Page 66 of Written with Regret (The Regret Duet 1)
“You know what else is real? Your delusions.”
“You weren’t there. You didn’t see the look on his face. It was like he couldn’t stop himself. He was sta—” A blast of cold water struck me in the face. “Shit!”
She lowered her water cannon/water bottle and glared at me. “I’m sorry! But someone had to do it.”
Using the bottom of my T-shirt, I patted dry my face. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“You, Hadley. You are what’s wrong with me.” She rose to her feet and loomed over me. “You promised me you could handle this. You swore up and down when I brought you back from Puerto Rico that you could handle being around him without making eight-year-old googly eyes at him. And here we are, a little over three months later, arguing about whether you should have kissed him?” She scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest, luckily not aiming the water bottle at me again. “He is not fifteen-year-old Caven Lowe anymore. He’s Caven Hunt. The father of your daughter who, thanks to the bullshit agreement you signed, owns your time with Rosalee for the next three months. Literally and figuratively: Do not screw this up.”
“What if he kisses me? What if he screws this up?”
She rolled her eyes. “Please just let me set you up with a guy. A few orgasms and a big dick would go a long way in diluting the case of the sexual insanity you’ve currently got going on.”
“You know what? I changed my mind. Go home. I need a better best friend.”
“No. What you need is a dick…and not the fictional one that belongs to Caven Hunt in your secret little fantasies.”
“He produced a child. I’m ninety-nine percent sure his dick is not fictional.”
“It could have fallen off in the last four years. You don’t know.”
I cut my gaze to the wall, my face blooming with heat. “He tucks to the left.”
She gasped dramatically, as only crazy-ass Beth could. “You’ve been checking out his cock.”
“No!” I chewed on my bottom lip. “Well…maybe once…on accident though.”
“Explain to me how one accidentally checks out a man’s cock?”
“He was wearing particularly fitted slacks that day. It showed when he sat down. What was I supposed to look at?”
“Uhhh…his face?”
“Trust me. If you saw the way he was looking at me tonight, you’d know that his face is far more dangerous than the outline of his penis.”
“Ew, don’t say penis. You’re ruining my mental image of Caven tucking his cock to the left.”
My mouth fell open. “You did not just say that.”
“What? He’s a sexy man. I’m allowed to imagine. You should try it next time instead of gawking like a perv.”
“Yep. Time to go.” I unfolded off the couch and headed to the door. Snatching it open, I waved her out like a flight attendant pointing to the nearest emergency exit. “As my attorney, can you please draw up the paperwork ending our friendship tonight?”
She followed after me, stopping short of the threshold. “I’m only trying to be real here. You two hooking up has the worst kind of bad news written all over it.” She placed her hand on my side and pointedly gave me a squeeze over the round scar that, instead of disappearing with time, had been stretching and growing with me. “Don’t make this any more complicated than it already is.”
My shoulders sagged as disappointment rained over me. Deep down, I knew she was right. He wasn’t Caven Lowe anymore, but the problem was: The longer I got to know Caven Hunt, the more I was starting to like him too.
He was a good dad with a tough exterior, but on the inside? His girl made him all soft. And let’s be honest, his sense of humor was as dry as the Sahara, but his subtle smiles and lip twitches were going to be the end of me. I loved that he didn’t laugh at everything. The rich and deep sound was so rare that it felt like I’d struck gold when he gave it to me. Sure, I hated it when he apologized, but I adored the way he wasn’t too proud to show vulnerability. And most of all, I was addicted to the way he could not only read my emotions, but understand them too.
In a lot of ways, I wished he weren’t Caven Lowe, because then it wouldn’t have mattered that I wanted to crawl into his arms and never leave.
But it did matter and wishing had never gotten me anywhere before. This time would be no different.
“I hate when you make sense.”
“I know. But one of us has to.” She pulled me in for a chaste hug. “What about this? If you happen to be right about the way he was looking at you tonight and he tries to kiss you in the future and you are physically unable to dive out of the path of his lips, I give you permission to kiss him back for eight seconds before shoving him away, telling him he’s lost his mind, and storming out. Okay?”
