Page 7 of Detective for the Debutante (SAFE Haven Security #3)
LEIGH
A mix of humiliation and sexual frustration surrounds me as I stomp into the bed-and-breakfast, only quieting my steps on the polished wooden stairs to avoid waking up the owner and her husband.
I half expect Murphy to follow me inside, but when he doesn’t, disappointment joins the party as well.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” I hiss to myself as I walk down the hall to Sydney’s room.
I should not be disappointed that the man who rejected me doesn’t follow me inside.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid boys,” I grumble, the last word leaving my lips as I burst into Sydney’s dark room.
But she’s not asleep. Instead, she glances up at me, the glow of her massive laptop screen highlighting the red piece of licorice dangling from her lips. Headphones cover her ears, the rock music blaring through them clear from my spot by the door.
I barely stop myself from slamming the door—I’m not at home but in a bed-and-breakfast with other guests—but still shut it with a contained force and yank my hair free of its updo.
Sydney drops her earphones to her neck, presses a button on her laptop, and silences the latest album from one of our favorite bands, Just One Yesterday.
“I didn’t expect to see you here tonight. You and the detective looked pretty chummy when I left the reception.” She closes her laptop and turns her attention to me.
Finally managing to yank out most of the pins holding my hair in place, I shake my head and let my hair drop around me.
Reaching up, I massage my scalp with my fingers as I try to find the words to explain it.
But since I don’t really know how to explain it to myself, how can I explain it to someone else?
I lift my shoulders and drop them with a sigh, all of my anger quickly fizzling to sadness mixed with a little humiliation for good measure.
“There are no words,” I tell her.
Reaching over to the side table, she flicks on the light and snags the bag of licorice, holding it out like a chewy lifeline. I grab a piece and grip it between my teeth before turning my back on her and motioning for her to get the zipper.
“There are always words. Lots of them. Try some.”
Frustration gnaws on my stomach and I chomp a bite of the licorice, talking around it.
“We were getting along. We talked a lot tonight. About a lot of stuff. Decided to walk back.” The dress loosens and I hold it to my chest and step into the en suite bathroom to change into my pajamas.
“So what has you coming in here spitting like a wet cat?” Sydney calls to me.
“He kissed me!” I tug my T-shirt down and stomp back into the bedroom.
“He did? Go, detective.” Her little shimmy and the waggle of her brows has the corners of my lips twitching.
“Well, actually, I kissed him. But he kissed me back,” I add quickly.
Because that mattered.
Didn’t it?
“I bet he’s a good kisser. He gives off that vibe.”
The residual sexual frustration and tingle in my lips agree with her, but I don’t say the words out loud. Instead, she nods as she studies me.
“Definitely a good kisser,” she confirms for herself.
“Whether he is or isn’t doesn’t matter. When I suggested we head to his room, he turned me down.
Told me he ‘respected Cole too much’ and how I wasn’t just some one-night stand.
Even when I told him I wasn’t interested in anything serious.
Apparently, he’s yet one more person who knows what I want more than I do. ”
As if I don’t have that enough with my parents. As if at twenty-two, I’m not allowed to know what I want for myself. The frustration is starting to boil up again, and the roller coaster of anger and humiliation is beginning to exhaust me.
Sydney rolls her eyes and blows out a breath.
“Ugh.” Her voice drips with disgust, and that emotion joins the amusement park ride in my body too.
“Right?”
“That’s so frustrating. Worse than mansplaining.”
I flop onto the bed, reaching for another red candy.
“It doesn’t matter. He didn’t want me.” The sting of rejection hurts like a bitch, and I chew ferociously on the candy.
Sydney’s head pops into my vision.
“Is that what he said?”
“Well…no. He said everything else. I am too young, I’m Cole’s little sister?—”
“He’s not your brother.”
“That’s what I said!” I say and reach for a third red candy. “He just clarified how Cole is my brother-in-law. And I have my whole life in front of me and deserve more than to burn the sheets up for a few weeks.”
“But that’s exactly what you need,” she says, pacing to her suitcase to grab another bag—this one of M he was attracted to you. Or he wouldn’t have kissed you back.
There’s also nothing wrong with asking for what you want.
You wanted him.” I don’t bother to correct her that I am still attracted to him and still want him.
“There is nothing wrong with taking charge of your own pleasure. Be it at your hands or the hands of somebody else. Why should you be embarrassed? You are a consenting adult, you took your shot, and he declined. That doesn’t mean you need to slink out of here in the middle of the night like you did something wrong.
If anything, he should because he’s throwing up excuses for not acting on the mutual attraction. And stupid as shit excuses at that.”
“So I, what? Pretend nothing happened?”
She lifts a shoulder and lets it drop, mischief coming to life in the tilt of her lips.
“That’s one option.”
“What’s the other?”
“Doubling down. Flirt with him, tempt him, pursue him until he forgets every reason he shouldn’t and realizes how easily he can.”
“Is that what you would do?”
“Pffft. No. But for every hot guy who isn’t interested in what I’m offering, there’s a handful of others who are. I don’t waste my time on someone who isn’t after the same thing I am.”
“So why is that an option then?” My head is spinning with a mix of sugar, possibility, and fear of rejection for a second time.
“Because it’s your decision, not mine. To be honest, none of the guys I pick up in LA look like him. Otherwise, I might reconsider. Regardless of what you choose, neither option involves you leaving in the middle of the night.”
I hold up my hands.
“You’re right.”
“That’s what I keep telling Sawyer and Cole. As one of my besties, you have an obligation to believe me.”
I nod my head seriously until we both erupt in a fit of laughter that leaves us clutching our stomachs.
“I shouldn’t have eaten so much junk food,” I manage to breathe out, holding my aching sides.
“When you hang with me, you build up a tolerance. Ask Jessie.”
“I’m jealous you guys get to hang out with each other all the time since you live together.”
“You could always move to LA. Jessie could have her brother find us a three-bedroom apartment.”
Not only is Jessie Sydney’s roommate, but her older brother, Jax Bryant, is a rock star who pays the lion’s share of their two-bedroom apartment rent in a secure building.
It would be so fun. I can picture myself in LA hanging out with Sydney and Jessie.
The three of us tackling the big city. But there’s a small part of me clinging to the known.
To the familiar sights and sounds of Tennessee.
I need to see if I can handle Nashville before I take on something more daunting.
“Maybe after law school. I want to finish that first.”
“Who said you can’t? There are schools in California. Ask Jessie. She’s enrolled in a music therapy program at UCLA.”
“Maybe.” The word comes out on a yawn as I start to crash from the sugar high.
“I’ll ask her about it when I get home. Send you the details.”
What does it hurt to have more information? Hannah Grace lives in LA. So does Sydney. Would it be so bad to relocate?
“’Kay.” I readjust the pillow and Sydney reaches for her laptop again. “Aren’t you going to get some sleep?”
She shrugs.
“In a bit. I need to finish something up. But I’ll do it without the music. Don’t want to keep you up. You were up early this morning to help with wedding prep.”
“Too early,” I grumble and burrow against the soft fabric.
“Get some sleep. We’ll talk more at breakfast tomorrow.”
“Holding you to that,” I murmur.
It’s the last thing I’m aware of as I drift to sleep and dream of the choices I have regarding a certain hazel-eyed detective I’d rather have other types of dreams about.