Page 36 of Only and Forever
A broken laugh jumps out of me. “What, would you call him out?”
“Hell yes. I wouldn’t kill him, but I’d for damn sure scare the life out of him so he never so much as looked your way again.”
I smile faintly against his chest. “I think you already accomplished that back in the restaurant.”
He sighs, his hand circling my back. “But just think how much better I’d have looked, putting him in his place in the early morning mist, skintight buckskin breeches hugging my fabulous legs.”
Another laugh leaves me, hoarse and loud, straight from my belly. “This is a very developed fantasy you have.”
“I’ve read four hundred and ninety-one historical romance novels, Tallulah. I have lots of Regency-era fantasies, and this is probably one of the more ‘normal’ ones.”
My smile deepens. I burrow into his chest, hiding it, and sigh, overtaken by a kind of exhausted peace I haven’t felt in... maybe ever. “For some inexplicable reason, I have to admit, I’m looking forward to hearing more about them.”
“When we’re roomies?” Viggo asks.
I nod, my arms tight around him. “When we’re roomies.”
—
The Vespa ride home—at a markedly slower speed out of deference to Viggo’s delicate sensibilities—is uneventful. I pull into the back of the store and kill the engine, trying very hard not to stare at my future roommate’s ass while he walks up to his door and unlocks it. There are plants everywhere back here, creeping, flowering vines marching up a trellis, across a tall wood fence obscuring what I’m assuming is his patio. A light is on inside, and when he opens the door, the woodsy sugar-spice scent that never leaves him hits me tenfold.
Lust crests through me. I’m going to have to invest in some new, seriously sturdy vibrators if I’m going to survive living with that sexy scent surrounding me every day for the next two months.
“Wanna come in?” Viggo asks, holding open his door. “Poke around? Take measurements?”
His eyes are bright, his smile wide. I think he enjoyed the Vespa ride this time, a little more familiar with the experience, our speed more his pace. There’s something intoxicating about his smile, his excitement. He’s got his hands in his pockets and this... glow warming his gaze, his skin, his whole face—well, what I can see of it, with that overgrown bushy beard.
Dammit, I have a soft spot for him. For that eager, bright smile, the excitement vibrating through his whole body. For the way he stood up for me and held me hard and cared. It’s contagious, that energy, that warmth. I feel like I was outside in a rainstorm, gettingpissed on by the sky, and then the sun just elbowed its way in, wiped away the gloom, dried every drop of misery clinging to me.
I take a free, deep breath. The air seems tinged with possibility, with hope.
I’m going to figure out this book. I’m going to keep holding better boundaries with my parents and brother and stay good for Charlie, who’s inundating me with all things wedding, bouncing between wild excitement and wide-eyed terror. I’m going to help Viggo make his store thrive.
I’m going to be a faithful friend, a reliable roomie. I’m going to do and enjoy something good forme.
“Lula?” Viggo steps closer, studying my face. “What is it?”
His fingertips brush mine, calloused, rough, sending sparks across my skin. It’s the most unideal part of this plan—how horny I am for him. But I’m not going to cross that line. I’m not going to risk ruining this good thing. I’m going to lock down my libido and use some state-of-the-art vibrators to keep the edge off so I can coexist with Viggo while not falling into the trap of trying to seduce him.
Not that I’m sure he’d even be seducible. I have no idea if he sees me that way. He’s flirty—he was a flirt in college, and a year ago, and he is now—but I get the feeling he’s flirty with everyone. I’m nothing special to him.
And that’s how it’s going to stay.
“Lula?” he asks, frowning. I’ve been quiet for too long. “You okay?”
Clearing my throat, I meet his eyes and pull myself into that familiar place—a cool, placid pool of water, where fears and wants and worries are sucked under, silenced, lost. “I’m fine. Just a long day.”
He nods thoughtfully. “You alert enough to drive back to Charlie’s? I’ve got a bed in the spare room. It’s going to be yours anyway. You could crash there—”
“I’m okay. Promise.” I squeeze his hand in reassurance. “I’ll come by tomorrow, if that’s all right, take a look around, make sure I know what I need to bring when I move in.”
“Text me when you get home, then, so I’m not worried you’re a blue-haired, cute-as-a-button pancake on the highway.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re such a drama llama.”
Viggo pulls out his phone as I pull out mine. We exchange numbers. He sends me a GIF of an animated historical romance cover, a guy who looks like Fabio in Regency clothes wiggling his eyebrows at the viewer with a come-hither stare. I send him a GIF of Alexis Rose saying, “Ew, David!”
Viggo snorts a laugh, then pockets his phone.