Reluctantly in Love (6 page)

“Yeah. Dusty.” I heaved a long, deep sigh. “It’s a good thing I don’t write romance—the way I feel right now, my sex scenes would not be swoon-worthy. They’d be snooze-worthy.” I opened my mouth and pointed my finger to the back of my throat. “
Blech.
Mechanical.”

“Like a bull?” Gen winked at me.

Lexie snickered. “A mechanical bull.”

Gen and Lexie were twins and identical pains in my ass. We met when I almost ran them over with the new scooter I got for my eighth birthday. They slowed their bikes down as I beeped my little handlebar horn and yelled at them to get out of the way, but they ended up in a pile of bicycles and legs on the grass, with me begging them not to sue my parents. The three of us had been best friends ever since. Somewhere along the line, Lexie had fallen for my cousin Leo. They were together now.

Both Gen and Lexie were bossier than either would admit, and they also had a tendency to think they knew what was best for me, especially in the relationship department. That’s where the similarities in their personalities ended. Everything about Lexie whispered strawberries and cream. Gen, on the other hand, was an artist who lived and breathed color. Right now the hair framing her face was violet; two months ago it was pink; months before that, teal.

“It’s not funny. I’m feeling
blah
. And that’s unacceptable.”
Blah
wasn’t a word I ever wanted to be associated with. The word gave me hives.

In the two days since my conversation with Kelsey, I’d been dwelling on what she said. And worse, it was as if knowing she might be right had done a total black-out on any creative juju I had left. Last night, I’d typed out
Chapter One
, and then proceeded to stare at those two words for what felt like hours. And then I started thinking about all the sex I wasn’t having, which made me go in search of a cocktail. I left the document open on my laptop and hadn’t been back since. The laptop would have powered off by now, but I was a little afraid of returning to my office and writing nothing again.

I was willing to try anything at this point to get over this slump. A slump I’d never experienced before. It was terrifying.
What if it’s too late and I’m all pruned-out—sexually
and
creatively?
I shuddered with the thought.

The weekend couldn’t come soon enough. In two days I’d be at the Moss family lakeside cabin. Beautiful views, cocktails, friends, basking in the sunlight’s warmth and swimming in a crystal clear pool. The thought of leaving town for the weekend made me giddy. I needed a mental break.

“You need laid,” Gen said, yanking me from my thoughts.

“Probably, before all my sexy dries up.” I sat up and nudged Gen's magazine down so she would have to look at me. “This is
serious
.”

“You are not drying up.” She rolled her eyes and yanked the magazine from under my hand. “You’re twenty-three years old.”

“Twenty-three going-on-spinster. A lonely, passionless spinster,” I stressed.

“By choice.” She raised her brows as if she dared me to challenge her. “And, by the way, I am more than happy to help you out with that problem. I know this super-hot doctor . . .”

She’d been trying to set me up with Matt’s best friend for months now. I wasn’t taking the bait. Dating my best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend? That had disaster written all over it.

I chose not to respond. I turned to Lexie who flipped channels on the TV. “Hey, you going to chime in here, or what?”

“Sure, but I already know you won’t listen to me.” She turned another channel then glanced over at me. “You never listen to me.”

“Yes, well, finding prince charming then getting married in his castle in the mountains isn’t on my list of ever-going-to-happen.”

She rolled her eyes. “I was
going
to say you should borrow the book I just finished. It had
the hottest
sexy scene
ever
. I was sweating by the time I finished reading it.”

Lexie only read romance. That wasn’t my thing. In those books, love was all tied up with a pretty pink bow. But in real life? Romance ended up in marriage that ended in divorce. I’d had a front row seat to all of my parents’ failed relationships since their divorce.

I hadn’t read a romance novel since high school. Now, if the sexy came from a dark and angsty paranormal story, I’d be all over it.

But, you’re desperate . . .

“Yeah, maybe I will. Message me the name and I’ll look it up later.”

“You’ll love it, I’m telling you, if you aren’t inspired to write after that you’ll definitely be inspired—”“

“For penis,” Gen interjected with a snicker.

“You’re not taking this seriously.” I grabbed her by the shoulders and stressed, “You’re supposed to be sympathetic to my plight.” I gave her a firm shake “
You don’t understand.
” I shook her again. “
I need my sexy back.
I think it’s giving me writer’s block!”

“This is a self-inflicted problem, Roxanna Leigh.” She shook off my hands. “I know where there’s a perfectly good penis, but you don’t want anything to do with it.”

“
Ugh,
” I grumbled, and threw myself down into the couch beside her.

My friends both claimed I had a flair for dramatics, which sometimes meant they didn’t take me as seriously as I wished they would. Like right now. While I was having a crisis of epic proportions.

I was not amused. This was serious shit. I mean, I was passionate about things—writing, reading, shoes, sleeping in, hazelnut lattes, and I was a huge movie buff. Oh, and I also liked vacations, because vacations meant room service and housekeeping. Plenty of things made me passionate. So why did I not
feel
passionate right now? Why did I feel so
blah
?

“I need chocolate,” I said, which was the next best thing to sex.

I pushed myself off the couch. Just that morning I’d bought a bag of milk chocolate truffles. I definitely had passion for truffles. I’d been eating them all day, especially since my phone call with Kelsey this morning. I was worked up about all the
nothing
coming from my fingertips. She told me that a good writer tapped into
all
of their emotions. Then she asked if I’d ever been in love.

Ha!
Of course not.
Love?
I learned a long time ago that loving someone meant opening yourself up to pain. And, based on relationship statistics I’d read somewhere—I should have saved the URL—a relationship was more likely to perish than last into the happy-ever-after stage. Ten years after my dad left me and my mother, I could still remember how broken she’d been. I still remembered the time she’d taken me into her arms, her face still wet with tears, and said:
“One day, anak, you will meet a man who will try to change you. Don’t let him be your everything. Love will break your heart. Men are bastards.”

There’d never been any sugarcoating things with either of my parents. They’d never even attempted to fight behind closed doors. I heard every curse word, every accusation, and every slammed door.

Despite watching my parents’ relationship fail, I wasn’t so narcissistic that I didn’t believe love existed, and sometimes it even thrived. I knew too many couples in love to deny it. But I’d also seen every one of my parents’ failed relationships following their divorce to know that for some people, it just didn’t happen. And even after all this time, I was pretty sure my mom was still tragically in love with my dad, which was probably why none of her relationships lasted. She denied it, but I knew better. She kept a photo of him in her nightstand. Happiness and love didn't run in my family, and I had no intention of becoming my parents.

But I could do passion! I just hadn’t found a guy with the right chemistry.
Not like you’ve been out there looking, either.

“You should at least be dating.” Lexie removed her feet from the ottoman and curled them up beside her on the couch. Lexie paused on the cooking channel. People darted around the kitchen, mixing batter for a cupcake bakeoff.

Last year after Lexie’s almost-wedding, she turned to cupcakes for comfort. The carb binge had gotten out of hand, really. When cupcakes hadn’t cured her problems, she’d taken off alone to the Caribbean to get drunk on her honeymoon voucher. I think cupcakes stirred up bad memories. She’d never been a sweets kind of person anyway.

Lexie’s evil almost-in-laws did their best to ruin Lexie’s bridal boutique. They were a family of old money, with sway in the social circles of Lexie’s clientele. When Lexie was forced out of a bridal expo, we decided drastic situations called for drastic measures.

Crashing the Buchanan’s charity masquerade ball was a great idea in theory, but escalated into a shit storm of epic proportions. It was my twitchy trigger finger with a taser gun that started the downward spiral of crazy that night. Not my finest moment—that’s when Leo benched me.

I wasn’t sure what worried my overprotective, ex-special forces cousin the most—the fact I tased someone or the fact the tasing was accidental. Since the woman I tased was the devil incarnate, I was pretty sure Leo was more concerned about the latter. He and I spent a lot of time out on the shooting range working out what he’d called trigger nerves.

Lexie turned the channel from the bake-off to a DIY station.

“I’ve had a few dates. They sucked.” I scrunched up my nose, remembering the last guy who drunk groped me and slobbered all over my neck. His only plus was his credit report. I ran background checks on every guy I dated. A girl couldn’t be too careful. That, and Leo insisted.

“Find a boyfriend,” Lexie insisted. This wasn’t a new conversation with us.

“I don’t want a boyfriend.” I scrunched up my nose. The idea of adding that kind of complication to my life right now was unappealing. I had too much going on. “Boyfriends are needy and high maintenance.”

Gen rolled her eyes, her lips still perked in a smile. “
You’re
high maintenance.”

“You know what I need? A man-friend.”

“I don’t think a
man-friend
is going to give you the passion you’re looking for,” Gen said.

“How would you know? Have you ever had a man-friend before?” I demanded. I didn’t wait for her to answer. I went on. “I didn’t think so. Is it too much to ask for a simple, casual relationship with a hot guy who can set my sheets on fire without needing a dresser drawer and a joint grocery account? No man can tie this young tigress down.” I attempted a
rawr
but it came out creepy, and they both laughed.

I’d had the perfect relationship once—no expectations, no professions of unrequited love. And, because of that, no broken promises. But he was gone, living in California. That sucked.

There were parts of what we had that I missed. There were parts of what we had that I wished I could have again. No, I wasn’t interested in a truly, madly, deeply kind of love, but it didn’t mean I didn’t still want the early stage of the journey—the flirt, the electricity of an innocent brush of the hand, the absolute thrill of a first kiss. Maybe if there was more of that in my life, the characters in my book would cooperate. Though, why would that even matter? I wasn’t a romance novelist.

“A joint grocery account is actually a nice perk,” Lexie said. For the umpteenth time, her eyes went to her cell phone.

“I can’t even take you seriously right now.” I grabbed my wine glass and swallowed the contents in one drink. It was a sweet white, one of Gen’s favorites. I preferred merlot. “We are having a
friend’s night
, one we haven’t had in months since the two of you are
practically married
now. You're not allowed to be on your phone all night.”

“I am not practically married,” Gen said.

Lexie and I both raised our brows in challenge.

“You live with him,” I pointed out. “That’s one step closer to marriage.”

“It’s an economical decision,” Gen said with a dopey love-grin.

“
Mm-hmm
,” I said.

“And Leo and I aren’t even close to marriage. After the way my last engagement turned out we’re happy to take things slow. Maybe elope someday.” Lexie’s eyes were back on her cell phone display.

“If you’re not checking for dirty messages from Leo, why do you keep serial-checking your phone?”

“I’m making sure Richard brings his laptop so he can show me how to make changes to the boutique’s website. He also made me this awesome smartphone app. It’ll be live this week.”

Gen dropped the magazine to her lap. “Richard just got dumped again. He’s supposed to be coming for friendship support and pasta, not to work.”

“It’s the only time we could meet between his work and mine. So quit giving me the eye,” Lexie said.

“I’m just glad you still have a boutique to crash friend’s night with,” I said.

“And I’m very happy I didn’t have to bail you guys out of jail,” Gen said.

“Sometimes when I close my eyes, I picture you tasing Deborah Buchanan and then I get anxiety and break out in zits,” Lexie said. Though she was joking, it was still unsettling. That had been a dark moment for us—black was a better description. Then she added, “Or when you pepper sprayed Richard.”

Richard was the newest addition to our group. Last year, after Gen went on a bad date with Richard that never seemed to end, she sort of adopted him. Gen was notorious for bringing home strays—puppies, kittens, and guys who needed guidance in the dating department. His gamer buddies were clueless when it came to the opposite sex and what made a good date. If we hadn’t taken him under our wings, he might already be a headline:
IT Tech dies by strangulation at the hands of angry girlfriend.
True, his relationships never lasted long, but at least he wasn’t dumping girls in public anymore in a misguided attempt to play hard to get.

“Those were both accidents.” My friends now had a new nickname for me—
Twitchy.
I was positive I wasn’t twitchy anymore, not after months of training with Leo and the security guys. Next time I used a taser gun or pepper spray, I’d mean it. No more assaults by accident from this girl.
Nope.