didn’t kiss you to punish you,” he said finally. It was more than he wanted to say, but he had to do something to vanquish the lost look in her eyes.
“Then why?”
Her eyes were locked on his lips and his hand was cupping her cheek before he was even aware that he’d moved.
“You don’t know?” he asked, his voice a little gruff.
She gave a sad smile. “I do know. I’ve always known.”
His heart lurched and he forced himself to swallow and keep his gaze on hers. “Yeah?”
She nodded. “You wanted what you couldn’t have. So you took it. Just like when we slept together. I was the lone holdout on your endless line of bedpost notches, and once you checked me off the list, the challenge was over. And then you left.”
His heart felt like it tumbled into his stomach, and he didn’t know if it was in dismay or relief. His hand dropped away from her face.
She didn’t have a freaking clue.
He didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved.
He let himself shrug. “Yeah, well…if it’s any consolation, you were worth the wait.”
He expected her to get pissed, but the wine had made her soft. “You’re not getting in my pants again with the sweet talk, Thatcher.”
She patted him playfully on the cheek climbing out of the car and going into the house without a glance backward.
Will waited until the door closed behind her before dropping his forehead onto the steering wheel and letting out a string of oaths.
He’d known that the game he was playing would be difficult.
But he hadn’t anticipated it being painful as well.
C HAPTER TEN
There’s no indignity in ending a
relationship—as long as you’re
doing the ending.
—Brynn Dalton’s Rules for an
Exemplary Life, #44
B rynn had barely had time to take off her shoes after a particularly hellish day of removing braces when there was a knock at the front door.
She took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders in an attempt to prepare herself for the confrontation. She wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to see Will again. It had been three days since their surprisingly amiable day of shopping together.
Three days since that… moment in the car. Three days since she’d thought he was going to kiss her.
Three days since she’d wanted him to.
Three days to feel guilty about wanting it.
And as though her guilt had some sort of beckoning power, it wasn’t Will on the other side of the door.
“James!”
“You sound surprised,” he said with a small smile. He looked every bit as exhausted as she felt; she was oddly reassured by the tension around his eyes and the strained smile. It reminded her that they were the same. Serious adults with grown-up jobs. Not playboy entrepreneurs who spent all day working on their six-packs and flirting with the recently divorced Tammy Henderson across the street.
Not that she’d been spying or anything.
“Well, I am a little surprised,” she admitted, standing aside to let him in. “You haven’t exactly been returning my calls.”
Calls she’d made out of guilt. Out of need for a reminder that she should not be even close to thinking about kissing Will Thatcher.
“Sorry,” he said, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “Terry has the flu, so I’ve been on call for five days straight.”
Brynn made the appropriate sympathetic noises as she pulled a bottle of Pinot Noir off the wine rack and poured them both a glass before joining him on the couch.
“You want to order in?” she asked. “Or I could make some carbonara? I have some of that good pancetta.”
He shook his head slightly, taking a healthy swallow of wine. And then another. “I can’t stay long.”
Brynn frowned in confusion. “You drove all the way over in rush hour, and you’re not sticking around for dinner? You’re the one who’s always informing me how out of the way I live.”
He didn’t respond, just took another of those big swallows before topping off his glass. Brynn’s frown deepened. James was a
“Then why?”
Her eyes were locked on his lips and his hand was cupping her cheek before he was even aware that he’d moved.
“You don’t know?” he asked, his voice a little gruff.
She gave a sad smile. “I do know. I’ve always known.”
His heart lurched and he forced himself to swallow and keep his gaze on hers. “Yeah?”
She nodded. “You wanted what you couldn’t have. So you took it. Just like when we slept together. I was the lone holdout on your endless line of bedpost notches, and once you checked me off the list, the challenge was over. And then you left.”
His heart felt like it tumbled into his stomach, and he didn’t know if it was in dismay or relief. His hand dropped away from her face.
She didn’t have a freaking clue.
He didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved.
He let himself shrug. “Yeah, well…if it’s any consolation, you were worth the wait.”
He expected her to get pissed, but the wine had made her soft. “You’re not getting in my pants again with the sweet talk, Thatcher.”
She patted him playfully on the cheek climbing out of the car and going into the house without a glance backward.
Will waited until the door closed behind her before dropping his forehead onto the steering wheel and letting out a string of oaths.
He’d known that the game he was playing would be difficult.
But he hadn’t anticipated it being painful as well.
C HAPTER TEN
There’s no indignity in ending a
relationship—as long as you’re
doing the ending.
—Brynn Dalton’s Rules for an
Exemplary Life, #44
B rynn had barely had time to take off her shoes after a particularly hellish day of removing braces when there was a knock at the front door.
She took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders in an attempt to prepare herself for the confrontation. She wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to see Will again. It had been three days since their surprisingly amiable day of shopping together.
Three days since that… moment in the car. Three days since she’d thought he was going to kiss her.
Three days since she’d wanted him to.
Three days to feel guilty about wanting it.
And as though her guilt had some sort of beckoning power, it wasn’t Will on the other side of the door.
“James!”
“You sound surprised,” he said with a small smile. He looked every bit as exhausted as she felt; she was oddly reassured by the tension around his eyes and the strained smile. It reminded her that they were the same. Serious adults with grown-up jobs. Not playboy entrepreneurs who spent all day working on their six-packs and flirting with the recently divorced Tammy Henderson across the street.
Not that she’d been spying or anything.
“Well, I am a little surprised,” she admitted, standing aside to let him in. “You haven’t exactly been returning my calls.”
Calls she’d made out of guilt. Out of need for a reminder that she should not be even close to thinking about kissing Will Thatcher.
“Sorry,” he said, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “Terry has the flu, so I’ve been on call for five days straight.”
Brynn made the appropriate sympathetic noises as she pulled a bottle of Pinot Noir off the wine rack and poured them both a glass before joining him on the couch.
“You want to order in?” she asked. “Or I could make some carbonara? I have some of that good pancetta.”
He shook his head slightly, taking a healthy swallow of wine. And then another. “I can’t stay long.”
Brynn frowned in confusion. “You drove all the way over in rush hour, and you’re not sticking around for dinner? You’re the one who’s always informing me how out of the way I live.”
He didn’t respond, just took another of those big swallows before topping off his glass. Brynn’s frown deepened. James was a
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