Crush - Kelsie Rae Page 0,16

Like…really rough. I tried to tell you on the phone, but you didn’t sound like you were in the mood to listen, so I let it go. Besides, it’s not like it’s really my place.”

“You tried to tell me on the phone?”

She nods before taking a bite of her brunch and chewing. “Yup. I’m glad that he was able to clear everything up for you, though. I knew you two would be a good match. I even told Grady––”

“Whoa.” I raise my hands in defense. “I’m gonna stop you right there, Dyl. We’re not a match.”

“But, you guys have been texting.”

“Yeah?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know?”

Because I’m a horn dog, and apparently, so is he?

“So, you aren’t dating?”

“I mean…we’re going on one date,” I concede. “But only because he kind of bailed on me last night––”

Slapping my hand over my mouth, I grimace while knowing I just gave her the perfect ammunition to continue this little interrogation.

“What do you mean he bailed on you? Were you going to go on your date last night? And why do you look guilty right now?” she adds with an amused smile.

“We were just…texting. And he had to go super quick and kind of left me hanging.”

Like a detective, her eyes form tiny slits as she inspects me closely. When she finally pieces it together, her mouth drops open before she claps her hands together. “Oh…you mean you were”––she raises her arms and does a set of dramatic air quotes––“texting, but he left you hanging. Gotcha.” With a wink, a highly amused Dylan takes another bite.

“It wasn’t like that––”

“Sure, it wasn’t,” she replies through a mouthful of food before swallowing. “So, he’s taking you on a date. That sounds exciting. Where are you going?”

I shrug. “I think he said he’d cook?”

“Ooo, sounds fancy. Did he ask if you can bring anything?”

“No idea.”

“Well, he texted you. Why don’t you check?”

“Because that would be rude to you.” My fork is pointed at her before I scoop up another bite of breakfast and shove it into my mouth.

“No, it wouldn’t. Come on! I live for this stuff. It’s what gets my muse humming. Hell, I might even write a song about it. Who knows? It could be my next single. In fact, it could even shoot to the top of the charts for all we know. You wouldn’t want to tease my muse then not pay up with the goods, would you?” she challenges.

“I think Grady provides more than enough inspiration to keep your muse busy, thank you very much.”

“Come on,” she pouts. “Throw a girl a bone. What’d he say?”

With a sigh, I open my phone and read the message.

“What’d he say?” she prods.

I try to contain my smile, but it’s no use, and the bite in my cheeks proves it. “He wants to know if I can meet him at his house tonight.”

Her face lights up, mirroring my own enthusiasm. “That’s awesome! What are you going to say? You better say yes,” she bosses me.

“Of course, I want to say yes, but…is that a good idea, though?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because he’s my doctor?”

“Hmmm…,” she hums, tapping her finger against her chin. “Are you both on the same page? With what you’re looking for?”

“As in…someone to scratch a particular itch?” I offer.

Throwing her head back, she laughs before cringing and pressing her hand to her swollen stomach. “Damn Braxton Hicks,” she mutters under her breath.

“Ouch. You okay?”

“Yeah.” Her face is pinched with discomfort as she breathes through the contraction for a few seconds before smoothing to her usual cheerful disposition. “So, let me get this straight. You’re both looking for a casual fling.”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve both been up-front about those expectations, right?”

“Yup. He’s still in love with his wife, which I completely respect. And I’m…well, I’m pregnant with someone else’s kid, so I think I have plenty on my plate for right now and don’t need to add a failed relationship on top of it.”

As if I’ve poked the mama bear, she purses her lips. “Who’s to say it would fail?”

“Because it’s me.” I ignore the sympathetic challenge in her eyes and add, “It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

“Fine. Uh, huh. Sure.” Brows pinching, she releases a slow breath while cradling her stomach as another wave of pain rolls through her. Feeling helpless, I push her orange juice a few inches closer to her. “Would a drink help?”

“I’ll be fine. Dr. Bennett assures me that it’s normal to feel like a boa constrictor is wrapped around my torso.”

I grimace.

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