Four Years Later (One Week Girlfriend #4)(41)
Author: Monica Murphy

Of course, I’d been a teenage boy full of hormones, and not a big believer in love and all that shit. Checking out hot chicks and wanting to get my hands on their bodies in any way possible, yeah—that’s what motivated me at that age.

Now, though, I’m starting to realize I want what Fable and Drew have. I know I’m young, but shit, they were young, too, when they first met and fell in love. And look at them. Years later, they still act like they’re totally gone over each other. They’re married, they have a baby, he’s beyond busy with his career, she’s busy taking care of Autumn, and they still look at each other as if they’ve only just met and they can’t believe they have each other.

Yeah. I want that sort of thing. And I think I want it with Chelsea.

She doesn’t seem to want it with me, though. I don’t know what happened, what turned her mood. Maybe she hadn’t enjoyed herself at the game after all. I know sports aren’t her thing and she’s not a football fan whatsoever, but shit, we were sitting in the skybox, getting the deluxe treatment. Wade will shit himself when he finds out I went and didn’t take him. At least he would have appreciated the game.

Maybe Fable told her something that freaked her out. I know they talked about me when I took off and bought the sweatshirt for her, but what could Fable have said that would have made Chelsea become so damn quiet?

I haven’t a clue, but she’s completely withdrawn from me and I f**king hate it.

We leave the restaurant right after Drew pays the bill, and we’re all standing under the awning waiting for the valet guy to bring both cars around.

When you go out to dinner now with Drew Callahan, you always go out in style. The guy is a f**king celebrity.

Chelsea makes her escape back inside, claiming she needs to go to the bathroom before we start our long drive, and Fable turns to me, her mouth cast in a stern line, her gaze narrowed as she pulls me aside, away from Drew.

“Be careful driving home,” Fable says, motherly concern lacing her voice. “It’s raining pretty bad and I’m sure the roads are terrible.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise,” I reassure her, pulling her into a quick hug. “Don’t worry.”

“And it’s so late.” She withdraws from me, her mouth pulling into a frown. “Maybe you should stay the night with us.”

That’s a long-ass drive back to San Francisco in this kind of weather. No thanks. “I think Chelsea has class in the morning. I know I do.”

Fable sighs. “I just hate thinking of you out driving for hours in this rain.”

“We’ll be fine, don’t worry. Seriously.” I ruffle her hair, something she used to do to me when I was younger but since I tower over her by about a foot, I’ve got the upper hand now. “I’ll text you when we get home, okay?”

“You’d better. I’ll be lying awake until I hear from you,” she says.

“Please. You’ll be passed out with Autumn cradled in your arms,” I tell her. She’s admitted to me already that when she’s feeding the baby in the middle of the night, they end up asleep in bed together. She’s up all hours of the night taking care of Autumn, though I guess they’ve found more of a schedule. I don’t know. I start glazing over when Fable starts talking endless baby shit.

But I know I don’t want to be the other one who’s keeping her awake.

“You’re probably not too far from the truth.” Fable smiles, her gaze going to Drew when he calls her name. “Our cars are here. We should go.”

Chelsea exits the restaurant at that very moment, heading toward me. Her gaze is dim, her skin pale, but she offers a real smile to Fable when she pulls Chelsea into her arms and gives her a big hug.

“So great meeting you. Keep Owen in line, okay?” Fable says.

Chelsea laughs as Fable releases her. “Great meeting you, too. And I’ll try.”

Drew envelops Chelsea in his arms and when he lets go, she looks a little starstruck. I guess I can’t blame her, but I’m also a little jealous. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen that particular look in her eyes after I touched her.

But I’ve seen other looks. Eyes glazed with lust. Happiness. Affection.

I want to see those looks in her eyes again. I want to kiss her, hold her close. Taste her, touch her, slip my hand inside her jeans, touch her between her legs and show her I know exactly how to make her feel good.

Shit. I’m breaking out in a f**king sweat just thinking about it. Maybe Fable’s right. Maybe we should stay the night, but instead of staying at their house, we should find a hotel. Then I could drag Chelsea into bed and get her naked. Finally do what I’ve been dying to pretty much since I met her.

I know I’ve been all about taking things slow with her, but I’ve never been patient. I’ve never had to be, not when it comes to girls. I’ve always gotten what I wanted. Who I wanted. When I wanted.

So why do I want this girl when she runs so completely hot and cold? Is it more of a case of wanting what I can’t have? Or do I really like her?

Oh, you like her, ass**le. More than you ever want to admit.

“Are you mad at me? Did I do something to offend you?” I finally ask once we’re on the freeway headed home. Traffic is heavy, it’s still raining, and I’ve got both hands on the steering wheel, my gaze locked on the windshield, the glow of red lights indicating that everyone’s hitting their brakes constantly. I don’t want to be distracted, but …

Chelsea’s low, distant mood is totally making me lose focus.

“No, I’m not mad at you.” I flick a quick glance in her direction and she offers me a pitiful little smile. “Not really.”

Not really.

What the hell does she mean by that?

“What did I do?” I ask, my voice grim. “I’m not in the mood to play guessing games, Chels. So just give it to me straight.” I hate games. Mom is a total game player. Most females are … at least, the ones I know. Fable is an exception.

I’d hoped Chelsea was the same. But maybe she’s not …

“It’s stupid.” She waves a hand, smiling at me, but her smile is brittle. Doesn’t light up her eyes and I can tell it’s fake. “I have a headache and it’s been such a long day. A long weekend, really.”

“You had fun, though, right? And you liked my sister? And Drew?” I sound like an insecure little kid wanting to make sure she’s happy, desperate to ensure that she’s pleased. God, does she even realize how easy it would be for her to completely wreck me? I never hand that sort of power over to anyone. Okay, I do so with Fable, but she’s my sister and she would never hurt me. We’ve proven our trust in each other again and again. And Mom’s wrecked me over and over, but I can’t help but hand her that power.