Page 41 of Not So Happily Ever After (British Bad Boys)
“That’snotwhat I meant, and it’snotthe same thing.”
“I know what you meant.” His smoldering smile should come with a public health warning. Or at least be confined to when we’re alone and I don’t have to keep my hands to myself.
You don’t have to keep your hands to yourself.This weekend is like a holiday romance, where real-life rules don’t apply. I’m going to make the most of it.
Besides, we’re already holding hands.
Mackenzie Carter, all that sex last night turned your brain.
Yes. Yes, it did.
…
Will
This is fucking crazy.
I felt like shit after the meeting, even though the news wasn’t unexpected—I’d been bracing myself for the last month. It’s still hard to take when the offer’s finally in black and white. The guys are almost as gutted as me, but it’s double-edged because this is also the best financial news we’ve had in years.
If Mac wasn’t here this weekend, I’d be abseiling from the most challenging rock face right now. It would focus my frustration, and I’d be able to work through the setback. But the weirdest thing is how sharing the situation with her has kind of lessened the blow.
Not taken it away altogether. But her support—I don’t know. Feels good.
“Do you want to get out of here?”Do you want to go back to bed?Although I promised her a tour of the village and Oakland, if she wants a repeat performance of last night, I’m up for that.
Jesus, stop thinking about last night.
Like that’s going to happen. Except for that hour at the lodge this morning when my future shifted beneath my feet, I haven’t been able to get her out of my head.
Friends with benefits. I should’ve said no. But when she looks at me with those beautiful eyes, I don’t care about Lucas or her family, or how I’m betraying every bro rule in the book. I’ll take whatever they throw at me. And this time I won’t let the sex ruin the friendship.
“Sure.”
Hand in hand, we leave the bakery, and as we stroll along the high street, I grin at her.
“What is it?” She gives me a mock frown.
“This.” I swing our joined hands. “I don’t usually do this kind of thing.”
“That makes two of us. You want to let go?”
“Hell, no.” I tighten my grip on her hand. “I like it.”
She laughs and bumps my arm. This time, there’s no question it’s deliberate, and the need is strong to get her back to the podright now.
Before I figure out how to frame the words so I don’t sound like a sex-crazed jerk, she suddenly stops. “Do you want to have a quick look in here?”
We’re standing outside the art gallery. I always think of her whenever I walk by. I should’ve guessed she’d want to visit.
“After you.” I push open the door of the fifteenth-century building and follow her inside. The whitewashed walls display local artists’ works, and she scrutinizes each one as if she’s analyzing every brush stroke.
I know nothing of art except I either like something or I don’t. Not sure what else there is beyond that. But it’s oddly fascinating watching her reaction as she moves from piece to piece.
“What’s your verdict?” I whisper in her ear. And since there’s no reason why I shouldn’t, I kiss her temple.
She gives a little shiver, and I grin against her cheek. I love the way she reacts to my touch.
“Very good. Not that I’m any kind of expert. Are they all local artists?”
