Feels Like Love by Jenna Hartley

Chapter Seven

“Ugh. Why do I have to be so awkward?” Wren tugged at her hair and let out an adorable little grunt of annoyance.

I furrowed my brow, watching her pace across the living room. Her floral skirt fluttered, tantalizing me with a peek at her thighs. Her tank top dipped low on her chest. But it was her makeup that was the biggest departure from normal—kohl-rimmed eyes and bright-pink lips. That shade! It was like a siren call, luring me in.

Danger! Danger! It warned. Disaster ahead.

Time to get back on track.

“Wren, what are you talking about?”

I’d just returned from another Friday with the guys, and I’d been surprised to find the house empty. But then a few minutes later, Wren had stormed in, looking like a beautiful hurricane out to destroy anything in its path.

“My date. It was a disaster.”

“You had another one?” I wanted to ask who it was with because Liam had certainly been in the dark. So had I, for that matter. I didn’t know which I was more upset about—the fact that she hadn’t told me or that she’d gone on another date. Nope. Definitely that she’d gone out with another guy.

You have no claim to her, dumbass.

“Yes.” She rolled her eyes. “Is that really so difficult to believe?”

“No. I—” I stopped myself before I could say anything about Liam the cockblocker. I might not be smart enough to avoid falling for his sister, but I wasn’t going to get between the two of them. No fucking way.

“Whatever,” she huffed. “It doesn’t matter because it was such a mess. I was a mess.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” I said, honestly trying to picture it. Wren was always calm and cool, collected. Some of that came from becoming a mom at such a young age. But most of it just came down to her. “You weren’t a mess at Larkspur the other night.”

“Yeah.” She plopped down on the couch, her skirt fanning out around her. I wanted to touch her skin to see if it was as soft as it looked. “Because it wasn’t a date.”

“It could’ve been.” I’d wanted it to be.

She scoffed but kept her eyes focused ahead. “Right.”

“No.” I gripped her shoulders. “Seriously. Tell me the difference between the other night and a date? Because it was just the two of us. Having dinner. Making conversation.”

“Yeah, but that’s just it. We’re friends, so I knew it wasn’t a date. And you make me feel comfortable.”

I wanted to think of it as a compliment. But comfortable gave me images of flannel pajamas. Fuzzy blankets. Things that were anything but sexy.

Though, maybe that was a good thing. Maybe I needed to imagine that blanket stamping out the fire of feelings and desire and lust I felt for this woman. Because she was my best friend’s sister, and we could only ever be friends.

“Okay, then,” I said, turning to her. “Pretend we’re on a date.”

She covered her face with her hands and shook her head. “What? No.”

“Why not? You can practice on me,” I said. She arched an eyebrow, the blond hairs glinting from the light of the kitchen. Shit, that sounded naughty. And the accompanying images that infiltrated my brain were just as bad.

I cleared my throat. “Come on. Just try it out.”

“What would be the point?” Her shoulders sagged. “I’m just going to go on another date, and I’m going to freak out and then freeze or word vomit. Or whatever. And the entire time, I’m going to be wondering if he likes kids or if he just wants to get in my pants. And then, I’m going to be thinking about having sex and whether I’m going to suck, and…”

“Whoa. Whoa. Hold up.” I held up my hands. “Take a breath, cowgirl.”

She did as I asked, but then her eyes caught on the box I’d brought home. “Is that what I think it is?”

“What do you think it is?” I taunted.

“Don’t tease me, Bennett. If that doesn’t contain some of Asher’s pastries, then you need to leave and not come home again until you have some.”

I held a hand to my chest, feigning hurt, though I loved the sound of that word on her lips. Home. The more time I spent here, the more it came to feel like home. In all the years I’d lived at my place, it had always felt like somewhere I slept. A house, never my home. But Wren and River—they were my home.

You don’t belong here.

I stood, pushing my feelings aside. Shoving them into a box like the pastries I was currently holding.

I returned to the couch and lifted the lid to reveal four beautiful pastries. “We have to save one for River. I promised.”

“Okay.” She nodded, but her eyes were on the pastries, gleaming with hunger and delight. If only she’d look at me that way. “So, I get three?”

I snapped the lid shut just before she could reach in. “Um. You get one.”

“What?” she practically shrieked. “I’m sure you already had some over at Tristan’s. I should at least get two.”

I considered it a moment, then finally said, “Okay. I suppose you’re right.”

“Open it. Open it,” She chanted while bouncing on the couch, making her tits sway. I nearly dropped the damn thing.

“Don’t you want a plate?” I opened the box and watched as she debated which one she wanted, finally selecting one.

“No. But I do want you to be quiet and let me savor this pastry.”

I laughed, at least until she glared at me.

“Okay. Okay,” I whispered. “Do I need to leave the room so you can have some alone time with your pastry?”

“Bennett!” she hissed. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

My shoulders shook with silent laughter, and I set the box on the coffee table before grabbing the remote. I switched on the TV and navigated to TheGreat British Bake Off.

“Ohmagoh,” she said around a bite. “I love you. This is so, so, so good.”

I imagined her saying those words in a different context. One with a lot less clothing and a lot more touching.

She finished the first pastry, and I tried not to watch the entire time. Finally, she sat back with a satisfied smile on her lips. Again, here I was imagining a totally different context. Her body splayed out on the bed. Her lips plump from my kisses. Her skin marked from my touch.

When she turned to me, the devil was dancing in her eyes. And I knew I was in trouble.

“You know how you’re always trying to pay rent, help around the house?”

“Yeah.” I wanted to be glad she might finally be changing her stance, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t like where this was going.

“Well, I thought of something I could use your help with.”

I furrowed my brow. “What’s that?”

“Help me not be so awkward with guys. Be my dating coach.”

I sputtered. “Your…what?”

“You know, like a life coach—but just for dating.”

I held up my hands. “No. No. No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not? You’re…experienced. And I know I can talk to you, trust you.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Wren…” But when I opened them, she looked so hopeful that, instead of immediately saying no, I asked, “How would it even work?”

“Well…I don’t know. We’d sort of figure it out as we went along. But I imagine you’d give me advice and coaching on how to not be such a dating disaster. I mean, I don’t even know how to sext or flirt or…anything.”

“But I haven’t dated in a while. My skills are rusty…”

“I’m sure your skills are just fine. Yeah.” She paused. “And while we’re talking about it—why don’t you?”

“Why don’t I…?”

“Date. You know there are tons of girls in town who are interested in you.”

I’d tried. I’d tried going on dates. Tried convincing myself that what I felt for Wren wasn’t real. But none of it had worked. In the end, I felt like a jerk. And I’d given up the pretense of dating, tired of leading women on.

I shook my head, not entirely sure which question I was responding to. Why didn’t I date? Would I be her dating coach?

“Please, Bennett?” She pouted. Damn her and that bottom lip. “I don’t want to die alone with a shriveled-up vag.”

“Whoa. Whoa.” I squeezed my eyes shut and crossed my arms in front of me. “Don’t put those images in my head.”

“It would be like one of those soggy-bottom pies on GBBO. Sad and not at all appealing. The pastry—”

“Stop.” I covered my ears and started humming a random song.

She tugged on my wrists, mouthing the words, “Shriveled like a prune.” And kept tugging, until finally, I relented.

I scowled. “You are literally the worst.”

“So, will you do it?”

I considered it, but I knew I’d cave in the end. It was Wren we were talking about. I’d do anything for her. Apparently, that now meant being her dating coach. Helping the woman I was crazy about score a guy—a guy who wasn’t me.

Fuck my life.

I didn’t have a good feeling about this, but what was I supposed to do?

Instead of committing to anything, I said, “Maybe we should start from the beginning. What have you been doing to try to meet someone?”

“After what happened with Lucas, I decided I was done with trying the old-fashioned way. So, I’ve sort of been…using a dating app.”

I chuckled. “Was that a question?” The way she’d said it—her voice rising at the end—it had certainly sounded like one.

“No. No.” She straightened. “I have a profile on LoveBirds.”

Thanks to my sister, I knew that LoveBirds was a dating app geared toward residents of the Alondra Valley. She’d mentioned it the last time I’d talked to her on the phone, suggesting—not too subtly—that I should sign up. I wasn’t sure what the point would be. It didn’t seem fair to date anyone else when I was in love with the woman sitting before me.

I nodded, rubbing a hand over my chin. “And how’s that going for you?”

“Okay. I guess. A few creepy messages, a few matches I wasn’t interested in, and a few that seem like they have potential.”

I clenched my fists. “Creepy messages? What kinds of messages?”

She waved a hand through the air. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

“I’ll be the one to make that decision. Where’s your computer?”

“Bennett.” She rolled her eyes. “I can handle it. I did handle it. I blocked and reported them, okay?”

“How many were there?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Like hell it doesn’t,” I growled. “Show me the damn site.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”

“Then you can kiss my coaching services goodbye.” I stood from the couch and grabbed the box with the two remaining pastries. One for her and one for River. “And the pastries.”

She narrowed her eyes at me and stood so we were toe-to-toe. “You wouldn’t dare.”

I shrugged as if I didn’t care. As if none of this meant anything to me. “Okay. Fine.” I headed down the hall toward my room.

Behind me, she let out this sexy little grunt of frustration. I wished I could see her expression. I’d bet it was fucking adorable.

“Bennett.”

I paused but didn’t turn back. “Yes?”

“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll show you.”

I was glad my back was to her, so she didn’t see my smile. She would’ve been pissed—accused me of gloating. I smoothed my face into a mask and turned to face her.

“But—” She pointed at me, mom look totally in place. “If you make one comment, one—”

I held up my hand. “Wren, I swear. I’m only trying to help.”

Help whom? a little voice asked. I told it to shut the fuck up.

She took a seat at the kitchen table and opened her laptop with a resigned sigh. She typed in a few things, while I grabbed us each a drink.

“Oh my gah.” She slammed the computer shut. She covered her face with her hands then did this funny shaking thing with her head and tongue. “I wish I could go back and unsee that.”

“Why? And if you tell me it was a dick pic, I swear to god…”

She shook her head, disgust written on her features. “No. Thank goodness, but I’m not sure it was much better. Apparently, my ninth-grade science teacher has a profile on LoveBirds.”

I chuckled. “No shit? Mr. Percy’s looking for a hookup?”

She furrowed her brow. “You…” She tilted her head to the side. “I can’t believe you remembered that he was my science teacher.”

“I can’t believe you forgot all the hours I spent helping you with your homework so you’d pass his class.”

Her smile softened, transforming her features. “I didn’t forget. But also—the website is supposed to help you find a partner, not a booty call.”

I scoffed. “Right. I guarantee half the people on there are just looking for sex.”

She scrunched up her face. “Well, I’m not. At least…not right away.”

“What are you looking for?” I asked, genuinely curious. I’d never really seen her date, probably because Liam sabotaged most of them. And I’d been away at college and veterinary school before that, coming home infrequently.

She lifted a shoulder, trying to play it cool.

“Oh please,” I teased. “A girl like you probably has a list of necessary qualifications.”

The fact that she was quiet told me I was right. Wren was the queen of organization. She always had been, but especially since becoming a mom. Between her photography business and raising River on her own, she had to be.

“Come on. You’ve gotta give me something. If I’m your dating coach, I need to know what you’re looking for in a guy. Otherwise, we’re both wasting our time.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. So much attitude. “I’d love to meet someone who’s nice. Treats River and me with respect. Wants kids.”

“Is that really so difficult to find?” I asked, thinking I could totally pass that test. With flying colors.

I might be a grumpy bastard sometimes, but I was always nice to Wren. And treating her with respect? No-brainer. As for the kid thing. I’d always known I wanted them someday, and spending time with River had only increased my desire to become a dad. I loved that kid as if he were my own. It would be impossible not to.

“Harder than you’d think,” she said on a sigh.

“Come on.” I made a “gimme” motion with my hand. “Let me see what we’ve got to work with.”

She held the computer, not even moving to shift it over to me. “This is… Well, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Because of the guys or because of your profile?”

“Neither. Both. I don’t know.” She wouldn’t look at me. I wanted her to look at me.

“Come on.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Wren, it’s me. Have I ever made fun of you?”

“No, but—”

“Then show me.”

She turned the computer to face me, and I surveyed her profile. There were the basics.

Wren Beaudin. 26. Female. She/Her. Alondra Valley, California.

I was glad she hadn’t added the town. The Alondra Valley was small enough as it was. I wanted her to stay safe.

Her photo was nice, if a bit…professional. And then there was her bio, which I skimmed. It was so dull, so lifeless, it made me yawn.

“What?” she asked before I’d finished reading. “What’s wrong?”

“First of all, this says nothing about you. I feel like I’m looking at your LinkedIn profile, not a dating website.”

“What would you suggest?”

I opened a Word document. “Make it more personal. More…inviting.”

I started typing, thinking and revising but mostly just writing what came to me. When I finished, I turned the screen to her. I watched as she read what I’d written about her, eagerly waiting for her reaction.

“Wow,” she finally said. “That was… Do you really believe all of that?”

I nodded. “Wren, you’re amazing. Sometimes it takes someone else to show us who we really are.” Which was exactly how I felt about her. She helped me see the man I could be, the family and the life I could have.

“Damn, Bennett.” She slugged my arm and grinned. “You’re a real Casanova, aren’t you?” She shook her head. “I’m glad I hired you to be my coach.”

“Hired?” I barked out a laugh. “I believe the term ‘blackmailed’ would be more accurate.”

She laughed because it was true.

“You might not be as happy when you hear my next suggestion,” I said.

“Uh oh.” She worried her bottom lip, and my attention zeroed in on it. Fuck. I wanted to sink my teeth into it.

I had to clear my throat and force out the words, “You need a different picture.”

Her eyes flashed to the screen. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“Not sexy enough.”

“Um…hello?” She gestured to herself. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly sexy.”

“I said the photo wasn’t sexy enough, not that you weren’t. But maybe I should rephrase. The current image is too buttoned-up, too stiff. Unapproachable.”

“Wow. Okay. I was trying to ward off the creeps, but also…do you know how hard it is to take a good photo of yourself?”

“Wren.” I laughed with a shake of my head. “You’re a professional photographer.”

“Exactly.” She leaned forward. “Which means I’m even pickier about the images I put out there because people will judge me more harshly, holding me to a higher standard.”

“I don’t think any of the guys on here are judging your photo-taking skills.” I knew I sure as hell wouldn’t be. I’d be focused on her sparkling blue eyes or her mouth. Fuck. That mouth.

“Ugh. Why do men have to be such pigs?”

“Are you telling me looks don’t matter?”

“No, but I still don’t understand why I need a new picture.”

“You’re serious about meeting someone, right?” I asked. And when she nodded, I said, “Then trust me.”

“Of course,” she answered immediately.

The longer we sat there, the more I wondered what the hell I’d done. Her bio was finally as amazing as she was. There was no way she was going to stay single long. Not when they realized she was even more incredible than the words I’d written about her.