“She coming?” Xander asks me, and I jerk in surprise. Did he read my mind? He laughs. “You have that moony-as-fuck look on your face.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I guess. She said she’d be here.” We’ve barely talked in the last several days or so, and it’s been hell avoiding her. I feel like a part of myself is missing. This pain has to get better.
“Have you told Lauren how you feel?”
“This might not be the best place to discuss the topic,” I warn him.
James goes running by in front of us, holding an empty paper plate clutched in his fist. Behind him, the family golden retriever, BooBoo, is inhaling a tomato that slid off James’s plate.
“You need to tell her,” Xander continues. “You two should just be honest and open up, and you’ll work it out.”
Not likely. I put a hard stop on that in the bar’s office. I told her flat-out that I wanted to be just friends. So basically I lied through my teeth. But I’m not interested in being her sex buddy, not when I want it all. I won’t settle for less, and Lauren won’t give me more than her body. It’s better this way.
“Ready to grill some burgers?” I ask him, not-very-subtly changing the subject.
We go to the grill, which had already been heated up, and I unpack the burgers and dogs, lay them out on the slats. It’s not exactly rocket science, so I let my attention wander around the bustling crowd in the backyard. Lots of my family members—cousins, uncles, aunts. It’s good being home. I missed my family.
“Lauren!” I hear Rebecca say. She crosses the yard, and the crowd parts for her, giving me my first glimpse of Lauren in days.
Initially, all I see are her legs. Fucking long, curvy legs, in the shortest damn skirt I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s almost indecent. My dick instantly perks up, despite my efforts to will it back down. She has on a pink tank top that clings to her breasts—it’s not as scandalous, but it has my blood pumping hard.
Fuck.
I tear my gaze away and stare back at the grill. Flip burgers, try to focus on the searing sizzle of the meat. But my body is homed in to hers; I can sense where she is behind me even without looking.
“So, Lauren’s here,” Xander observes drolly. “I’m gonna go say hi. You should too. Take her inside and make her feel welcome. But not on my bed, asshole.”
I shoot him a withering glare. “I’m manning the grill. Go ahead and be a good host.” I need a minute to compose myself, to stop the roaring lust that awoke in my system. This is a kid’s party, for fuck’s sake. Not the time for me to think about shoving that skirt up, pushing her panties aside, and plunging my fingers deep in her cunt.
My cock pounds against my zipper, wanting to be freed.
“Cole,” a soft voice says from behind me, and all my skin becomes hyperaware of Lauren’s presence. A light, flowery perfume wafts in the air. It’s hard to not breathe the scent in.
I take one more moment to compose myself, then turn around. “Lauren. Hi. Thanks for coming.” We’re only friends. We’re only friends. We’re only friends. I chant this to myself about eight million fucking times. If only I could erase the last few weeks from my brain, it would be all fine.
And yet…I wouldn’t, even if I could. Stupid as it might be, I don’t want to forget what happened between us. Even for a little while.
Lauren inches closer, peering up at me. Her lips are parted ever so slightly. “How have you been?” Looking down at her, I can see the small lines of stress around her mouth, between her brows. Her eyes are shaded, and she has bags under them. She’s stressed, even more than she was on Monday.
My heart lurches in sudden concern. “I’m fine. You?”
She shrugs one pale shoulder. “Busy.”
Silence stretches between us for a painful minute. I clench the spatula to keep from reaching out and touching her creamy flesh. Being near her makes my craving all the more vivid, painful.
She reaches up and tucks a strand of hair in the loose braid flopped over her shoulder. Keeps her fingers on the end of the braid, fidgeting. Swallows, gaze skittering away then back to me. She’s nervous.
“There’s beer in the fridge inside,” I tell her. A drink will help her relax, I’m sure. I turn back to the grill quickly to remove the burgers and dogs from the slats onto a plate. When I get the food loaded up and spin back around, she’s gone.
The tension in my chest tightens. Fuck. Now she probably thinks I was trying to dismiss her. If we’re going to be friends, we have to knock this awkward shit off and stop dancing around each other. This isn’t the place to talk about it, but I have a feeling a talk’s going to come soon.