And in three weeks, she would say good-bye to him again. For good.
Chapter Thirteen
MONDAY MORNING, Lindsey awoke alone. Will was passed out on Noah's bed across the hall, and while she was disappointed he hadn't snuck into her room for a late night romp in the sheets, she was also relieved.
Boundaries were good.
She worked past dark Monday night and got home to a note that Will had gone out to Suckers, and to call if she wanted him to bring anything home for her.
She didn't. She had a craving for cheese fries, but she shared some chicken with Wrigley instead and had a salad on the side, then texted Will a short message: Long day. Another tomorrow. Drive safe.
He was asleep in Noah's bed again, breathing heavy but not snoring, when she crept out of the house Tuesday morning. When she got home, he was in the kitchen, cheerfully whistling to himself and making pan-fried steak. They had a cozy dinner as he told more stories about life in country music, which she countered with stories about Noah and Kimmie, who were honestly the two most fascinating people in her life. After dinner, when they bumped into each other while cleaning the kitchen, she pressed a kiss to his scratchy cheek and thanked him for dinner. He gave her a one-armed hug, told her she was welcome¸ and that she looked exhausted and should get some sleep.
He'd spent too much time talking to his management team about endorsements and tour schedule changes today, he said, and he had to work on a song.
No kiss back. No lingering touches. No let's get naked vibes.
It was as though he were nothing more than a friend.
Which should've been a good thing. She liked friends-with-benefits relationships. No emotional entanglements. No expectations. No drama when his three weeks were over.
She had two weeks and four days left with him. So Wednesday night, even though she had three more cases to catch up on and Will had said he had tons of work to do too-it seemed country music superstars worked as hard as divorce lawyers-she shut her computer down and went home.
Will and Wrigley were in the sunroom, the man snoozing in the middle of the couch, his phone sliding out of his hand and his feet propped on the coffee table. Wrigley lifted his nose and sniffed at her. She scratched his ears, and he soaked in the love, panting happily.
Will hadn't moved. His breathing was deep and rhythmic, slow and steady. Not a snore, but not silent either.
Lindsey stepped out of her shoes. Still, he didn't move.
But he was here. Comfortable in her house. Unguarded. Peaceful.
Happy?
If he'd been any of her other short-term boyfriends over the years, she wouldn't have given his happiness more than a passing thought. But she hoped Will was.
Because despite how little she'd been here since Sunday, having him in her home made her happy. Warm summer, bright blue skies, sprinklers-in-the-sun happy. Heart full, not just smiling-panties happy.
It was the most dangerous happy she'd ever had. And here, just the two of them, with Will being Will, she almost trusted her sixth sense.
She almost believed they could be butterflies-and-rainbows happy forever.
She should've logged in upstairs and caught up on email.
Instead, she stepped into the kitchen and eyed Noah's favorite cabinet.
She could stand to work off some steam. She'd had to wear her growly face entirely too much in the office this week.
Five minutes later, she returned to the sunroom, plate in hand.
Will's breathing stayed slow and deep.
The blinds were open, the room bright from the overhead light, and dusk was settling outside. But with the privacy fence, no one could see in. She set the plate on the arm of the couch, then flicked open the buttons on her suit jacket and slid it off. Cool air touched her shoulders and arms.
When she unzipped her skirt, Will's left eye slid open. His right eye followed, and his breathing stopped. "Am I dreaming, or is this a really good day?" His voice was husky with sleep, and it made Lindsey ache to hear more.
"Depends. Is that a phone on your pants, or are you happy to see me?"
He tossed the phone aside, and the tent in his sweatpants left no question that he was happy to see her. "C'mere, pretty lady," he said.
She did.
But not before she shimmied out of her skirt and shell too.
"Lord have mercy," Will breathed.
Lindsey straddled him on the couch, rubbed herself against his bulge and watched his gaze wander over today's smiley faces. "No mercy for you tonight." She pressed a quick kiss to his lips, angling back when he tilted his mouth closer to hers.
He tangled his fingers in her hair and tried to pull her close. "Gonna tease me?"
"I'm fixin' to treat you."
His smile went wide, and he added a chuckle that made her smileys swoon. She reached for the plate and plucked the treat off it. The chocolate had melted and swirled with the marshmallow oozing out between the two graham crackers. She swiped a finger full of sugary goodness. "How do you feel about s'mores, country boy?"
His erection pulsed between her legs. "Real good." His voice was huskier, his eyes hot.
She slid her finger into his mouth, and when he sucked on it, she felt the pull all the way to the deepest parts of her womanhood. She rocked against him.
He caught her wrist and held the s'more steady while he swiped at the marshmallow goo. "Your turn, pretty lady."
Her lips parted. She swirled her tongue around his finger, tasting sweet chocolate and marshmallow, and then she gave his finger one long, hard suck.
"Sweet hallelujah," Will breathed. He bucked against her.
She brushed his lips with the treat. "You want a bite?"
"I want you."
She tossed the s'more on the plate and slid her hands under his T-shirt to the light hair on his solid chest. He cupped a hand behind her neck and pulled her close. His lips suckled and teased hers while he expertly unhooked her bra with one hand.
She rocked against him and parted her lips, her tongue darting out to tangle with his.
All his sounds were new, but they felt familiar-the low groan deep in his throat when she tweaked his nipples, the gasp that escaped when she rocked her hips harder against his erection, the rumble of more when he fisted his hands in her hair and held her tighter against him.
Lindsey thrust harder against him, yanked at his T-shirt. "Make me feel good."
He shifted and helped her tear the shirt off, then hooked his thumbs in the elastic of her panties. She lifted, helped him scoot them down, then reached for his pants.
Someone knocked on the door.
"They'll go away." She tugged at his pants, and he thrust his hands into her hair and claimed her lips.
The knocking came at the door again, but it was followed by another sound.
A key.
"Oh, shit." Lindsey leapt off Will's lap. "Nat?" she called.
"It's Dad."
Will's eyes went wide. "Oh, shit," he echoed.
"Hold on, I'm coming," Lindsey yelled.
"Or not," Will muttered. He yanked his pants on and grabbed his shirt while Lindsey dove into her clothes.
Wrigley looked toward the kitchen.
"Hold on a minute, Dad," Lindsey called.
"Lindsey?" Dad called. "You have visitors?"
"I-it's-kind of." She flipped her hair out from beneath her jacket as he walked into the sunroom.
With Marilyn trailing behind him.
Dad's eyes went round as they swiveled between Lindsey and Will. Marilyn-generally unflappable-did a guppy impersonation.
"This is a nice surprise." Lindsey's heart shouldn't have been hammering. She was an adult, this was her house and she had nothing to be ashamed of. But her breastbone was taking a beating anyway. "What brings you two by?"
Dad cleared his throat, then took two awkward steps back. "Thought you might want to go out for dinner before our widows group. Guess you're busy."
"No, we're-" She glanced at Will. He lifted a brow. What were they? "We're hanging out," she finished. Lamely.
"You got a dog," Dad said.
Wrigley lifted his head, pointing a wary eye at Marilyn.
Smart boy.
"He's mine." Will stepped beside her. Not close enough to touch, not far enough away to be simply friendly. His easy, people-like-me country boy grin was out in full force, emphasizing the Billy in his personality.
She could still recognize Will in there too. A mature, confident, make-no-excuses Will.
But the thunderclouds and tornadoes moved in, hovering at the edge of her anti-match-o-meter.
"Lindsey's been real nice, giving us a place to stay," Will said.
Dad's mouth hung open for a second, glancing again between Will and Lindsey. "Looks like," he said.
The half-eaten s'more on the couch arm didn't say anything, but it sat there like a chocolate marshmallow elephant, everyone obviously aware of it, no one wanting to mention it.
Lindsey was almost positive she had a streak of marshmallow over the whisker burn around her lips and on her neck. But she refused to squirm.
Marilyn squared her shoulders and set her chin. The Queen General had entered the building. "Billy, it is so lovely to finally meet you. I'm Marilyn Elias, president of Bliss's Bridal Retailers Association and chairperson of Knot Festival. And by the power vested in me as a direct descendant of the founders of Bliss, I hereby welcome you to our quaint little corner of the world. It's our most esteemed pleasure to have you nearby. I trust your accommodations have been adequate?"