“Are you upset with me?” I’m barely able to speak.
He shakes his head unconvincingly as his eyes squeeze close. “Sleep, sweet, girl.”
I want to scream at him to talk to me about this, but I know it’s no use. Everything has changed between us. I’m afraid to close my eyes. I don’t want tomorrow to come.
When I wake the next morning, I glance around the room. The prior night’s events slam into me with force. Oh, shit! My head is pounding. I smile when I see Tug has left two Tylenols and a glass of water o
n the nightstand. I glance around the room and wonder where he is.
There is a light tap at the door. “Room service.”
I push the covers off to answer the door. Oh, hell. I’m in my underwear. “One minute.” I shout at the door. I scurry around the room, searching for my skirt. I finally find it hung up in the closet and slip it on. I’m not a fashion statement, but at least I’m dressed. I answer the door and smile at the older gentleman rolling a cart in. After placing everything on the dining room table, he lifts the silver covers from the plates, revealing a breakfast of Belgian waffles and fruit.
“Mr. Hunter is out for a jog. He asked that you get breakfast. He should be back in an hour. Is there anything else you need?”
I smile. “No, thank you.”
The man nods and leaves.
Smelling the food, I’m suddenly starving. I sit down in one of the chairs, staring out over the lake and devouring my food.
Once I’m done, I move to sit at the desk and open the morning paper. I try to maneuver the crossword puzzle. Sunlight pours into the room through the wall of windows. It’s no use. I slam the paper onto the table and begin tapping my pen anxiously on the edge of the wood. Before long my foot is in a race with the pen to see which one can tap the loudest. What the hell am I going to do? The inevitable awkwardness is just a short time away. I don’t want things to be weird between me and Tug. I definitely don’t want to come between him and Brady. They’ve been through enough. The thoughts in my head race around like greyhounds after a rabbit. Not that it should matter what Brady thinks. He has obviously moved on with Annabelle. He signed the annulment papers. Whoever I choose to sleep with is none of his concern.
The door opens. I turn in my chair to find Tug, shirtless and sweaty. He really is breathtakingly handsome.
“Hi,” I say, tapping the pen more aggressively.
“Good morning.” He smiles. “I see you got breakfast.”
“Thank you.” Oh, yeah, the awkward meter is off the charts. “Tug, we need to talk.” No point in dragging this out.
He nods. “Yes, we do. I’m just going to grab a quick shower.” He starts to walk to the bathroom and stops. He turns to face me with his signature grin. “That’s a two-hundred-dollar pen you’re about to break.” He laughs, like he always does when he’s amused with himself before continuing into the bathroom.
I stop tapping and smile, my nerves fluttering away. He’s back to teasing me. I hope that means he’s not angry with me. Why can’t I feel more than a platonic kind of love for him? I want to. It’s just not possible. We proved that last night when we crossed way over the line of friendship. Didn’t we? Now I’m not sure. The sex was incredible. Tug was sweet and gentle afterward, even as I had a colossal meltdown.
He’d take care of me.
He’d always love me.
More than that, he’d always want me. He always has.
I’m terribly confused. I shouldn’t be. I know what my problem is. Tug is great, but he’s not Brady. I might have left Mexico and Brady, but I didn’t bring my heart with me. It’s being held captive. Can I move on with Tug if my heart isn’t in it? Perhaps I could grow to love him. It’s such a cliché. Tug deserves better.
“Nutty Buddy…what have I told you about talking to yourself?”
Tug scares the life out of me. I spin in the chair and chuck the two-hundred-dollar pen at him. He ducks, and it sails over his head. He laughs. I can’t help but let my eyes wander over him. He’s wearing tan slacks and a red polo shirt with the Gibson Capital logo. I hate that I’m thinking about how sexy he looks.
My eyes widen when I see him holding out two fingers. He points to his eyes, then to mine. I’m so busted. “You suck,” I tell him.
“That’s not what you said last night.”
My mouth falls open and hits the floor. I can’t believe he just said that.
“It was more like, ‘Oh, yes. God, you’re so good.’”
I can’t help but laugh. “Your ego is much too big for one person.”
He shrugs. His smile fades away. “Are we friends?”