So Wright (The Wrights 1)

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” He sighed. “My dad hasn’t been doing well since she passed. They were married fifty-one years.”

“That’s…wow. I thought that kind of thing only happened on the Hallmark Channel.”

He chuckled and threaded their fingers. “They were good together, but he’s been on a downward spiral for the last year. He’s depressed, forgets a lot, doesn’t take care of the house or his business or himself. He’s lost a lot of weight and become weak. It’s hard to watch. My sister’s been picking up all the slack. I didn’t realize how bad it was until she had a meltdown and called me in tears. I was in Australia.”

He shook his head at the guilt that stayed with him. “I knew he was depressed, but not to this degree. Anyway, Jen has been taking care of everything, but she works, has a husband who travels, and three boys, Jacob, James, and Joshua.”

“Your family likes J names.”

“A tradition. My dad is Jonathan—goes by Jon, and my mom was Julia. Jen is damn good at managing everything, but Mom’s death and now Dad’s problems tipped her over the edge. I’ve been really busy at work and haven’t been pulling my weight here. I’m just trying to help where I can.” A lull fell, and the silence felt infused with comfort and warmth. “Can I ask how old you are?”

“Our ages don’t matter.”

If tonight was the end of them, she was right. But he didn’t want this to be the end. “You’re right.” He paused, then grinned up at her. “Tell me anyway.”

“When you smile at me like that…” She sighed. “I’m thirty. You?”

“Thirty-five next month.” He rolled to his stomach and propped himself up on his forearms.

She looked down the length of him. “That’s one incredible view, Mr. Taylor.” When her gaze returned to his, she rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me that look.”

“What look?”

“The let’s-do-this-again-sometime look.”

His chest compressed, expelling all his air. “So, this is really just a one-time thing?” He ran a hand down her sleek thigh. “Even though we’re nuclear together?”

She smiled and threaded her fingers through his hair. “Relationships aren’t my thing.”

“Random hookups are?”

She gave him a look. “Not the way you’re thinking.”

“I’m not judging, just trying to figure out your ground rules.”

“My ground rules are simple—no attachments. Especially not to swaggering, sexy men living in New York. Believe me when I tell you I’m doing you a favor.”

This was going to be harder than he’d expected. He pressed a kiss to her hipbone where an infinity symbol was tattooed in words: Every saint has a past, every sinner has a future. She smelled like him, soap, and sex. Heat gathered across his hips again. This woman made him feel twenty.

“What if we were to, say, randomly meet again while I’m in town?” he asked.

“That would be quite a coincidence.”

“Or what if we randomly met up when I came to town to see my family?”

“That,” she said, her voice dipping with discouragement, “would be a pattern.”

“Sounds like a pattern would be a problem for you.”

Her gaze softened, and she slid the tip of her index finger down his nose. “How often do you visit?”

A grin blasted across his face. “I’d visit a lot more for a coincidental meeting with you.”

She laughed, pushed away, and sat up. “I’ve got to get going.”

He caught her wrist. “Why?”