The Virgin’s Guide to Misbehaving (Bluebonnet #4)(58)
Author: Jessica Clare

So she thought for a moment and sent back, Thinking about opening up a photography studio here. Gonna wait until Beth Ann gets back from her honeymoon and discuss a joint business venture. ?

Oh, sweetie, that’s great! Her mother sent back. I’m so proud of you! Let me know if you need anything from your daddy and me.

Will do. Love you!

As she sent back the message, she realized it wasn’t a total lie. There was a place down on Main Street not too far from Beth Ann’s hair salon that had recently come up for lease. It was a cute little cubby of a storefront, but she wouldn’t need much for a studio, just some clients. And if Beth Ann was interested in doing the retro shoots, that’d be the perfect lead-in, along with weddings and parties. She began to get excited just thinking about it.

And if she stayed in Bluebonnet, she could stay close to Rome . . .

Not that he was the reason she was staying, of course. But having a sexy guy around certainly helped her lean in that direction. Even if things didn’t work out with them, though, she rather thought she’d like to have a studio. Set up a little darkroom in the back, maybe. It’d be cozy and so much fun to have a place to call her own. And rent in Bluebonnet was a lot cheaper than most places.

It was a great plan, she had to admit. For the first time since she’d been rejected by Crissy’s magazine, she felt excited about her career. She couldn’t wait to pull out the photos of Rome and go through them.

Yawning, she texted her dad a happy note along the same lines, and then texted Brenna. Will bring lunch. Burgers it is. How many should I bring?

Five meals, Brenna sent back. You’re the best!

Elise counted on her hand. There was Pop, Grant, Brenna, Dane, and Rome. And herself, of course. Which meant . . . six? Unless Dane was still out in the field today. Maybe Brenna had counted wrong? She decided to pick up an extra meal, just in case.

She dressed in jeans and a pullover, and dragged her messy hair into a ponytail. Just as she was slipping on her shoes, her phone buzzed with an incoming message.

She clicked over and her heart stuttered. It was from Rome, and it was long. Excited, she began to read . . . and then her stomach sank as she continued.

Elise, baby. I’m sorry. This is going to hurt your feelings, but I’m going to throw it all out there anyhow. I can’t stay in Bluebonnet. It’s nothing you did. Actually, god, you’re pretty much perfect in every way. It’s me and I’m the wrong kind of guy for you, and I feel like you’d regret being with me at some point. So I’m going to cut my losses now. I don’t ever want you to think that it was you who drove me away, though. I meant it when I said you were the best thing that ever happened to me. You’re way too good for someone like me, no matter what you think. That hasn’t changed a bit, and I’m going to remember every detail of this weekend for the rest of my life, right down to that little shiver you do when I kiss your neck. You were utterly and completely perfect. It’s me that’s the problem, and so I’m going. And since I’m not into good-byes, this is it from me. I hope life treats you well.

Stunned, she stared at the screen of her phone, tears blurring her vision.

Maybe . . . maybe she’d read it wrong. She scanned the message again, slowing down and going over each word deliberately in case she’d misunderstood.

And then she read it a third time.

I hope life treats you well.

You’re way too good for someone like me.

He was breaking up with her.

Now? After their beautiful weekend? After last night’s frantic petting session in the car when he’d held her and said he had to have her one last time?

Oh god. He’d been planning on breaking up with her even last night. That was what he’d meant!

Frantic, Elise tried calling his phone. There was no way he was breaking up with her over text, was he? She deserved at least a phone call, didn’t she?

But it rang several times and then went to voice mail. Then it clicked over. The caller you are dialing does not have a voice message box established—

She hung up.

He was dumping her.

Elise lay back in the bed, stunned. She felt like she was breaking into a million pieces. Hurt tears gathered in her eyes, and she blinked them away. She didn’t understand.

He’d nailed her and bailed on her. Should she be angry?

All she felt was . . . confused.

This past weekend had been wonderful. They’d had sex and he’d been so incredibly tender with her. He’d even offered to wait if she wasn’t ready. That . . . didn’t sound like a man that wanted to nail and bail. Moreover, they’d spent so much time together leading up to that first night of sex that she’d thought he genuinely enjoyed being around her. They’d dated. They’d flirted. They’d cuddled and slept together.

Why spend so much time enticing her into his bed if he planned on kicking her out of it afterward?

She frowned up at the ceiling. He hadn’t even hit on her, actually. She’d come on to him.

It was yet another thing that didn’t make sense. If he didn’t want to be with her, why hadn’t he just turned her down?

She read his message again, trying to decipher between the lines.

I can’t stay in Bluebonnet.

I’m the wrong guy for you.

It almost sounded like he was apologizing for dumping her. But . . . he’d known ahead of time that he was leaving. So why be so incredibly, wonderfully attentive this weekend? He’d paid for everything, too. She’d tried to buy meals and the hotel room, but he’d insisted on “paying for his girl.”

He’d made her feel like his girl.

Like he’d chosen her out of all the women in the world to be with.

Like she was special.

That was why this didn’t make sense. Rome hadn’t told her that he loved her, but it was in every touch, every gesture, every caress. The way he’d tenderly touched her scars when she felt self-conscious about them. The way he held her tight while they lay in bed in talked. The way he was so protective of her.

There had been real emotion there, she decided. She was naive in a lot of things, but she knew love when she saw it. It was in how Brenna did small things to irritate her brother out of constant, obsessive work mode. It was in how Grant picked up after Brenna’s mess with an exasperated but loving smile on his face. How he touched her when he thought no one was looking. The way her parents shared a glance from time to time, each letting the other know just what they were thinking.

That was love. Even though she hadn’t experienced it, she knew what it looked like.