Page 84 of From West, With Regret

A shiver slinks down the back of my neck, and my legs tingle, knowing once he’d found me in bed, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself and would have found a million reasons to keep me in bed versus pulling me out of it.

Stepping farther into the room, I stop several feet from the long bar stretching across the space.

I laugh under my breath. “I came as fast as I could.”

“Hmm.” He picks up a long thick, wooden device. “Are you coming without me, Dimples? Tell me you’re at least thinking about me when you do.”

I jerk my chin back. “Dimples?”

His face falls, and the air gets caught in my throat.

My mind reels, and a piece of a memory clicks in my brain. I’ve heard that name before.

I think.

I get the same feeling I did at Club Verona months ago. When he was calling after me.

I could have sworn I’d heard him use that name before, but I wasn’t certain with the music flooding my ears.

But this time, there’s no music. Just West’s voice.

I tilt my head, frowning in thought. “Have you called me that before? Dimples?”

His face twitches, and he clears his throat. “No, I don’t think so.”

I stare at him, swearing I’ve heard it echoing in my mind.

“I don’t know why I said it just now.”He waves me off, his attention falling back to his drink. He sticks a long, thick stick into the glass, pressing the end of it into the mint.

“It’s okay,” I breathe out, the nickname forcing the twist in my chest to soften. “I like it.”

“You do?” He abruptly stops and looks back up, but I can’t miss the twinge of sadness in his eyes. Or regret? Or fear, maybe? I can’t place it.

“Yeah. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

The memory of the same dream I’ve had several times comes to me. A young West sitting at the kitchen table, his finger pressed to my cheek, laughter filtering through the air.

Dimples.

“Well…” His eyes darken. “I guess it just spilled out because I was thinking about how these dimples do something to me.”

I crack a smile. “Like what?”

“They make my heart melt,” he says, staring directly at me. “Among other things.”

I giggle, when my phone starts to vibrate in my pocket. I pull it out, just in case it’s my sister or one of the girls. When I read the name across the screen, I can’t help shoving it back into my pocket with a groan.

“Who is it?” West asks, concerned.

“No one.” I sigh, not wanting to waste the moment we just shared. “Just this unknown number that keeps calling me. Probably a scam caller.”

“Damn,” West grumbles. “Those are so annoying. They are relentless and leave you a million voicemails, too.”

I tuck my lip under my teeth. This unknown caller has never left me a voicemail, only calling incessantly over the past two months, but I keep that part to myself.

I brush off the change in conversation, wanting to get back to being here with West.

“Now, what were you saying?” I ask him.

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