“Hi. Hello,” he says to me without any guile whatsoever, raking a hand through his smooth hair to undo all that hard work. Goddamn it, it’s even sexier disheveled.
This isn’t fair.
Wesley saunters closer, clueless to the danger we’re both in. I gaze back at him from the red velvet couch with narrowed eyes. “Hello.”
“How’s it going? Are you, uh...” He pivots to glance at theTV, picking at a stack of Violet’s books on the shelf. “Watching Netflix?” He straightens the books’ spines.Let Love Find You. How to Forget a Duke. The Incurable Matchmaker.
“Yes,” I reply guardedly.
He nods, distracted, and toys with a fake sunflower I’ve jammed into a crack in the wall. Fake flowers are a personal affront to him. “I’ll grow you some real ones, if you like.”
This is where I must ruin myself. Whatever it was that Wesley saw in me this afternoon that provoked him to put the car in park and ravish my mouth cannot be permitted to stay here between us. Goodbye, deepest connection I’ve ever had. Goodbye, adorable bear who cleans off my glasses with his shirt and ties my shoelaces. I’ll never forget you. “I like plastic flowers better than real ones.”
He should hiss and make the sign of the cross, but he doesn’t. “Monster,” Wesley replies affectionately, twirling the stiff petals. Then he puts it back. “There are a few silk flowers upstairs. I’ll bring them down for you.”
Oh, for thelove. I can’t even scare a man off correctly! Maybe it’s the romper. It shows too much cleavage.
He’s close enough that I’m now breathing through my mouth so that I can’t be broken down further by his delicious fragrance, but it’s no use. The buttons on his cardigan are miniature wooden elephants. We are approaching fatal levels of dreamy.Mayday! Mayday!In a small corner of my mind, I jump out of a moving vehicle.
“That’s...” My mouth is dry. I don’t trust myself beyond an “Mm.”
“You want some company? We’ve still got that last wish left to honor, if you’re game.”
Damn, he’s right. We’re three down on Violet’s dying wishes, with one more to go.Wish 4. Movie night with a friend is sacred law, don’t forget. Wesley, I’d love for you to make my favorite cinnamon-sugar donuts for the occasion.
“You want to watch a movie and make donuts? With me?”Please say yes, I mentally beg.But also you have to say no.
He shrugs. “Pretty much have to, don’t we? The thousand-year curse and all that.”
An interesting development from the man who, only last month, told me that Great-Aunt Violet’s wishes weren’t serious and behaved as though he was intent on ignoring them all.
I’m contemplating how to phrase that I need a rain check on this activity when Wesley sighs. “It was the kiss, wasn’t it,” he says defeatedly.
“What?” I know exactlywhat, but I’m stalling for time.
“The kiss. You didn’t like it. Or you don’t like it anymore. You’ve given it some thought and wish you hadn’t.”
“Are you kidding? I’ve thought about nothing else and wish we were kissingstill.” It’s out of my mouth before I can swallow it and boil the truth in acid.
Wesley’s expression transforms, glowing brighter, sharper. He steps forward. Dangerous, dangerous.
And I am weak. My spine was manufactured by Charmin. I want to be commanding, stern, intimidating, but I am raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. My resolve is dandelion fluff. When he looks at melikethat, my inner vocabulary bursts apart like a piñata of candy conversation hearts. What was all that I was saying before about Maybell Parrishes being the last bulwark against zombies in the apocalypse? What a bald-faced lie. I’d be the first to bow submissively and declare my zombie allegiance.
“Is that so?” he asks with lethal softness.
I stare at him withOh noeyes, hoping he’ll become grotesque if I stare long enough, but the worst thing possible has happened: he’s wandered into a pool of golden light under a wall sconce and looks more like an archangel than ever.
“Yes,” I admit, swallowing. “That is so, but it would be a bad idea. I think... I think spending time together right now is a bad idea.”
He stops inches away, hands in pockets. His chin lowers, dark gaze boring holes through mine. He drops a quiet but severe word like a pin, echoing in the stillness.
“Why.”
I fight the impulse to cover my face. If I can’t see him, maybe I’ll be strong. Well, if I can’t see him and can’t smell him. Or hear him. I need a sensory-deprivation helmet.
Finally, I admit, “Because I’m attracted to you.” It comes out in a whoosh.
“That’s—ah—well.” He revolves in a circle, examining the ceiling. “That’s good? Yes. That’s very good.” Ohheavens, he is blushing fiercely. “Because I am also.” He clears his throat. “I am also... I am attracted toyou.” He takes his hands out of his pockets, blinks at his palms, and slides them back into his pockets again. He still cannot look at me.
