smell of sandalwood, leather, and man.

“Claire shouldn’t drive home tonight,” Wes said quietly as if he didn’t want to disturb me. “Her and Owen can stay at the main house.”

I kept my eyes closed, wanting him to think I was asleep.

“We’ll figure it out,” Jameson said tightly.

When we reached the main house, Jameson opened the door for Wes, and he carried me up the porch steps and into the house.

“I’m going to take her upstairs to one of the bedrooms.” Wes maneuvered me past him and up the steps.

I sensed there were people hovering around, and I just wanted to be alone. I didn’t want anyone commenting on my less-than-stellar appearance. I was positive there was dried blood on my face and even a rip in my slacks.

Sutton Rosesmith never went out in public looking like less than the wealthy socialite she was. That had been ingrained in me since birth. Plus, I felt raw after that family meeting. I couldn’t believe that I might lose everything.

I might not have had the best parents, but I adored our family’s estate. I’d grown up exploring the grounds and the rooms, making up stories about the history of each item.

Wes shifted me in his arms, then placed me onto a soft surface. A bed in one of the guest rooms of his dad’s house. I wondered if it used to be his room.

“Let me grab you some water and a warm washcloth.” Wes moved, but I stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“I’m okay.”

“I want to check you for a concussion and clean up those cuts. You’re going to want some water and pain meds for the headache. Tomorrow, you’re going to have some wicked whiplash.”

I licked my dry lips. “You don’t have to fuss.”

Wes moved quickly so that his hands were braced on either side of my head on the comforter and his body hovered over mine. My breath hitched in response, and every nerve in my body was firing with awareness.

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