“There is something going on between us,” I state.
I watch as her whole body jerks and her eyes widen.
“What?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I would have still checked on you last night when I found out you were sick if I wasn’t interested . . . but I wouldn’t have sat with you through a movie, watched you sleep through another, carried you to bed, and fought myself to keep from kissing you.”
“I . . . You . . . I . . . We . . .” She finally snaps her mouth closed, and her eyes focus on my growing smile.
“Yep, that about sums it up,” I agree.
She rolls her lips together; then they lift at the corners.
Sitting back, I watch her smile slowly slide away. Her eyes leave mine, and she speaks. “I don’t know if I’m ready for anything serious, Lucas.”
“I’m not asking you to marry me,” I say. Her eyes meet mine once more. “I’m just asking to spend some time getting to know you. And to have you get to know me—and my daughter, if it comes to that. We don’t have to rush into anything, but you can’t stand there and tell me you aren’t interested in me. Or not at least a little bit curious about where this could go.”
“You’re really straightforward.”
“Not normally, but I can tell that’s what you need from me.”
“What does that mean?”
“I knew before you told me what a dick your ex was that you had been hurt. I can tell that you need me to be up-front with you about what I want, or what I’m asking of you.”
I watch her swallow. “Why?”
“Why?”
“Yes. Why are you interested in me?”
“Because you’re beautiful, sweet, and make me laugh. Because you stepped up to help me out without question. Because I like you. I like spending time with you, and I want to do that more.”
“I come with a lot of baggage.”
“Babe, my own bags are heavy as fuck. You aren’t the only one with shit to carry,” I tell her.
Her expression softens in understanding.
“I like you, too,” she says.
I reach out and pull her closer, to stand between my thighs.
“That’s a good place to start. So what do you say? Are you willing to get to know me?”
“Yes.” Her eyes stay locked on mine.
“Good.” My eyes drop to her mouth when she sways toward me.
I start to slide my hand around her hip to pull her even closer, but end up laughing when there’s a simultaneous knock at the door.
Her head falls back in frustration.
I point out the obvious. “I think your friend’s here.”
She rolls her eyes at me before she lets me go and moves to the front door. She opens it without looking through the peephole. Again. “You know . . .”
She starts; then I watch her back straighten and her shoulders fill with tension. I can’t see who’s at the door, but I can tell by her reaction that it’s not who she expected it to be. “Tom.”
Tom? Is he her ex? The guy who cheated on her and got another woman pregnant while she was married to him?
“What are you doing here?”
“Mom told me you weren’t feeling great. I wanted to come make sure you were okay,” a man’s voice answers.
I get up and move toward the door—and into view. My eyes scan the guy. He looks like money. He’s almost as tall as me. Thin, wearing an expensive tailored suit, shiny shoes, and a glinting gold watch. He looks surprised when he sees me.
“Who is he?”
“You came all the way from Boston to check on me?” Courtney asks, ignoring Tom’s question. “Seriously? You never even called home to check on me if I was sick when we were still living together.”
“Who is he?” Tom repeats.
Courtney steps slightly to the side and looks at me over her shoulder.
“He’s—”
“Her boyfriend,” I state, not giving a fuck that I just told her that we would take this slow.
No way is Tom going to just show up and think that he still has a shot with her.
“Boyfriend? You’re dating?” Tom asks, looking wounded.
“This is not happening, Tom. Go home to your girlfriend—and your child.” She starts to shut the door.
“I’m not with Stephanie anymore.” He places his hand against the door. “I couldn’t be with her when I’m still in love with you.”
Her body gets tighter. Seeing her in distress, I move in closer and press myself against her back, rest my hand on her hip.
“I want another shot. I want to fix this. I want to fix us.”
“No.” She attempts to shut the door again, but he doesn’t move his hand to let her.
“Is this because of him?” he asks, jerking his chin in my direction.
“No. It’s because you are a lying, cheating dick. Now leave.”
“What’s going on here?” a petite brunette asks, pushing her way into the apartment between Tom and Courtney.
“It’s none of your concern,” Tom states. His eyes move back to Courtney. “I’m not leaving until we talk.” His eyes slice to the woman who just showed up, then to me. “Alone.”
“Sorry, buddy, but I’m not leaving you alone with my woman. Especially when it’s obvious she doesn’t want to be alone with you.”
“Your woman?” His lip curls up in disgust.
“My woman.” I shrug, then pull Courtney back a step. “Like she said—leave.”
“This is . . . This is . . .” He looks at me, then his eyes move to my hand. It’s still on Courtney’s hip. They narrow.
“Over,” I say, pulling Courtney back another step and then moving forward slightly into his space, forcing both women behind me. “If Courtney wants to talk to you, she has your number. Until she calls, you leave her be.” I shut the door in his red face, then sigh when he starts to pound against it on the other side.
“That was awesome,” says the woman who must be Abby. I turn around. “Seriously, you have my approval just for that.”
“Abby . . .” Courtney shakes her head.
“Well, that whole ‘she’s my woman’ thing was hot—and even hotter because it totally pissed off your dickhead ex-husband.”
“I can’t believe that he showed up here,” Courtney whispers, looking at the door Tom has finally stopped pounding on.
“Did you tell his mom you were sick?” Abby questions before frowning.
“I mentioned yesterday that I was feeling a little off when we talked in the morning.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Courtney’s brows pull together over her beautiful eyes.
“Yeah. Why did you tell his mom that?”
“You know why. She’s been like a mom to me. Never in a million years would I have thought that he would use that as an excuse to show up here.”
“You’re tight with his family?” I question.
“I was. I . . . It’s been strained since we got divorced, but I love his mom. We were close, really close.”
My heart hurts once more for her. I don’t know what it was like for her growing up, but I’m wondering if she longs for connection. If she’s looking for love and acceptance and everything else that comes along with having a family.
“You don’t want to lose that,” I say.
She nods, and her eyes start to tear up.
“Don’t cry.”
“I won’t,” she lies.
I wrap my hand gently around her cheek and sweep away a stray tear.
“Would you mind if I took off to track him down and kick his ass?” I half joke.
Her lips twitch into a sad smile.
“Would you get into trouble if you did that?”
“Maybe. Then again, my brother’s a cop in the city. So maybe not.”
“Well then . . .” She moves for the door like she’s going to open it. I laugh, burying my face in the crook of her neck while wrapping my arms around her.
“Um, hello? I’m still here,” Abby says.