What Lovers Do

I grin. “True.”

“So … if tomorrow morning will be a repeat of this morning, then …”

I stand and smirk. “Night, Shep.”

He says nothing for a beat, but as soon as I reach the door, he murmurs, “Night, Sophie.”

I don’t look back at him. He doesn’t need to see the monstrosity that is my grin.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Sunday morning, we do a repeat, minus the naked pool time. I sense his disappointment the rest of the morning. I’m certain he’s going to use it as his excuse for losing a third time to me. Shockingly, he doesn’t. Not aloud, anyway.

“Tell your parents ‘thank you’ for their generosity. The home. The pool. The food. I had a good time. Or don’t tell them.” I wink and open my door as he stops the Mustang in the parking lot of my office. “Since … it didn’t happen.”

“Really? I have to give them all the credit for the weekend?”

I laugh. “You can take a little credit.”

“Gee … thanks.” He climbs out to retrieve my golf clubs from the trunk while I grab my bags and let Cersei out of the backseat.

We load everything into my car and stop at the driver’s door. Shep’s hands find mine, our fingers lacing as he pulls me into his chest. I don’t do this with Jules.

“So much for our conversing … our exclusive tele-dating, although, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to return to it,” I say.

“Pfft. We can’t tele-date now. We’re friends. Best friends.” He wears that mischievous expression like it was custom made for him.

“You should date,” I blurt. It takes me a second to realize what I just said. I’m scared to death of this friendship. It would make things a lot easier if I knew Shep were actively dating. Not imagining anything more. Accepting what happened this weekend won’t happen again. It was my pre-baby-belly last hurrah.

He narrows his eyes.

“As your friend, I’m telling you that you should date. I can give you dating advice as any good friend would do.”

I can’t. My dating life has been nothing short of a catastrophe. But saying it to Shep feels like the right thing to do. And for a second, it makes me feel normal. Just a woman—a friend—helping another friend. A woman with a good job. A woman living with her dog. A woman not housing a squatter.

Informal settler.

Shep kisses my cheek, pausing for a long moment before sliding his lips to mine and giving me a soft peck. “Don’t worry, Sophie. I’m not going to sit around home drawing your name on notebooks and stalking you on social media. No trees will be defaced because I carved our names into them. I’m a grown-ass man capable of having sex without postcoital heavy spooning.”

“Good. That would be pathetic.” I release his hands and open my door.

“I have Julia and George this week. Let’s meet at the park.”

I smile, dropping into the driver’s seat. “Sounds perfect.”

And just like that … we’ve figured it out.

No room for neediness or falling in love. Shep World can continue a little longer. It’s innocent. And nobody has to know.

Just two grown adults exploring all the ways we can be friends. What could go wrong?

Jimmy.

That’s what or who could go wrong. He manages to stay out of my sight for the remainder of Sunday, and I don’t see him Monday until I arrive home from work.

“What the hell …” I park on the street because my driveway is in the process of being torn up. Grabbing my bags and letting Cersei out of the car, I march through my yard, scowling at the men destroying my property and fueled by a special kind of rabid anger funneling into my veins.

“What the—” I start to unleash on Jimmy, but he holds up his hand, perched at his new desk, new computer in front of him, headset with a mic attached to his stubborn, dumb head.

I’m so angry I can’t relax my hands to drop my bags. My legs root into the floor, and everything inside of me shakes as I wait for him to finish his sales call.

In my house.

With a desk he purchased with my money.

And my computer.

Fucker!

“Hey, babe. Missed you. Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” Jimmy slips off his headset and stands.

“I want you out of my house! What the hell is happening to my driveway?”

“Okay. Looks like we’ll start with the bad news.” He saunters toward me, slipping his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “Grammy died Friday. I was going to call you, but I didn’t want to ruin your weekend. That’s the bad news. The good news is that I will be getting some inheritance money. Mom floated me a loan so we could put in a new driveway like we’ve talked about for months. No more huge cracks and uneven parts. I think we’ll have enough for a basketball hoop too.”