Chapter 4
Robyn
I jerk upright in bed as the sound of a buzzer fills my apartment. The sheet falls away from me, and the first thing I register is that I’m not wearing a stitch of clothing. I turn toward the door, and there is a dull ache that resonates from between my legs, making me suck in a sharp breath.
Oh.
Oh, right.
Last night…it happened.
I turn my head toward the other side of the mattress. The pillow is dented where his head was. The sheet is thrown back. But he’s gone. There is no big body stretched out next to me. No long dark hair spread across the white linen.
My eyes sweep around the room, but there’s no sign of him.
My jeans are still in a pile near the foot of the bed, one of my ankle boots still tangled in the denim.
There’s no trace of him. It’s like I imagined the whole thing.
But the soreness between my legs says otherwise.
The buzzer goes again, longer this time, more insistent.
I swing my legs over the edge of the mattress, and the movement sends a fresh sting up through me. I suck in a breath and press a hand flat against my lower stomach.
Oh, he was here, alright. I can still feel him. Everywhere. My thighs are tender. My jaw aches from kissing. There’s a slight rasp where his stubble scraped the skin above my collarbone, and I can see the faint pink of it when I glance down.
We went at it a number of times last night. I didn’t think I was capable of coming so often.
Sunlight pours through my drapes in bright yellow bars. I squint and turn toward my bedside clock.
Crap.
It’s after eleven.
I never sleep this late. Not ever.
Another buzz, this one shorter, sharper, like whoever is outside is losing patience.
“Coming,” I call out, and my voice sounds groggy. I clear my throat. “I’m coming.”
I catch myself in the mirror above my dresser on the way up and stop dead.
My hair is a full-on disaster, sticking out in every direction, with a distinct flattened patch on one side. There’s a pillow crease running along my cheek, and my eyes are hooded.
I pull my hair up into a quick knot on top of my head, yank the elastic tight, and grab the first things I can find. A pair of gray sweats off the chair and an oversized black hoodie from the hook behind my door. I tug the hoodie on over my head as I head down the hall.
The buzzer goes a fourth time as I cross the living room.
“Yes, yes,” I mutter.
For a split second, as my hand touches the door handle, a thought hits me. What if it’s him? What if he forgot something, or changed his mind, or came back to say, you know, hi, good morning, last night was—
I shake it off.
It’s not him. Last night was a one-time thing. I don’t have time in my schedule for anything other than work, except for an odd day off when extreme downtime is needed. I don’t want to have to deal with a relationship and all the crap that comes with it.
No.
Nope.
This is better.
Much better.
I unlock the door and pull it open.
Carla stands there on my mat looking fantastic. Her hair is loose and wavy around her shoulders. She’s in a soft pink sundress. Her skin is doing that thing where it glows from the inside.
“Did I wake you?” she asks, her eyes skimming over me.
I nod.
“Why were you still sleeping?” She’s already stepping past me into the hall, carrying two enormous takeaway cups and a brown paper bag that smells like heaven. “It’s after eleven, Robyn. You’re never asleep this late. What’s going on?” She turns, frowning. “Are you sick?”
“I was reading in bed,” I say, closing the door behind her. “I must have fallen asleep with the book on my face. It’s my day off, Carla. I don’t get many of those. I was planning a very slow start. How did you get into the apartment?”
“The old lady from down the hall let me in.”
“I’ll have to have a talk with her.”
“Funny.” Carla smiles. “For a second there, I thought…you might be coming down with something. I brought breakfast.” She lifts the bag. “There are pastries in here. I got those almond croissants you love, and a pain au chocolat, in case you wanted to switch things up.”
I press a hand to my chest. “Marry me. You are the best.”
She laughs. “I would, but I don’t swing that way. These are the mega-sized coffees. I may or may not have ordered myself a double shot.”
I take one of the cups from her, and the warmth of it in my hands is an instant comfort.
“You’re a queen,” I tell her.
“I know, I know.” She pauses, and some of the glow dims into something more careful. “Listen. I owe you an apology.”
“For?”
“For last night. For leaving you. I feel awful about it, Robyn. I should have stayed. You were my plus-one, and I bailed on you. I keep thinking about it, and I feel terrible. I really shouldn’t—”
“Carla, stop. It’s fine. I told you last night that I was fine, and I meant it.”
For a second, I consider telling her about Ridge, but change my mind. It’s not something I would normally do.
I’m going to forget it ever happened. Carla wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.
“It’s not fine. I’m supposed to be the responsible one on girls’ nights.”
“You are never the responsible one.” I smile.
“Well, no. But still.”
I’m already laughing, waving her off with the hand that isn’t holding coffee. “Really. Don’t worry about it. It was all good. I made it home in one piece.” It isn’t a lie. I did. “Forget about it. I want to hear about you. How did it go?”
Her whole face transforms.
“Oh, my wooooorrrrd.”
“That good?”
“Robyn.” She clutches at her chest.
“Really?”
“He was amazing.” She puts the bag of pastries down on the entry table and actually fans herself with one hand. “Like, I don’t even know how to explain it. He was so sweet and so funny on the way back to my place, and then we got inside and he just—”
“Carla,” I warn.
“I know, I know, you don’t need a full play-by-play. But I have to tell you something. Who knew that shifters could move like that?”
I take a long sip of my cappuccino to give myself something to do with my face.
Right. Who knew?
“And the stamina,” she goes on, eyes wide. “The stamina, Robyn. I mean, I’ve heard things, but I didn’t think they were actually true.”
Oh, they’re true, alright.
I can confirm that the things are very much true. I swallow another gulp of coffee.
“Oh…um…really?” I lift my brows.
“Really. I hit heights I—”
“I get it.” I snicker.
She sighs. “He was gone when I woke up, though.” She pulls a little face, the corners of her mouth turning down. “I kind of hoped he’d at least stay for breakfast. Or leave a note. Something.”
Yep, gone. Bed empty. All signs erased.
I feel a little disappointed myself.
I nod. “I’m sure he had to be somewhere.”
“Maybe.” She hitches one shoulder. “I really liked him, Robyn. That’s the thing. I know it was just a one-night thing, but I kind of wanted it to be more.”
Oh, honey. You and me both.
I press my lips together on the thought and give myself another mental shake. Because that is exactly the kind of thinking I’m not going to let myself do. I had a great time. It was what it was, and now it’s over. I remind myself of how a relationship can be. About all the drama.
I don’t want drama.
It’s better this way.
“Don’t do that,” I tell her, and I mean it for both of us. “It was never going to be more. We went out, we had fun, you proceeded to have a good time with a gorgeous man. It’s a new day. We didn’t drink enough to get hungover. There’s that too.”
She laughs. “You’re right. I did have a good time.”
“We both did,” I tell her.
I had suuuuch a gooooood time.
She still looks a little flat, though. A little subdued under the glow. I nudge her with my elbow.
“Come inside. Stop hovering in my entryway. You know you want to spend the afternoon with me.”
“I do.” She pouts.
“Thought so.”
I turn and head for the living room, and the first step has me biting down on the inside of my cheek because I feel him there. A sting with every step. I try hard to walk normally, but…I’m tender.
I’m sure I’m pulling it off when Carla asks, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re limping a little.”
“I hurt my feet last night.”
I bite back a laugh because my feet are the least hurt part of me. My feet are in excellent condition.
“Your feet?” she giggles. “What happened?”
“The ankle boots I wore last night are new.” It’s true, but not at all true. “There was all the dancing, and then I walked home, and now my feet are killing me.”
“Oh, Robyn.” Her face crumples. “I should have stayed with you. If I’d been there, you wouldn’t have walked home alone in those shoes. I really am so—”
“Carla, I swear on all these pastries, if you apologize one more time, I’m going to eat your share as well.”
She laughs, which is what I wanted.
I lower myself very carefully onto the sofa and manage to make it look almost natural. Carla flops down next to me and tucks one foot under her thigh. She puts her cup on the side table and starts opening the paper bag, and the warm, buttery smell of fresh pastry fills the air between us.
“I had a great time last night, you know,” I tell her, because she’s still watching me as if she might apologize again. “A really great time.”
A really, really, really great time.
“Yeah?”
“The best.”
Her whole face lights up. “We should do it again next weekend.”
I snort into my cappuccino. “Not on your life.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Absolutely not. That’s not my thing.”
She hands me a croissant wrapped in a square of bakery paper. I take a bite and moan.
“Have you ever watched The Notebook?” I ask her around a mouthful of pastry.
She blinks. “I mean, I know of it. But no. I’ve never actually watched it.”
“You are lying to me.”
“I’m not.”
I squeal. “You have to watch it. We’re watching it together.”
I put my coffee down, pick up the remote, and point it at the television. “Eat your croissant. You are in for a treat.”
“Is it sad?”
“Oh, it’s devastating. You’re going to cry. I’m going to cry. We’re going to cry together, and we’re going to feel cleansed.”
She chokes out a laugh. “I don’t want to feel cleansed. I want to feel happy.”
“Too bad.”
She laughs and leans back into the cushions.
I pull my feet up, feeling another sting. I bite back a smile.