Wolfie
Penelope didn't know what she was asking for.
That's the only way I can rationalize what happened Saturday night, when she sat beside me on the hotel bed, licked her kissable lips, and told me she wanted me.
Like it was that simple.
Obviously, I shut that shit down as fast as I could. Without hearing any of the details of her proposition, I gave her a firm no, threw back another double shot of Jameson, and proceeded to hug the edge of the bed all night. Not because it's what I wanted, but because it was the right thing to do.
And now we've been back in Chicago for almost a week, and I haven't heard a word from her. Not even a text. I'm starting to wonder if doing the right thing has consequences.
But I couldn't imagine sharing all my quirks with someone like Penelope. She's probably so carefree, so uninhibited in the bedroom, giggling and excited to share pleasure with someone just because it feels good.
By the time Friday evening rolls around, the view from my black leather couch looks pretty bleak. Not just because the sky is a classic shade of early Chicago winter gray, but because I don't have a single thing planned for the weekend. Normally, I'm more than happy to spend a night in my apartment, sipping something strong and watching TV beside my roommate, Connor. But he texted me earlier to say he's spending the night at his new friend-with-benefit's place tonight.
After spending a whole weekend away at a luxury wilderness resort, I'm finding being trapped in my apartment has zero appeal. It doesn't help that I haven't been able to shake this tight, anxious feeling in my gut all week. Whatever it is, it took root the second I turned Penelope down, and it hasn't loosened its grip on me since.
I double-tap my phone to check the time-not even five p.m. yet-and I already feel like a lion stuck in a goddamn cage. There's too much going on in my head, and being limited to twelve hundred square feet isn't gonna cut it. I need a change of scenery. Stat.
Propping my feet up on my coffee table, I fire off a text to Hayes to see what he's up to tonight. His apartment is only a few blocks from mine, making him my best, closest bet if I need a drinking buddy on a cold night like tonight.
Not ten seconds later, he replies that he and Maren are doing the whole meet the parents thing with his mom and dad out in the suburbs this weekend.
Shit. I can't believe my sister didn't mention that to me. Then again, I've been distracted as hell all week. There's a solid chance it just went in one ear and out the other.
With a huff, I drop my phone facedown on the couch next to me, one hand rubbing the tension from the back of my neck. The guys will probably hit our usual strip of River North bars tonight, but I don't want to run the risk of bumping into Tessa. So it looks like this might be it for me tonight.
Just when I'm about to head to the fridge for a cold one and officially surrender myself to a night of drinking alone, my phone buzzes again, and I snatch it up. Another text from Hayes.
If you really don't have jack shit to do, you could head to the lake house. Somebody needs to winterize that thing before too long.
I reply without a second thought.
I'm on it. Backup key still under the grill?
It's a decent excuse to get out of here, and a little cleanup is the least I can do after all the times his grandma Rosie has let us all stay there. The lake house is almost three hours away, though. I'll have to get going soon if I want to make it there before it gets too late.
Hayes shoots me back a confirmation text, followed by a punch list of what needs to get the lake house ready for winter. He signs it all off with a huge thank-you for helping him out.
Little does he know he's the one doing me a solid. A long drive and a weekend alone is just what the doctor ordered to clear my head. Plus, some alone time at a peaceful house on the water should be perfect.
After cramming a few sweatshirts, jeans, and toiletries into my duffel bag, I pack a second bag containing a few supplies. Bottled water, the protein powder I use every morning to make myself breakfast, and a bottle of whiskey. Just the essentials. Then I head down to the parking garage and rev up my car to head out of town for the second Friday in a row.
I've got a hundred fifty miles of highway ahead of me, more than enough time to work out whatever's going on between Penelope and me.
Is she mad at me? Fuck if I know. I've never been good at the whole feelings thing.
What I do know is that if I was dumb enough to cross any lines with her, she'd end up hurt, and Connor would put my balls on a spike in the middle of Millennium Park. I wouldn't blame him either. That's what you do when some asshat breaks your sister's heart.
Luckily, I'll never have to pull that shit for my own sister. Hayes is a good man. Not that I'm not a good person. I am, but I'm complicated. A bit of a fucking mess, to be honest. And I'm not going to let Penelope get swept up in all that.
I listen to a podcast most of the way there, and the moon is high overhead by the time I find the spot to turn off into the driveway. I've never been here when the leaves have fallen from the trees. It looks different. Almost spooky.
Gravel crunches beneath my tires as I pull up to the lake house, the clock just turning over to nine o'clock as I throw my car in park and hop out. Cringing against the wind, I feel around in the darkness to find the spare key hidden beneath the grill cover, then trudge up the steps and onto the porch. The forecast said chances of snow were low tonight, but the sky is telling a different story. Good thing I came up here after all. The pipes might have frozen if I hadn't.
Inside, I drop my duffel bag and flip on the lights, along with the heat. Everything looks just how we left it this summer, right down to the leftover six-pack of cheap beer shoved in the back of the fridge. I consider helping myself to one, although a whiskey neat would warm me up a lot faster. I miss the bar cart from the hotel last weekend almost as much as the drinking buddy I shared it with.
Leaning one hip against the counter, I pull up the list of tasks Hayes sent over. It's kind of late, but I can definitely cross one or two things off this list tonight. That will tire me out enough to get some good shut-eye and leave me nice and fresh to finish things up tomorrow.
But before I can decide on which task to tackle first, a hollow knock echoes through the empty house, snapping my attention toward the door.
What the hell?
I hold my breath, listening for any other sounds of life. Was it just an animal? I'm certainly not expecting anyone tonight.
When I hear the knocking again, it's followed by a soft, sweet voice pleading, "Open up, Wolfie. It's cold out here."
My chest tightens. I know that voice.
It's Penelope, which can only mean one thing-I've officially lost my mind and started hearing voices. Because there's not a chance in hell that Penelope Blake just so happened to be in the neighborhood of a tiny West Michigan town.
When I reach the door and tug it open, a pink-cheeked, shivering Penelope stands there staring back at me. Her black wool coat is tied tight around her waist, her honey-blond hair whipping in the wind.
"Hi." She gives me a big grin, one gloved hand tucking a loose blond strand behind her ear, only for the wind to undo her work. "Can I come in?"
"What are you doing here?" I blurt.
Smooth, Wolfie. Real smooth.
"Thought it'd be the perfect night for a beach vacation." She laughs at her own joke, a low, nervous laugh. Just the sound of it warms me up more than any amount of whiskey ever could.
"Seriously, though," she says, her gaze darting between me and her car, which is parked behind mine. "It's starting to snow. If you don't want to see me, I can just get back in my car and-"
"No." I cut her off sharply, stepping out of the doorway and motioning her inside. "I'm sorry. Come in and warm up."
When she steps around me and enters the house, I scan her from head to toe, still not believing she's actually here. I follow her into the living room and get her set up on the couch with a gray wool blanket, which wraps twice around her slender frame.
When I'm satisfied that she's comfortable, I head to the kitchen to find her something hot to drink. After digging around for a minute, I manage to locate a mug and a handful of tea bags from the back of the pantry. By the time I bring a steaming mug of hot tea to her, pleased to see the redness has faded from her cheeks, replaced with her usual glow.
"Hope chamomile is okay," I murmur, handing it to her.
She looks adorable, all cozied up on the couch, pursing her lips to blow slow streams of air through the steam of her tea. It just makes it that much harder to take my spot all the way on the other side of the couch.
Distance is a good thing right now. I have to remember that.
"So, want to tell me what you're doing here?"
She lifts a shoulder beneath the blanket, her fingers absently fiddling with the string of the tea bag. "Maren mentioned that you were coming up to winterize the place."
"That's true. That's why I am here," I say, raising a brow in her direction. "But why are you here?"
"To talk to you," Penelope says, dodging my gaze. "To apologize."
She can't be serious. "You have nothing to apologize for."
"We both know I do," she says, meeting my eyes. "I shouldn't have, um, you know, said what I did last weekend. I made you uncomfortable."
"You didn't make me uncomfortable," I say, but she doesn't look like she's buying it, even if it's true.
"At the very least, I made things uncomfortable between us." Her gaze is resolute, like this conversation is as normal as discussing the weather. Her bravery is admirable.
I nod. "Fine. I'll give you that. You just surprised me is all. It was the last thing I would have ever expected you to say."
"Why?"
I scratch my jaw. This is where I usually shut this shit down and step away from going too deep into my head. Remember, feelings? Yeah, it's not my thing, but the way Penelope is looking at me, I can't help but give her what she wants, even if it makes me uncomfortable as fuck.
"I'm not big on intimacy, and I was shocked that you wanted that with me. I was under the impression for a long time that you weren't a fan of mine, so hearing you wanted to have sex surprised the fuck out of me. I thought I was just your brother's friend who was doing you a favor."
Penelope blushes. "Maybe I'm a better actress than I thought."
Before I can ask her what that means, she leans forward and sets her tea on the coffee table, pulling the blanket extra snug around her shoulders. "It's not like I'm looking for a relationship or anything. Just something casual and, well . . ." She widens her eyes, one hand gesturing up and down at me from head to toe. "You look like that, okay? Can you blame me for trying?"
I lift a brow. That feeling inside my chest returns because I don't know how to reply to that. I never thought I'd stand a chance with a girl like Penelope. She's sweet and caring and personable, all the things that I'm not. Which just solidifies the fact that she'd only end up hurt if she got involved in my mess.
"I thought maybe you wanted the same thing I did," she says, blinking up at me with wide, pleading eyes. She's eager for a response, but I'm strapped for answers.
Of course I wanted that. Rather, I want that. Look at her, for fuck's sake. She perfect. But it's not that easy. I'm not the man she thinks I am, and I'm more broken than she's bargaining for. I can't put that on her.
Penelope clears her throat, her gaze dropping to the pine floorboards. "Sorry. I guess I was wrong."
Shit, Cox. You're hurting the girl already.
"Let's just forget about it, okay?" I finally murmur. It's directed as much at her as it is to myself.
A gentle sigh leaks from her lips, and I don't know if it's from relief or disappointment. But with a roll of her shoulders, she finally drags her gaze back to mine, the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"Okay. Fresh start." She chuckles, chewing at her lower lip in a way that's too fucking tempting. "Sorry I followed you all the way up here just to tell you that. I guess I'll let you have the place to yourself."
I nod, pushing up from the couch to show her out. Not that I want her to go, but if she keeps biting her lip like that, it's going to be a long, frustrating night.
"Text me when you get home, okay?" I call over my shoulder as I head for the door.
But when I tug it open, it's pretty fucking obvious that Penelope won't be going anywhere tonight. The snow is falling horizontally, whipped by the wind and building up by the minute.
"Shit." I gulp down the thick ball of nerves that's tightening my throat, my eyes locked on the snow quickly piling up on the porch. "Well. I guess we should get comfortable for the night, because you're not going anywhere."