Wish I May (16 page)

Something like sadness draws down the corners of her eyes. “Sometimes you just know you’re meant for something, and you go after it despite the logic.”

“I can understand that.”

The machine beeps, and we work together preparing a tray of mugs, coffee, cream, sugar, and whiskey. At my waist my phone buzzes a text alert.

“So what about you and Cally?” she asks. “Are you two working things out?”

“It’s complicated.” I pull my phone from my hip and smile when I see Cally’s name on the screen. Maybe she’s decided to stop avoiding me.

“I hope you can work it out,” Meredith says. “She’s a lucky girl.”

I open the text and can only blink at the screen.

Just a week ago, we were at the restaurant and you were touching me under the table.

“Let me guess,” Meredith says. “Mrs. Complicated?”

“You could say that, though I’m not sure our relationship has progressed to anything as official as
Mrs.
yet.”

“You want more?”

I don’t answer, but the truth must be in my eyes because she snags the phone from my hand and slides it into the pocket of her jeans. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you. If you want more from
Miss
Complicated, don’t reply.”

I fold my arms. “Isn’t that a little childish?”

She shrugs, flashing me a grin over her shoulder as she strolls back in the dining room to join the card sharks. “Deal me in this hand?”

“Willy, what about you?” Norma calls.

“I’m in,” I say and prepare myself to hand over my pride and my money to a bunch of old ladies.

T
HIS MORNING
is doing a fantastic job reminding me of the reason I stay away from tequila. No, make that
three
reasons.

1) Lack of moderation. My first shot gave me that fuzzy warmth in the pit of my stomach. The second had me feeling lighter and more carefree. By the third, I was definitely dancing, though I have no idea if anyone turned on any music. And then there were more shots. I just don’t remember how many more.

2) Fuzzy memory. Pretty much everything after the third shot of tequila is fuzzy. A patchwork of unstitched memories—lots of pieces missing, no clear order.

I might have tried to get Asher Logan to sing to me.

3) Impulsiveness. I vaguely remember sending Will a text message…or two? (See reason two.) I’m scared to look and see exactly what I wrote, but I’m pretty sure I have to. Maybe I could lie and say Lizzy and Hanna got ahold of my phone?

I brace myself against the counter and take a tentative sip from my mug of coffee. Sliding my phone from my pocket, I open my text messages and click on Will’s name.

Not just one sent message. Not two.
Four.
Four drunken, desperate, horny girl text messages. I lower my pounding head to the counter and whimper.

“Feeling good this morning?” I’m hung over, and Lizzy’s voice is bright and perky enough to put the
justifiable
in
justifiable homicide
.

I crack open one eyelid and peer at her. “Don’t talk to me.”

“Don’t be bitchy just because you drank too much.” She pulls my phone from my fingers. “Did he ever write back?”

I lift my head. “You knew I was sending those? Jesus, Liz, you’re supposed to have a girl’s back when she’s drunk.”

She snorts. “I did have your back. God, after you told me about the restaurant, I did the only thing a real friend would do. I handed you your phone and tried to get you laid.”

“I told you about the restaurant?”

Maggie and Hanna walk into the kitchen, heading for the coffee. “Sweetie, you told
everyone
about the restaurant,” Maggie says.

My cheeks fill with heat. I wouldn’t have thought embarrassment was possible with my head pounding this hard. “That is…mortifying.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Hanna says softly. “I mean, you didn’t go into graphic detail about your orgasm or anything.”

My face is on fire. “You’re not helping, Hanna.”

“You did tell us all about your panties, though,” Lizzy says. “Now I want some like that. So fucking hot.”

Asher walks into the kitchen and wraps his arms around Maggie, pulling her back to his front before whispering something in her ear.

I look at Lizzy and Hanna. “Are they always like that?”

Hanna leans on the breakfast bar and props her chin on her hands, sighing. “They’re even worse when they think no one is looking. We’re all jealous. Liz and I told him he has to find us our own rock stars, but so far, nothing.”

Lizzy frowns at my phone. “I can’t believe he never wrote back. Most guys would have been knocking down the door to take you up on these offers. And this last one?” She whistles low and looks at me with a raised brow. “You are creative, I’ll give you that.” She shows the phone to Hanna, who takes it and cocks her head while reading.

“Wow. That’s… You can actually…? And he never showed up? I wonder if he’s in the hospital somewhere.”

I snatch my phone back, then wince as pain ricochets through my head at the sudden movement.

“More than likely, he knew she was drunk,” Maggie says softly, eyeing me. “Will’s a good guy. He doesn’t take advantage.”

I rub my temples. Last night it became clear to me that Will has a history with both Maggie and her oldest sister, Krystal. Of course, no one wanted to talk about it, but I filed away the information. This is New Hope, after all. If I put my mind to it, I won’t have to go far to find someone who knows the whole story and wants to gab.

“Maggie’s right,” Hanna’s saying. “Call him today, sober, and I’m sure he’ll be all yours.”

“I don’t want him to be mine.”

Lizzy snorts. “
Bullshit
. The tequila-addled brain doesn’t lie.”

“It’s a bad idea. I’m leaving in a few months—
max
.”

Maggie is frowning at me, worry lines creasing her forehead.

Hanna puts her hand on my arm. “You were always the one telling us to keep an open mind and an open heart. You were the one convinced that if we just believed, good things would come into our lives. What happened to that girl?”

She sold out for a paycheck.
“It’s complicated. Being with Will would only hurt him in the long run.”

“Then leave him alone.” Maggie steps toward me. Asher touches her arm, but Maggie shakes her head and he backs off. “All Will wants in this world is to get married and make a family of his own. He might be attracted to Cally, but if she knows she won’t give him that, she should stay away.”

Hanna and Lizzy are looking at their hands, and Asher’s eyes have gone sad. There’s definitely more to this story than I’ve been told.

“I agree.” My phone buzzes, and I take it back from Hanna to see a text from Drew.

Gabby had nightmares all night and I had to climb in bed with her, and dad made some sort of tofu-nugget sausage for breakfast that smells like roadkill. If you come home without an Asher Logan autograph on your boob, you are no longer my sister.

“I need to go.”

“Don’t rush away because of some silly texts,” Lizzy says. “Asher’s going to make us breakfast.”

It isn’t the texts that have me running. It’s the reminder that some sexy texts sent to an old boyfriend are the least of my worries.

“But before I go….” I grab a Sharpie from the basket on the counter. “Maggie, is it all right if I have your boyfriend sign my chest?”

I don’t want to wake up. I want to snuggle in closer to Cally and breathe in her scent while I sleep the day away. Then when I do wake up, I want to do it slowly, exploring her body with my hands and mouth before I bother opening my eyes.

Except she doesn’t smell right.

I wrap my arm tighter around her waist and pull her closer. She must be using a different shampoo. She still smells good but more like perfume and less like…Cally.

But fuck sleeping, I’m hard just thinking about having her this close to me. I’ve been dreaming about her since she came back to town. About holding her. Touching her. Sliding inside her.

I fan my fingers under the waistband of her jeans, and she moans sweetly…

Only it’s not Cally’s moan.

My eyes fly open and I jerk upright in bed. Not my bed. My childhood bedroom at my grandmother’s house. And it’s not Cally next to me, it’s…
Fuck.