Page 43 of The Boyfriend Effect (Frisky Business 1)
Maren glances between us, and Rosie gives her a reassuring look.
“I’ve got some cookie dough ready to be baked in the fridge, and I’ll brew us all a hot pot of tea the second we walk in that door.”
Maren nods and lets Rosie guide her to the car.
The whole drive home, I can’t help but feel uneasy. What am I supposed to say to Maren? And how did Rosie see right through me?
I can’t keep my gaze from drifting to the rearview mirror to steal a glance at Maren in the back seat, but she just stares straight out the window, looking anywhere but directly at me, it seems.
When we get back to my place, Rosie makes good on her promise. Within ten minutes, the three of us are sitting in my kitchen, the smell of cookies wafting through the air.
Rosie pours us each a mug of tea, quickly followed by a healthy pour of whiskey. “Can’t hurt,” she says with a wink.
Maren smiles and thanks her, but I can’t help but notice that her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
I down my mug in one gulp. The heat and the whiskey burn down my throat. It’s exactly what I need. Inside me is all kinds of turmoil. Half of me wants to fix things between Maren and me, and the other half vows to remain strong.
Rosie pulls the cookies from the oven. As she arranges them on a plate, she instructs me to get Maren something dry to wear. I go to my closet and grab a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, and Maren takes them into the bathroom to change.
Rosie pours me another mugful of tea, and I add in more whiskey this time. She arches a thin, wispy brow at me, but says nothing. My stomach hasn’t stopped churning all night, and I’m hoping a little more booze will help drown out some of the noise.
Maren returns, and my heart drops out of my chest. It’s not fair. She can’t look this beautiful in my T-shirt and sweats. Especially not after I just told her we can’t be together anymore.
“It’s getting late,” Rosie says, glancing between us, “or at least, it’s late for me. I’ll leave you young folks alone. Good night, you two. Don’t eat all the cookies.” She kisses my forehead and pats Maren on the shoulder before slipping into her room and closing the door.
Silence falls between us. The whiskey’s made me a little tipsy, and I can tell Maren is too. Her cheeks are flushed, and when she looks at me, her lids are heavy over her hazel eyes.
“Please, dove, can we talk? I have a lot I need to say to you.” My voice is even, but on the inside, I’m wavering. It hurts my heart to see her like this.
“Okay,” she says in a small voice, her arms crossed over her chest. “I’m listening.”
I touch her shoulder to guide her to the couch. It’s an innocent gesture, but the second we touch, I feel a jolt of something. It’s bittersweet, and I inhale and try to gather myself as Maren takes a seat.
I sit down beside her and slowly release the breath. She watches me, quiet.
“I’ve never felt about you the way I should have,” I say slowly, meeting her eyes. “My feelings were . . . far from brotherly. There was always an attraction there, one that I fought hard to turn off. But I never should have acted on it. I know that now. I was only trying to protect you.”
“From what?” She blinks.
“Me.”
Maren shakes her head ever so slightly. “I’m a big girl, Hayes. I don’t need protecting.”
She’s right, I realize. She’s an adult. We both are. We can make our own decisions.
Suddenly, the tension that’s been building between us all night snaps. Everything else fades away, and it’s like we’re back at the lake house. All that matters is the two of us. And there’s too much room between us.
I lean closer and she falls into my arms, her hands grasping at my chest as our mouths collide, all heat and desperation. This is what I’ve wanted from the moment I spotted her on that beach. This is what I’ve wanted from the moment I let her go.
I guide her into my lap and lose myself in the moment. My hands in her hair, her hands on my chest, our bodies intertwining. Everything is exactly as it should be, as it always should have been.
And then it hits me.
Rosie.
“Not here, dove.”
I scoop Maren up in my arms, and she squeals and buries her face in my neck. That’s the kind of sound I want to hear more often. I’ve got a few ideas about that. I carry her into my room, making sure to close the door gently behind us, and lay her down on the bed.
