Not Just Another Romance Novel (24 page)

I was dreading what I had to do with Easton. I knew I had to find time to explore it. I knew how stupid it would be to confuse everything with another “date,” but it wouldn’t really be like that with Easton.

Or maybe it would.

Maybe that’s who things would actually work out with since I seemed to be screwing up every other relationship in my life.

But somehow I doubted it.

I put those thoughts out of my mind and focused on the sweet potatoes.

Unfortunately, they just reminded me of my discussion with Scott about Thanksgiving food. So I derailed that train of thought, too, and tried to lose myself in a book until it was time for my flight.

It wasn’t long before I found myself staring forlornly out the little window of the plane.

I was dwelling. It was a bad place to be, but I couldn’t push the disastrous events of the afternoon out of my mind.

I should have been happy, right? I should have felt honored that not one but
two
men wanted me in their lives. I should have felt overjoyed that the random feelings I’d been having for Scott were returned.

Instead, I felt like a total ignorant fool for missing all of what were now such obvious signs.

Of course Scott was in love with me. It was the only thing that really made sense. It was the only real explanation why he’d been ignoring me ever since I’d gotten together with Dax.

It was the only reason he would have completely ignored my existence in CVS while he stared at the concrete evidence that I was sleeping with another man.

He’d never talked to me about the women he was dating because I was the only woman he wanted to be with. He’d admitted as much on the sidewalk in front of my apartment with those words that would be forever burned into my mind.
It’s because I fucking love you. I’ve loved you since the day I fucking met you.

Some men swore a lot, and others didn’t. Scott fell into the second camp. He swore when necessary, when he was really angry or passionate. It just wasn’t a normal part of his everyday vocabulary.

So to hear him whip out multiple F-bombs during his speech was both shocking and emotional to witness. It told me how serious he was.

While I’d felt the first tingles of a crush, he was full-blown in love with me.

Did I feel it, too? Was that tingling in my belly when I saw him due to a crush? Or was it something more?

Why hadn’t he said anything before? Why had he held onto that information and stored it in his heart until the day it came tumbling out at me?

And why hadn’t I been lucid enough to ask him after his big confession?

I’d been too stunned to even reply to his words.

It shouldn’t have been a shock. My lunch date with Hayden should have clued me in, but instead I’d basically ignored the signals and opted to believe what was easier.

And I still wondered who the girl in the diner was. If he was so in love with me, why was he so happy when he was with her?

None of it added up. None of it made any sense.

I blew out a frustrated breath.

A deep, husky voice spoke. “Something wrong?”

We had a tiny plane for the short ride from San Diego to Vegas. There were only two seats on my side of the aisle.

I turned to the man sitting beside me. He wore a flannel shirt, jeans, boots, and a ten-gallon hat. His face was cleanly shaven and his brown hair peeked out under his hat.

I gasped as I realized I had me a cowboy in the very seat beside me.

And I couldn’t even get amped up about it. I finally had my shot at a cowboy, and I had zero enthusiasm about it.

It was this stupid, not at all thought out project that had gotten me into this mess in the first place.

I mustered a smile at the hot cowboy. “Yeah. But it’s Thanksgiving, so I plan on counting my blessings.”

He cracked open a book and shot me a friendly smile. “Only way to live, ma’am.”

He buried his nose in his book. I strained to catch a glimpse of the cover. It looked like some book on horses. Or lassoing. Possibly rodeos.

I returned my attention to my tiny window. We were next in line for takeoff. I’d be landing in just over an hour.

I heard the book next to me close with a quiet thud. “You sure you don’t want to talk about it? Once we get up in the air, all that sighing won’t be good for cabin pressure.” His voice had a slight twang, and I wondered what he was doing on a flight from San Diego to Vegas.

I glanced over at him and giggled. The cowboy was actually kind of funny. “It’s a long story.”

He glanced at his watch. “Sixty-five minutes long?”

I rolled my eyes. “Not
that
long.”

“Then we’ve got time.”

“It’s boys.”

“Of course it is. A pretty gal like you?”

I was sure I blushed, and when I glanced down again, I noticed his shiny wedding ring.

A married cowboy wanted to give me advice on my love life. It was just a tiny bit swoon-worthy.

I stuck my hand out. “I’m Piper.”

He shook my hand with a smile. “Buck.”

Oh. My. God. The cowboy’s name was
Buck
?

It was too adorable.

“Well, Buck, why are you heading to Vegas?”

“My wife’s there. Spending Thanksgiving together before I head back on the circuit.”

“Rodeo?”

He nodded. “You?”

“My family is from Vegas. I’m attending SDSU.”

“And that’s where the boys come into the picture?”

I nodded, and I told him the whole sordid story.  I started at the beginning when my best friend Scott helped me shape my idea for my master’s thesis. I ended with that same friend’s confession on my sidewalk earlier that day.

I left out the part about planning to hit on my stepbrother. The more I thought about it, the more embarrassing the whole idea became.

The cowboy’s eyes were expressive and kind as I spoke, and when I finally finished, he was quiet for a moment. “You want my unbiased opinion?”

“Hit me with it.”

“I think you know what you want in your heart, and I think that’s what you need to do.”

I think Buck the cowboy had been bucked off one too many bulls.

The only thing in my heart was complete and utter confusion.

“Flight attendants, please prepare for landing.” The pilot’s voice came over the plane’s loudspeaker.

The flight home was always really quick, but this one had gone even faster than usual.

“Thanks for chatting with me,” Buck said. Wait a minute.
He
was thanking
me
for chatting? I’d talked his ear off the entire flight! My face must’ve expressed my confusion at his words, because he clarified. “I’m terrified of flying. Your story kept my attention off of it. We’ve still gotta land, but at least I’ve got a friend next to me.”

I smiled warmly. He was a true gentleman and a really nice guy. Maybe I’d include him in my report after all.

We landed and the cowboy took his tiny suitcase down from the overhead compartment. We walked down the jetway together, and then he turned one way to find his wife while I turned the other way to collect my checked baggage.

“Piper?” he said before we parted. I looked back at him. “Good luck. Whatever decision you make will be the right one for you. Happy Thanksgiving.”

I resisted the sudden urge to hug this total stranger. “Thanks, Buck. Your wife is one lucky lady.”

He grinned, and that was the last I ever saw of cowboy Buck.

I spotted my mom immediately when I entered the baggage claim area. Even though the airport was crowded—what better place than Vegas to spend a holiday week meant for family?—I found my mom waiting at the bottom of the escalator. Her hair was a freshly colored beautiful caramel color, and her dark eyes were warm when they spotted me.

I grinned and ran into her outstretched arms for a hug. No matter what, my mom’s arms were always comforting.

And suddenly I sobbed as my mom held me in her comfort.

“Piper, are you okay?” she asked, rubbing my back softly.

I sniffled unattractively, thankful none of my romantic prospects were even in the same state as me. “Yeah,” I lied.

“What’s going on?”

I wiped the tears still leaking under my eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Too bad. You’re talking when we get in the car. You don’t get to burst into tears the second I see you and not tell your mom what’s going on.”

I nodded sullenly, knowing she was right and thinking how she could make it all better.

So after we picked up my suitcase and headed to the car, I started the same story I’d just related to the cowboy. I’d been so busy between school work and my social calendar that I hadn’t even filled her in on my thesis topic.

But she was a romantic at heart. She was the one who taught me to love romance novels after I’d snuck them from her private collection. And I hoped she was the one who could help me sort everything out.

We were close, but we weren’t talk-about-every-sexy-detail close. I left out the condom story from CVS. I left out the obvious sexual connection I shared with Dax. I’d left out those details when I told Buck the story, too. 

And when I finished relating the details, we were nearing the neighborhood where I’d grown up.

“Sounds like a real mess,” she said.

“It is.”

“Do you like Scott?”

“Of course. He’s my best friend. Well, former best friend.”

“No, honey. I mean do you
like
Scott?”

I stared out the window. “I don’t know,” I whispered. Because I really didn’t know. I wasn’t sure if I liked him, if I had a crush on him, or if I loved him back.

If he was the friend who had been sitting right in front of me the entire time that I’d somehow overlooked.

God. He was perfect for my project, but suddenly all of these men had become so much bigger than some project.

“What about Dax?”

I nodded. “Yes. I like Dax a lot.”

“Do you love him?”

“I don’t know.”

We pulled into the driveway, and my mom patted my hand resting on my leg. “We’ll talk more later, okay? You think about those two questions.”

“Okay,” I said, opening the door.

“Piper?” she asked. I turned back to her, and her voice was soft and soothing. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

I nodded, and then I got out of the car, grabbed my luggage from the trunk, and followed my mom into the house, the newest challenge of figuring out how to hit on Easton fresh in my mind.

25

I sat on the bed in my childhood bedroom for a few minutes to collect my thoughts after I had unpacked. I’d told my story twice now, and I was no closer to a solution than I had been a couple of hours earlier when Dax had dropped me off at the airport.

It should all be so easy. Dax was supposed to be the one, and that was my solution.

But it wasn’t that simple, because every single time I thought about Scott standing on the sidewalk telling me he loved me, fresh tears filled my eyes.

Every single time I thought about his words that he couldn’t stand by and watch me fall in love with another man, the rip in my heart tore a little wider.

And every single time I thought about how my friendship with him would never be the same because of his confession, my stomach lurched in pain.

I couldn’t let Scott get away.

But I couldn’t let Dax go, either.

I texted Dax.
Arrived in Sin City.

I thought about adding more, a line about how much I missed him or something a little more personal. But I wasn’t sure if I did miss him yet. I couldn’t sort through the emotions hitting me from every angle. It was too confusing and too heartbreaking.

I pulled up my conversations with Scott. I read through the last few. They were all about school or studying or meeting with Dr. Prestbury. I scrolled further back and found a few pick-up lines that made me smile. He’d sent me a funny meme about psychology students, and I’d answered back with one of my own.

I missed that. We’d had a really strong friendship based on common interests. While one part of me wondered if that was a perfect base for a long-term relationship, the other part of me felt guilty even considering it when I was in a relationship with someone else.

I drafted a text because I needed to say something to him. I wouldn’t see him for almost a week, and I hated how we’d left things. He’d given his big confession and walked away from me, and I never even said a single word back to him. He deserved a response, but I had no idea what to say to him. We needed to have a conversation in person, one where he wouldn’t run from me, but a text would have to do for now.
Thank you for confiding in me today. I hate that I didn’t get a chance to respond to you. I miss you. I miss our friendship. I miss nights on my couch watching trash TV. I miss your funny memes and pick-up lines. I don’t know what else to say to you except I’m sorry.

I stared at the text for a long time, debating whether or not to send it. I wasn’t sure why I was apologizing. Maybe for hurting him without knowing I had been. But this project had been his idea in the first place. How could he be mad at me for starting something more with one of my test subjects? He had to realize that if he never told me how he felt I would eventually find someone to date.

I worked up my nerve and hit the send button, and then I threw my phone onto the bed next to me as if it was on fire and burning my hands. I held my hands up. The damage was done. The text had been sent, floating through the Las Vegas space, getting ready to land on Scott’s phone somewhere in San Diego.

I wondered where he was and what he was doing. I wondered if he was with the blonde girl—and whether she was a date or a friend. I wondered if he was thinking about me.

Funny how I hadn’t thought any of that when I’d sent my much more impersonal text to Dax.

My phone jingled with a new text next to me. The palpitations of my heart concerned me.

When I saw that it was just a reply from Dax, my heart rate slowed.

Wishing I was there to corrupt you in Sin City.

I smiled at the thought of just how exactly Dax Hunter could “corrupt” me, and then I purposely left my phone on my bed and headed downstairs to greet my family.

I heard my mom murmuring to Heath, who had just gotten home from work. I couldn’t make out exactly what she was saying, but I had a feeling it had something to do with me and my precarious state of mind.

“There she is!” Heath exclaimed heartily, standing from the kitchen table and pulling me into a big bear hug.

I smiled. He’d always been like a dad to me, and it felt good to be home.

“It’s been too long. How are you?” he asked, pulling back. I took a seat next to my mom.

“Been better, but hanging in there.”

“Hitting the books hard?” he asked, dodging the real issue.

I shrugged. “Something like that.”

My mom chimed in. “You look tired. You want to lay down and take a nap while I get dinner ready?”

“I look tired?” I asked. “Thanks a lot!”

My mom and Heath both laughed.

“I can help with dinner,” I said, hoping for anything to distract my thoughts. “Where’s Easton?”

“Probably the gym. He’ll be home soon for dinner tonight, though. I told him he better be here to see his sister.”

I cringed when my mom called me his “sister” instead of his “stepsister.” My plan seemed grosser somehow if I was his “sister.”

Easton attended UNLV, and to save on costs, he still lived at home with my mom and Heath. From what I’d heard, he stayed most nights on campus with friends. But that was according to my mom. More than likely, he stayed with women he didn’t tell her about.

Heath excused himself to go change out of his work clothes.

“What are we having?” I asked.

“Meatloaf and mashed potatoes.” She set to work while I sat at the table. “Tell me more about this rock star you’re dating.”

“He’s amazing and hot and I really like him but I don’t really want to talk about him right now.”

My mom pulled her pre-made meat loaf out of the fridge and started the oven. Then she sat down across from me.

“Why not, honey?”

“Because I don’t want to think about boys right now.”

“How old is he?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Then he’s not a boy, Piper.”

I blushed. Of course my mom would bring up the fact that I was dating a
man
just to embarrass me.

Lucky for me, the front door opened and a sweaty Easton popped his head in the kitchen.

“How long ‘til dinner? Hey Piper.” I smiled back. Speaking of men who were no longer boys, he’d filled out quite a bit since the last time I’d seen him. He still looked like my stepbrother, but he was somehow…sexier.

Oh God.

“About an hour,” she said, glancing in his direction. She wrinkled her nose. “Long enough for you to shower.”

“I’ll be back in ten.” He disappeared, and I stared thoughtfully at the doorway. How the hell was I going to work up the nerve for this?

My mom chattered on about some new client of Heath’s who loved the golf course, and I half tuned her out while I tried to push out the thoughts that kept creeping their way back in.

Easton reappeared ten minutes later, true to his word. His hair was flat and damp from the shower, and he wore a t-shirt and basketball shorts. He plopped in the chair next to me at the table.

“How’s everything?” he asked me once my mom had stopped talking long enough for him to get a word in.

I shrugged. “You know. The usual. Busy with school.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. How are classes?”

“Fine. I’ve got a six hour Stats class that’s killing me.” And a former Stats tutor who just broke my heart by telling me he loved me.

“Shit. Six hours of Stats? No thanks.”

My mom shot Easton a look at his curse word, and Easton rolled his eyes. I giggled.

“Want to hit Grayson’s tonight with me and a few of my friends?”

I nodded. A bar seemed like a good place to hit on my stepbrother. A few shots of something strong would certainly help.

I couldn’t believe I was really, actually thinking of doing this.

But it was for science. It had to be done.

After an enjoyable dinner catching up with my family, I headed up to my bedroom to get ready to go out with Easton. I picked up my phone.

I had three new messages.

My heart skipped a beat as my eyes hurried to see who they were from.

Dax.

Shannon.

Austin.

Nothing from Scott. And when I realized that, my heart slowed back to its normal beat in disappointment.

Dax’s text told me he hoped I was having fun with my family. Shannon’s and Austin’s both asked me what happened with Scott.

I wondered how they already knew. Maybe they’d seen Scott.

I wished I could see Scott. I wished I could hug him and tell him nothing had to change.

My heart was breaking, and I knew it was because I’d lost him. But he hadn’t replied to my text. I wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed or hurt or something else. I wanted to leave him alone to start healing. I wanted him to try to forget about me.

Or maybe I was just telling myself that so I wouldn’t feel guilty that I wanted hug him and tell him everything would change, but it could change for the better. What if we could try? What if we could be together?

And then guilt hit me every time those thoughts slipped into my mind because of Dax.

I thought about just telling him what Scott had said to me, but I wasn’t ready for the inevitable questions that he would ask. Especially ones that inquired whether I felt the same way.

I had no idea how I felt, and as much as I’d hoped being in Vegas would be a reprieve, I actually sort of hated being away from home. Funny how I was in the home I’d grown up in, yet San Diego felt like home now.

I let the texts go for the moment, focused on my goal for the night. I had to put everything out of my mind for my research. I could only hope that concentrating on something else would help me let go of the confusion in my heart.

Easton drove. It was nice to know I could get as drunk as I wanted to, and after the past twelve hours, I felt the need to get obliterated.

As soon as we were seated with Easton’s friends, I ordered my first shot—a Fireball—and my first beer along with it.

“Way to go,” one particularly cute friend of my stepbrother’s said to me, holding his hand up for a high-five. I slapped his hand and thought about Scott.

“Who are all of your friends?” I asked Easton.

I looked around the circular booth. Easton sat beside me. He pointed out each of his friends. On his right sat Flynn. Next to him sat Kate, and then Eric and Valerie. On my left sat Dallin and Jenny.

It was far too many names for me to remember, but I remembered Dallin just because he sat next to me. Everyone at the table had model good looks, and then there was me.

I tried to feel like a part of the group.

After the Fireball warmed my chest, I slammed my beer. I felt pretty good and we’d only been at the bar about ten minutes. I leaned in toward Easton, ready to make my move, when I felt a hand on my thigh.

“So Easton tells me you’re studying Psychology?” Dallin said.

I turned toward him, mentally calling him a Cock-Block.

“Yep. I plan to graduate in May with my master’s.”

“Awesome. I’m thinking about staying in school for my MBA after I graduate.”

“How long until you graduate?” I asked, trying to feign an interest even though I had a job to do. I didn’t want to be rude to Easton’s friends, and Dallin was cute with his broad shoulders and floppy blond hair.

“Year and a half.”

Then our conversation got a little awkward. Dallin had run out of items he knew about me, and I didn’t have much to say to him since I didn’t really care. I ordered another shot and another beer, knowing I needed the liquid courage for the task ahead of me.

Easton sat between me and Flynn, a boy with warm eyes. He was more of a hipster than the rest of the group. The boys in Easton’s circle were all muscles and brawn, while Flynn reminded me a little bit of Scott. He just looked more academic with his dark framed glasses. The similarities ended there, though. He had brown eyes, dark hair, and a well-kept beard. Scott didn’t have any of those things.

I forced thoughts of Scott from my brain as I threw back my second Fireball. Dallin was impressed, and I was tipsy.

I leaned in toward Easton again, who was deep in conversation with Flynn. I looped my arm through his and laced my fingers together around his bicep.

“What are you doing?” he finally asked, turning in my direction with irritation.

He wasn’t catching my drift. Maybe I should’ve leaned my head on his shoulder, but I wasn’t liquored up enough for that bold of a move. Plus I didn’t want to embarrass myself—or him—in front of his friends.

I supposed a few more drinks would help me make my plan a little more obvious and drop the need to protect both of us from embarrassment.

“Nothing,” I said coyly.

He rolled his eyes and turned back to his conversation with Flynn.

Dallin started talking to me again, not at all catching my drift that I wasn’t interested. My head was fuzzy, but I let go of Easton’s arm so I could tip back my beer.

“You like SDSU?” Dallin asked.