23. Landry
CHAPTER 23
landry
I can’t feel my arm.
It’s the first thought I have that morning, though it’s quickly followed by ouch, my head.
I keep my eyes closed while I gather my whereabouts. My arm is numb because it’s pinned beneath something—someone. I attempt to adjust my position and realize I’m spooning the culprit, my other arm draped over her side while my body curves around hers. I flex my hand and curl my palm over the nearest body part. It’s soft and squishy and—yep, this is definitely a woman. She’s warm. And she smells amazing, like … honeysuckles and lavender essential oils.
Lavender?
My heart begins racing for a second, panic setting in. But my bed buddy distracts me when she squirms, rubbing her butt against me and making my breath hitch. The contact feels so good that I know this can’t be real, especially since neither of us would actually allow it to happen.
I must be dreaming.
And since this is only a dream, there’s no harm in enjoying it, right? I mean, sure, facing my roommate is going to be awkward after this. But I can’t exactly control what happens in my sleep, and she’ll be none the wiser.
Might as well just let Dream Landry get this out of his system.
It’s also been a while since I’ve gotten this close to a woman in real life, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the way this seems to be going, even though Daisy’s still wearing clothes.
Not for long, if I can help it.
I bury my face in the back of her neck, and she gasps when my hand slips beneath her nightgown. My lips curl up into a cocky grin before I move to press a kiss over her freckled shoulder. I knew she’d be into?—
“Oh, shhit ,” I blurt out as soon as my eyes crack open, only to discover that I’m surrounded by a mass of actual blonde waves. I mumble a few more curses under my breath as I loosen my hold on her and back away.
Daisy clears her throat beside me, and I squint through the painful throbbing in my head after all that sudden movement. “Um, good morning?” she offers hesitantly when I finally open my eyes again.
“Oh God, what have I done?” I mutter to myself.
She snorts and adjusts her gown. “Gee, thanks.”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that ,” I spit out awkwardly. “It’s just … I didn’t realize we were almost … but you’re Rowan’s little sister, and I could never …”
She sits up. “Not helping.”
“I’m sorry, Daisy.” I cringe and prop myself up on my elbows, waiting for my head to settle before starting again. “Can you please explain what I’m doing in your bed?”
“You mean you don’t remember any of it?”
“Not a thing,” I say, careful not to shake my head or nod.
“I can’t believe you’ve forgotten all about the most passionate night of my life,” she replies, furrowing her brow.
“Passionate?” I gulp.
She nods sadly and reaches out to grab my forearm, her eyes wide. “After you took to the microphone to announce our marriage and proclaim your feelings for me at your sister’s wedding reception, you brought me home to consummate our union and made such beautiful, sweet love to me all night. Tell me you remember, Landry?”
“I … I …” The room begins spinning as real panic sets in. I lift the sheets to make sure I’m still wearing underwear. At least the aftereffects of her pushing backside against me have dissipated. “Daisy,” I breathe. “I don’t know what happened, but?—”
She cuts me off with another loud snort before she bursts into a fit of obnoxious laughter. “I wish you could see your face right now,” she barely gets out. “You know I’m just messing with you, right?”
“So, we didn’t …” I narrow my eyes at her. Her giggling is starting to irritate me.
“Of course not,” she reassures me. “You got ridiculously drunk at the wedding reception, so I brought you home. Then you ended up passing out here on your way back from the bathroom, and I didn’t have the energy to drag you to your own bed.”
“Oh.”
“To be fair, you were lying on top of the covers when I fell asleep. So the cuddling thing must have been Drunk Landry’s doing.”
“We weren’t cuddling .”
She glares at me. “Oh, right. What’s the name for that thing two people do in bed, you know, when the guy wraps his arms around the girl and she snuggles up close to him?” She snaps her fingers and pretends to search her mind.
“Okay, so we cuddled,” I admit with a groan. “But it was more of a platonic, mostly clothed snuggle between friendly roommates of the opposite sex … who coincidentally happen to be married.”
“Then what was your hand doing on my right boob a minute ago?” she poses, cocking an eyebrow. “Not to mention, it didn’t feel platonic when you pushed your?—”
“That was an involuntary reaction to you grinding your ass against me, thank you very much,” I retort angrily.
“Eh, fair enough,” she concedes with an unapologetic shrug.
I glare at her in surprise. “Were you … trying to seduce me?”
“Seduce you?” She laughs loudly again. “Need I remind you that you stumbled into my bed?”
“I was drunk!”
“Which is why I let you stay,” she says matter-of-factly. “And why I’ll spare you the embarrassing report of the stuff you actually did say and do.”
“Wait, what?” I sit up straighter, and it suddenly feels like I’m on a boat over water.
She waves me off with a hand. “You were in your feelings a little. Nothing bad really happened, except for the part when you embarrassed the hell out of your sister during that very uncharitable wedding toast ... and then again when you made some borderline inappropriate comments about my boss’s wife in a misguided attempt to start a fight.”
“A fight? With your boss?” I squint my eyes as I think. Then I reach up to examine my face, searching for evidence. “I survived a fight with JD Bourgeois?”
“He refused to hit you, but you definitely deserved it, especially after the unkind things you said about his brother in front of all their closest friends and family.”
“Oh, gah.” I scratch my head as I run through a hazy memory of that impromptu wedding toast. “What else?”
“Drunk Landry’s significantly more … flirty.” She stifles a smirk. “Nothing I couldn’t handle, though.”
I frown. “I can’t believe I got that drunk on freaking champagne.”
“You are much more of a lightweight than I expected,” Daisy tells me.
“It’s because I don’t drink very often. My mom’s an alcoholic, remember?”
“Right,” she says softly. “If it makes you feel any better, she looked great last night. She stayed quiet and kept to herself.”
“Good.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “I guess I showed her up though.”
Daisy shrugs again. “You definitely have some sucking up to do. In fact, I think you ought to just issue an apology to everyone with the last name of Reed or Bourgeois in this town. All the Robins, too.”
I groan and let my head fall back against the headboard, making it pound again. “Wait, how did we even get home?”
“I am a capable adult, you know,” she replies defensively, throwing the covers back. I avert my eyes when her gown rides up and exposes her long legs as she rises from the bed.
“You shouldn’t have been driving, either. I was supposed to be taking care of you.”
“Look, I got us home safely, all right?”
“But you could have gotten hurt, and?—”
“It’s late. You should get moving.” She cuts me off as she begins flittering around the room. “I’m sure you have things to do today, like returning your tuxedo.”
“Shit. I’m actually supposed to go around and pick them up from everyone in the wedding party, then drop them off at the rental place.” I run my fingers through my hair and growl in frustration.
“Hmm, and I don’t imagine any of them will be particularly happy to see you today,” she muses while she pulls a dress from her closet. “It’s probably best if you drive me around while I make the pick-ups.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want you to?—”
“I’ll put the coffee on,” she continues, ignoring me. “I suggest you have a couple of aspirin with yours and do whatever’s necessary to fix your mood before we go.” Then she stops abruptly and adds, “But do it in your own room, if you don’t mind.”
I roll my eyes and force myself out of bed, moving slowly to keep my head from imploding. Meanwhile, it sounds like Daisy’s purposefully slamming cabinet doors and tossing metal pans around the kitchen.
She walks by me again, and I remember I’m standing there in nothing but my underwear. I cover myself with my hands, though modesty seems like a moot point after everything else that’s transpired this morning.
But she barely glances my way. “You’d better get dressed. You’ve got a busy day ahead of you, Doc,” Daisy mutters dryly, darting into the bathroom and letting the door shut loudly behind her.
I whimper at the noise and shuffle into the kitchen. I should probably stop by my bedroom to slip on a pair of gym shorts first, but she doesn’t seem as bothered by my semi-nudity anymore, so I settle for pouring myself a cup of coffee and throwing back a couple of OTC pain relievers.
I sit on the first stool at the kitchen counter, still trying to make sense of everything that just happened. I don’t get it. Why am I struggling so much to figure out basic human interaction, especially at my age?
What am I supposed to think now? Daisy has said before that she could ignore her initial attraction to me, but I’m pretty certain she was into it when we were spooning this morning. She wasn’t shy about admitting to her participation, either.
But now she’s claiming she wasn’t trying to lure me into actually doing anything with her, and I’m more confused than ever.
It doesn’t matter, though. All I should feel is relief, because our arrangement would be ruined if anything were to happen between us, and I like the way things are now. We’re both better off forgetting the whole thing. I should just drop it.
That’s what I’m going to do—drop the subject.
But it’s bothering me more than it should. I mean, I’m a generically attractive heterosexual male with all my parts in working order. And I’m a doctor, for goodness’ sake. I get the look from women all the time. Hell, I get the look from Daisy all the time.
I glance down at myself. I could probably use some grooming, but I’m in decent shape. So, why wasn’t she ogling me in my underwear just now? Better yet, why didn’t anything happen between us last night?
Not that anything should have happened. I’m grateful it didn’t. Married roommates or not, we could never hook up, not only because of our age difference and the fact that she’s my best friend’s baby sister, but also because I’m well aware of the LaFleur family values.
Still, I’d allegedly flirted with her before stripping down and sneaking into her bed last night. If she’s even remotely attracted to me, she’d at least have entertained the idea, right?
I’m still sitting at the small bar in the kitchen trying to figure things out when she walks in.
“Why aren’t you dressed?” She stops and glares at me.
I huff. “Why do you care?”
“Because we have places to go. And because we’re not supposed to be lying around in our underwear.” She turns her eyes to the coffee pot and walks past me.
“Daisy, do you not find me attractive anymore?”
Well, shit. Way to be subtle, man.
She freezes for a second and clears her throat before she goes back to pouring her coffee. “What difference would it make?”
I frown down at my mug. “You know I hate it when I misinterpret a situation, and everything about this is confusing the hell out of me.”
Her expression softens as she comes around to sit beside me. “I’m feeling pretty weird about everything, too. But I’m not sure honesty can fix it this time.”
I groan. “My head hurts too much to keep beating around the bush.”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” she asks, taking a sip of her coffee and sighing. I’m momentarily distracted by her reaction, but I can’t stop to acknowledge how cute she looks when she does that.
“I can’t,” is all I say.
She puts her mug down and stares at me. “Fine. If you really want to know, yes, I still think you’re attractive. Even more so now that I’ve gotten to know you. But we agreed that those feelings don’t have a place in our relationship. And even though most of what you said last night implies the opposite, I knew you didn’t mean it. So taking you up on one of Drunk Landry’s numerous offers would have been a betrayal of your trust.”
“I made offers?” I ask, purposefully ignoring the first part of her confession.
“Oh yeah.” She nods.
I gulp. “Sorry about that, then.”
“Don’t be,” she says plainly. “I was actually relieved to hear that some part of you finds me attractive, too, even if it’s only while you’re wearing champagne goggles.”
“Relieved?” I furrow my brow and study her reaction. It’s not the same version of relief I felt before.
“It’s not like it matters, but yeah. I liked hearing you don’t find me completely appalling and that you at least have the capacity to think of me as a woman and not just as Rowan’s little sister.”
“Oh.” Our previous conversations run through my mind again. “I’m sorry if I’ve been making you feel bad, but I had to establish those boundaries from the start. I … I couldn’t see any other way to make sure I’d never end up in a position to take advantage of you.”
She smirks. “From the start? You mean, the first time you walked in on me in my underwear?”
I clear my throat and attempt to ignore the image she calls to mind. “Maybe.”
“Hey, I thought we weren’t allowed to give cryptic answers like that?”
“I’m not trying to be cryptic. I honestly don’t know the answer because I forced myself to compartmentalize half-naked Daisy within the part of my brain reserved for examining patients,” I reply defensively.
“Hmm. You tried, anyway,” she remarks, taking another sip.
“Now that’s a cryptic answer,” I say, narrowing my eyes at her.
“Let’s just say last night’s pickup lines implied otherwise. You weren’t terribly crude or anything, but … you did use the word sexy .”
I cringe. “I did?”
“You did.” She looks amused.
I open my mouth to speak again, but she cuts me off.
“Look, I’m only teasing you. Please don’t make me repeat the rest. If you don’t remember saying it, then you probably didn’t mean it, anyway. And I’d rather not have to admit to spending the last eight hours thinking you did.”
“See, now that’s confusing,” I point out. “I can’t understand why you wouldn’t want to know the truth, one way or the other. It’s always the guessing that bothers me most.”
“I know exactly how you feel after you freaked out about waking up in bed with me this morning,” she mumbles, staring down at her cup. “Then again, none of that coincides with you telling me that you like my shiny hair and then asking me to put my hand down your pants, so …”
“Shit.” My face heats up. “I’m sorry about that, too.”
“It’s fine.” She shrugs. But I don’t think it’s really all that fine, and there’s a part of my brain warning me to stop now before I upset her even more. The problem is that part is being overruled by the impulsive side again.
“Daisy, why’d you, you know, encourage me when we were spooning just now? What’d you think would come of it?” I blurt out.
Her eyes lower again. “You already know I haven’t had much dating experience. But I still managed to grow into the body of an adult woman with a fully functioning reproductive system, despite not getting the chance to use it.” She stops and sighs. “So when you presented me with an educational opportunity this morning, I guess I thought I’d make the most of it.”
My heart rate quickens. “And I almost … I mean, we could have …”
She huffs. “Don’t flatter yourself. A few seconds of incidental groping hasn’t managed to shift my core values. I still intend to save the real thing for my future husband. All I’m saying is I temporarily let my curiosity get the best of me when my female body reacted naturally to the contact you initiated with your male parts. So if anything, I’m sorry for … using you, I guess.”
My brow lifts. I haven’t heard much of Daisy’s tougher side before, but I’m a little impressed. In fact, I think I can see how she’s been surviving in a high school classroom now that she’s less afraid to assert herself this way.
“Wow,” I say after a while. “No matter how many ways I might have rehearsed this conversation in my mind, I never would have seen that last part coming. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so … dirty .” I turn to shoot her a smirk, and she elbows me playfully.
“Are you satisfied now?”
“Not really,” I mumble. “But a few more minutes of what you call ‘cuddling’ could have fixed that.” I don’t mean to sound so suggestive, but it comes out before I can stop myself. And then I watch as her smile grows wider.
Dammit .
I like making her smile. And I can tell she likes it when I flirt with her, even for the simple fact that she’s craving the attention in general. Maybe it’s not so wrong of me to give her this, then. She deserves the chance to practice within a safe environment. And I’m as safe as she’ll ever get.
“Hey, I thought we’re supposed to keep things honest and transparent?” she continues, sounding more coy this time.
I scrunch up my nose. “Who says I wasn’t? It’s been a while for me, too.”
She giggles, and I realize I’ve forgotten all about my hangover now. Because that sound is the opposite of irritating.
“Is that your excuse for fondling me?”
“I’m sorry. I only went for it because I thought I was dreaming,” I divulge hesitantly.
Her brow shoots up. “Really? And you’re admitting that?”
“You shared something personal at the risk of embarrassment. I figured I should do the same,” I tell her with a shrug. But I suspect it’s because she makes it so easy for me to let my guard down. “For solidarity.”
“As if it wasn’t enough that we’re stuck in a secret marriage, now we know all of one another’s most mortifying secrets.” She clinks her mug against mine before she downs the last of her coffee.
“But why do I get the feeling you’ve got more dirt on me than I think?” I ask before I empty my own cup.
“Let’s see, I’m a twenty-five-year-old virgin, and I just confessed to letting my best friend cop a feel, even though I know he’s not into me. And I’m still smiling like this because I think I have the upper hand.” She points to the grin on her face.
I puff out my cheeks and blow out a breath, trying not to dwell on the fact that she just called me her best friend. “Right. Tread carefully. Got it.”
She laughs again, and I find myself staring at her for a second longer than I should. I clear my throat and stand. “I should get dressed.”
“And in the interest of full transparency, I’m warning you now that I’m going to respectfully look away until you’ve reached an acceptable distance before sneaking a peek at you in your underwear again,” she announces.
“Then as your best friend and platonic husband, I hereby consent to your objective appreciation of my male form as the opportunity presents itself,” I say, stifling a grin and walking backward toward my bedroom.
Her eyes run over my body before she lifts a finger and gestures for me to turn around. “I’m done with this side. Can we flip to the back?”
I spin on my heels and walk on. But my smile doesn’t fade for a while.