Ladies Man (Manwhore #4)(10)

There’s no one to pass the Kleenex anymore.

And even though my best friend’s reason for moving out was a happy one—she got married!—the feeling of loneliness is still strong. More than ever.

Paul helped me get over my parents’ abandonment. Rachel helped me get over Paul’s. But this time, I’m all I can count on.

I need to throw the Kleenex box in the trash, because I’m determined to be as happy as I can be.

So I drink another glass of wine and force myself to look at my date—Trent—as if nothing else in the world exists, and as if Tahoe Roth isn’t only a few tables away, looking at me through the lowered, fierce lines of his eyebrows.



*



We are heading home from the restaurant.

“I can’t believe he picked up the tab,” Trent keeps saying as we ride in the back of a cab. We’re supposed to drop me off first.

“He’s loaded, trust me, he feels relieved.”

Although to be honest, a part of me wonders if he did it merely to remind me that he was there, at the restaurant, watching me. I was good about not looking at him after I returned, except through the corner of my eye. Tahoe paying the bill almost felt like him staking some sort of claim over me. He doesn’t want to hurt me but it almost feels as if he’s determined to keep anyone else from hurting me as well.

“Huh.” Trent scratches the back of his ear thoughtfully, still looking perplexed. “Something going on between the two of you?”

“Nope. We’re friends.”

Friends who annoy each other.

And sometimes want to have sex with one another.

But never do.

I laugh inwardly at that, surprised by the sudden relief I feel.

Whatever we almost had, it’s all in the past. We’re friends.

And I don’t know why it matters this much.

In the back of the cab, I remind myself I have a guy next to me. He’s not big, not overpowering, but it’s comforting that he’s not built that way, the opposite of Tahoe. So when he opens his mouth to ask me more about Tahoe—obviously still impressed—I press my lips to his.

Then break away.

“What was that for?” Trent is stunned and obviously thrilled.

The cab stops in front of my building, and I swing open the door, shrugging with a smile.

“Whoa, aren’t you forgetting something? Don’t you want to invite me up?” He sounds desperate.

A guy desperate to go to bed with me is good.

A refreshing change compared to Tahoe’s rejection.

I look at him—good guy, genuinely interested, he doesn’t even feel intimidated by my sometimes brusque ways. Wynn is with Emmett, Rachel’s with Saint, and I really wanted to try to give myself another chance—even if I never again want to feel like I felt when Paul betrayed me.

But not yet. So I say, “Some other time.”

I turn to walk away, and he calls me back, “Gina?”

He fishes in his pocket for money, then shoots me a look. “I don’t have much cash. For when he…drops me off at my place.”

I stare, then hear myself admit, “I’m not sure that I…have enough…”

I pull out money. Wads of bills, pennies, quarters, and he helps me count. “I think…yeah, I think I’ll need the nickels too. Thanks.”

“Okay,” I say, then I start walking to the entrance to my building. “You know what?” I turn and look at him. “Yeah. Come in for coffee or something.”

“Wow, thanks!” he says, jogging up to me.

The ride up to my floor is uneventful. I’m silent, wondering if I know what the hell I’m doing, and Trent is…well, he’s fishing in his pockets as if he doesn’t remember whether he has a condom or not. “I need to take this slow,” I say.

“How slow?” He pulls out a crinkled condom packet and exhales in excitement.

“I haven’t had the best time on the dating ride.”

“Yeah,” he scratches his chin, “I understand.”

“So let’s just try this and see how it goes.”



*



It doesn’t go well.





SOS!




Why is it that when something goes wrong, the differences we’d been having with others become trivial to the point of completely vanishing?

All I know right now is that, whatever my issues with Tahoe are, he’s been the only thing on my mind for the past hour, the only thing helping me keep my sanity together.

I’m at the hospital. I’ve already been discharged, but I remain sitting alone on a bench outside. I’m torn between calling him or simply calling a cab. I decide not to call his cell phone, and I tell myself I’ll simply call him at his place. If he’s there, well…

Gathering what’s left of my courage after the ordeal I just went through, I absently watch a man get wheeled into the emergency room and I dial his home number.

A female voice answers on the third ring, laughing as she picks up.

“Umm. Is Tahoe available?” Nervously, I change my cell phone from one ear to the other.

“He’s busy, tying someone to his bed. Who’s calling?”

Giggles, and a husky male laugh in the background. My stomach roils.