Page 18 of Love That Sass

“So why are you here, Weylin, um, what was your last name?” she asked, uncertain if he’d introduced himself last night.

“Scott, it’s Weylin Scott. And you are Gwendolyn?”

“Hoffer. Gwen to my friends.”

“I like that. Can I call you Gwen?” he asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

She mulled it over, getting the distinct impression he was asking for something else. Without any red flags or warning bells ringing in her head, Gwen nodded.

“You can. After all, I think it’s only fair since we’ll be working together.”

“Good. Friends then, huh?” he asked, and pursed his lips.

Lord, help me, she thought and hid the sudden urge to fan herself.

He had the most kissable lips she had ever seen, and the fact he had actually kissed her was something she could not wrap her head around. Gwen didn’t exactly garner that kind of attention from men.

Well, that was not entirely true. She had her share of admirers, but they usually gave up once they heard her hangups about sex. As in, she wasn’t putting out for just anyone.

Where was she again? Oh yeah. Weylin’s lips. They were a reddish pink against his pale skin, plump and softer than they appeared. After all, she had firsthand knowledge, she thought with a blush. Surprising they were so soft, she mused. Not that she went around collecting info on boys’ lips or anything. But there was just something about him she found positively intriguing.

“You have the right address?” she asked.

Weylin nodded and tapped the screen on the console of the SUV to show the GPS. He had Hope Springs typed in and they were about thirty-minutes out.

“So, who’s at Hope Springs? Your Pop, right? He okay?” he asked, then blanched when she stiffened. “I’m sorry. I should not have asked you that. It’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s just new, you know? Yes, Pop is here, and they are making him comfortable. It’s about all they can do now. He has dementia, and it seems to be advancing. With his osteoporosis, the chances of him falling and getting hurt were too great to keep him home, though I tried for a long time to manage that way.”

“Is there no other family to help?” he asked softly.

“Just me. My parents left when I was about six, and I didn’t even know I had a grandfather. He came down to social services the second he heard about me. Bundled me up, carted me home, and took care of me.”

“Gwen, you don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to,” he replied, giving her an out.

“I don’t mind. I mean, this is my reality.”

“I appreciate that, but it’s okay to need a break from reality now and then, you know? I’m sure he would want you to take care of yourself, too. From what you’ve said, he sounds like a good man.”

“Yeah, he is the best.”

Weylin reached over and patted her leg, the brief, platonic contact left tendrils of awareness racing through her, and her breath caught. Of course, her stomach chose that exact moment to go off like a bullhorn, growling loudly in the cab of the SUV. She bit her lip to hide her embarrassment.

“You hungry? I got snacks,” Weylin informed her.

He leaned over to open the glove compartment where a small basket filled with trail mix, protein bars, and little bags of cheese crackers sat.

“Help yourself. There’s a water right here, too,” he murmured and nudged the armrest where an unopened bottle sat.

“Sorry. I didn’t have time for breakfast,” she said.

It wasn’t exactly a lie. The whole truth was, she ran out of snacks. But this looked good. Oh well. A girl had to eat. Gwendolyn grabbed the trail mix and opened it.

Ooh, this was good stuff, she mused, eyeing the slivers of almonds, peanuts, craisins, and the little dark chocolate chunks with delight. She ate some and offered the bag to Weylin, who smiled and said thanks before snagging a handful.

He chewed with his mouth closed, which was a huge plus in her book, made small talk, and sang along with the radio. He had a nice, pleasant voice, and he knew the words to her favorite Bon Jovi songs, a must if you lived in New Jersey, and Gwen was a Jersey girl through and through.

The minutes sped by, and she found herself relaxing in his company. It was easy with him, for some reason. The interior of the SUV smelled like something woodsy and masculine, his cologne perhaps. She’d never smelled anything like it before. Pop had liked Old Spice, and she was allergic to most other scents. But not this one. This one was just fine, she mused and breathed in another gulp.

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