Tempt Our Fate (Sutten Mountain, #2)(64)

Now, it’s a terrifying realization that I want to stay. I don’t want to book a flight back to New York. I don’t want to run away from Pippa, even when her eyes soften and she looks at me like I couldn’t do a single thing wrong. I’m not terrified of asking her on a date. Usually, the thought of a date would put me off. This morning, I found myself holding my breath, waiting for Pippa to answer me. I wanted her to agree to it. I want to take her out, to show her off, to have people know she’s with me. That she’s mine.

And that’s never happened to me before. I don’t know how to handle it.

One thing I do know is I’d spend every second with her if I could, and that’s unlike me. I like my personal space. I like to be alone. I spent entire days and nights alone without someone talking to me as a child. I got used to it. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve found myself having to reset my social battery, getting overstimulated by being around others. It’s not like that with her. I’d be in a better mood if she was right next to me, not an entire building away.

The thought of her used to irritate me. She used to get under my skin in a way that I wanted to put states between us. Things have changed. Quickly and dramatically, in a way that I can’t keep up with.

I think I have actual feelings for this woman.

I don’t do feelings.

But I want to do feelings if they’re for her.

Speaking of feelings, I look down at my vibrating phone, finding Beck’s caller ID on it.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. He’s texted me upward of ten times since our chat yesterday, which isn’t typical of him. He’s the friend that gives me space. He doesn’t send dumb memes all day and night or send weird-ass videos he found on different apps like some of our friends.

But he’s still apparently a nosy motherfucker regardless because even though I ignored his first call, he’s calling again.

He’s going to ask about Pippa. Which means he’s going to know about my goddamn feelings for her because why else would I be in a woman’s bed in the middle of the afternoon? We used to be cut from the same cloth until he met Margo. He knows the importance of what he stumbled upon yesterday.

I angrily swipe to answer it, annoyed he’s intuitive. “What?” I spit, already wanting to hang up the call.

“Someone’s grumpy this morning. Were you up late last night with that local friend of yours?”

“Fuck off, Sinclair,” I growl, angrily clicking my computer mouse to give myself something to do.

Beck chuckles on the other line. “You knew I’d bother you until you gave me details.”

“I don’t remember prying into your love life when you were pining after Margo like a goddamn lost puppy. Even when you talked about her all the time, although she was dating your brother.”

“We don’t need to bring Carter into this. Plus, I didn’t talk about her that much.”

“You talked about her all the damn time.”

“I don’t know why the conversation got pointed in my direction, but we’re going to circle back and talk about you, my friend. Don’t think I didn’t miss the fact you said love life. Is the Camden Hunter in love?”

I grunt. I’m not in love with Pippa. I haven’t known her long enough to love her—I think. I have no prior history to know what it’d even feel like to be in love. But I do believe I’ve developed feelings for her. Weird, foreign feelings I’ve never felt before.

“No, I haven’t fallen in love,” I snap. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the fact that you were willingly lying on a pair of sheets that seemed to have a lower thread count than your IQ.”

“I told you, it was the rental.”

“Margo is still ignoring me for your damn project, which means I have all the time in the world right now. So I can keep asking you questions until you eventually stop dodging them, or you could just answer me now, and we don’t have to keep going back and forth.”

My finger and thumb pinch the bridge of my nose. Screw him and the fact he can read me like an open book. “Do you remember when we first all came to Sutten?”

“You mean the time I got married there? Yeah, you could say I still remember it.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a dick?”

Beck laughs on the other line. “Takes one to know one. Keep going. But yes, I do, in fact, remember my wedding, thank you for asking.”

“Well, remember when someone spilled beer all over me at the stupid tourist bar?”

“Yes.”

“And remember when your dessert caterer ran into me and spilled cupcakes all over me?”

“I do remember hearing about that, yes.”

“Turns out the woman in both those scenarios owns the neighboring business to mine. She owns the cafe next to the gallery.”

“And you’re seeing her? I swore I remembered Margo saying how much of an asshole you were to her.”

I swallow because I do regret how awful I was to Pippa. Looking back, I don’t know what my problem was, but I definitely wasn’t kind to her. It’s a miracle she still wants to speak to me—is allowing me to take her on a date. “Yeah, I was,” I finally answer, remembering Beck waiting on the other line.