Never Been Ready (Ready #2)(22)

"Nothing. I'm bored," he answered simply.

"You don't have any plans today?" Doesn't everyone have plans on Thanksgiving?

"Nope."

"You didn't go home?" I honestly didn't even know much about his parents to know if there was a home to go to, but I assumed he had family. Most people didn't come from the wreck of a home life like I did.

"No, my mom is up in New York. She's spending time with her sister."

"Do you want to come with me to Clare's parents' house?" I asked. I was completely blindsided by the words that had just come out of my mouth. Wasn't I just thinking about how some distance would be good for us? My head and mouth seriously needed to get together and agree on something. The disconnect was getting me into trouble more and more lately. He had just sounded so sad though.

"Are you sure that would be okay?" he asked.

He actually wanted to go? That was a shocker. Well, no backing out now.

"Clare's family takes all stragglers, even Hollywood movie stars. Be here in thirty minutes to pick me up."

"Okay."

"Oh, and, Hotshot?"

"Yes?" he growled at the mention of his pet name I insisted on using.

I laughed a little. He hated it, which was why I used it so often.

"Wear something nice."

~Declan~

I adjusted the tie around my neck for the hundredth time as we walked up to Clare's parents' house, and I pressed the buzzer. Not bothering to wait, Leah opened the door and ushered us in. The tie around my neck felt like a noose grabbing my body in a choke hold as it cut out all the oxygen one tiny breath at a time. I hated ties. They reminded me of my father, and that was a road I didn't like revisiting. He'd spent every damn day of his wasted existence wearing a tie, looking the part, playing the field. And all for what? So, he could screw us all over in the end.

Bitter much? Me? Never.

But here I was, wearing a f**king tie —on a holiday, no less. Why? No f**king clue. Actually, that wasn't true. I had a big clue, and it was tall and blonde and wearing a dress that made me want to throw her over my shoulder and run.

I'd looked over at her as we'd walked into the house. Did she own anything that didn't make her ass look like it was being served up on a f**king platter?

I'd woken up this morning, intent on spending the day with no one but a bottle of Jack and some room service. Instead, I'd spent the morning thinking about Leah —wondering what she was doing, who she was spending the day with. It was everything I had told myself to never do. Against my better judgment, I'd called her. I'd just needed to hear her voice.

I'd tried to distance myself from her over the last week. After our babysitting gig, I had known something had changed between us. Lines had blurred, and I'd felt myself growing closer to her. Although I still felt every ounce of fiery passion for her, I also felt something deeper brewing. I'd put the brakes on and only made our usual house calls, never lingering too long even though my gut had told me to stay.

These feelings weren't new. I'd felt them before, long before —although these were more intense. The thought of having feelings like that again scared the ever-living shit out of me, which is why I'd kept pushing her away. But as hard as I'd pushed, I'd pulled back —calling her when I had known I shouldn't...holding her too long when I had known I should let her go. This would all lead to my demise, yet I was unable to stop it.

So, here we were, together on Thanksgiving —attending a holiday gathering together —like a f**king couple. We hadn't even made it two steps into the house, and we were immediately greeted by about fifty people. At least, it felt that way. The house was packed like a sardine can. Laughter and happy voices filled the air as we made our way through the house. Leah said hello to a few and hugged several, introducing me as we went. We finally found Logan and Clare in the kitchen, helping an older couple —Clare's parents, I assumed —with food preparation. Clare was actually the only one helping. Logan was seated on a stool at the counter, chatting with three other men.

"Hey, Declan. Glad you could make it," Logan greeted, never once making a comment about the fact that I hadn't actually been invited.

I guessed Leah had been right about the open-door policy. No one seemed to mind the random new guy, and no one took a second glance at me, trying to figure out where they had seen me before. It was heaven.

"Good to see you, too, baldy. What are you drinking?" I asked, motioning to his drink.

"I have nonalcoholic beer here, O'Doul's. The real stuff does crazy things with my meds and makes me sicker than a dog, but I like to pretend. The good shit is in the fridge."

"Damn. No beer? Please tell me you can at least have sex," I joked.

"No worries on that front, man. They'd have to chain me to a f**king hospital bed to keep me from Clare. Even then, I might be inventive," he answered smugly.

I laughed, quickly grabbed a beer, and rejoined Logan.

He introduced me to the other guys in the group. "This is my brother-in-law, Garrett."

I shook hands with a younger version of the man cooking in the kitchen. Garrett was a few years younger than me, but he looked older than he should for his early twenties. His smile didn't quite make it to his eyes, and he looked permanently tired. But he seemed like a cool guy. He didn't look at Leah when she'd walked in, so he went on the okay list.