Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
rowan
The cold air nips at my bare back as I shuffle out to her car and over to mine, where I grab a set of clean clothes from my overnight bag. By the time I return from changing in the spare bedroom, she’s sitting on the couch in one of Daisy’s signature linen frocks.
“First of all, your sister is a freak for having a capsule wardrobe made exclusively of sundresses,” she begins. “Secondly, she might just be the other kind of freak, too, because she and Landry are already sharing an underwear drawer.”
I scrunch up my nose. “I’d sleep better tonight if we chalked that up to her doing his laundry. But then again, I’m probably not going to sleep at all until I give you a better apology and an explanation for why I keep acting like such a jerk around you.”
She rolls her eyes at my transition and groans as she rises to her feet. “Or we could just go back to my place for a hot shower and a clean bed.”
My brow nearly touches my hairline that time.
“Separate showers,” she blurts out once she realizes her mistake. “And beds, of course.”
I nod, willing my heart to slow down. “Right. I knew what you meant.” I take a step forward before adding, “Besides, I was already thinking too hard about what kind of pajamas you’re planning on wearing to catch that one right away.”
She scoffs. “Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m not. I promise,” I say with a sigh. “Is it wrong for me to admit that I find you equally terrifying and alluring?”
“Alluring?” she asks hesitantly.
I shrug shyly. “I was going to say sexy, but I don’t want you to think I’m only drawn to you physically. I told you before, you’re easy to like.”
“It’s just too bad I’m not the kind of girl you’re looking for,” she says dryly.
“What?”
She licks her lips and shifts her gaze to the floor. “Look, you don’t owe me an explanation. In fact, I’d rather not do this with you at all.”
“Do what, Claire? Talk about our feelings? Admit how much we like one another?” I reply a little too forcefully.
“Exactly.”
“And what’s so terrible about being honest and saying how you feel?” I demand.
“Besides spending the last decade without most of my feelings being reciprocated or even accepted? Being told I’m crazy or weird or stupid for having feelings in the first place, or worse for not being able to get a handle on them?
” Her chest heaves when she’s done, and I watch as a look of mortification crosses her features.
“Hey,” I begin softly and take another step toward her. “Come here.”
“No.” Her voice cracks, and she turns away from me. “Dammit, Rowan. I told you I wasn’t in the mood for this.”
But I ignore her protests and reach out to rest my hand on her back.
“I’m sorry I keep pushing you too far. But I swear it’s only because I want to know everything about you.
I think you’re one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met, and your feelings matter to me.
And if I seem like I’m upset with myself for flirting with you, it’s only because I’m struggling to regulate my attraction. ”
“And if I’m so great, then why is being attracted to me such a bad thing?” she asks meekly.
“Because you’ve made it clear that you don’t want to be pressured into anything serious, and I have to respect that,” I tell her, ignoring my conscience when it prompts me to say more, to explain exactly why I need her to be open to the idea of marriage before I can risk getting any closer.
“Oh.” Her expression falls, as if she’s disappointed by my answer.
“Is that still what you want … or don’t want?”
She keeps her eyes lowered as she nods. “Yes.”
I swallow hard before I continue. “Well, if you ever change your mind, I’d like to be the first to know.”
“Why exactly is a relationship status such a big deal to you, anyway? I told you I wasn’t looking for anything serious the night we met, and it didn’t seem to be a problem for you then.”
Guilt and embarrassment flood my chest. “You’re right, and I’m sorry I downplayed it before, but I just can’t handle anything physical outside of a committed relationship,” I say quietly, understating it again.
“That’s why you hate that you’re so drawn to me, isn’t it? Because I make you want to reconsider how far you’re willing to go?” she asks, daring me to answer with her eyes.
“Gah, Claire, what do you want me to say?” I fire back. “Yes, okay, I’m confused. I’ve already admitted that the way I feel around you makes me forget what kind of man I’m supposed to be.”
“And what kind of man is that?”
I throw my hands up in defeat. “I don’t know. A good one? If nothing else, one who doesn’t use women and discard them once he’s taken what he wants.”
“I suppose that makes me someone else’s trash,” she replies with a sardonic smirk.
A frustrated growl escapes. “That’s not what I meant. Could you please quit putting words in my mouth?”
“Funny, you didn’t seem to mind—”
“Would you just stop?!” I yell this time, and she takes a step back and blinks at me in disbelief. “I’m sorry. But if there’s anything I hate, it’s the way you assume I only want you for … that.”
Her chin quivers and she crosses her arms. “I guess you’re out of luck, then. Because I don’t have much else to offer.”
“Tell me you don’t really believe that?” I demand in a softer tone.
She shakes her head and turns her face away from me, but she doesn’t give me a real answer.
And it’s all my fault. Even though we didn’t actually sleep together, not telling her about my beliefs and allowing her to go on thinking I only needed one night from her must have been enough to validate her insecurities.
I take a step forward. “I may not have known you for long, Claire, but I know that’s not true. And I’m sorry for anything I’ve said or done to make you think I’m not interested in your company outside of the bedroom.”
“Oh, you’ve made it crystal clear that our friendship only carries benefits of the emergency-contact and bail-posting variety,” she says, though I can tell she’s forcing the joke.
“Because you’re knowledgeable and capable, and still charming enough to help me talk my way out of getting arrested. You also make me laugh when I need it the most.”
Her smile softens into something more genuine. “I’m sorry,” she says after a while. “I hate sounding so needy, and I’ve never been the type to fish for compliments. But maybe my divorce has left me a little more sensitive than I’m used to,” she admits begrudgingly.
“I can’t imagine it wouldn’t. And I still wish you’d give yourself more grace.”
She nods. “Yeah.”
“I’m here if you ever need to talk about it, you know. You’ve got my number now,” I remind her, making my voice as gentle as possible.
She nods again, but doesn’t say more, and I get the sudden urge to tell her the whole truth, to earn her trust the right way.
“Claire, there’s actually—”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m actually sick of talking about my feelings. I’ve already overshared enough for one lifetime,” she interrupts me to explain, and I have no choice but to honor her request since my confession is likely to garner an emotional response from both of us.
“There’s no such thing as oversharing between soulmates,” I hear myself saying, and she snorts.
“Okay, but you have to quit that mushy crap before I let you into my house again.”
“Oh, so … you don’t like it when I flirt with you?” I ask hesitantly.
She purses her lips as she considers it. “I’m not saying we can’t joke around, but stop making it so sappy. Flirt with me all you want, tell me I have a nice ass, just don’t call me your soulmate.”
I roll my eyes. “Only if you agree to quit cutting yourself down.”
“Might as well prohibit any physical contact, too, for your sake,” she mumbles as she sticks out a hand, and I reluctantly take it in mine, unsure whether I’m more relieved or disappointed by her suggestion.
“What if there’s another medical emergency? Besides, it doesn’t count if you were literally touching me while you said it,” I reply smoothly, stroking the back of her hand with my thumb.
Disappointed, then—I’m definitely more disappointed.
“Fine,” she concedes, yanking her hand back. “No kissing or touching of a sexual nature.”
“What if one of us needs CPR?” I pose, narrowing my eyes at her.
“Good thing your brother-in-law is a doctor,” she declares, and my groan elicits a smirk from her.
“And if I need someone to rub me down with hydrocortisone cream? You’re not going to make me call Landry for that, will you?”
“I’ll try not to enjoy it,” she says on an exaggerated sigh.
I can’t help but smile back at her now. “I should probably confirm that your house is peanut-free before I agree to all this.”
She shrugs. “Can you really afford to say no?”
“I wouldn’t want to, even if I could,” I reply quietly, staring her down and watching her eyelashes flutter.
She clears her throat and collects herself after a moment, lifting her chin before she declares, “I’m going home. You can follow me there if you think you can manage to keep your pants on for the rest of the night.”
Then she marches out the front door, and I scramble to lock up and chase her out.