Make Me Yours (Unravel Me, #2)

No matter how you sliced it, being the third wheel sucked. I scooted to the opposite edge of the picnic blanket, eager to distance myself from Ashlyn and Aiden’s very public display of affection. I reached my limit when Aiden leaned over my friend and hand fed her a strawberry, kissing her lips as she chewed.

Gag me.

They’d been dating for a year now after meeting during an amnesia research study. Aiden was the patient and Ashlyn, as a fellow Ph.D. student, was studying him. It was considered risqué at the time, but I’d come to accept that they were good together. That didn’t mean that they weren’t sometimes nauseating to be around. I put up with it because I loved Ashlyn like a sister, and she was happy. However that didn’t mean I needed to be cock-blocked by them at every turn. And the cutie playing football in the park with his equally delicious friend was my next victim.

I threw a grape at Ashlyn to get her attention. She was somewhat distracted, with her tongue currently lodged inside Aiden’s mouth. The grape bounced off the back of her head and she turned to me, confused.

“Hey, look at that fine piece of man meat. Two o’clock.” I tilted my head, motioning to her right.

Ashlyn snuck a glance and grinned. “The blonde? Blue shorts?”

I nodded. He threw the football through the air in a perfect spiral and into the waiting hands of his friend.

“He looks a little young,” she said.

I rolled my eyes. “His friend’s not bad either. Both of them together might be fun.”

“Just be safe.” She shrugged and gave me a wink. “Go for it, babe. We’ll wait here.”

I hadn’t even had time to think about my next move when the ball Mr. Adorable and his friend were throwing landed at my feet. This would be easier than I thought. Like taking candy from a baby.

I stood and brushed off my jeans, leaning over casually to retrieve the football. With it tucked against my hip, I sauntered toward them. They watched me approach. The friend was smiling, but Mr. Adorable was more guarded.

“I think you dropped this.” I tossed the ball into his capable hands. He caught it easily. Thanks to my older brother, I actually knew how to throw a football. I figured he’d invite me into their game, or make some suggestive comment about touching his ball, but instead he just smiled.

“Thanks.” He turned and tossed the ball to his friend who was still watching me and missed the pass entirely.

Are. You. Kidding. Me?

Whatever. Rejected, I walked back to the picnic blanket and slumped down.

Ashlyn caught my mood and shifted closer to me, abandoning Aiden for the moment. “Are you seeing Professor Gibson tonight?” she asked, trying to draw me into a conversation. I appreciated her effort to distract me from that epic fail as well as keeping me from feeling like I was intruding on a private moment between them.

“Nope. He has his son tonight. And call him Stu—‘Professor Gibson’ is just creepy.”

“Have you met his son?” Aiden asked.

“Definitely not. We’re not dating. We’re fucking,” I clarified.

“All righty then,” Ashlyn laughed and shook her head. “You’re more emotionally damaged than I ever realized.”

“It works for me.” I shrugged. It was the simple truth. I wasn’t looking for a relationship and Stu, whose divorce was still fresh, certainly wasn’t either. It was the perfect arrangement. He was thirty-six, recently single with a four-year-old son, and a professor in the business college, so our paths didn’t cross in the academic world. Which was good. It kept things from getting complicated. We had good sex. It was as simple as that. I’d met him at a charity function the university sponsored and I’d been seeing him a couple times a week for the last month. It was nice, regular sex with a nice, normal guy without any drama or expectations beyond enjoying the moment. Okay, so it was my twisted version of perfect, but I knew it was all I was prepared to handle at the moment.

After a few more unsatisfying minutes of watching Ashlyn cuddle with Aiden and being ignored by the guys on the lawn, I grabbed my purse and told them I was taking off, getting a vague, halfhearted wave goodbye in return.

It wasn’t a long walk back, just a few short blocks. Not even enough time to dig my cell phone out of my purse to distract me.

I rented a large townhome on a sizable corner lot in a beautiful neighborhood in the city. I had the first and second floors all to myself and I knew the owner had been slowly been working to restore the remainder of the building—the top floor—to its former 1920s elegance.

Rapid footsteps coming up behind me caught my attention, and I spun around. The cutie from the park was jogging in my direction.

Aw, he’d come to make amends. He probably just didn’t want to share me with his friend.

I had reached the wrought iron gate at the walkway to my townhouse, so I stopped and waited, placing my hand on my hip, watching as he sprinted the last few paces.

He had stripped off his T-shirt and was now in just a pair of gym shorts slung low on his hips and running shoes. His chest and stomach were smooth and toned, reminding me strangely of one of those kids’ slip-n-slide water-play toys. He slowed to a stop and bent over, resting his hands on his knees. His chest rose and fell with each deep breath, pulling me into a trance as I watched.

I was formulating a witty opening line when he rose up and looked at me. His eyes were a gorgeous shade of deep blue, and his summer tan had yet to fade away, giving his skin a nice golden glow. He held the football under one arm and his T-shirt bunched up in the other hand. He could have been a freaking Ralph Lauren model. I didn’t often feel out of place, or lost for words, but he had me flushed and momentarily silenced by just his dominating physical presence.

He rose to his full height—standing several inches above me. I smiled up at him and pulled in a breath, recovering slightly. “Stalking me now?”

His eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “Oh, right. You’re the girl from the park.”

No shit.

“I live here,” he said haltingly, still trying to catch his breath.

“You live where?” I asked, seeing as how we were standing in front of my house.

“Up there.” He pointed to the third floor, with its steeply pitched roof and minuscule octagon window.

“Someone can live up there?” I didn’t mean for my face to scrunch up in repulsion, but when I saw his expression fall, I knew I had offended him.

“Not someone. Me. And yes, I live there. It’s small, but it’s clean and it’s enough.”

I had no idea that the attic space was for rent. No one had lived up there in the two years I’d rented the house. “Oh,” I said, recovering. “I guess we’re neighbors then—I’m the first and second floors.”

He glanced at the house again, with its wide front porch, big wooden door and spacious layout. “All that? Just for you?”

I nodded. It was too much for one person, but I liked having my space. And since my parents had both funneled a large sum of money into my savings account to keep it away from each other in their divorce, I might as well live somewhere I liked. I’d decorated it with simple, yet stylish furnishings that I’d loved bargain hunting for. My townhome could now rival an upscale furniture catalog.

“Well, I guess I’d better go up and grab a shower. It was nice meeting you…”

“Liz.”

He smiled. “I’m Cohen. And since we’re neighbors, let me know if you ever need anything.”

“Sure. Likewise.” I returned his easy smile and watched his sexy back as he made his way around the side of the house to the staircase leading to his door. Oh yeah, I’d be looking forward to needing his help one day soon.