Page 46 of Told You So
“You don’t have to do that—”
“It’s gas and gets the living room warm in seconds. Trust me, you want the fireplace on.” I pull off one boot and tuck it out of the way by the door.
Bethany doesn’t argue. Instead, she sets her bags on the couch and checks her phone. It’s a habit of hers, I’ve noticed. She keeps it on her at all times and looks at it regularly. I have a feeling Jesse has something to do with that.
“So...” She drops her phone on to the couch cushion. “Your neighbor’s dating Mac, huh? It makes sense, I’ve seen them together at Lick’s.”
“Yep.” I pull off my other boot then walk to the kitchen. “They’ve been dating since Christmas. He works at Cal’s, that’s how they all met.”
“Is that complicated—them working together and him being your neighbor?”
“Not anymore.” I set my thermos on the counter, glad Mac and Colton figured their shit out. It was getting awkward there for a minute. “You can set up shop at the table.” I nod to my small-ass dining room and set my bag in the chair.
“Great. Do you want me to order a pizza or something? I’m getting a little hungry.”
“Actually, that sounds mouthwatering right now.”
She smiles and picks up her phone. “I can’t believe you named her doll Pickles,” she mutters, and I like the easiness and amusement in her voice, and that I put it there. Then, her eyes shift to me with a measure of concern. “You don’t by chance put pickles on yourpizza, do you?”
I bark out a laugh. “No, I don’t, but now that you mention it, I’m not sure why. Maybe I should try it.”
“Maybe we should get two pizzas.”
“I’m kidding. If you can live with pepperoni and olives, we’ll be golden.”
The corner of her mouth lifts. “That’s what I usually get—sometimes with mushrooms for Jesse.”
“Cool,” I say, though it’s more than cool, it’s perfect. She rubs the backs of her sweater-clad arms, then types into her phone. “It should warm up quickly. But here’s a blanket in the meantime.” I grab the throw draped over the other end of the sectional and walk it over to her until I’m so close, her perfume fills my nostrils, like I’ve stepped into a candy shop.
“Thank you.” Her gaze shifts to me, and she takes the blanket. Her gray eyes are so soft and captivating in the shadows of the room, I feel the rumble of something more dangerous than flirting awaken inside me.
“Uh, yeah, you order the pizza,” I say, turning for my room. “I’m going to jump in the shower.”
Twenty-Three
Bethany
My neck aches, and I cringe as I stir awake. Though I’m sitting upright, I’m in a cocoon of warmth and in a semiconscious haze that tries to pull me back to sleep. But my neck...
When my eyes finally open, a half-eaten pizza blurs into focus on the coffee table, project notes, blue prints, and photos strewn around it. The fire in the hearth is still blazing, lighting the room, and I realize I fell asleep. I half expect to find Nick’s left me on the couch and gone to bed, but I register his steady breathing and find he’s asleep beside me.
I glance around the room as everything in my mind’s eye sharpens. I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep, but when I see the microwave clock reads nine-forty, I figure I’m an hour away from dirty looks and condemnation from my parents, when I get home.
My eyes find Nick again on their own accord, and a claw of panic rakes over me. My instinct is to sneak away before he wakes up and things get awkward, but the subliminal part of me—the part that feels curiosity and desire—keeps me just as I am, only inches away, admiring him despite myself.
You’re bordering on dangerous,I tell myself. But I can’t look away. Nick’s face is almost bronze in the low light of the room, and my gaze traces the scruff shadowing the outline of his jaw, appreciating the masculinity of it. I’ve only ever seen him freshly shaven, and my fingertips are itching to feel the roughness of his skin. I imagine how his perfect lips draw up into a contagious smile—it’s so Nick, so carefree, and it intimidates me in ways I’ve never understood.
Daring to close my eyes, I lean in and inhale the scent of wood and male skin. I know now without a doubt that I’m neck-deep in an impossible situation. Nick and I are oxygen to a flame, combustible and all-consuming. Whether it’s hatred or desire, the end result would be the same. He would ruin me, and I’m barely holding on as it is.
“That tickles.” He rasps the words, and my heart gallops. Lazily, he peels one eye open.
I’m too close, too obvious. I’ve been busted.“I was checking to see if you’re awake,” I whisper, but only because I can barely find my voice.
Nick peels his other eye open, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s a self-satisfied gleam in them. He tugs slightly on my hair, and when I look down between us, he’s playing with the ends that brush against his bare arm.
“Sorry,” I breathe, and when I meet his gaze again, it’s fixed on me, soft but focused. Searching and leaving me feeling exposed.
Just as I’m about to lean away and put some distance between us, he presses his mouth to mine, a bit roughly, as if impulse compelled him to, but I don’t move.
