Page 65 of Catching Mr. Right

“What is?” She hiccups.

“To admit you’re wrong. To not have a clue where you’re going. Maybe to even take a chance on things that may or may not work out. To fall in love with the wrong guy every now and then.”

“Is that what this is?” She sobs harder, clinging to me. “Is this really what it feels like? Losing someone you care about? Because I don’t know how people can stand it.”

“Honestly?”

She nods and runs her fingers along her lower lashes. It doesn’t help much. Mascara smudges thick and dark under her touch. “Don’t sugar coat it.”

“Yes.” I press her panties back into her hand and tuck my dick back in my pants as discreetly as I can. This situation is already awkward enough without drawing attention to the fact I’m still at half-mast. “I’ve only ever felt like that once. It was a long time ago, and it was enough for me to never want to feel that way about anybody again. I love my family, and I like women. I’ve liked quite a few women, dated some of them for a lengthy span of time because I liked them so much. But not so much it hurt. Trust me, playing safe, it isn’t enough. For either of us.”

“It isn’t, is it?” She finally notices her panties in her hand. She shakes her head, but her gaze is momentarily clear of tears. She furrows her brow, then puts the lace down beside her on the counter so she can pull the straps of her dress up. “You and I would have been boring, wouldn’t we?”

“I think so.” I help her down from the work surface, careful not to touch her in a way that isn’t purely platonic. “Maybe we were meant to be friends. Only friends.”

“I think that sounds good.” She picks up her panties and shimmies into them. “I’d like that a lot.” She looks around the kitchen where we almost screwed up everything and wrinkles her nose. “Do you have to disinfect the whole place now? Since we ended up so close to naked? I’m sorry I’ve made extra work for you.”

Chuckling, I usher back into the dining area to where we left my shirt and her shoes. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I’m trying.” She steps into her shoes as I pull on my shirt and move to the bar to pour us both a brandy.

“I can’t help but imagine that Cas would tell me I was a pain in the ass for making him have to disinfect the whole kitchen if we’d had similar circumstances. Or that French phrase he was spouting at me tonight. Ama, amoureux de toy or whatever it was.”

I freeze with the glass halfway to my mouth. “You don’t know a lick of French, do you?”

“Not a syllable.” She takes the second glass in front of me and sniffs it. “It doesn’t matter though. Everything between us was a farce. We pretended to be together so you’d be jealous. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t supposed to be.” She tosses the brandy back. “Oh gosh, that’s like fire.”

“It’ll help make this situation less awkward and embarrassing,” I tell her.

“Will it help me forget Cas?” She studies the bottom of her empty glass and then puts it down on the glistening bar top. “I don’t know how I fell for him, but it’s one sided. Definitely one sided. He’s leaving. He might be gone already. He’s probably glad to see the back of me.”

“Bullshit.” I follow her example and drink the spicy, potent liquid. “Cas is mad for you.”

“He’s not.” She shakes her head and the tears are back. “I wish he was.”

“You don’t see the way he looks at you. Trust me, I did. God, I was jealous of the way you two clearly feel about each other.” I pour another shot of brandy for myself. I wanted so badly to have what they had, and they didn’t even know themselves. “That’s how obvious it was.”

“He never said anything. If he did… if he just decided to stay…” she picks up the envelope with her birth certificate, folds it in half and pushes it into her clutch without looking at it. “But he didn’t, because he doesn’t. And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I don’t have a plan.”

“He did tell you.” I finish the scotch. “Je suis amoureux de toi. It means something like, I’m falling for you. I can’t remember exactly. It’s been a long time since I’ve had any use for French. That’s what he was telling you when we left Mayhem.”

“He was telling me he’s falling for me? Maybe you don’t know the language like you think you do. If he wanted to tell me something like that why wouldn’t he come out and say it? He was as outspoken as I am when we met.”

“Mandy Pearce, you are the stubbornest person I know, and you are fiercely determined. Tonight, you were determined to come home with me.”

“He thought I wouldn’t want to hear him?” She gapes.

“Did you ever give him any reason to believe differently? Would you have wanted to know if he’d told you?”

“No.” The color drains from her face and her eyes sparkle with unshed tears. “And now he’s probably gone. And I’ll never see him again. He’ll just ride off into the sunset on his horse.”

“Mandy?” I move to her side of the bar and cup her face to make her focus. “What exactly would you do if you caught the guy, anyhow? There’s no certainty that you could get him to stay. He might not want to rehash these last few months, especially after you came home with me. You might end up hurting even more. He might not be the right guy at all.”

“Maybe,” she says. Then she’s backing toward the door. “But that’s why I should go and find out, right?”

“Should you?”

“He’s not safe and predictable like I thought you were, like I thought I wanted, but if he loves me…” She pushes open the door. “If there’s any chance he wants to stick around and see how this thing ends…” She shrugs, but she looks kind of hopeful. “I better hurry.”

“Yeah, you better.” I snatch up my keys. “I’ll drive you out to the ranch.”

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