Page 71 of Book Boyfriends
“I’m so sorry… God, I wish…” I clamp my mouth shut.
Wishing is what got me into this mess. If only I hadn’t made that wish, none of this would have happened. Davis just would have been another bad date, and I’d still just be “Georgia” to him. OnlythatGeorgia wouldn’t have played with his emotions.She also wouldn’t know the loveliness of being in his arms or the harmony of his laughter.
But this Georgia has responsibilities. Until those are met, I can’t give in to this. I can’t steal my book boyfriends’ happiness to secure my own.
“I don’t want to make you promises that I may not be able to keep,” I murmur.
It wouldn’t be fair to fall into something with Davis without any guarantee of a future. To do what his dad did to him, or Will did to me, make promises that aren’t kept.
“Friends?”
“What?” I arch one brow.
“Just because we can’t be together, doesn’t mean we can’t be friends?” A hopeful expression lights his face.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea…” I bite my lower lip.
“Why not? I like you, and you like me. That’s pretty evident, but if it’s not the right time for more than friends, it’s not the right time. And it may never be, but it doesn’t mean we have to say goodbye to each other. We could be friends.”
“Friends…” I say the word slowly, as if putting on a pair of new shoes. They’re not the right fit, but I still want to wear them because a piece of Davis is better than none at all. “Friends, but of the non-kissing kind.”
“Good idea.” Smirking, he puts out his hand. “Friends.”
I take it. “Friends.”
“Why don’t you stay. Have dinner with us.” A coaxing expression fills his features. “We grabbed food from Café Amore. We got the mushroom risotto.”
“From their GF menu?” My gaze flicks to where my hand remains enfolded in his long fingers.
“Yeah. Nan mentioned you’d be visiting, so I thought… Just in case you wanted to stay, you should have options.”
Oh god, trying to just be friends with this man may be the hardest thing I ever do. But picking up my purse, saying goodbye, and getting on this elevator holds no allure for me. Right now, I want to climb into his arms and forget all my promises to everyone, even the one to him that we could just be friends.
He lets go of my hand and bends to pick up my discarded purse. “Unless you need to get home to Wentworth.” He smiles, his voice a little quiet.
“Jackson is taking him to the park, so he’s good.” I take my purse. “I could stay for a little bit. They do have the best risotto,” I add, as if Café Amore’s food is the only reason I’m staying. Clearly, I’ve learned nothing and am still choosing to sit next to the flames. My only hope is that I’m the only one who gets burned.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SHIFTED HEART
Jeans. Sneakers. Be ready at seven.These are the only instructions Lars gives for tonight’s date, causing me to imagine we’re doing something woodsy. Ijusthad to write a book about a lumberjack werewolf from the Pacific Northwest. Why hadn’t I written a sexy tech genius turned entrepreneur do-gooder who enjoyed sharing mushroom risotto and playing Uno at his grandfather’s hospital bedside on a Thursday night?
That’s who elicits the flip in my stomach as I stand in front of the mirror and brush my dark tresses up into a high ponytail.Because that’s what you do with your friends.You toss and turn all night, your skin still on fire, imagining what it would be like to snuggle close to your friend. Those thoughts do no good for anyone. Friendship is all that can happen with Davis. Even if my witchcraft consultant undoes this mess I’ve created, there’s no guarantee that Davis will still want me. Like he said, it may never be the right time.
I’m not foolish enough to think he’ll just wait around for me. Between now and when I fix this, a million things could happen. He may realize that I’m too much for him. He may meet someone else.
“Hey,” I say as I open the front door.
“Rabbit.” Lars leans his massive frame against the door jam, his gruff timbre low and violet eyes seductive.
At least that’s what I think he’s going for. It comes off more playacting than panty-dropping, causing me to snort.
“That’s not the normal reaction I get,” he mutters, his face twisted into a pout.
“Sorry.” I clear my throat and meet his half-perplexed, half-annoyed gaze with batted eyelashes. “I mean,hello Larsy.”
Groaning, he straightens. “God, you never reminded me more of Jackson as you do right now. You’re both smartasses.”
