In hindsight, and especially with Wyatt's words of wisdom still ringing in my ears, it's easy to see that I made the right choice-even if it hurt like hell to do it. I'm better off without him.
Still … my curiosity is killing me, and while I truly don't believe that we are meant for each other, there is a large part of me that wants to know what he's thinking. Why is he contacting me? Especially because he has my phone number and my email. He could have contacted me if he wanted.
What if … what if he's found someone else, and he's just friending me on Facebook to rub my face in it?
Now my curiosity is through the roof-morbid as hell-and before I can stop myself, I accept his friend request. Then I exit out of Facebook and put my phone aside. I'll check back in a few days and see what he does.
Until then … I suddenly decide that I'm not interested in going out for breakfast. I think Wyatt was on to something when he poured the syrup on me, and I think I'd like to revisit that idea with him right now.
Chapter 17
Wyatt
Mmmm … waking up to Andrea making naked pancakes.
That is something I could definitely get used to.
Laughing over burnt, naked pancakes? Yeah, I could get used to that too.
I scrape the charred, little discs off the griddle, depositing them into the garbage. After filling the sink up with soapy water, I make a quick cup of coffee while I wait for the griddle to cool just a little more. I think after breakfast I'll take Andrea on a drive and show her around the Outer Banks. Maybe a nice seafood lunch somewhere, then back to my cottage where I will insist we spend the rest of the day in bed.
Good plan.
As I take my first sip of coffee, I hear a knocking at my front door. Leaning back against the counter, I ignore it and enjoy another sip of coffee … the nectar of the gods.
The knocking continues and I just stare at my door, willing whoever is on the other side to just go away. I only have Andrea for another eight days, the next four of which I want her all to myself since I don't have to work. I'm not sharing a single minute of my time with anyone else.
BAM, BAM, BAM!
The door practically rattles with someone pounding at it now.
"Wyatt … open the damn door. I know you're in there, and I'm not leaving until you do."
Gabby? What the fuck is she doing here?
Immediately, my thoughts go to Hunter and worry that something has happened to him, but then I dismiss that. She would have called … not wasted a trip over here. So I continue to ignore her.
Until she yells, "If you don't open the door right now, I'm going to call your mother."
Okay, now that is something I can't ignore. The girl is crazy enough to do just that and while my mother is the sweetest, most genteel southern lady you can imagine, it's a known fact that southern women can be quite scary when provoked. Seeing as how I haven't seen my parents yet since I've been back, a call from Gabby that she was worried about me would set into motion a cataclysmic mothering event that I would like to avoid.
Don't get me wrong. I love my mother to the ends of the earth. We're tight, as I am with my father, my three sisters, and the passel of nieces and nephews they all have birthed. But I don't have it in me to be "mothered" right now, particularly when I want to do nothing but hide away from everyone so I can enjoy every minute of my free time with Andrea.
I set my coffee cup down on the counter and stomp toward the door. Flinging it open, I glare down at Gabby as her fist is raised up to strike again.
"I can't believe you'd threaten me with calling my mother," I snarl at her. "That's low, Gabs … way low."
She gives me a grin and pushes her way past me, actually lowering her shoulder and ramming it into my ribs so I move out of her way. "Can it, Wyatt. It's time for you to stop hiding."
I shut the door and turn toward her. She walks right into my kitchen, pulls a cup out of the cabinet, and then pours coffee into it. Never glancing back at me, she says, "I have no clue what's up your butt or why you're ignoring your friends, but Hunter's worried, which makes me worried, so I'm here to get your head out of your ass."
Strolling casually back into the kitchen, I grab my cup and resume my leaning position against the counter. Taking a sip, I eyeball Gabby over the rim of the mug and have to admit to myself … she's cute when she's all worked up. Hunter landed himself a winner with her and while I've known her all my life seeing as how Hunter was my best friend, and Gabby was Hunter's sister, Casey's best friend, I've come to know her pretty damn well. Her being here … in my home and reading me the riot act, is not surprising.