One to Love (One to Hold 4)

That made me forget everything. “Mariska! Jesus! You’ve got to tell me when that happens. It could be Patrick!”

“Oh my god.” My friend looked like she might cry. “I didn’t even think of that, I’m so sorry!”

Digging out my phone, I didn’t recognize the number associated with the four texts I’d received. “No, it’s all good.” I reached across and squeezed her forearm. “It must be spam or something. I don’t know this number. It’s okay.”

Opening my text program, I silently read the first one: You have no idea how hard it was to leave you Monday night.

Then the next one: You have no idea how hard it was to leave without telling you goodbye yesterday.

My jaw dropped as I read the third: You have no idea how hard it was not to touch you this morning.

The last one sealed it: You have no idea how much it’s killing me that you won’t look at me right now. I’ll call you tonight.

“Oh my GOD!” Mariska cried. “What the hell are you reading? Is he sexting you?”

Blinking rapidly, I tried to curb the smile threatening to break my face. Being cool was very hard when my sex-god trainer-with-benefits or whatever he was sent me texts like this.

“I guess this is his way of apologizing.”

“I knew it!” She cried, practically jumping up and down. “I’m putting his name next to yours in pen for Friday.”

“Not so fast,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “He still has some explaining to do.”

“Oh, fuck that.” She rested her cheek on her hand, giving me a dreamy look. “When your face looks that happy, I know exactly what it means.”

“What does it mean?” My eyes were narrowed, but she had me figured out.

“It means this guy’s got some serious baby-daddy potential.”

“I have no intention of making a baby with anyone.” I threw my bags over my shoulder and grabbed my car keys. “At least not any time soon.”

* * *

Showered, fed, and snug on my sofa, I pulled out my large sketchpad and resumed work on Slayde’s portrait. His nose was small and perfect. I had it finished in no time. Then I moved to his full lips. Those done, I started on his dark hair. It wasn’t too long, but it was long enough to get messy in the ocean breeze around his forehead and ears. Not curly, but just the slightest bend. It was thick and soft and oh, so sexy to tangle my fingers in.

I was just finishing when my phone started buzzing at my side. I let it ring a few times before picking it up.

“Hello?” I did my best to act like I hadn’t been waiting for him to call.

“Kenny, hey. It’s me, Slayde. I hope you got my texts.”

“I did.” I tried to think of how I wanted to frame them. “They were informative.”

He breathed a laugh, and an involuntary shiver moved across my shoulders. I remembered so well how it felt to have his breath on my skin.

“I guess I have some explaining to do.” His voice was low, and I couldn’t help wondering if Mariska had tipped him off.

Putting down my charcoal pencil, I rubbed my forehead with my fingers. “I don’t like games, Slayde. If there’s something you want to say to me, please do. If not, just leave me alone, okay?”

“Okay,” his voice was quiet. “I want to see you again. Bad. But there are things you should know about me first.”

A charge raced through my stomach at his admission. I traced my thumb over his lips in the sketch I held. “Are you trying to warn me away from you?”

I heard him exhale. “I guess. I mean, no? God, Ken, I never expected to be in this position, and now you’re here, so beautiful and amazing...”

We were both quiet on the line.

“I finished my sketch of you. It’s pretty good if I say so myself.”