Page 35 of Mess With Me
She lifted her heart necklace from under her shirt. “My commitment necklace. I married myself on Friday with all of my friends. They got married too.”
“Huh.”
Normally she would find that kind of remark offensive, a noncommittal “huh” in the face of such significance, but now she was a new woman, accepting of her flaws and those of others. Like men who couldn’t string together enough words for an adequate response to important news.
She tucked her necklace back under her shirt and patted it. They reached the bottom of the stairs and he gestured toward his Jeep. Then he held the passenger door open for her. She climbed in, already used to him doing the gentleman thing. She was sure it was Mr. Campbell’s influence. All the Campbell men had been raised with excellent gentleman manners and Ethan had grown up close to them.
She waited for him to close the door. Instead he just stared at her, his brows crinkling together like he was thinking hard.
“So even Claire and Charlotte got married?” he asked. Those two were already married to their husbands.
She laughed. “Yes. It’s not a legally binding ceremony. It’s a commitment to self, to love, honor, and cherish. To accept my flaws, to be kind to myself. We even went on a honeymoon.”
He smirked.
She wagged her finger at him. “I know what you’re thinking with that smirk, but it was actually a beautiful thing. We all stayed in Claire’s penthouse suite and spent the whole day Saturday being pampered at the hotel spa. I feel like a new woman.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth. He met her eyes, his expression unreadable. “Congratulations to you and yourself. Top down or up?”
“Thank you! It’s good up.”
He shut the door and got in the driver’s side. She was suddenly hyperaware of him in the close confines of the Jeep. His woodsy male scent, his large hand on the gear shift, his strong profile, his utter composure. There was a stillness on the surface of him that made her want to find out what was underneath. Did he ever let go? Did he have moments of excitement?
And why did it matter?
She gave herself a mental head shake.
He pulled out of the lot. “Pizza okay?”
“Sure.” She stared out the window, barely seeing the passing scenery—trees in a blur of fall colors—while her thoughts jumped all over the place. Sexy Ethan. Her spectacular relationship face-plants. The painful aftermath. The sologamy ceremony. Exactly how long did she need to commit to herself before letting a man into her life? Six months? A year?
Could she take the edge off this lust with a friends-with-benefits situation? It didn’t have to be a big thing, right? It wouldn’t be jumping in with both feet if she just tiptoed into this one small part of being with a guy.
“I’m glad you could make it today,” he said gruffly.
She turned to him and worked hard to sound normal—not like a sex-addled woman on the verge. “Me too. This fitness stuff is really starting to work for me. Like I actually look forward to it and feel better afterward.”
“That’s kind of the point.”
“Okay, Mr. Muscles.”
He flashed a rare big smile. Her breath caught, her heart hammering. Oh, this was bad, bad, bad. He had way too big an effect on her.
“I thought I was Mr. Tough Guy,” he said.
She tore her gaze away. “You’re both.”
His voice was gentle. “Is that good?”
“Only you can answer that.” Because she was rapidly melting into a puddle of lust.
He was quiet.
“Did you bring extra weight in your backpack again?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Mr. Muscles Tough Guy for sure.”
