Rebel Soul

The white brick is perfectly complemented by shades of gray, and the robin’s egg-blue front door is so damn cheery and inviting I can’t help but smile.

West rubs a hand over the back of his neck, his eyes dropping to the lawn—which is perfectly manicured. “Yeah, uh…”

“What? I don’t mean it in a bad way. I just assumed you were more of a bachelor pad kind of guy.”

Without meeting my eyes, he says, “It’s near my grandmother’s place, and I got it for a steal.”

My tingling Spidey senses tell me there’s more to the situation, but I don’t push; it’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk about it. “Thanks for letting me drive. I…needed that.”

“You can drive her anytime,” he says, heading for the door.

“Really?” I ask, following behind him like an eager puppy.

He sighs. “Yeah. You know how to handle her. Now, come on, and I’ll give you the grand tour.”

“I love that show!” I practically shout.

He turns and stares. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re an odd one. C’mon.” West keys in the code, granting us access. “This is the living room, if you were wondering,” he says, gesturing to the large, well-kept space.

The inside of West’s not-so-humble abode, with its gray walls, thick white trim, and dark hardwood floors, is every bit as gorgeous as the outside. It literally looks like something fresh out of a magazine, which is kind of ridiculous for a twenty-four-year-old man.

Truly, I was prepared for beer bottles and pizza boxes, not custom-made furniture and coffee table books.

He leads me further into the house, taking me through a gleaming, well-appointed kitchen and massive dining room. He points out the laundry room and a half-bath as well, but I’m far too busy gazing at the hot tub in the backyard. Noticing where my attention is, he nudges me, a lecherous smile playing on his plump lips. “Ah, yes. Many a good night has been spent out there.”

I pretend to stick my finger down my throat. “Ugh. Gag me.”

“Whatever. You’re just jelly it wasn’t you.”

I shake my head back and forth, but deep down, I think we both know I’m full of shit. “You couldn’t pay me to get in that germ-infested cesspool now that I know it’s your personal little fuck-tub.”

West throws his head back, laughing like I’ve just told the best punchline to the best joke ever. “What’s that shit Shakespeare said…something about a lady protesting too much?”

I punch his chest. “Ow!” I yank my hand back, cradling my knuckles. “Are you wearing a suit of armor or something?”

“Nah, I’m just that solid.” He wags his brows. “C’mon, I’ll show you my room.”

“Um, no. I have no desire to see your sex den.”

He shoots me another self-satisfied look, like he loves the fact that I might just be jealous. Keyword: might. “Nooo.” He tugs me forward. “My bedroom is my oasis. My escape.”

I look at him in disbelief. “You’ve never fucked a girl in your bed?”

“Nope.”

“Bull.” I don’t believe it. There’s simply no way.

West shrugs, completely uncaring. “It’s a fact. Your lack of belief doesn’t negate the truth. Now, come on.”

His room is on the first floor and is done up to match the rest of the house. He has a few pieces of art hung over his bed and a chair in the corner. His massive king-sized bed is adorned with a fluffy comforter that looks comfortable enough that Sleeping Beauty would’ve begged for five more minutes of shut eye. “My bathroom is en suite, and all of the upstairs rooms have their own as well.”

We breeze past his office and the first guest room until we reach the door at the end of the hall. “This is where you’ll be.”

I open the door and venture into my new room. It’s bright and airy with light walls and big picture windows. There’s a full-sized bed centered on the far wall with a handmade quilt covering it. The closet is plenty big and the bathroom even has a tub. All in all, it’s my own little slice of heaven.

Whirling around, I surprise both of us by throwing my arms around his middle, hugging him. “Thank you. Truly, thank you.”

He shrugs off my gratitude. “Not a problem. Mi casa es su casa—literally, after Colton draws up the paperwork. Why don’t I let you rest for a minute while I call him?”

Smiling like a fool, I nod. “That sounds good.”

He turns and exits the room, leaving me alone. Not wanting to waste a single second, I shimmy out of my sweats and dive under the thick quilt, sleep claiming me the second my head hits the pillow.

Chapter Ten

West

Back downstairs, I dial Colton; he answers on the first ring. “Hey.”

“So,” I hedge. “I did a thing.”

He sighs heavily. “What kind of thing? An I-knocked-someone-up kind of thing?”

I stifle a laugh—barely. “I’m good, but I’m not that good. No.”