“Neither one of us is looking for anything heavy,” she said. “I mean, you’ve got more than enough on your plate, with Maddie. Once she’s home…”
Pete nodded, but he wasn’t quite sure what she was saying.
“I mean, talk about complications,” Shayla continued. “Right? I know you’re going to need to focus on her, and that’s going to take up a lot of your time, and that’s okay.”
Time management was something he was very good at. But herI know you’re busymessage combined withnot realandnot looking for anything heavymeant that management of time was secondary to the main issue.
“I just wanted you to know that we’re on the same page,” she continued. “We’re having fun—I mean, you know, when we’re togethertranscendently—and that’s good. It’s nice, it’s light, it’s easy. It’s right now, you know? No expectations, no pressure.”
He didn’t think he was letting anything show on his face—disappointment or dismay or whatever the hell this sinking feeling was that he was experiencing—but she took it upon herself to further expound.
“I’m saying that it’s okay with me if we, um, label this thing—this ridiculous heat between us—asfriends with benefits. God, that’s such a terrible, trite expression, but it kind of…fits. Right?”
And there it was, fully blunt and awkward.
She smiled and tried to make a joke. “Although,friends with transcendental benefitsdoes sound alittlebetter….”
“Is that whatyouwant?” he asked, because yeah he’d only met her a few days ago, but that just did not fit with what he knew—thought he knew—about her. No, fuck that. He knew. She was the most WYSIWYG—what-you-see-is-what-you-get—woman he’d ever met in his entire life. And this didnotcompute.
But she was already nodding emphatically. “Yes. Like I said, I’m on the same page.”
So opposed to being potential soul mates…“You wanna be fuck buddies,” he said, because he had to confirm it.
Shayla winced. “That might be myleastfavorite name for it,” she admitted.
“Transcendental sex buddies.”
She laughed a little too loudly. “Muchbetter.”
Why didn’t he believe her?
But then, as he replayed this conversation, he knew.It’s nice, it’s light, it’s easy. It’s right now…And there it was.
Right now.
It wasn’t her. It was him. He was herMr. Right Now. She’d talked about this concept more than once in the many online interviews that he’d read. The romance novels that Shay wrote were focused on her characters finding their Mr. or Ms. Right. But along the way, as she wrote her ongoing series of connected books, her characters sometimes shared an interlude with aMr. Right Now. Imperfect to the point of being unacceptable—at least in terms of finding lasting happiness—and sometimes destined to be killed off, Mr. Right Now provided a sexual escape valve and/or the fodder for a rebound relationship.
When exactly had Shayla split with her ex? Pete thought it had been years, but maybe that made him even more of a Right Now, depending on how long it had been since…
“Can I ask you something,” he said, “that’s also potentially awkward?”
“Uh-oh,” Shay said. “Um, yes…?”
He went for it. “Am I the first? Since…” What was her ex-husband’s name? “Carter?”
Shayla looked surprised and then embarrassed. She laughed as she made a face. “Yeah. Is it obvious?”
“No,” he said. “I was just curious.”
And there it was. All along, she’d been dead serious about not wanting to be more than friends with him, but then that earthquake had happened, and sheer physical attraction had taken control. She liked him, but not enough to want any kind of future with him. And he really couldn’t blame her. Especially since she knew most of the story of how he’d fucked things up with Lisa, and with Maddie, too.
Hey look, here’s a man whoreallysucks at relationships of all kinds. Maybe if I’m lucky, he’ll be my boyfriend.
Shayla was right to keep her distance and to establish clear boundaries like this, right up front. In fact, Pete respected her—and liked her—even more for it.
The heroine’s relationship with a Mr. Right Now, Shayla had explained in one of those interviews, also provided her with a learning experience. She’d laughed and added, “andpages and pages of molten-hot sex.”
So okay. All right. He, too, could keep this thing light and easy. He’d done it plenty of times before in the years post-Lisa.
