Page 43 of Never His Girl
“Flowers,” I say, questioning if I’ve had more to drink than I remember, and I’ve dozed off.
“What? From who?”
I hadn’t even thought to check, but when I stoop to look for a card, there isn’t one I can see.
“I don’t know. Maybe whoever wassupposedto have this room?” I say, but then remember the delivery guy knew my name.
Taking a quick glance down the hallway, I don’t spot anyone. Still feeling confused as hell, I get started taking the arrangements inside, placing them on the table, dresser, and then along the edges of the room among the LED candles when I run out of surfaces.
“Did you do this?” I ask, drawing a laugh out of Jules.
“I love you, but notthatdamn much,” she teases. “Does Ricky know you’re there, maybe?”
“Not unless you told him. Then again, Pandora knows, so it’s not like it’s a secret.”
“Truth,” is Jules’s only response.
I’m down to the last vase and head back to the hall to grab it. My head’s still reeling when I snatch the door open, only expecting to see that last arrangement waiting for me, but—
My heart drops to my stomach. Because there’s a tall, broad-framed figure standing on the other side of the threshold. Dressed in dark jeans and a gray t-shirt that clings to his biceps and chest. He’s clutching his jacket in one hand, and holding the last vase in the other. Then, when I finally peer up, a set of green eyes that have been my undoing since day one burn a hole right through me.
They’re softer than I remember, swimming with emotion I hardly thought him capable of feeling, but… there it is. Plain as day. And damn my stupid heart for being affected.
My shoulders heave beneath the robe and I’m still raw. His recent offense is still burned into memory, still burned into my flesh, making it painful to stare at him now, but I can’t turn away.
“What the hell do you want, West?”
“Just to talk,” he answers. “That’s the only thing I’ve asked you for all week.”
I stare up at him, feeling the rims of my nostrils flaring. “Call you back, Jules,” I say into the speaker on my earbuds.
“And I’ll be expecting a full rundown of—”
Cutting her off, I end the call and shove the earbuds into the pocket of my robe, never taking my eyes off West.
Whether I think he deserves it or not, he has my attention.
“This was you?” I ask, glancing down at the flowers he’s holding.
He nods, thoughtfully biting the side of his lip before speaking. “And the room.”
My heart sinks when he says that, realizing this whole weekend has been orchestrated by his hand. I swallow and straighten my posture, feeling the need to pretend I wasn’t impressed with the accommodations whatsoever.
“Well, either way, I’m not letting you in. So, you should just go,” I finally answer. But when I move to close the door in his face, his words halt me.
“I know the last fucking thing you want to hear is my voice, but… shit. I can’t stand this anymore,” he admits.
I hate that I hesitate, keeping my hand on the door when it should be closed, acting as a barrier between us. But instead, I’m listening to my heart thunder inside me.
“Please,” he says. “I’m… I’m fucking begging, Southside.”
Those words weren’t easy for him to say. It sounded as if he had to pry them from the roof of his mouth, and now he wants to rinse his tongue clean of them. But as hard as they seem to have been tosay,they sure as hell aren’t easy to hear, either. Because he still affects me, whether I like it or not.
“I gave in and trusted you once, West, and it turned out to be the worst mistake of my life,” I force out, keeping my back to the door while he speaks from the other side.
“And I take full responsibility for that shit. Believe me. Which is why I’m trying like hell to make things as close to right as I can.”
I should’ve kept Jules on the phone.