Three Sweet Nothings (Blindfold Club 5)

She launched upright, the sheets shifting around her waist, exposing her magnificent breasts, and her face filled with fire. “I told you, if this is going to work—”

“I’m getting in that bed, sweetheart.” My voice was final, but I attempted to soften it with a smile. “I’m not above tying you back down to do it, either.”

Chapter

TWENTY-NINE

RUBY

Kyle McCreary slept in my bed three nights this week, that asshole.

And I loved it.

Well, I begrudgingly loved it. I told him I merely tolerated his presence, and he’d smiled like the Cheshire Cat. After all we’d done on Saturday night, I was a little relieved he’d fought to get into bed with me. I’d ordered him to stay on his side and said I’d kick his ass out if he started snoring, but I was glad when he peeled back the covers and climbed in.

We stayed up late, finishing the bottle of wine and talking. When we avoided our past, conversation was easy and, good God, it was like no time had passed at all. We still liked the same things, and still liked to argue about the things we didn’t. We still . . . clicked.

It had been a long time since I’d slept beside Kyle, and a lump welled in my throat. Fuck, why did he have to make my feelings so complicated? My anger at him over the years had rolled into a big ball that time polished down, making it smaller and easier to ignore. It lingered, though, weighing me down.

And now, who was there to blame? We’d both made mistakes, which I believed we wanted to move past.

I climbed into my bed and curled up beside the man who I’d once loved with everything I had. Was I foolish to go to him? Probably. But I was impulsive and willing to risk it. How much of my heart was there left to break, anyway?

At the end of the week, I returned to the dry cleaner, who was a fucking miracle worker and saved Morgan’s dress. I dropped it off at Grant’s place, had a beer with him, and spilled my guts about the whole messed-up situation with Kyle, partnership agreement and all.

“Don’t judge me,” I said. “I know it’s stupid. I’m stupid.”

“Rube.” Grant’s expression was serious. “You’re not stupid. You loved McAsshole.”

“More than anything.” The only upside to my terrible temper was that I loved just as fiercely.

His dark brown eyes were warm and unassuming. “Love like that is powerful.”

Of course Grant understood. I stared at the bottle of beer in my hands. “Before that final day, the only reason we were breaking up was because Kyle was moving across the country.” I took my last sip and set the beer on the table. “Now he’s back, so the obstacle’s gone, but . . . he says he doesn’t want anything more. And I’m not sure if I do either.”

> Grant gave me a plain look. “You don’t, hey? Need me to fill you in?”

“Fuck.” I set my elbows on the table and my face in my hands. I had to stop kidding myself. I knew exactly what I wanted. I’d been in the partnership with Kyle for a week, but it’d taken me far less time to realize I was going to want more. “What do I do?”

“Talk to him?”

“I can’t. It’ll mess everything up.”

He picked up my empty bottle and dropped both of ours into the recycling bin with a loud clack. “Just my opinion, yeah? Better to know now.” Grant leaned back in his chair and crossed his thick arms over his chest. “If McAsshole’s only in it to sleep with you, then don’t waste any more time on him.”

“And if he’s not?”

“Then don’t waste time pretending it’s just sex.”

I left Grant’s apartment feeling anxious, and nerves itched under my skin. He was right. I wanted more from Kyle, but I was terrified to lose what we had. It felt like I’d just gotten him back.

On the walk to the El station, I pulled out my phone and texted him, my fingers numb in the cold.

My walk slowed and my lips curled into a smile.

I climbed the metal grate steps up to the station and placed my pass on the turnstile, which was so loud I almost missed the next chime of a text message.

The noise of the approaching train covered my laugh.