Page 51 of Blue Line

“Anytime.”

“Love you. Talk soon.”

“Love you.” She hangs up, and I drop my phone onto the bed next to me, thinking about her words and her advice.

I know I should talk to Weston.

Tell him how I feel.

After the photo shoot.

The last thing I want to do is make things awkward between us when we have to act as a couple in front of the cameras in a few days.

Chapter twenty

Wes

I scrub a hand down my face and check the time on my phone yet again, then glance toward Hadley’s room. We still have ten minutes before we have to leave for the photo shoot, but that doesn’t make me any less anxious.

Hadley and I still haven’t talked about our kiss a few nights ago. I’ve tried to bring it up, but every time I start to, she makes an excuse and leaves the room. She’s also been home less often. I feel as though she’s avoiding me. No, I know she is. I haven’t pushed the subject, but tonight when we get home, I’m going to flat-out ask her what’s going on. I’m tired of walking on eggshells. We’re two adults who kissed. We should be able to talk about it and move on.

Part of me is afraid she’ll tell me the kiss was only fine for her or she didn’t feel anything, but part of me just wants to know something, anything. I want her, and I think she wants me, but maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe it’s all in my head. Maybe she’s just a great actress. Although I don’t think you can act your way through the reactions she had during our kiss. But what the hell do I know?

“Ready to go?” she asks, heading into the living room in a pair of cut-off shorts and a light purple tank top that accentuates her curves, her blonde hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun.

The engagement ring is the only jewelry she’s got on, and I love seeing her wearing my ring. It takes everything in me not to pounce on her. Kiss her again. But we haven’t talked about kissing beyond what is required for the photoshoot.

“Weston?” she prompts.

I nod, getting to my feet and shoving my phone into my pocket. I gesture for her to go ahead of me and force myself not to stare at her ass as she walks or notice the way her hips sway.

Talk about something, Wes. Don’t make this awkward.

“Remember how I told you I did the DNA thing earlier this year?” I ask as we make our way out of the apartment and down to my Jeep in the parking garage. “I got notified of a match right before our date. I emailed the woman, but wasn’t sure if I’d hear anything from her. She responded this morning.”

“That’s awesome,” she says, buckling her seat belt. “What’d she say?” She pauses. “That is, if you want to tell me. You don’t have to.”

“She told me my biological grandfather was her great uncle. Her grandfather’s brother,” I tell her as I guide the car out of the parking spot. “Donna—that’s my cousin’s name—and her family live in Missouri. She’s married with three kids. She’s lived there her whole life, and so did her parents. She said she might have a few pictures of my grandfather if I want them. Said she’d only done the DNA thing because her kids bought her the kit as a gift, and she was curious. Said she was shocked to find out her great uncle had a family. She left it up to me if I wanted to connect more.”

“Are you going to?”

I peek over at her as I wait for the light to change so I can turn out of the complex. “I think so. At least see where things go. I don’t plan to hop on a plane anytime soon and meet her.”

Hadley barks out a laugh.

“What?” I ask.

“I’d hope not. Who knows who these people really are.”

“I gave a fake name. I used my mom’s maiden name as my last name. I was … nervous about how it would work with me being who I am.” I wince. “I realize how vain that sounds.”

“Not vain at all. It makes sense you want to protect yourself. There are some pretty weird people out there.”

I nod, my mind whirling. I’ve always wished I had more family, and now I do, even if I don’t know them well. And the only way I’ll get to know her and her family is if I email her. I focus on the road and take the ramp for the highway.

“Are you ready for this?” I ask twenty minutes later as I take the exit for our destination, a warehouse in the Packing District of Orlando.

Not sketchy at all.