Page 8 of Falling for You
“Sunshine, you don’t have to go.” Does he have to use the nickname he gave me?
“I do. Because I’m so fucking tired of my brothers running my dating life. And I can’t handle one more rejection from you.”
Against his wishes, he hands me a to-go box and I finish packing up, escaping before he can come say anything else to me.
Everyone else walking down Main Street is giving me space as they pass. Even Esther didn’t try to get the gossip. My nostrils are flared and I’m practically stomping down the street.
How dare he try to use my nickname while he rejects me. I was just offering to help him as a friend. He wants to play this game, well he can just get ready because my middle name is petty. And he’s about to regret his choices.
How did I get here? How did I let this thing with Roman take over my life? How did I let myself believe that he could want me like I want him?
It has to be his magical dick. I’m under some kind of spell. That can be the only explanation for me being this stupid girl and falling for the older guy who’s best friends with her brother. The forbidden fruit with the magic dick.
“It’s too risky, Sunshine. Wyatt almost caught me,” he says in a whisper in the hallway near his office.
“Who cares?” I run my fingers down his abs, trying to slip them into the waistband of the dark jeans that are molded on his muscular thighs and ass.
“I care.”
“I thought you cared about me. More than my brothers.”
“Isn’t that the problem? Where do we go from here?” he asks, waiting for me to answer.
“I don’t know, Rome. It seems like nowhere.”
I turn away from him, slipping down the hall and out of the brewery’s side door before anyone can even see I was here.
Roman:Sunshine, what do you want from us?
Me:Nothing, Rome. Apparently I was the only one in this.
Roman:Please don’t let us end like this.
Me:I didn’t end it, Rome. You did. You don’t want to face my brothers, and I mean less to you than they do.
His texts keep coming but I keep ignoring them. I should have known this is how it would end. Childhood crushes never end in love.
No. It would seem I was just a little bit of fun for Roman, and when push came to shove he didn’t want to risk his friendship, but it was all too easy to throw me to the side. All too easy to forget me and the false promises he made in hushed whispers in the dark. Too bad I can’t get my heart on board with the rejection.
“Fuck.” I hit my thumb with the hammer again. My mind is solidly on Emma and it’s drawing my attention away from what I’m supposed to be doing, and that is finishing this damn float for the Memorial Day Parade.
My phone buzzes in my pocket so I pull it out to make sure there aren’t any problems at the brewery. I had to leave Jasmine in charge so I could get this done. I might have some control issues and not want to let go of management to someone else.
Unknown:Is this Roman Thomas? Do you know Blair Ryan?
The amount of jilted husbands or boyfriend texts I get from the one night stand tourists is unreal. I lock my phone and slide it back in my pocket, making a mental note to remind my staff tonot give out my personal cell if I’m not there. I thought we were over this and the rule was clear.
Especially because the only woman I’ve been with in almost a year is the woman I’m not supposed to be thinking about. After she couldn’t answer me about where she wanted this to go, I had to let her go. I was falling for her, hell, who am I kidding? I fell fucking hard and I can’t be crushed when she doesn’t want anything we talked about. And I risk losing the family I’ve come to love as my own, as well as my best friend.
“Hey, man!” I turn to see Hunter coming up to me.
“Hey, you’re not supposed to be here! You’re not supposed to be cheating and looking at my design.” Hunter and I have a bet every year to see who wins the most money at the parade. I lost last year but only because Hunter owns a construction business and has a whole crew of builders at his disposal. I have me and Clark.
“Relax. I already know I’m going to win. I have a different proposition today.” He smirks, and I never like that smirk.
That smirk usually ends with us getting into some shit, and once or twice it ended with us in the back of a cop car in high school. Nathan Keaton was always worse than the cops, and they learned pretty quickly that we didn’t give a shit about being hauled in, but if they threatened to call Nathan at two in the morning, we practically cried begging them to just throw us in the drunk tank.
I narrow my eyes, “Whatever it is, no.”
