Page 44 of I Saw Her First

His eyes dance as they move across my face. For a second I’m reminded of the man in the meadow, the man who picked me up and twirled me through the air, jubilant that I’d shot a single photograph. I’d wondered where he’d gone.

Then he schools his expression and pushes to his feet, leaving his coffee half-full. “I… I have to run. Just stop by, okay? I’ll see you at seven?”

My breath trickles out. “Yeah, I’ll… Yeah. Okay.”

And with that, he bolts from the coffee shop, leaving me to get through an agonizingly long day.

Weston answersthe front door on the first knock. He’s so prompt that part of me wonders if he was hovering inside the entry hall, waiting.

“Hey.” His face warms with a smile when he sees me. “You came.”

I huff an awkward laugh. “Well, yeah.”

Weston’s gaze travels from my face to my feet, drinking me in. My shift finished at three, so I went home and changed into my favorite outfit; a black sundress with a white and yellow daisy print. It has cute little sleeves that swish over my upper arms as I move, a low scoop neck, and a ruffle hemline that cuts mid-thigh. Am I overdressed for “stopping by” at Weston’s? Probably, but I wanted to wear something that made me feel good. Made me feel sexy.

Even if I know it’s hopeless.

Wes drags his gaze from me, saying nothing. As I step into the foyer, I notice what he’s wearing. It’s Jesse’s Yankees hoodie. Too hot for a New York summer, but with Wes’s air conditioning it’s actually a little cool in here. The feeling is blissful after being out in the city heat.

I stare at the hoodie, my gut churning. I’d assumed Jess wouldn’t be here, but now that I’m back inside the house—now that I’m looking at that sweatshirt—I don’t know why I’d made that assumption.

Wes closes the door behind me, catching my expression. “He’s not here,” he says gently. “He moved out before I got back from the beach.”

I feel a cool wash of relief.Thank God. But as I take in the sad half-tilt to Weston’s mouth, I realize he must be gutted. I know how much it meant to him that Jess was back home, even temporarily, and how hard he was trying to repair things between them.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, and Wes shakes his head firmly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” A grim chuckle slides from him. “Honestly, I think it was doomed from the start.”

I cringe, thinking of my own relationship with Jess. Given how I feel about his father—how I’ve always felt—I could say the same about us.

“Well…” I laugh humorlessly, trying to lighten the mood. “At least he left you his sweatshirt.”

An amused spark flickers in Weston’s eyes. “It’s not his sweatshirt.”

I falter. “What? He wore it all the time.”

“He did.”

I open and close my mouth, my gaze straying to the hoodie again. I’m so used to seeing it on Jesse’s lean, athletic frame, and it looks different on Wes. Or rather, it makeshimlook different. The soft, faded navy-blue fabric contrasts with the rugged silver on his jaw, the olive of his complexion. And it makes the blue of his eyes even more intense.

I think of the day I came to the house when it was pouring with rain, and he gave me that sweatshirt. The way he looked at me wearing it. This entire time it was his.

I swallow, smoothing my hands over my dress. If I do that, I won’t be tempted to reach out and stroke the fabric of his sweatshirt, because I know how soft it is, and I want to feel it on him. Actually, I want to peel itoffhim, and—

Stop.

I clear my throat. “There was something you wanted to show me?”

“Yes.” A grin tugs at his mouth. “Follow me.”

He leads me to a set of stairs that go down to the basement, and I follow, intrigued. I’ve never been down here, and I’m surprised to find a huge entertainment room with a plush sectional sofa and projector facing a huge screen and stereo system. Beyond, a wall of glass doors opens onto the carefully manicured backyard.

But Wes doesn’t seem interested in any of that. Instead, he leads me across the room to a door, to what I assume is a closet, or maybe a small bathroom.

He pauses at the door, glancing back at me. His face is a mask of boyish excitement, and I tilt my head, wondering what the hell is going on. I can’t help but laugh as I follow him into the cramped space. It’s a bathroom, yes, but—

My smile falls away as Wes closes the door. We’re standing in pitch darkness, and my heartbeat falters. What’s going on? Then I hear a click, and a soft red glow falls over the tiny room. I blink as my eyes adjust to the dim light, and a familiar feeling settles over me.

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