Page 39 of Phoenix

“That’s exactly what it is. We’ve been each other’s dates for every event for months. Even family events.”

She had a point; he had just never conceived of her as anything other than a friend so the idea that he could be viewed that way hadn’t occurred to him. He liked Lydia, enjoyedher company. She was interesting and smart. She was a good plus one for his events, he for hers, and sometimes the two overlapped. They were doing each other favors. At least that was how he saw it, but they hadn’t actually talked about it. “I should have been clearer. That wasn’t fair to you.”

“I can’t believe this.” She looked genuinely surprised. “I thought…” She shook her head. “We have so much in common. We run in the same circles. Our families get along so well. We get along so well. I know we’ve never”—she coughed—“you know, but I figured you were respectful or old fashioned or religious, a gentleman.”

He swallowed down his laughter at her description of him. If she had come in a few minutes earlier and heard what he had been saying or seen what he had been doing in that shower, she would have been disabused of any gentlemanly, old-fashioned, religious, or for that matter respectful notions she had of him.

She scrunched her eyebrows together. “You really don’t have any feelings for me?”

“Of course I do. We’re friends.” He meant that sincerely.

“That’s it?” she asked. “Nothing romantic?”

“I’m sorry. Look, Lydia, you’re pretty and smart and interesting, and talking shit with you about the people at those events is really the only bearable part of them, but you’re not my type.”

“It’s not me, it’s you. That’s seriously what you’re going with?”

“In this case, it’s true.”

“What’s your type?”

His type was the tough, brilliant, complicated, hung man who was almost certainly about done with his shower. “We can talk about this more later, but for now you need to go.” He stepped toward the door and pointed toward it, indicating she should follow.

“Were you saying something? I couldn’t hear you.” Tor’s deep voice, unlike his nickname, was unmistakably male.

As soon as Lydia heard it, her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. “Oh,” she gasped, blinked, and then gasped again. “Oh! I understand. I’m so sorry.”

“Lydia—”

“No, it’s okay.” She shook her head. “I totally get it.” She rushed to the door. “Call me later and we can catch up.” She pulled the door open and looked at him over her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell your mother or anyone else. Your secret is safe with me. Promise. Dinner is on the counter. Hope you and your Tori enjoy it.”

“Who was that?”

He sighed as he turned away from the closed door and toward Tor. “Her name’s Lydia Sinclair and I think I just broke up with her.”

“Huh. When’d you starting dating women?”

“I don’t date women. I don’t date anyone.” He marched past Tor and over to his couch and then collapsed onto it. “That was awkward as hell.” He closed his eyes and laid his forearm over them. “I need to change my door code.”

“Sorry about fucking things up with your girlfriend,” Tor said, sounding amused. He sat down beside him and curled his palm around Jule’s thigh.

“Fuck you.”

Tor massaged Jule’s bare leg.

He lowered his arm, opened his eyes, and looked down. “Where’s my towel?”

Tor pointed toward the door.

“Please tell me it fell off after she left.”

He laughed. “Did I hear her say something about dinner?”

“Yeah, she said it’s on the counter.” Jule tipped his head toward the kitchen. “That was so uncomfortable.”

“At least we got food out of it.” Tor walked to the kitchen and Jule watched him appreciatively. He was wearing briefs and nothing else, and his ass bunched and flexed with every step.

“You’re so fucking hot, Tori.”