Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
claire
“Well, that worked even better than I hoped,” Rowan says, sounding smug.
We must have been kissing for a while, judging by the rumble of Nick’s truck as it leaves the driveway, although it wasn’t long enough for me.
My fingers are still twisted into the fabric of Rowan’s shirt while my entire body continues humming with anticipation. But he doesn’t move to kiss me again.
“Are you all right?” he asks, taking a step back to regard me carefully.
Dazed and drunk with desire, I blink and attempt to shake the fog from my head.
“Was he really that bad?” Rowan continues when I don’t answer, his concern etched on his face.
That’s when I realize he didn’t come back to stake his claim.
Rowan didn’t march across the room and kiss the living daylights out of me because he was overwrought with jealousy.
And he certainly isn’t here to declare his attachment to me, since I’ve repeatedly told him that’ll never happen.
He simply thinks he’s being a good wingman by rescuing me from a bad date.
Meanwhile, I’m the dumbass getting all hot and bothered over what I mistakenly assumed was his possessive side.
“Um, no,” I rasp. “Not that bad. It just wasn’t there, you know?”
His expression softens, because he’s relieved to hear that my date hasn’t mistreated me. I don’t think he even cares that the competition is out.
“They can’t all be dedicated enough to risk anaphylactic shock for an excuse to hit on you, I guess,” he teases.
I laugh, but it feels hollow. “Can’t say I’ve found anyone else willing to go to the same lengths.”
His face breaks out into a wide grin. “I’d say I’m sorry it didn’t work out, but the truth is I’m grateful I don’t have to go back to Daisy and Landry’s tonight.
I accidentally overheard her calling him the Big Bad Wolf again, and I may never be able to erase that imagery from my brain.
Especially after he growled at her.” He shivers in disgust.
“Hey, they’ve earned the right to let their freak flags fly,” I say, trying to hide my disappointment.
“They definitely have,” he concedes. “I’d just rather not be around while they’re hoisting them up the pole.”
I let out a more genuine laugh that time. “Fair enough.”
He continues smiling and staring at me, making my insides feel all warm and mushy. “Are you sure you’re okay? It seems like something’s bothering you.”
“I’m fine, really,” I lie.
“Claire, if I overstepped just now—”
“No,” I interrupt him. “I appreciate what you did.”
I just wish you wouldn’t have stopped doing it, my subconscious finishes for me.
“You know you can always call me if you need, right? Even if I’m not in town, any time a guy makes you feel uncomfortable or you just want to get away, I’ll come to your rescue. I promise.”
“I know,” I say with a rueful smile. “Thank you.” He reaches out to take my hand and gives it an affectionate squeeze, and my chest mimics the gesture with my heart.
Why am I so disappointed he’s not making a move on me right now when I literally set this whole thing up to deter him?
I’m the one who keeps telling him I’m not looking for anything real or lasting, that I don’t want any of the same things he does. And regardless of whether that’s true, I can’t give him what he wants. I’ve finally gotten him to see that I’m not only a danger to his virtue but a dead-end street.
So why am I standing here on the verge of tears at the very idea of him only seeing me as a friend?
Maybe his lack of jealousy is a blow to my ego. I guess a part of me expected a little more fire from his response after the way he’s been chasing me lately. Although that kiss was pretty steamy, at least for me.
No, it’s not my pride that’s been wounded. I’m afraid the origins of this ache are closer to my heart.
I choke back the emotion lodged in my throat, but he drops my hand and turns away to sift through that bag of groceries before I can speak.
“So I guess you weren’t really sick after all,” he muses as he saves the ice cream in the freezer.
Maybe a little guilt-ridden and a touch lovesick …
“My stomach’s been sort of weird all day, but I don’t think I’m contagious,” I say dumbly.
“Hmm. Well, now that you’re free and clear, what do you want to do tonight?” he asks.
Anything that involves your bare skin against mine, especially if we can talk and cuddle after.
“Nothing really,” I say instead.
He sniffs the air as he walks by me with his bag, and I shamelessly run my eyes over him as I briefly consider the ethical implications of a not-so-accidental peanut exposure and a hydrocortisone cream massage.
A little contact dermatitis wouldn’t be all that bad, would it?
Especially not when I’d promise to nurse him back to health …
Holy crap. I’m actually losing it.
“Did your date request his steak well done?” Rowan poses with a laugh.
“Oh, shit,” I curse before turning to the oven. “I almost forgot—” But my voice breaks off when his hands cover my shoulders, and he steers me toward my bedroom.
“Why don’t you run yourself a hot bath while I finish dinner? You look like you could use a little self-care moment.”
“Okay,” I squeak. My bottom lip trembles as I let him lead me on, and I worry I’m either going to start sobbing or yank him down to join me in that bath.
“You can even put on your spicy pajamas, and I promise I won’t say a word.”
I accidentally let out a whimper, and he stops once he realizes I’m trying not to cry.
“Claire,” he begins, spinning me around. “What’s going on?”
I shrug as the first tear slips down my cheek, and he reaches up to wipe it. But I can’t answer him without defaulting to a full-blown ugly cry.
“Hey, you can tell me anything, remember?” he reassures me. I can’t tell him what I don’t understand, though, and everything suddenly seems so hopeless and overwhelming.
“I think … I just … I can’t …” As predicted, a huge sob wracks my body before I can go on.
“Come here,” he says in a soothing tone as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into a hug. I bury my face in his chest, mortified, but he continues rubbing my back and crooning into my ear.
“It’s all right, I’ve got you,” he whispers, sending me on another emotional loop-de-loop.
No, that might actually be the ground falling out beneath me when Rowan lifts me up to cradle me within his arms. My stomach swoops and I cling to him as he takes a few steps forward, stopping to shut off the oven before he carries me to my bedroom.
He yanks the covers back with one hand and gently lays me on the bed.
I clutch at his shirt when he tries to pull away. “No,” I breathe. “Stay with me, please.”
He frowns, but he nods and kicks off his shoes before he slides in beside me, and I curl into him before he can put any distance between us.
“I’m sorry,” I rasp once I manage to stop crying, peering up at him through swollen eyes and undoubtedly looking like a snotty mess. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I suspect it could be hormonal.”
I sigh. He’s right, of course. My period’s due any day now. And here’s to another month in which I let the infamous PMS-driven spiral into despair sneak up on me.
At least I can blame most of this on my shifty hormones, though.
“You’d think I’d have made the connection, especially with the stomach cramps,” I say with a sad smile.
“Can I get you anything?” he asks, bracing himself to rise from the bed.
“No, thank you. Just … don’t leave me,” I plead again.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures me. He continues stroking my back as he leans down to kiss my forehead, and I can’t help it when the tears begin all over again.
“You’re breaking my heart,” he says quietly when I accidentally whimper loud enough for him to hear.
“I can’t stop myself,” I wail, and I’m grateful when he seems to assume I’m referring to my tears and not the way I keep hurting him. “It just feels like no matter what I do, I’m going to end up alone.”
“You’re not going to be alone. You can’t get rid of me that easily. I’ll always be here, overstaying my welcome until you force me out.”
I shake my head, inadvertently wiping my snot onto his shirt.
“No, you won’t. I won’t let you. You have to go out and find your perfect little Catholic girl, the one who realizes how lucky she’d be to cook and clean and pray for you all day.
And she’ll be as gorgeous and sweet and innocent as you are, and your family’s going to love her.
You’ll have a beautiful church wedding and an amazing honeymoon, because you were smart enough not to waste yourself on me.
And you’ll probably knock her up the first time you have sex, and like, every time after that.
So you’ll have a shitload of babies, and they’ll all be perfect, just like you.
Because you deserve that, Rowan. You deserve everything you’ve ever wanted.
” It all comes out as a barely intelligible ramble from my place at his chest, but he’s still listening intently.
He lets out a shaky exhale, and I think he might start crying, too.
“You deserve all that, too. And you’re going to have it—a man who loves you for you and not only for what you can do for him, a man who lives to chase you and doesn’t mind when you make him work for it.
Someone who’s willing to do anything to show you how much he wants you and needs you, because you’re the most amazing woman he’s ever known.
He’ll remind you every day that you’re sexy and strong, and he’ll tell you that he can’t bear the idea of living without you, that one kiss was enough to scramble his brain chemistry and shift the way he sees the world forever …
that he could never go back to the man he was before you.
” He pauses and gulps loudly. “I’ll make sure of it. ”
“But what if he doesn’t exist?” I whine.
“He does. I promise.” His voice cracks when he says it.
I shake my head. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just unlovable.”
He pushes me away, and I panic for a second, thinking I’ve said too much. But he’s only repositioning me so that he can gaze into my eyes when he says, “You are not unlovable—far from it. And I never want to hear you say that again.”
“But if it weren’t true, I’d be …”
I can’t finish when I read the look on his face, though. His brows are drawn together over his watery eyes, and the corners of his mouth are turned down.
“You’d already be in the arms of a man who loves you?” he whispers.
I have to force my lungs to keep working as he continues staring at me. “I know you care about me, but it’s not the same,” I venture and watch for his reaction.
“Only because you won’t let me love you the way I want to.”
My eyes are fixed on his lips as he waits for me to run with his confession. For once, I wish I could give him the response he’s looking for. Instead, I make the dumbest move ever—or at least the most selfish—when I reach up and drag his face down to mine.