Accidental Tryst (Charleston #1)(89)

“Come here.” He helped me up and settled in my spot then gently pulled me down next to him.

I melted against his warm, solid frame, and curled my legs up next to me.

“Emmy?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you crack the code to my phone?”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about. You want to know my secrets.”

“I do,” he said then brought his mouth to my ear, causing a flight of goosebumps to flutter down my body. “I want to know them all. Especially what’s in your bedside drawer.”

I swallowed down a flood of embarrassed laughter. “You have to pick. How I cracked the code to your phone, or what’s in my bedside drawer.”

“Aww, come on.”

I shook my head.

“Tell me both, and I’ll tell you what the L stands for,” he offered.

“That’s one secret for two, what kind of businessman are you?”

“One who always gets two for the price of one.” He chuckled.

“Ha. Not from me you don’t.”

“Okay, how about you tell me about growing up?”

I tensed.

“You don’t have to, of course, and David’s told me a few things, but—”

“What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you want to tell me?”

I glanced sideways at him. “Does it really matter?”

“It matters to me.”

“Well, I was never abused if that’s what you’re thinking. And I don’t know much about what the situation was that got me into the foster system. But I never found a forever home until the Dubois family took me in. God, I sound like a stray cat.”

“You were.” He smiled, but it was a sad smile.

“Don’t feel sorry for me, Trystan. I’m happy. I got a good family in the end. My foster father had a weak heart and my foster mom died of breast cancer, but you can’t predict those things. They gave me the years they had left. And when they were gone, I had David. I was grateful for every moment they wanted to keep me around.”

Trystan took a sip of his beer with his free hand. “You have an amazing outlook on life.”

“There’s no point in being any other way.” I shrugged and sipped my own drink.

“Yes, but I get it now. Why you’re having a hard time giving us a chance.” He leaned forward and removed his arm from my shoulder, dislodging me from his side.

I made a sound of distress at the loss of his warmth.

He set down his beer and moved off the couch to sit on the coffee table facing me, his legs spread.

“I want to keep you around,” he said with intensity.

“Good,” I smiled. “I want to keep you around too.”

“I mean it. I want to keep you.”

“Okay.” I narrowed my eyes still grinning. “Weirdo.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. “Thanks for the drink, but I think I’m going to go.”

“Wait. What?” My stomach sank.

“Taking it slow, remember?”

I pouted. “Where are you staying?”

“At my grandmother’s if you can believe it. For now. But I’m going to move to Charleston permanently.”

My sinking stomach suddenly lurched right back up my insides in happiness. “You are?” I couldn’t help the grin that spread, even as I tried to bite my lips to keep it in.

“I take it that’s a good thing.”

I nodded. “Very.”

He smirked and leaned forward again. Taking my face in his, he kissed my mouth softly then my forehead. “Emmy, I . . .”

“What?”

He let out a breath. “Nothing. I’ll see you in the morning.”



* * *



I woke in my bed, sunlight streaming through the cracks in the blinds. Stretching across my empty bed, I reached for my phone on the nightstand. It was early. Early enough to enjoy lying in bed for a few minutes.

Silently, I apologized to my morning Skimm email with the latest things I had to know in the world, and instead I pulled up the dating app Armand and Annie had tried to get me to look at last night.

Trystan's image filled the screen again, and I took a moment to really look. My gaze traced his hair that caught the sunlight and the curves and hard lines of his face. His eyes. The crinkles near his eyes, though he wasn't smiling exactly. It was more of a candid shot. His lips. I wanted to kiss those again. Soon. His suit. And then . . .

I turned and looked at my cat, Tuna, who lay next to me and stared through slitted eyes. "Traitor," I whispered.

Tuna let out a sound like a half meow as if he couldn't quite muster up the energy for a response, then lapsed into a deep purr.

I scrolled down:

97% match.

Trystan

31 years old.

0.6 miles away.

Charleston, SC

LOOKING FOR: Only redheads (real ones). Cats not dogs (can be persuaded. I mean . . . dogs). Sense of humor. Girls who read poetry. Take pictures of food. Sew. Freckles. Cream no sugar. Must be 28. Live in French Quarter. Must have ability to dance to Latin beats. Gluten free. Better with no makeup. Great at job but dislike boss. Must have French sounding name. And love dirty talk. Also don't mean to be creepy, but have no blood relatives they consider family. Someone to build a life with.