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“Just because I might have feelings for your daughter doesn’t mean I’m pursuing her,” Wes said, and they both knew it was a lie. “I believe love can be a weakness, and most people are in it for themselves. I am the last person she’d want to be in a relationship with.”
That didn’t mean that there wasn’t this pull between them that was getting harder to ignore.
“I saw the way you looked at her at dinner. You tipped the bet in her favor and took the loss because you could see how upset she was that she hadn’t impressed her family.”
“It was a silly competition.”
“To Summer, it was a way to honor her family’s love of food.”
“Then why did they vote for me knowing that it would hurt her?”
“Our family always listen to one another, but some of us have a hard time actually hearing what the others are saying. And when you have someone like Summer, who keeps everything close to her chest, it’s easy to forget just how sensitive she is. She feels things differently than the rest of us. Deeper and more intense. Her ability to love is greater than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Which can be used against her.”
“Strange, I see it as a strength. And maybe if you open yourself up you’d start to see it that way too.”
“How do you suggest I do that?”
“With the women in this family, it’s one button at a time,” Frank said. “Now, we going to row-sham-bow for the couch or what?”
Chapter 15
i want you but
i can’t have you
Wes wasn’t going to make a senior citizen sleep in a chair, which left two options: sleep on the hard floor or bunk with Summer. Neither choice was optimal, and one had the possibility to cause more trouble than the other, but the decision was easy.
I must be a masochist, he thought, as he walked up the steps. Then again last night he’d achieved zero sleep on the too-short, too-lumpy couch.
The lights were off but there was a soft glow from a phone coming from the bottom bunk. The faint shine illuminated her face, which was scrunched up in complete concentration. He didn’t think she even knew he was there.
Without moving an inch, her eyes shot up and narrowed directly in on him. “What are you doing?”
“Seems your dad is in the doghouse too.”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
“Now it’s an us problem, because your family has some kind of weird talent for rock-paper-scissors.”
He walked in and kicked the door shut behind him. Knowing it would piss her off to no end, he tossed his pillow and blanket on the bottom bunk—her bunk.
Fast as lightning she wadded it up and threw it in his face.
“Is this your way of saying you want a pillow fight?” he asked. “PJs or not? I’m open to either.”
“You wish. And this”—she pointed between them—“is not happening.”
“Strong words from someone who almost ‘happened’ just a few hours ago.”
“It was the wine,” she lied. “I wasn’t clear-headed.”
“You hadn’t drunk since before dinner.”
“Maybe I had some down on the dock,” she challenged.
“Did you?” He flashed his trademark smile that had a ninety-nine percent chance of her panties hitting the floor. She appeared completely unaffected.