Speak of the Devil – Westcott Family Read Online S.L. Scott

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Erotic Tags Authors: S.L. Scott Advertisement

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She has a right to be mad. I was hurt and took it out on the one who felt in control of my pain. No excuses. Just facts. So it’s not surprising she’d strike when she can. Unknowingly, I gave her the perfect setup for that reaction.

Another message pops onto the screen from her:

You didn’t have to spy on me. You could have stopped by to say hi instead.

Sobering. I remind myself that I didn’t stay away because I wanted to. I kept my distance because she needed me to. She needed neat and orderly, a life she could fit in a little garden home plot. So why am I fucking it up for her? I know why.

Am I ready to admit it?

Not out loud. Not to her. Not even to me fully. I’m still grappling with who I was then and who I want to be, and I’m currently stuck between the two.

I text:

I thought you’d refuse to see me or, at the very least, throw me out.

Cat:

I would have because it was too soon for me. It still might be, Shane. But at least I would have known you cared.

I was a fool for what I did, but I know she’ll value action more than words. I start to type when her next message pops up first:

Maggie misses you. Specially, and I quote, “his big strong arms.” She also mentioned your ass, but I don’t want to feed that ego of yours. You have plenty of others up for the task.

I laugh to myself. If there’s one thing she’s protective of, besides her own heart, it’s her patients. I text:

If you like my ass, just come out and say it.

Cat:

I like your ass, but you know what I like better?

Did I open a can of worms when all I was trying to do was sync our calendars for forty-eight hours? My fingers have been hovering over the letters. Do I pretend she never asked or⁠—

Cat:

Don’t overthink it. It’s burritos from El Fuego’s.

She has me laughing, but I’m grateful she didn’t slam the proverbial door in my face when I texted. She’s done the opposite. She’s kicked it open and invited me in. If she can crack jokes, I still have an inkling of a chance. It may be too late to get the girl, but I can make it up to her. She can move on and live her life. I’ll move on with mine. At least she’ll know I made the effort.

Me:

I’m not sure how I feel about a burrito being better than my ass, but obviously, I need to amp up leg day.

Cat:

Don’t stress. Your ass is pretty great. But those burritos . . .

I’ll take pretty great. As much as I’d like this to continue, I know she’s probably got better things to do like saving lives or spending time with a boyfriend who is smart enough not to fuck it up.

That’s something I hadn’t considered prior to her assuming I wanted the divorce so I could marry someone else. I’ve failed her. But I’m not letting another guy win her heart before I have a chance to show her how I feel. I need to lock this down, so I text:

What’s your schedule look like for our time together?

Cat:

Is it really time together, or we just need to spend time in the same zip code? I need details. All of them. I need to make plans for this hostage situation. Where are we going? What do I pack? Do I need to get a tracker inserted into my body so Luna can find me? You know, those kinds of things.

There’s no trust left, but I don’t blame her. I deserve it and don’t mind earning it back. I’m surprised it’s so far gone after the casualness of our text exchange leading me to believe otherwise. And she’s not lost her sense of humor. A positive in this complicated situation. Me:

Time together. You’ll have your own room, if that alleviates your concerns. Pack for the lake. You can swim, right?

Cat:

I can swim. It’s all so fascinating.

I down my beer, needing every ounce of bravery I haven’t mustered in ten months. Tell her. Me:

You always were the most fascinating girl in school.

Cat:

Thought you didn’t notice?

Me:

I never said that.

There’s a pause in the conversation, and then a message from her pops up again:

It almost sounds like you’ve been planning this for at least a few hours.

Me:

Months, but who’s counting?

Cat:

You are, but . . .

Damn, she’s fast with the comebacks. I don’t know if anger or entertainment drives her, but she doesn’t let a thing I say slide. The pause is killing me, though. I reply:

But what?

Cat:

How’s Memorial Day weekend? I have a long weekend from work. After I serve my time at the lake, I’ll still have a day to enjoy the time off.

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