kissed her…
Randa was talking sweet about him now, and he shook his head when she spilled about the seed money he’d provided for her and Patrice to open their hair salon. But maybe it wasn’t so terrible for Rose to know, he decided. She’d dismiss their embrace or perhaps be insulted by it if she imagined the visiting pair were two more of his sexual partners.
Except big mouth Randa was insisting on showing off her and Patrice’s matching wedding bands and extolling the benefits of monogamous matrimony.
Oh, hell. No way did he want Rose to have her mind wandering in that direction in regards to him.
Neither did Patrice, he found out.
“Uh, we couldn’t miss that, um, hug you were exchanging with Payne,” she said, in her husky voice.
“Oh, that?” Rose responded with nonchalance. “It was nothing.”
An impulse. A minor itch. A fancy, passed.
“That’s good to know,” Patrice responded. “You seem like a nice woman.”
Much too nice for Payne.
“He’s a commitment-phobe,” Randa offered.
Exactly right.
“Doesn’t ever kiss a woman on the lips, can you imagine?” She chuckled. “Not that I know from experience, mind you, but that’s the word.”
A true one, though it wasn’t something he was aware before now that his bed partners had spilled. What the hell, he thought, shrugging. Just something else that would prevent Rose from getting the wrong idea about him.
“And here’s why.” Patrice had lowered her voice, but the rest of the world went so quiet that he could hear each syllable perfectly.
It was as if even the insects were stalled, wings frozen mid-flight.
So was Payne, because he knew what was coming and couldn’t think of any way to stop it. After all, it was a lie he’d cultivated for years. A convenient fib. The easy excuse he’d used to deflect attachment and emotion.
Now the sham was coming home to roost.
“He’s still hung up on his ex,” Patrice continued.
“She broke him. Made him unable to feel deeply for any woman after their break-up.”
“Who?” Rose asked.
Payne closed his eyes, imagining the polite inquiry on her face. The shock that would overtake it next.
“Her name is Lily,” Randa said. “And he’s never gotten over her.”
He hung his head. Fuck. He might not have wanted Rose to think too highly of him…but he’d never wanted her to think that he was hung up on anyone—especially her older sister.
Rose perched on a stool drawn up to her sister’s kitchen island and watched Lily stir spaghetti sauce. Marcus half-dozed on a bouncy chair at her elbow and Rose toyed with his tiny fingers while replaying the conversation she’d had that afternoon with Payne’s friends.
She’d practically fallen again—this time in surprise—when they told her he continued to hold feelings for her sister. The ensuing dismay still felt like a lead balloon in her belly.
Could it be true? And if it was, in all the ensuing years since their break-up, why hadn’t the man pursued Lily?
Maybe because he’d been that desperate to avoid the little sister who’d thrown herself at him once upon a time.
That seemed crazy, along with the very notion that Payne himself had any kind of emotional staying power. Still… What if her ridiculous attempt to get his attention had somehow wrecked an epic romance in the making?
“You’re happy, right?” she demanded of Lily.
Her sister glanced over, her face flushed from the stove’s warmth. “About what?”
Rose made a gesture to indicate the garlic-scented kitchen, the refrigerator covered in couple photos of Gavin and Lily, the snoozing baby.
“Ecstatic,” Lily said, with a puzzled smile. “What’s this about? You? Because I’m so glad you’re here too. Away from Dad and that cold fish of an ex-boyfriend of yours.”
Blowing out a breath, Rose tried releasing her disquiet. Her sister was more than content, she’d said so. Twelve years ago Rose’s actions hadn’t wrought some great
Randa was talking sweet about him now, and he shook his head when she spilled about the seed money he’d provided for her and Patrice to open their hair salon. But maybe it wasn’t so terrible for Rose to know, he decided. She’d dismiss their embrace or perhaps be insulted by it if she imagined the visiting pair were two more of his sexual partners.
Except big mouth Randa was insisting on showing off her and Patrice’s matching wedding bands and extolling the benefits of monogamous matrimony.
Oh, hell. No way did he want Rose to have her mind wandering in that direction in regards to him.
Neither did Patrice, he found out.
“Uh, we couldn’t miss that, um, hug you were exchanging with Payne,” she said, in her husky voice.
“Oh, that?” Rose responded with nonchalance. “It was nothing.”
An impulse. A minor itch. A fancy, passed.
“That’s good to know,” Patrice responded. “You seem like a nice woman.”
Much too nice for Payne.
“He’s a commitment-phobe,” Randa offered.
Exactly right.
“Doesn’t ever kiss a woman on the lips, can you imagine?” She chuckled. “Not that I know from experience, mind you, but that’s the word.”
A true one, though it wasn’t something he was aware before now that his bed partners had spilled. What the hell, he thought, shrugging. Just something else that would prevent Rose from getting the wrong idea about him.
“And here’s why.” Patrice had lowered her voice, but the rest of the world went so quiet that he could hear each syllable perfectly.
It was as if even the insects were stalled, wings frozen mid-flight.
So was Payne, because he knew what was coming and couldn’t think of any way to stop it. After all, it was a lie he’d cultivated for years. A convenient fib. The easy excuse he’d used to deflect attachment and emotion.
Now the sham was coming home to roost.
“He’s still hung up on his ex,” Patrice continued.
“She broke him. Made him unable to feel deeply for any woman after their break-up.”
“Who?” Rose asked.
Payne closed his eyes, imagining the polite inquiry on her face. The shock that would overtake it next.
“Her name is Lily,” Randa said. “And he’s never gotten over her.”
He hung his head. Fuck. He might not have wanted Rose to think too highly of him…but he’d never wanted her to think that he was hung up on anyone—especially her older sister.
Rose perched on a stool drawn up to her sister’s kitchen island and watched Lily stir spaghetti sauce. Marcus half-dozed on a bouncy chair at her elbow and Rose toyed with his tiny fingers while replaying the conversation she’d had that afternoon with Payne’s friends.
She’d practically fallen again—this time in surprise—when they told her he continued to hold feelings for her sister. The ensuing dismay still felt like a lead balloon in her belly.
Could it be true? And if it was, in all the ensuing years since their break-up, why hadn’t the man pursued Lily?
Maybe because he’d been that desperate to avoid the little sister who’d thrown herself at him once upon a time.
That seemed crazy, along with the very notion that Payne himself had any kind of emotional staying power. Still… What if her ridiculous attempt to get his attention had somehow wrecked an epic romance in the making?
“You’re happy, right?” she demanded of Lily.
Her sister glanced over, her face flushed from the stove’s warmth. “About what?”
Rose made a gesture to indicate the garlic-scented kitchen, the refrigerator covered in couple photos of Gavin and Lily, the snoozing baby.
“Ecstatic,” Lily said, with a puzzled smile. “What’s this about? You? Because I’m so glad you’re here too. Away from Dad and that cold fish of an ex-boyfriend of yours.”
Blowing out a breath, Rose tried releasing her disquiet. Her sister was more than content, she’d said so. Twelve years ago Rose’s actions hadn’t wrought some great
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