The Lucky in Love Collection - Lauren Blakely Page 0,172
surprise. But the sex was also amazing because I finally understand why I’ve wanted her with such ferocity. Light bulbs popped, bells rang, birds sang, and chimes chimed. Freaking angels crooned from the heavens.
I’m in love with her.
That means I need to take care of a few important matters, stat.
Like taking a leak.
Hey, nature calls.
I head to the bathroom, drain the dragon, wash my hands, and brush my teeth.
On to the next critical matter.
Tell the woman I love her, hope to God she feels the same, then figure out how to break the news to the she-ogre that is my sister when it comes to Vanessa.
The scent of scrambled eggs and coffee wafts through the cabin, and I walk into the kitchen in my skivvies, sporting a new round of morning wood—or maybe it’s just Vanessa wood. I plan to slink my arms around the brunette beauty, kiss her neck, inhale her sexy scent, and tell her I meant every word last night.
Every word and more.
Instead, someone knocks wildly on the door, before Vanessa yanks it open.
My dick crawls back into my body, curls up and hides under a couch.
Stationed in the doorway is one wildly worried leprechaun, stomping her feet, flapping her hands. “I thought you were dead! I was calling you all night. And all morning.” Perri points at Vanessa as she goes full j’accuse in a court of law. I don’t think she’s seen me yet. But she must have noticed my truck.
“Why would I be dead?” Vanessa asks, and I can hear the deflection in her voice, and the nerves too.
“Because of the snow! It was terrible, and I was worried about you, and you didn’t answer your phone. And Shaw didn’t either. I thought you were both dead.”
“There’s no service here! And why was I supposed to text you? You knew where I was.”
Perri’s eyes bug out, her neck shooting forward like a peacock pecking. “Because! Because I worry. Hello! I’m the girl who raced to the hospital in college when you broke your leg. I tried the landline too.”
Vanessa’s brow knits. “There’s a landline?”
Perri huffs. “You gave me the number in college. Did you forget?”
“Yes! Maybe I forgot that we had one, but it never rang, so it might not even be on or plugged in or whatever the hell you do with landlines. Did you really think I was dead?”
Perri’s voice shoots to Saturn. “Yes. And as soon as the snow cleared this morning, I got in my car and drove up to see if you were. Derek came with me. I was worried. That’s who I am. I’m the worrier because I’ve seen too much every day in my job.”
She waves behind her as footsteps crunch in the snow. Derek trudges up the steps, thumbs hooked in the loops of his jeans.
He tips his chin at me. “Hey, man.”
“Hey.”
Perri snaps her gaze to me, and her jaw hits the floor in shocked surprise. She stumbles back, grabbing the doorjamb.
“What the what?” she sputters, as she widens her eyes at my attire, such that it is. “Why are you in your boxers?” She whips her head to Vanessa—“Why is my brother in his boxers?”—and back to me. “You were supposed to be helping her with the cabin, not doing a striptease.”
“I helped, and we spent the night,” I say, since there’s no point lying about that. It’s motherfucking obvious. “We spent it together.”
Vanessa parts her lips, nibbles on the corner, her eyes widening with guilt. I wonder if I spoke too soon. If we were supposed to lie. But fuck it, I don’t want to lie about my feelings for her anymore.
Perri squeezes her eyes shut, as if she’s snow-blind, then opens them. “Are you two . . .?”
She can’t even finish.
My heart nose-dives, my chest has an elephant in it, and my gut feels like I ate bad chili.
While I don’t feel a snick of guilt for spending the night with Vanessa, I do feel a ton of it for going against Perri’s wishes.
Even if I don’t agree with them.
Because I should have told her first. I should have told her how I feel. My sister is crazy and intense, but I love and respect her, and the look in her eyes screams her abject disappointment in me.
Though that’s nothing compared to the gaze she casts Vanessa. My sister’s green eyes are now the color of hurt. “Are you guys—”