Now, he was here.
Right here in front of me and looking somehow even more attractive than he had six months ago. He must have been working out because muscle bulked out from his towering frame. His already-broad shoulders were somehow bigger. The sharp lines of him were evident in the peak of muscle from his heather-gray T-shirt. It hung loose to his tapered waist. In contrast to the fitted black jeans that hugged his powerful thighs. But it all came back to that perfect face. The bright baby blues and razor-sharp jawline with a five o’clock shadow and that damn dimple.
I remembered the first time I’d met Weston. He’d driven into town to see his half-brothers, Jordan and Julian, who owned the winery with Hollin. I’d stumbled upon him with his hair all long and shaggy, blue eyes shining with uncertainty. He looked about as uncomfortable in dusty Wild West, West Texas as anyone I’d ever seen.
I’d been taken in, even then. Friends. We were friends. That was all we’d ever be. Because Weston Wright might be my roommate, but with the help of my brother, he was on the up-and-up in the music industry. There was no way he was staying in Lubbock with all the opportunities open to him now. I would just keep reminding myself of that as I tried not to drool over him.
“West!” I cried as it sank in that he was really here.
I practically tripped over my feet to rush past Tamara and crash into Weston. His arms came around me as he laughed a deep rumble.
“You’re home.”
He released me with another smile. “Yep. Came straight here from the airport. Dropped Campbell off at Blaire’s. He’s been an uptight mess. He needs to get laid so bad.”
I put my hands to my ears. “La, la, la. Do not need to know about my brother’s sex life.”
Weston ran a hand back through his hair, which was nearly back to the longish mess it had been that first day I saw him. He’d cut it super short when he first moved to Lubbock. He’d probably cut off the inch of curl at the ends any day now. “Sorry ’bout that.”
“I know he’s your best friend, but ew.”
A throat cleared behind us. We both turned to find Tamara still standing there.
Her eyes took in Weston like a tasty snack. “Who’s this, Nora?”
“Uh, this is my roommate.”
Tamara arched an eyebrow. “Really?”
Weston stepped forward. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt a meeting.” He stuck a hand out. “I’m Weston Wright.”
“Wright,” Tamara said with wide eyes. That name held a lot of weight in our small town. The Wrights were Texas royalty. “I’m Tamara.”
West jerked his hand back before Tamara could put hers into his. “Oh.”
Tamara’s mouth dropped open in shock at the insult. But Weston’s eyes went straight to mine. He knew all about what had happened with August and Tamara. We’d lived together after it all went down. I’d been a wreck, crying myself to sleep most nights. He’d been there for me through all of it even though we hardly knew each other then.
“What are you doing here?” Weston snarled at Tamara.
And bless her heart, Tamara rushed into her spiel again. “I just got engaged! I was here to ask Nora to be the wedding planner for me and my fiancé, August.”
“No,” Weston snapped before she could get any further.
Tamara crossed her arms. Red rose up her neck and to her cheeks. “Excuse me?”
“Are you out of your goddamn mind? No fucking way is Nora going to plan a wedding for your snake ass.”
“What?” she gasped. “How dare you!”
“No, how dare you! You put her through the wringer last year. You have no right to be here. What is wrong with you? Wasn’t stealing her boyfriend enough for you? Do you have to continue to try to ruin her life?”
Tamara opened and closed her mouth like a fish.
“Get the fuck out,” Weston said. He stepped back and pointed at the door.
“Well, I never…”
“Well, now, you have. Get the fuck out. Now.”
And to my shock, Tamara went. She was flustered and angry, spouting obscenities at both of us, but she went.
As soon as she was gone, I burst into laughter. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you did that!”
“I can’t believe you didn’t.”
“I had it under control. I’d already told her that she couldn’t have the wedding here, but I couldn’t exactly tell her to fuck off at work. This was way more satisfying.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I suppose so. Happy to oblige.”
My hand landed on his wrist. “I’m glad you’re home.”
I suddenly realized we were mere inches from each other, alone in my office, and I hadn’t seen him in months. Our eyes met in the small distance between us. I swallowed and pulled back.
“I mean…”
“I’m glad to be home, too,” he agreed. “I missed you.”
And though he meant as a friend and roommate, my heart tightened, and my stomach fluttered traitorously anyway. Because damn, I’d missed him too.
2
Nora
“You know, there are things called cell phones,” I said with an arched eyebrow as I stuffed everything into my oversize work bag. “You could have called or texted to let us know you were coming home.”
“I could have, but then I wouldn’t have gotten to see your face when I showed up in your office.” He slumped back in the chair across from my desk, kicking his feet up.
I brushed them off my desk. “LA has left you uncivilized.”
He laughed. “That would be your brother.”
I wrinkled my nose at him. “Campbell always was uncivilized, wasn’t he? I never should have let you go off with him for six months. You’re going to spend one night in the house and wreck all my progress.”
“Progress?” he asked, jumping to his feet as I slung my bag on my shoulder, staggering slightly under the weight.
“I might or might not have been making some improvements.”
“Improvements?” He looked stricken. “What did you do?”
“Guess you’ll have to see when we get home, won’t you?” I winked at him.
It had been silly to spend any time or energy on the house I was staying at, but it was impossible for me to live somewhere and not turn it into my own. It had been a nightmare to move out of the dorms because I had completely transformed my and Tamara’s tiny suite into a girlie floral haven. I hadn’t gone that far with West’s place, but I’d had it to myself for six months. How could I resist a few dozen trips to HomeGoods?
“Is everything pink?”
“Maybe. What, are you not man enough for pink?”
“No, no, pink is definitely my color,” he said with a grin in my direction.
“Good. It’d better be.”
We headed out of my office and into the cellars of Wright Vineyard. It was a thriving operation. Last year, we’d won an award for Best in Class wine at an event in Austin. Hollin was taking our wine down to the show again this year in hopes of repeating the accomplishment. Plus, the weddings had really taken off after last year.