Four Years Later (One Week Girlfriend #4)(16)
Author: Monica Murphy

“Thank you for helping me get rid of Tad,” she says, her voice soft.

She’s a mind reader. “No problem.”

“I didn’t want to be there tonight. At The District,” she goes on. “It was all Kari’s idea. She set me up with Tad and he turned out to be a total jerk.”

Weak statement. The guy was more like a total ass**le. “Maybe you shouldn’t let your friend set you up with guys you don’t know.”

“No kidding,” she mutters. “Though it’s really the only way I meet guys.”

“What about the ones you tutor?” Hell, listen to me. I sound like a wimp trying to figure out how she meets guys. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t be attracted to her. I need to find some hot chick with an amazing ass and f**k her brains out. Fuck Chelsea right out of my head so I won’t think about her anymore.

I don’t know if that would work, though. The thought of finding some random chick and getting laid doesn’t appeal whatsoever.

“The ones I tutor … I consider it—them—work.” She looks up at me and our gazes meet. I don’t look away. Neither does she. “Usually,” she adds, sinking her teeth into her lower lip.

Okay. I need to pretend she never said that. Because my body is reacting all over the place as if she just whispered, Fuck me, Owen.

“What do you mean, ‘usually’?” There I go, not pretending at all.

Shrugging, she tears her gaze away from mine, looking anywhere but at me. “I don’t know.”

I let it go, hoping that she’s talking about me. Why, I’m not sure. I shove my hands in my pockets and slow my pace, contemplating her. I can see her skin through the lace of her shirt, though she’s wearing a skimpy tank top that covers most of her. The jeans—I’m not even going to bother going on about her legs and ass yet again because, damn.

There’s nothing else I can say about that.

Her long, dark hair tumbles down her back, straight as can be. It looks soft. I want to touch it. Wrap those silky strands around my fingers and give it a tug while I lock my lips with hers. Tilt her head back farther so I can lick my way down her throat and feel her pulse thrumming beneath my mouth …

“Do we go straight?”

Her sweet voice knocks me from my lusty thoughts and I blink, realizing that I’ve stopped at a cross street. “Turn left,” I say gruffly. “My place is three houses down on the left side.”

She doesn’t say a word, merely does what I tell her to, and I let her take the lead, admiring her from behind. I need to face facts: I’m hot for the tutor. She’s not my type. I hardly know her. But my body sure as hell wants to get to know her. And this is stupid because I’m asking for nothing but trouble, thinking like this.

As we draw closer to my house, dread sinks over me. Every window is lit up, and I can hear music and loud voices. Fucking Wade is having a party.

Just great.

“Um.” Chelsea stops and turns to look at me. “Is that your place?” She points at my house, where I can see Des and some chick I don’t know sitting on the couch on the front porch, passing a joint back and forth.

Shit.

“Yeah,” I say, my jaw tight. “Looks like my roommate is having a get-together.”

“Some get-together,” Chelsea mumbles, bouncing from one foot to the other. She looks nervous.

“Come on.” I flick my head toward my house. “I’ll just grab my keys and we’ll get out of here.”

My car is parked in front of the house on the street. We don’t have a garage, and the house is old and small, but I fixed it up inside pretty well when I first moved in and automatically had Wade move in with me. We’ve been friends forever. I couldn’t ditch him. I don’t even make him pay rent.

Drew takes care of it all—he bought the place. Paid cash for it and everything. Someday, I’d like to have that sort of power, that kind of comfort.

Smoking weed with Mom, drinking too much beer, and partying most of the week is not going to get me there anytime soon.

“Um, I’ll wait outside,” Chelsea says, shuffling her feet. She looks uncomfortable and I hate that.

“Are you sure?” I’m not going to push her into any sort of situation she doesn’t want to be in. Bad enough what I saw earlier with that ass**le grabbing her. I won’t put myself in the same league.

She nods, lifting her head so she meets my gaze. “It’ll probably be—”

“Yo, Maguire! Who’s the hottie?” Des calls from his perch on the couch.

A sigh escapes me and I try my best to send her an apologetic look before I say, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Motherfucker, don’t be all mysterious on me. Bring your new girl up here and introduce her to us properly,” Des yells, a goofy-ass grin on his face.

“Hell.” I run a hand through my hair, then let my arm drop. “Do you mind? Des is harmless, though I don’t know the girl.”

“Kinda like he doesn’t know me, right?” She flashes me a tentative smile and shrugs. “How are you going to introduce me?”

“How do you want to be introduced?” I toss back at her.

She grimaces. “I don’t know. Your friend?”

I stare at her for a long moment. “They’re going to think I’m f**king you.”

Chelsea gapes, her mouth dropping open. “Are you serious?”

“They think I f**k every girl I bring around the house.” I give them good reason to think that, too.

She actually flinches. “Do you have to keep saying that?”

“Saying what? ‘Fuck’?”

“Yes.” Her expression is pained. “It’s so …”

“Fucking vulgar? Yeah.” I laugh when she glares. I can’t help it. “Sorry. Come on, let’s get this over with. And be prepared. Plug your ears or something, because Des curses like a motherfucker.”

CHAPTER 6

Chelsea

Funny how I was at a bar with my best friend yet still felt incredibly uncomfortable. Powerless. Out of control.

Here I stand with a guy I barely know at a house I’ve never been to, with a crowd of rowdy people, total and complete strangers who are partying inside and are either drunk or high or both. And I’m not scared at all.

It’s because I’m with Owen. He makes me feel safe.

I follow him as he approaches the front porch, my gaze going to his friend Des. Owen’s right. The guy looks perfectly harmless, with a stupid smile on his face and a can of beer clutched in his hand like it’s his precious lifeline. The girl with him is plastered to his side as best as she can be, all voluptuous curves and bottle-blond hair, with blood-red lips and blinding white teeth. She gives me a withering stare, dismissing me on sight.