Page 68 of One Week Wingman

“Fine idea. Let’s go.” Seb steers me away.

We makethe short drive back to the house before my parents, and I head straight up to my room, in no mood for any more lectures tonight. “I can’t believe her,” I say, flopping down on the bed. “Except, I can, because she’s been talking like this for years.”

“She’s worried,” Seb offers charitably, stripping off his coat. “She wants the best for your future.”

“This isn’t about my future, this is about being ashamed of her loser daughter,” I comment, remembering what Courtney was saying in the bathroom. “I make more money in tips than I would as a junior account whatever at some double-barreled corporate office, but that isn’t enough for her? She needs me to be the overachiever, with some fancy career she can brag about at Book Club on a Friday night.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Seb says, frowning.

I exhale. “It sure feels true. I just wish it didn’t have to this way.”

That following my instincts about my life didn’t make me a disappointment to her. But those years with my father flipped some kind of switch in her, making her terrified of any future that doesn’t come with a dressy pantsuit and a 401k.

“If she knew I was playing music too, not just bartending…” I imagine the fireworks that would come. “You know she got rid of his guitar collection? He’d been teaching me to play, before the accident. Then I came home one day in eighth grade, and they were gone. She donated them to the Salvation Army, and said she’d signed me up for math camp instead. Like even learning the finger positions for “Let it Be” would set me on the path to ruin.”

“Is that why you won’t go to that audition?” Sebastian asks from across the room.

I wince. “I thought we weren’t talking about that.”

His chuckle is warm and rich. “OK, OK.”

There’s a long silence, and I lift my head. Sebastian is leaning against the dresser, watching me. He’s shed his coat and outdoor gear and is standing there in jeans and that soft cashmere sweater of his, the one I want to run my hands all over.

Or maybe that’s just his body.

I breathe in. “What’s that look for?” I ask, noticing the glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Nothing.” He smiles.

“Not nothing,” I sit up, studying him. “I’ve gotten pretty good at reading your looks… And that one means trouble.”

Sebastian’s lips quirk. “Well… I was just thinking…”

“Already dangerous,” I note.

He grins wider. “We’re alone. In your room. With just one bed.”

My pulse kicks. It’s the first time we’ve been back here since giving in to the incredible chemistry between us. And something tells me, Sebastian won’t be sleeping on the floor tonight.

Just like that, the rest of the evening melts away. I can’t help smiling as Sebastian strolls over to the bed.

“My parents—” I start.

“Are all the way down the hall.” He leans over and kisses me, and God, it’s delicious. I slide my hands in his hair, and savor the taste of him, the thick glide of his tongue against mine. “Of course, you’d have to be very, very quiet,” he murmurs, that glint turning sexy.

“For what?” I ask, breathless.

“Forthis.”

He lowers his head and slides his hands lower. And I swear, my pillows have bite marks by morning.

17

SEBASTIAN

Twin beds aren’t madefor the kind of things we did last night.

When I wake, my neck is aching and my back is stiff, but I feel on top of the world. Roxy is curled up against me, looking tantalizingly innocent for a woman that nearly got us both arrested for her wanton ways in the woods last night.

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