8. Daisy
CHAPTER 8
daisy
My hands tremble as I pour coffee into a pair of mugs. Then I add a bit of cream to each before looping my fingers through the handles and leaving my right hand free to knock on my roommate’s bedroom door.
Unless he’s my fiancé now?
I’m still in disbelief of Landry’s offer to marry me last night. I know he’s only acting on some kind of protective instinct, whether it’s because I’m Rowan’s sister or because of my epilepsy. And he obviously sees this as nothing more than a short-term legal contract. But still ... this is marriage . Maybe he doesn’t think he’ll be interested in getting remarried later, but what if the sacrifice he’s making for me now ends up costing him the chance for a real relationship in the future?
I may have been up all night considering the repercussions of this plan, such as the bleak prospect of being a divorced virgin in six months from now, but I can’t help but wonder if he’s thought any of this through. He made the offer so quickly that he couldn’t have realized the gravity of what we’ll be doing. Then again, he’s already said that he doesn’t buy into marriage, so maybe this really isn’t such a big deal for him. And he doesn’t seem the least bit concerned about any complications, like my brother finding out about our fake marriage or either of us developing romantic feelings for one another.
Ultimately, I’m going to do my best to look on the bright side. I can let all this doubt and stress get the best of me, or I can put my trust in Landry and choose to be grateful that he seems so confident in our plan.
I knock on the door again when he doesn’t answer. “Landry, are you up?”
“No,” he returns, his voice deep and muffled.
“It sounds like you’re up.”
“I’m not.”
“Can I come in? I have cof - fee ,” I intone.
His groan is loud enough for me to hear. “Fine. Just let me?—”
But it’s too late. I’ve already swung the door open to expose him standing there in nothing but his underwear. He coughs and spins around. “Damn, Daisy. Give me enough time to get some pants on.”
“Oh, sorry,” I squeak, taking the opportunity to admire his butt and the outline of his muscular thighs in those tight boxer briefs while he can’t see me checking him out. “I’ll turn around until you’re ready.”
He glances over his shoulder and scoffs when he catches me biting my lip and still staring him down. “Are you going to look away or what?”
“Yep!” I wince and move to cover my face with my free hand, accidentally sloshing hot coffee over the sides of the mugs. “Oh, son of a biscuit eater! That’s hot!”
“Shit, Daze,” I hear him mutter as he rushes over to take the coffee from me.
“Thanks, and sorry,” I say as I lift the hem of my dress to dry my burning hand.
“Are you okay?”
“Mm-hmm. All good.”
Just, you know, mortified beyond belief. The usual.
I shake my hand out, hoping the air will cool it off, and try my best not to let my eyes wander over to the frontal view of the very well-endowed man standing just—welp, I tried.
He narrows his eyes at me, obviously annoyed with my lack of propriety, then sets the mugs down on his dresser, and I’m reminded of how small his bedroom really is. He takes my arm and leads me to the kitchen sink, where he gently tends to my burns by running them under cool water.
“Better?” he asks.
“Yes, thank you,” I breathe and struggle to keep my eyes on his. Being unable to stop myself from ogling him like a hormonal teenager isn’t helping my case for getting him to see me as a capable adult. I should be able to treat the man with respect and dignity, regardless of the fact that seeing him in his underwear makes me feel like a hormonal teenager … or an inexperienced virgin … even if I technically am the latter.
“Are you sure?” he asks, his mouth turning up into a smirk. “You still seem … off.”
I blink and pull my hand back. “I … I just … you’re making me kind of nervous,” I blurt out and cringe.
“Why would I make you nervous?” His eyes search mine earnestly, and I know he’s not just flirting. He wants an actual answer.
I shrug shyly. “Well, for starters, I came to your room to tell you that I’m thinking of accepting your proposal.”
“Oh,” he says, his brow rising.
“Yeah.” I pull my hand in and inspect it. An angry, red splotch covers my thumb and part of my wrist. But the burning sensation pales in comparison to the heat radiating from my cheeks. “Although I have a couple of stipulations. Also, I … um, wanted to ask you for another favor.”
“What’s that?”
I swallow hard. “I’ve been feeling a little homesick, and I was really hoping to visit my family this weekend. I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you don’t already have plans, do you think you might be able to bring me home, just for a few hours?”
His expression softens. “Yeah. Of course. I’ll just call my mom and see if she’s up for a visit. I doubt she’ll mind if I stop by.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s nothing,” he reassures me with a smile.
“Okay, good, because I was also thinking that if we’re really going to do this, we should probably get to know one another a little better, right? I realize we’re not going to be acting like husband and wife, but I’d rather not wait until our wedding to hear your full name for the first time,” I ramble. “I mean, sure, we’ve known each other for years and have been living together for the past few weeks, but we haven’t really gotten past the surface. So I figured the car ride might give us a chance to fix that.”
“Yeah, I guess,” he agrees more hesitantly.
“And I know you said I should talk less before, but this stuff seems pretty important,” I continue.
He steps in closer, fixing his gaze on my face. “Daisy, are you nervous because you find me attractive?” he asks carefully.
My knees threaten to give out beneath me, and I gulp hard before I manage to form a reply. “I—it shouldn’t matter, right? I assumed you didn’t intend to leave room for those kinds of feelings in our arrangement.”
“No, I didn’t,” he confirms, his voice deep.
“Then I’m afraid my answer would only keep us from going through with your plan.”
“And I thought you just said you wanted to hash all this out now.” He crosses his arms and leans back against the counter, and I’m proud of myself when I manage to keep my eyes on his face this time.
“So you’d rather know the truth, even if it’s not what you want to hear?”
He shrugs. “Yeah. If we’re going to make this plan work, then you can’t expect me to spend every second decoding our interactions and worrying about forming an appropriate reply. Socializing is exhausting for me, and I don’t want to keep lashing out at you every time I get overwhelmed.”
I nod. “That’s fair. So how can I make it easier for you?”
“Just tell me what you’re thinking, and don’t worry about hurting my feelings.”
“Should we make it a thing that we’re always completely honest with one another, even when it’s embarrassing and awkward?” I offer.
He exhales, his posture immediately looking more relaxed. “Yes, please.”
“Okay, then. We’ll start now.” I lift my chin to look him in the eyes. “Since you asked, I think you’re a very handsome man, Landry, but I’m going to disregard that because we’ve both agreed to a platonic relationship. The last thing I want is to risk making you uncomfortable, especially since you don’t find me attractive.”
He blinks at me, looking surprised by my candidness. “I never said I didn’t find you attractive.”
And now I’m wondering whether I didn’t splash hot coffee on my face at some point.
“You … you have, though. Just not in so many words,” I choke out.
“I haven’t been allowing myself to think of you that way at all, since nothing good could possibly come of it,” he explains, staring at me with a solemn expression. “I can’t be tempted to take you up on any offers later if there’s a chance you end up feeling like you owe me something. It’d be like I was taking advantage of you.”
I bite my lip. “I see. I don’t think we’re in danger of anything like that happening, though.” We’re both quiet for a minute before I go on. “This probably won’t come as a surprise to you, but between my disability and the way my parents sheltered me for so long, I’ve missed out on a lot of life experience, particularly when it comes to dating and relationships.”
“So, you’re also nervous because you haven’t been around a lot of men in their underwear before now?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.
“At least none that aren’t related to me,” I say with a shrug.
He furrows his brow. “Then by a lack of experience , you mean?—”
“I’m a virgin, Landry. But I’m thinking you should have guessed that by now,” I retort dryly.
“Oh.” His eyes grow wider before he seemingly catches himself and tries to look aloof again.
“That’s why I’m sure I’m not going to end up throwing myself at you. Because that’s not an offer I extend to anyone outside of marriage—I mean, a real marriage,” I add the last part quietly.
He nods and clears his throat. “I assume this is some of the stuff you wanted to discuss on the ride to Baton Rouge?”
“Exactly,” I confirm.
“Right. Well, um, not that you’re asking, but I guess you’d want to know that I’m … not … inexperienced.”
I bite back a smile at the way he fidgets, as if he’s just remembered he’s in his underwear. “I didn’t expect you were.”
“I’m obviously not like, as bad as Blake used to be or anything. I’m just … I mean, I’ve had …” He shrugs and reaches up to scratch the back of his head.
“Somewhere in between, then?” I ask, unable to contain my grin this time.
He purses his lips. “Yeah. Let’s go with that.”
“And you’ve never been married before? Or had any kids?”
“No.” He shakes his head quickly. “No crazy exes or anything, either.”
“Good. I mean, that simplifies things.”
“Yeah.”
We nod in agreement as the silence stretches. “Should I make us some more coffee for the road?”
“Sure, that’d be great. I’m just gonna,” he pauses to tilt his head in the direction of his bedroom, “get less naked. I mean, I should probably be wearing clothes when we tell your brother we’re living together. We don’t want Rowan to get the wrong idea, right?”
“Mm-hmm,” I squeak, unable to stop myself from taking him in one more time.
“Meet you in the Jeep in a few minutes?”
I shoot him a thumbs up before I remember my burns, then I cringe and hide my hand behind my back. He smirks before he moves to go around me, looking amused. But then we accidentally do one of those painfully awkward shuffles in which we both step to the same side and block one another’s passage through the tiny kitchen. It takes three tries before we manage to escape, including one full-on body bump that’s certain to haunt me for the rest of my life.