When It Hooks You (It #1) (3 page)

The last fibers holding Trish and Kurt together fit inside a Trader Joe’s bag. Throughout the week following their breakup, Trish had gathered his things from around her apartment and stuffed them into the bag: two pairs of underwear, a sweatshirt, an electric shaver, a small tub of pomade, half a dozen Blu-rays, a couple of books, and the cherry on top—a silver heart pendant from Tiffany & Co. He’d given it to her for their one-year anniversary.

She stood next to her big window and lifted the pendant, watching it twist and swing in lazy arcs. Its luster absorbed the paleness of the January sky. She tried to recall her exact sentiments when he’d slipped the chain around her neck. They’d been giddy on love and tangled in the glacier-white sheets of a premium suite at the Hotel Burnham.

Trish truly believed their relationship had been destined to end at some point, but that didn’t mean Kurt hadn’t broken her heart. He could’ve ended things without lying to her for…weeks? Months? How long had he been seeing this other person behind her back? Did she even want to know? What she grieved more than anything was that he’d betrayed her trust. She’d certainly hurt him more than once, but she’d never been dishonest with him. Returning the cold, rigid Tiffany heart he’d given to her might help her take back the warm, pulsing heart she’d given to him.

She lowered her hand toward the bag, but an unseen force stayed the tight grip of her fingers. While the pendant hovered, she considered that a rigid heart would be exactly what she needed to make her new short-term dating plan work. The hot and effusive ways she loved only gave men false hope.
Perhaps
, she thought, curling her fingers around the lustrous silver heart,
I should keep this one artifact of my relationship with Kurt to remind myself of where I went wrong.

Kurt texted that he was at the front door of her building. Tucking the necklace into the pocket of her purple flannel shirt, she considered grabbing the bag, shoving it into his hands, and sending him on his way, but they needed to talk. She went down the shared stairwell to let him in and invited him up for tea. Once they were back in her apartment, he handed over the makeup case she’d kept at his place. She set the Trader Joe’s bag by the door.

“I have orange spice, peppermint, or English breakfast. Which would you like?” she asked, moving toward her tiny kitchen.

“English breakfast. Thanks.”

“I appreciate you coming here instead of making me drag the stuff over to you,” she called as she lit a fire under the tea kettle and set the teabags into mugs.

“It’s the least I could do.”

“Yeah, it kind of is.” While she waited for the water to heat, she walked back into the living room, where she found him seated at one of the two chairs by her bistro table. His coat was unzipped and he’d taken off his knit hat. She noticed a few fuzzballs caught in his buzz cut. Normally, she’d go over and pick them out, like a mama monkey. Instead, she folded her arms and leaned a shoulder against the wall.

He looked directly at her, as he had so many times these last few years, but something was different. He was no longer the Kurt who’d stride in here and make himself comfortable, lounging on the couch while she apprised him of the minutia from her day. “I truly am sorry, Trish. I wish I would’ve handled things differently.”

“Me, too,” she said. The teapot screeched, so she dashed over to pour the steaming water into the mugs. While the tea steeped, she brought the cups over and made another round trip for cream and sugar, though she knew Kurt would take none.

“Do you mean you wish I would’ve handled things differently or that you would’ve?” he asked as she lowered onto the chair opposite him.

“I meant you. Although I guess it applies to me, too. I got a little crazy.”

He chuckled softly. “I’d expect nothing less.”

Trish let out a small laugh, but they didn’t speak for several moments, busying themselves with dunking teabags and test-sipping their drinks. There were many questions Trish had thought she’d ask him about this other woman, but now those answers didn’t seem to matter. The only thing they’d accomplish would be to hurt her more.

Kurt broke the silence. “I’ll let you guide where we go from here. I’d like to stay friends, but I can understand if that would be too hard for you.”

Her eyes flicked up from her stained water. “I’m not sorry we broke up, Kurt. It took me by surprise, but I’ve had time to cool down and think about it. I’m pretty certain we never would’ve ended up together, anyway. Yanking off the Band-Aid was the best thing for both of us.”

“You think our relationship was just a Band-Aid?”

“Not all of it. But looking back, I can see that getting back together last year was a mistake. Neither of us was ready to be single again so we covered up our issues and fell back into what was comfortable.”

He nodded, extracting the teabag from his mug with a spoon. “You’re probably right.”

Trish’s head bobbed in time with his. She thought about how ridiculous they must look, like two bobbleheads at high tea, and let out a nervous laugh. He responded with an uncertain smile. She shrugged. “At least it was fun while it lasted.”

His smile warmed to something more natural—and something more fitting for his strong, handsome features. Trish had a small twinge of regret when she considered how spectacular they’d have looked together on top of a wedding cake.

“I’d really like to stay friends, Trish.”

She scrunched her nose, slipping her bottom lip between her teeth. Despite his recent assholishness, she knew Kurt was a good guy, the kind of person she didn’t want to dismiss from her life altogether. “I don’t see us hanging out at the bars together or Snapchatting on a regular basis, but I think I can manage friendly acquaintances.”

Chapter 3

T
RISH
F
LIPPED
R
OB
O
NTO
H
IS
B
ACK
, fully intending to cool things off, but when the impact of the floor brought forth a tiger-like growl from his throat, she re-plastered herself against him.

The revirginated plan is stupid
, she told herself. This was only her third date with Rob, so it wasn’t as if she’d sleep with him tonight even without her arbitrary rules, but how could she suck on those warm, delicious lips and run her hands over that firm, powerful chest without hoping to one day get herself some of that?

His hot mouth moved across her face and down her neck. “Oh, baby,” he murmured between bites. “I could do this forever.”

Forever
. Not her favorite word. She knew he spoke in hyperbole, so she tried to keep her mind on the tender trail of his kisses…but she couldn’t—not until she’d straightened some things out. “Well, not forever,” she said. “A few months maybe, right?”

The back of his head dropped to the floor while he looked at her from under a creased brow.

“Don’t stop,” she whined. “I meant, you know, we only met a few weeks ago, so it’s ridiculous to think we’d be kissing each other forever.”

“It’s just an expression.” His hand slipped out from under her shirt.

“Right. I know.” She pecked at his lips. “Forget I said anything.” She pelted him again, but his magnificent mouth had gone rigid. His torso angled upward as he lifted onto his elbows, sending Trish sliding off him to the blanket they’d spread on his living room floor. He’d invited her over for a romantic, late-winter picnic.

“Are you saying you know for a fact after only three dates that this definitely couldn’t last forever?” he asked.

“I…well…I guess it’s a good thing this came up.” She moved to sit on bended legs while she straightened her shirt. “I’m in sort of a noncommittal phase right now. I’m not looking for forever with anybody.”

“How long are you looking for?”

“Uh. Three dates, actually.”

“Are you for real?” He sat straight up. “You’re kicking me to the curb already? I thought we were having fun.”

She leaned forward to rub her hands over his forearms. “We are having fun! The three dates thing is negotiable. I’m sort of making this up as I go. I’d definitely be up for going out with you a few more times.”

“And then?”

“I don’t want to think about the
and then
. That’s where things always go wrong for me. What I want to do is go out, have a good time, and end it before we ever get to the
and then
.”

His expression stiffened into hard lines. “I’m thirty-two years old, Trish. I want a wife and kids someday. I’m not saying I was thinking that far ahead already with us, but I’m not going to waste my time with someone who definitely knows she doesn’t want that.”

“Nothing’s definite. But…”

“You’re not looking for that right now.”

Her mouth curved into a frown as she shook her head.
Au revoir, sweet lips.

The deep base vibrating out of the DJ’s speakers tickled Trish’s eardrums. It was early March, two weeks after her final date with Rob. Lyssa had sent an excited text earlier that day announcing that the final bit of financing for her higher education had come through. Trish had insisted they get together for a celebratory drink with JoAnne, another friend since college.

JoAnne returned from the bar with three beers and a huge grin. “These are courtesy of those two guys back there.” She swished her straight, shoulder-length bob toward the bar as she passed drinks to her friends.

“They’re cute.” Trish gave a small nod to the men and raised her beer in an across-the-room toast.

“Yep,” JoAnne said. “I’m supposed to meet Craig and Streeter in Wrigleyville in an hour, so if the free-drink guys come over, they’re all yours.”

“Both of ’em just for me?” Trish asked.

“Lyssa can have one final fling in Chicago before entering into full-time monogamy in Boston.”

“I’m already full-time monogamous,” Lyssa said.

“Yeah, haven’t you noticed, JoJo?” Trish said. “Our girl is in louuurve. Done for.”

“I don’t see a ring on her finger.”

“It’s coming,” Trish said.

“Like we’re going to trust
your
radar on that sort of thing.” JoAnne didn’t even seem to consider how her words might sting. She was more focused on adjusting her plus-sized breasts underneath a slightly-too-tight button-down blouse.

Trish suspected she owed the cleavage that peeked between her friend’s buttons for the chilled glass in her hand. “I thought you were watching your carbs,” she said as JoAnne raised her glass to her mouth.

After swallowing a gulp, Jo answered, “Free drinks have no carbs. Besides, I’ll drink Bloody Marys the rest of the night.”

“I’m not sure a low-carb diet works like that,” Trish said.

“That’s because skinny bitches like you don’t have to worry about how diets work,” JoAnne bit back.

Trish wasn’t up for another lecture on how lucky she was to have inherited such a forgiving metabolism. She turned her attention to Lyssa. “What was Hayden’s reaction to you moving to Boston?”

“I haven’t told him yet. He’s coming at the end of the month to celebrate our one-year anniversary. I’ll tell him then.”

Their conversation was cut short when the free-drink guys sauntered over.

“Ladies,” one of them said, reaching his glass out to tap it to the edge of Trish’s. The men introduced themselves as Josh and Tim.

“Enjoying the Belgian white?” the taller one, Tim, asked.

“I should’ve known that’s what it was,” Lyssa said. “That’s my boyfriend’s favorite.”

Trish and JoAnne exchanged an eye roll at their friend’s lack of subtlety. Josh, the one who’d tapped Trish’s glass, asked her, “What’s your boyfriend’s favorite?”

“Are you speaking in past or future tense?”

“No boyfriend in the present?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

His grin widened, highlighting the dimple on one side of his handsome face. He had a fantastic smile, but Trish was more impressed with his broad, athletic shoulders and the V-shaped waist that his navy blue Henley shirt couldn’t hide.

“Still,” she teased, “I also should’ve known.”

His smile deflated. “It’s your husband’s favorite?”

Trish laughed. “Nah, no husband. I meant that I should’ve known because I’m part Belgian.”

The adorable dimple was back—along with a soft chuckle that rolled out in a pleasantly deep rumble. “You know what they say about Belgian girls, don’t you?” Josh asked.

“What?” She took sultry sip of her ancestral beer, keeping her light brown eyes locked on the deep blue of his.

“No idea, but I can’t wait find out.”

Right when Trish was about to giggle, JoAnne let out a false retching sound. Trish’s gaze snapped toward her friend. With a tilt of her eyebrow, JoJo confirmed the rude sounds had been directed at Trish’s flirtation. JoAnne swigged the last of her drink and announced, “This has been a hoot and a half, but I’ve got to boogie.”

“I should probably go, too. Want to share a cab back to Lincoln Park?” Lyssa asked Trish.

Trish flicked her gaze back on Josh, who pressed his full lips into a slight pout. “I think I’ll stay for a bit,” she said. “I want to see if this guy can nail another portion of my heritage with the next beer he buys me.”