“Sorry, what?”
He nods toward my shaking leg. “Something bothering you?”
Desperate to read your brother’s response to my sext. No big deal.
“Just hungry,” I lie as we drive into the Indian restaurant parking lot.
Spencer turns toward me after parking the car. “Nothing to do with my brother?”
“Why do you think that?”
“I might have come into the gym early the other morning and saw you two…” He raises his eyebrows, making it clear he isn’t talking about us exercising.
“Oh, my God.” I drop my face into my hands. “I think I might die.”
He huffs out a laugh. “If it helps, I looked away quickly.”
“Nope, still wanna die. I might walk into traffic while you’re picking up our food.”
His hands land on mine, pulling them down from my face. He stares at me with such sincerity and warmth. I would skate and skate and skate until my feet bled for him, for this partnership. “It’s not that serious. And we can spend a night apart, Isla. It’s fine.”
“No, this is too important,” I reply immediately. Spencer isn’t like my last partner; he wouldn’t say this to test me, but that insecurevoice won’t shut up. I don’t want our competition to go sideways and have the blame placed on my shoulders. I don’t want to lose him because I took my eyes off the goal.
I narrow my eyes. “Did Wes say something to you?”
“He’s been on edge any time I mentioned something we did together.” A smile slowly crawls across Spencer’s face. “Pretty obvious why that is.”
“But you knew…from the whistling.”
“That could’ve been a one-time thing. It’s not, is it?”
I shake my head and whisper, “No.”
“And remember what I said. Be careful with him, Isla.”
Spencer climbs out of the car and heads into the restaurant, leaving me alone to mull over his words. He warned me that Wes doesn’t do casual. He begged me not to break Wes’s heart.
But Spencer said those words before he knew me, when he thought I had zero interest in a relationship following my divorce. Now, I don’t know what I want. Wes Davidson has complicated everything for me.
I should walk away before he’s the one who destroys my heart, barely held together by dried-out glue. Instead, I open my phone to read his message. My elite level of discipline fails in the face of this man.
Wes:Fuck Isla. I’m with my lawyer.
I can hear his groan in his typed answer.
Me:Your lawyer?
Wes:Power of attorney stuff for my dad. I’ll tell you later.
Wes:But now I can’t think straight. Or stand up.
Me:Shit, sorry. I missed our morning *routine*.
Wes:That’s all I’m good for, huh? Getting you off?
Me:You said I could use you…..
Me:; )
