Page 76 of The Mistakes I've Made
But it wasn’t mine, now, was it? It was my father’s. Just like everything in my life.
Stepping out of the borrowed car that I’d been gifted until morning, I decided this was as good of a place as any to stay for the night. I really didn’t want to return to the inn less than an hour after I’d left. Molly would find out soon enough about my fallout with Taylor, I was sure.
Until then, I really could use these precious hours to wallow.
A crack of thunder above my head made me jump, and I hurried toward the entrance.
“Leilani!”
It didn’t take a genius to guess who that was. I turned around and saw Taylor jogging up to me from the parking lot.
“Whose car is that?” he asked, his breath heavy as he reached me.
“Did you come all this way to ask me that?”
“No, of course not.”
My less than chipper greeting must have thrown him, but I wasn’t budging. I just stood and waited for him to explain his presence.
The blank stare should have been familiar. He’d perfected it not fifteen minutes earlier.
I could tell he was about to say something. He reached out for me, and his lips parted, but just as the words were forming, the sky opened, and it began to rain.
Hard.
So, I made a run for it.
Grabbing my keys, thankful I’d finally mastered the tricky lock, I got the front door unlocked as the rain fell around me and pushed my way inside. Dropping my soaking wet purse on the ground, I pulled off my coat and let it fall into a heap on the floor as well.
I might have huffed a bit in the process.
“You’re cute when you’re mad.”
I might have also forgotten to shut the door.
Turning, I saw an equally soaked Taylor standing just inside the entryway. Thanks to the wet shirt currently sticking to his body, I could see each defined muscle of his stomach like there was nothing there.
It was like my own personal wet T-shirt contest, and Taylor was my obvious winner.
Focus, Lani.
Remember knocking at his door? Remember Sierra?
“I’m not mad,” I said, my chin held firm as my arms folded across my own soggy T-shirt.
The movement didn’t go unnoticed by him, and I saw a definite grin pass across his face.
“Okay. Then, you’re cute when you’re jealous,” he said, amending his previous statement, which only made my mouth gape open.
“I am not jealous!” I exclaimed.
“No?” He took a couple of steps forward.
“No,” I answered. “I don’t care what you do with your free time. Or whom you do it with.”
His grin widened. “Now, that sounds a bit like jealousy to me.”
A couple more steps were taken in my direction. I took several back.
