Page 53 of Catching Our Moment
I shrugged and sipped my beer. I’d replaced my wet t-shirt with a flannel shirt and a pair of sweats and socks—the picture of a man without a life. “I’m fine.” Poker face in place. “How are you this fine autumn evening?”
She tilted her head to the side, her eyes reading me. “I’m fine. I spoke to Wyatt on the way over here. Sorry to hear about you and Riley.”
I shrugged. “It was just a matter of making it official,” I said. “She wasn’t meant for the quiet way of life.”
“Still, it wasn’t exactly fair how you had to hear?—”
“Hear what?” Kelcie let the door close behind her.
I braced myself for the blow as she stepped outside. Kelcie’s hair was down and in waves, shaping her face. She wore her hair up so much I forgot how luxurious it was.
My heart dropped out of my chest. I stood on shaky legs to get the full effect.
Kelcie had always been beautiful. She’d been a cute girl, a pretty teenager, a hot coed, but now…now she was a breathtaking woman.
She was a breathtaking woman who was dressed in a form-fitting, deep-blue dress and heels that accentuated her amazing, toned legs—all for another man to appreciate. She hadn’t lost her athletic body, but the curves she was displaying…man, had I ever truly seen her before? I bit my lip to stop my jaw from dropping.
And since when did she have such an ample?—
I closed my eyes tight, dropping my head, not wanting her to catch my focus.
I’d hugged Kelcie over the years. I knew her shape. But this felt like a slap upside the head and a grip on my cock, because suddenly, I couldn’t function.
Where did I look? I had to find something else to look at…not her legs, definitely not her chest, not the hips I wanted to grab onto, and absolutely not her lips. Hell. I want to bury my hands in her hair. If I gripped the chair tighter, it was going to splinter in my hands.
Grace looked at her. “I was just talking to Shaw about?—”
I cut it to the basics.
“Riley called.” I pried my fingers one by one off the chair as I steadied myself to make conversation. “She’s staying in LA. We broke up.” I shoved my hands in my pockets to stop them from reaching for her.
Compassion softened her face. “Oh. Are you?—”
Aaron stepped between us. “What’s wrong with your face? You look mad at my mom.”
“I’m not mad at your mom,” I said.
“You look like you want to yell at her.”
Kelcie intervened. “Shaw just got some news, and he’s having a bad night.”
I guffawed and took my seat. “I’m fine.”
She stood in front of me. “Are you really okay?” She reached out to me, leaning over, aiming to touch me, but I flinched. I didn’t want—didn’t need—her touching me right now. She was becoming my newly branded, personal kryptonite. I thought back to the hard-on I got from the massage. It almost drilled itself through the table and never completely deflated until I took care of myself in the shower when I got home.
I was so screwed.
“I’m fine,” I repeated and leaned forward enough to cover up any bulges that might have decided to appear on their own. “It was just a technicality. It probably would’ve happened if we’d had time to discuss it more before she left.”
Kelcie and Grace stood beside each other with a quiet, communicative glance—the one women had when they thought they were being fed bullshit.
Did I look so pathetic that these women wanted to go buy five containers of Ben & Jerry’s, grab their pajamas, and settle on the sofa with me for a straight-up bitchfest?
Would it keep her from going out on her date?
“The Imperial March” broadcasted from my phone. I yanked it out and sent it to voicemail.
“Wyatt?” Kelcie asks.
