So Much More (Made for Love #3) (21 page)

The second her words take on meaning in my head, I yank my hands away from her as if my touch might actually violate her. Suddenly, all the dirty thoughts I’ve had about her up until this moment make me feel like I’ve taken advantage of her without her being the slightest bit aware.

I know that
lusting
is technically frowned upon in God’s eyes, but I’m not a saint. He gave me eyes to see and I
definitely
see. I won’t lie about the way I want Sarah. It’s true that I want her heart, her
details,
and that sweet smile. I also want her long legs and her curved hips and her perfect tits. However, I’m not an animal. Any woman’s choice to wait deserves the utmost respect, regardless of the blue balls I’ll have to relieve when I can’t have her the way I hope to someday.

“You’re a virgin,” I finally manage.

“Yes,” she whispers, spinning around on top of the stool until she’s facing me. She furrows her brow in confusion as she stares at me. “Does that make me unappealing to you?”

“What?” Now
I’m
confused; that is, until I remember how I pulled my hands away from her a moment ago. I blow out a breath and shake my head. “
No
.” I take her chin between my fingers, pointing my gaze directly in line with hers before I repeat myself. “
No
. It just means I have to do a better job at keeping myself in check.”

“And why is that?” she asks softly.

“Sometimes I can get carried away,” I reply with a smirk. “The last thing I want is to push you—especially since you’ve made the decision to wait. You don’t know it yet, but this, between you and me, it’s already begun. I’m not letting you go. If that means I’m waiting for you, then I’ll respect that choice.”

“What if that’s not my choice?”

“Hey,
Red Coat
, how ‘bout a little service?”

Before I have a chance to figure out what Sarah means—
What if that’s not my choice?
—we’re interrupted by a loud woman with red hair. I notice her only
after
I watch Sarah’s blue eyes widen in surprise and horror. Her whole body tenses and I feel the urge to pull her into my arms, to protect her from whatever it is that’s stolen the fun and flirty side of
my sweet girl
.

She stands just as I look over her head at the person who called her
Red Coat
—whatever the hell
that
means. The friendly face I see doesn’t exactly coincide with Sarah’s response and I’m immediately confused. That is, until she turns around and the redhead sees that Sarah’s not the least bit amused.

“Shit.
Ohmygod, it’s not funny yet. Fuck! I’m
so sorry
. Can I get a do-over? I need a do-over.” She immediately turns around and heads back outside.

What the hell is going on?

I reach for Sarah’s hand and she wraps her fingers around mine, giving them a squeeze without looking up at me. Then the redhead is back.

“Sarah Hailey Prescott, get your ass over here and give me a damn hug.”

Sarah chokes out a halfhearted laugh as she sets her Kindle down and makes her way to the woman standing in the middle of the lobby.

I’m completely lost.

I do know one thing, though—the
H
in Sarah
H.
Prescott stands for Hailey.

I
'M GOING TO KILL
her. I'm going to give her the biggest hug in the world, and then I'm going to kill her,
I think to myself as I make my way from behind the counter to greet Harper. I can't help but smile at her as she stands in the middle of the shop with her arms stretched wide. She's got her hair pulled back into a ponytail and she's dressed casually in shorts and a strapless top. When I wrap my arms around her delicate frame, she squeezes me hard.

“I'm a dirty slut and I'm sorry. Forgive me?” she murmurs sincerely.

I want to tell her that my forgiveness will cost her, but right now, her hug is everything. I can't help but laugh as I nod against her shoulder. “What are you doing here?” I ask, still not ready to let her go. I've missed her and her potty mouth.

“It's Teddy's birthday, which means it's
Theodora Day
. You know us.”

I hum my understanding, my thoughts taking me back to January when it was
Harper Day
. Teddy came down and the two of them spent all day celebrating. I got to tag along for dinner and dancing. It was a blast.

“I can't stay for long. She’s currently in the middle of a two-hour session, getting work done over at Generation Ink, so I snuck away for just a minute.”

“She's getting
more
ink?”

“Yeah,” Harper laughs pulling away from me. “She's running out of places to hide that shit. Anyway, I took the day off. I'm praying my new little ones won't kill the sub while I'm away. It's only been a week and I swear those little fuckers are going to wear me out.”

I force a smile, my heart aching at the mention of her students. In this moment, with her here, I sort of hate myself for running away. I shake the thought away and take her hand, leading her to a nearby table.

“You love them and you know it.” She can talk nasty all day, but she’s got the biggest heart. I’ve never met a student who didn’t adore her.

“You're right. Deep down, I know they're all tiny angels starving for knowledge.” We both laugh as we sit. “God, I miss seeing your ridiculously gorgeous face everyday.”

“Yeah. I miss you, too, Harp.”

“Well, you sure as shit don’t act like it. First, you ditch me for most of the summer. Then, I fix you up with a roommate and I barely hear from you again. What the hell?”

“I know. I’m sorry,” I say pleadingly, my fingers reaching to fidget with my braid. “I’ve just had a lot—”

“I know, you don’t have to explain,” she interrupts me gently. “How are you doing?
Really?
I mean, clearly,
The Incident
is still a touchy subject. Have you heard from him?”

I bow my head and stare down into my lap. “He texted me last week. Told me he missed me. I ignored him.”

“Good for you,” she insists, resting a hand on my knee. “He’s an asshole who doesn’t deserve anymore from you—which is what I told him when he asked me about you.”

I shoot my head up, frantically searching for answers in her bright green eyes. “
What?
”

“Micah’s in Leah’s class this year. Our kids line up next to each other in the mornings. He spotted me on the first day and came to me, with these pathetic puppy dog eyes, asking me about you. I wanted to kick his fucking balls until they were black and blue.”

I take a deep breath, startled by her news. My heart is racing. I wish it wasn’t. I wish that his asking about me ignited not a sliver of emotion. I wish that I could close my eyes and pretend that I didn’t care. But I do!

I don’t love him. Not anymore. Yet, it’s impossible for me to feel
nothing
when I think of Luke. I think of pain. I think of loss. I think of my humiliation.

He didn’t love me. His asking for me? It’s about him wanting to make himself feel better. He doesn’t care about me. If he did, he would have fought for me. He would have stood up for me.

“Hey, sweetie, none of that.” I don’t realize that I’m crying until Harper wipes away my tears. “What’d I say? He doesn’t deserve anymore from you. That includes these tears.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re right. I know.” I sit up straighter and roll back my shoulders, sniffing away the last of my unwelcome cry.

“So, does this mean you haven’t moved on to greener pastures? Or…bearded ones? Because I was kind of hoping that the fucktastic guy behind the counter was flirting with you when I walked in.”

When I look back over my shoulder, I see Brandon’s in the middle of making a drink at the espresso machine. As if he knows he’s being watched, his eyes dart away from his task for just a moment and his gaze finds mine. He winks at me and then the woman he’s serving says something that pulls his attention away from me. I don’t mind, though—that wink left me with goose pimples that will linger for a moment more.

“That’s Brandon. This is his coffee shop-bakery,” I tell Harper, giving her my full attention.

“Oh, so he’s your boss?” I nod my answer. “Well, Principal Turner winks at me sometimes, but it’s not nearly as sexy as all of
that
,” she says, lifting an eyebrow at me. “Is Brandon your bossy boyfriend?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. Or—he could be? I couldn’t say for sure.”

“Well,
dammit,
Sarah—I don’t have time for the stories that come along with
maybe
. I’ve got to get back to Teddy. Do me a favor?
Call
me when you’ve got that shit figured out?”

“Yeah,” I reply with a chuckle. “I promise.”

“I’m sorry I can’t stay longer. I just couldn’t fathom being in town without dropping by to see you.”

“Thank you. I’m glad for even these few minutes. We’ll have to plan a weekend or something.”

“Absolutely. We’ll hash out the details and talk schedules—almost like the good ole days.”

The good ole days…

“Alright. I’ve got to go.”

“Wait—I can’t let you leave without a muffin. I swear it’ll change your life. Give me two seconds.”

I run back behind the counter and bag up two blueberry crumble muffins and then hurry back to hand them off to Harper. She gives me a big hug goodbye and then she’s gone. Her visit was so short, it’s almost as if it didn’t happen. My heart sinks a little as I watch her leave.

“Hey—are you okay?” Brandon asks when I situate myself behind the register.

I want to tell him that I’m great. I want to go back to that moment when we were flirting and he was talking about
us—
as if we are an
us
. Unfortunately, that moment has passed; at least for the time being, it has. In its place is the residue of Harper’s
stop-and-go.
Now, standing in this bakery with Brandon, in my pink apron, it doesn’t feel as easy as it did earlier. Now, I think of Micah. I think of the lunch room filled with noisy children and their sticky fingers.

I think of Luke.

He asked about me. Why?

Who the hell cares?
my heart retorts defiantly.

You do! We do! As much as I want to pretend that I don’t give a shit—I’m curious. No, I’m not in love with him, but…why does he care where I am? Why did he text me last week? What does he want? Absolution? Forgiveness? What?

“Sarah?”

“What? Huh? I’m okay,” I mutter, shaking my head to shift my train of thought. “I’m sorry. I’m okay.”

“Don’t apologize,” he tells me. The look in his eyes lets me know that I’m not doing a very good job of convincing him of my well being. I offer him a small smile and the one he gives in return hurts my heart. I can tell that he’s worried.

Don’t fuck this up, Sarah—don’t fuck it up.

He’s the best thing to happen to me in months. I can’t spoil it by wondering or worrying about what’s in my rearview mirror. I can’t go backwards.

Don’t push him away trying.

For the rest of my shift, I struggle with the battle that’s raging between my head and my heart. My head wants answers. My heart wants a new adventure. My head is worried about the past. My heart is begging me to enjoy the present. My head is worried about my future. My heart is trying desperately to hold onto the optimism that I seem to have found in the last week. It’s a tug-of-war that leaves me distracted—so much so that I can’t even fully enjoy the hug goodbye that Brandon offers me before I leave.

I need to bake something.

I shove aside the idea and hurry home so that I can get ready for my kickboxing class with Aria and Josh. Maybe if I get my ass handed to me in a rigorous workout, it’ll help me out of this funk.

Sadly, a couple hours later, I’m gross, sweaty, tired, and still stuck in my head. I hardly even think about it as I stop by the grocery store on my way home. I pick up all the necessary ingredients for monster cookies before I go back to the apartment. By the time I get out of the shower, Millie’s home. She speaks barely two words to me and I know in an instant that there’s no way I can bake in that kitchen tonight.

I’m not in the mood to be yelled at by my OCD roommate just now.