Messy Perfect Love Read online

  “I don’t, um…” he says, looking around. “I probably don’t have the toiletries you need, but there’s an extra toothbrush, still in the package, in the bathroom. There’s regular soap and stuff in the shower, but maybe don’t shower tonight. We need to make sure you’re not going to lose consciousness again.”

  “I don’t even know what to say,” I tell him. If my head didn’t hurt so bad, I would probably jump him, but I really need to lie down.

  “Don’t say anything, then,” he says. “Just get some rest. I don’t have to work tomorrow, so I’ll see you in the morning. If you, um … if you sleep late, do you mind if I wake you? I kind of want to check on you.”

  My heart melts into a big, sloppy puddle inside my chest. “Sure.” I meet his eyes and smile.

  He smiles back, delicious dimples and all.

  I move off the bed while he changes the sheets. I kind of don’t want him to—the thought of smelling him all night while I sleep is so tempting. But how do you ask something like that? Thanks, but I’d like to roll around in your dirty sheets, if you don’t mind…

  When he finishes, he grabs one of the pillows and an extra blanket out of the closet. “I’ll let you get some sleep. The door locks from the inside, if that makes you feel safer.”

  “I’m fine,” I say. “I think if you wanted to hurt me, you would have done it already.”

  He smiles again and a chill runs down my spine. “Good night, Clover.”

  “Good night.”

  He leaves, closing the door behind him.

  I slump down on the freshly made bed, blowing out a long breath. I grab his t-shirt and hold it up to my face. Oh my god, it does smell like him, a little bit at least. I debate whether I should put it on, or just take off my bra and sleep in my own clothes. I don’t know if I can sleep with his scent all over me.

  Damn it, Clover. I need to stop that kind of thinking. He’s been nothing but an absolute gentleman. Not even a gentleman—a fucking knight. A knight from a fairy tale, not a murdery one with a big sword. And here I am, imagining what he must look like under that adorable button-down shirt.

  Stop it, Clover.

  I take off my clothes and slip on his t-shirt. It’s fresh and clean and just the right size to be big and comfy on me. I lift the neckline and sniff it again as I crawl into his bed. I glance at the door, wondering if I should lock it.

  No way. Dr. Cody Jacobsen isn’t going to come to me in the middle of the night. He’s far too gentlemanly. But if he does, I certainly won’t say no.

  7

  Cody

  I stare at the ceiling, not sleeping.

  I have no idea what time it is, but it has to be well after two. I’m exhausted, but I can’t sleep. I can’t convince my dick to calm the fuck down, which is the majority of the problem.

  I have the most intoxicating woman I’ve ever met in my bed, and I’m downstairs, debating whether or not to rub one out while I lie on the couch. God, that’s terrible of me. She’s the sweetest woman, and all I can think about is the way she must look wearing my t-shirt. I bet it’s just long enough to hang below her ass, brushing the tops of her thighs. And her nipples are probably poking out through the white fabric, her hair unruly around her face.

  Stop it, Cody.

  I hold one of the throw pillows over my face and groan. I’m not going to be able to sleep with her so close. My hands have a whiff of her perfume on them—she smells faintly of vanilla. It’s a warm, comforting scent. I put down the pillow and sniff my hands, not for the first time. I groan again. That is not helping.

  How am I going to do this for a week?

  There’s no doubt she needs to stay. If she argues, I’ll find a way to convince her. That head injury is no joke, and I can’t in good conscience let her go—especially since she’s new in town and doesn’t have anywhere else to go. Maybe I should have taken her to my parents’ house, but the truth is I didn’t want to. I want her here, crazy as that is—even if she does keep me up all night.

  I tell myself it’s only so I can check up on her, make sure she’s okay. While that’s true, I know I’m kidding myself. That isn’t the only reason.

  It’s going to be a long night.

  A knock on the door jolts me awake. I rub the sleep from my eyes as I get up from the couch, and stagger to the front door. Apparently I finally fell asleep sometime in the early morning hours, but I’m still tired.

  I open the door to find my mother.

  “Mom?” I ask, blinking hard.

  “Cody,” she says, a hint of impatience in her voice. “Did you just wake up?”

  “Yeah,” I say. I step aside to let her in. She’s wearing a long blue dress with a beige cardigan over the top, and she has a reusable shopping bag slung over her arm. “What time is it?”

  “It’s nine,” she says, her voice cheery. “Come on, honey, get dressed.”

  I look down at myself. I’m not wearing anything except a pair of boxer briefs. “Oh, shit.” I turn to the stairs, but remember Clover is in my room. I hurry over to the couch and grab my shirt, slipping my arms through the sleeves.

  “Language, Cody,” Mom says.

  “What are you doing here so early?” I ask.

  “We’re going to the farmer’s market,” she says. “Remember? Mother-son date day? You forgot, didn’t you?”

  I put a hand to my forehead. I did forget. Shit. “Yeah, Mom, I forgot. I’m really sorry. I kind of had a rough night last night.”

  “Did you sleep on the couch?” she asks, gesturing toward the crumpled blanket and pillow.

  Shit again. I don’t want to explain Clover to her. My mom is literally the nosiest person ever.

  “Uh, yeah,” I say. “Look, Mom, today isn’t a good day for me to go to the market. I didn’t get a lot of sleep and I haven’t showered or anything. Can we do this next weekend?”

  She narrows her eyes at me—her interrogation stare. I’m done for. “Why were you sleeping on the couch? Is Jennifer upstairs?”

  “No, Jennifer is not upstairs,” I say.

  “Then why—”

  “Mom,” I say, interrupting her. “It’s nothing. I just fell asleep with the TV on.”

  “Okay,” she says. Clearly, she does not believe me. “Well, I’m sorry we couldn’t have our date today. I’ve been looking forward to spending time with you.”

  Moms are so good at guilt, and mine is no exception. “I know, Mom. I’m really sorry.” Please go before Clover wakes up. “I promise, I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

  “All right, honey.” She turns and stops in her tracks. I can’t see past her, but I know exactly what she sees.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Clover says. “Um, hi?”

  Mom’s face swings to me. She has one eyebrow arched. “I see that Jennifer is in fact not upstairs.”

  “No, she’s not. Mom, this isn’t the time.”

  “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?” Mom asks.

  Clover steps forward, but her face pales. The welt on her forehead stands out, all purple and red. She’s dressed in nothing but my white t-shirt, her legs bare.

  Oh, for fuck’s sake.

  “No, Mom, you don’t understand,” I say. I stop, rubbing my jaw. How do I explain this to her and not sound like a total lunatic? “This is Clover.”

  Mom’s eyebrows lift even higher. “Clover?”

  “Yes, Clover,” I say. “I was at a restaurant last night and Clover hit her head. I took her back to the clinic to make sure she was okay. She has a concussion, but with some rest she should make a full recovery.”

  “Then why is she in your house, dressed in nothing but a t-shirt?” Mom asks. There’s more bewilderment than judgment in her voice, but Clover still cringes.

  “She just moved to town, and she doesn’t have anywhere else to go,” I say. “With a head injury like that, I couldn’t let her be alone. So I let her have my room and I slept on the couch.”

  Mom’s expression instantly melts into sympathy
. “Oh, honey,” she says, turning to Clover. She grabs her hands and gently brushes her curls back from her face. “Look at that bruise. Goodness, my dear, that looks awful. You were so fortunate that my son was there.”

  “I really was,” Clover says with a big smile.

  “Aw, sweet thing,” Mom says. “Cody, do you have anything here for a decent breakfast?” She bustles into the kitchen and starts rooting through the fridge and cupboards.

  Clover looks at me with wide eyes. I realize I’m still in nothing but my underwear and an open shirt. With my mom in the kitchen.

  Shit.

  I grab my pants and pull them on as quickly as I can. Seeing Clover half-naked is waking me up, fast, and I do not need my mother seeing my hard-on.

  I don’t need Clover seeing it either.

  “You know what, Mom, I need to see how Clover’s injury is doing,” I say, guiding her out of the kitchen. “After that, if she’s up to it, I’ll take her out to breakfast. Or I’ll go to the store. We’re fine. So, next week for the farmer’s market?”

  “All right, I can take a hint,” she says.

  Clover sits down on the couch while I walk my mom to the door. Mom hesitates in the doorway.

  “What’s going on with Jennifer?” she asks in a whisper.

  “I ended it,” I say, casting a quick glance over my shoulder. Clover pulls my blanket up over her lap.

  “Well, it was time,” Mom says. “I was wondering, because I can’t imagine the hell she’d give you if she found out about that sweet girl in there.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I say. “But it’s fine. And Clover’s not … I was just trying to help.”

  “You’re a good boy,” Mom says, patting me on the cheek. “Bring her over for dinner when she feels better.”

  “Mom—”

  “No,” she says, cutting me off. “You do it. She’s new in town. I’m sure she could use some friends. Bring her by. How about Thursday? I’ll have everyone over. She should meet Nicole.”

  I lean against the door frame and rub my eyes again. “Fine, Thursday. If she feels better. She might need more time.”

  “You’re the doctor,” Mom says. “Okay, I have to go. I need to call Ryan.”

  “Mom, I don’t think you need to keep calling Ryan every day,” I say. “He has Nicole.”

  “So?” she asks with a smile, her tone completely genuine.

  I smile. “You’re right, Mom. Call Ryan.”

  “Bye, baby boy,” she says. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Bye, Mom.”

  I let out a breath and close the door, then go back to the couch and sit down next to Clover.

  Thankfully, her legs are tucked up beneath the blanket. “Wow, your mom is so nice,” she says.

  “Yeah, she’s…” I pause, trying not to laugh. “She’s something else.”

  “Did you have plans with her today?” she asks.

  “I guess I did, but honestly, I’d forgotten.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she says. “I took your room, and your bed, and I made you miss plans with your mom. God, I’m awful.”

  “No, I would have forgotten the thing with my mom anyway.” I push Clover’s hair back to look at her forehead. Leaning close, I get another hit of her scent. It’s a good thing I’m wearing pants. “I’m happy with how this looks. How are you feeling? Did you sleep okay?”

  “It took me a while to fall asleep, but once I did, I slept like a baby,” she says. “My head hurts though.”

  “Yeah, it will take some time,” I say. “Still no vision changes?”

  “Nope.”

  “How’s the nausea?”

  “Oh, fine,” she says. “I think I’m just hungry at this point.”

  “Sure,” I say. “I’ll figure out some breakfast. I don’t have much here, so I’ll run out and get us something.”

  “You really don’t have to do that.”

  I shrug. “Well, I need to eat, too. Do you drink coffee?”

  “Yes,” she says. “Lots of it.”

  “Okay, you stay here,” I say. “Lie down if you don’t feel well. I’ll be back. Do you want me to stop by your car and pick up anything?”

  Clover pulls the blanket up higher onto her lap. “That’s okay. Really, you’re doing too much already. I can deal with my stuff later.”

  I run upstairs and change into jeans and a t-shirt, trying not to look at the rumpled bed. I go back down, grab my keys, and pause at the front door. Clover gives me that vivid smile and waves.

  I’m in big trouble.

  8

  Cody

  I drive out to Charlie’s Grocery and wander the aisles, grabbing random things. I don’t usually keep a lot of food in my house. I work so much, I’m not often home for meals. It was one of the things Jennifer complained about. She even took to buying groceries—things she wanted to have around when she came over—and leaving them at my place. I ignored the way it irked me, but now that she isn’t in my life anymore, I’m able to admit how irritating it was. I didn’t want to keep her stupid soy milk in my fridge. Soy milk is disgusting.

  I have no idea what Clover likes to eat, so I try to include a little bit of everything. Cereal, milk, soup, eggs, bacon, frozen waffles, syrup, hash browns, a carton of strawberries. I’m probably overdoing it. I grab more pain relievers—she’s likely to have a perpetual headache for several days, and I can cycle Tylenol and Motrin for her—and throw in some girly-looking shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and something called a loofah that I seem to recall seeing Jennifer use.

  Just as I’m heading to the cashier, someone turns their cart down my aisle. I almost crash into her, and when I see who it is my gut fills with dread.

  Jennifer. Of course it’s Jennifer.

  “Oh, hi,” she says. Her perfectly straight hair is shiny, her makeup flawless. Even on a Saturday morning, she’s dressed in a blouse, slacks, and heels. She probably doesn’t own a pair of jeans.

  “Hi, Jennifer,” I say, purposely not calling her Jen. No sense in continuing with that familiarity.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks.

  “Is it not obvious?” I ask. “I’m doing the same thing you are. I’m shopping.”

  “Wow,” she says, her voice thick with sarcasm. “You strike out on your own and suddenly you’re all responsible.”

  “I’m glad to see we can be civil when we run into each other,” I say, moving my cart to go around her.

  “Cody, wait,” she says. She puts a hand on my arm as I try to walk by. “We didn’t have a chance to talk things over the other night. Why don’t we go get some coffee?”

  I pull my arm away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?” she asks. “Just as friends. We can catch up. You can tell me how things are going with the practice. Anything new there?”

  “Nothing new,” I say. “I have to go.”

  “What’s going on with you?” she asks.

  “I’m not sure how that’s any of your business at this point,” I say.

  A flash of anger crosses her face. “Oh my god, you’re sleeping with someone, aren’t you? That’s what this is all about.”

  “As a matter of fact, no, I’m not,” I say. But shit, I’ve certainly been thinking about it. “But if I was, it wouldn’t have anything to do with you.”

  “Yes, it would,” she says, crossing her arms. “You can’t just leave me and jump in bed with some slut.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” I say, lowering my voice and leaning closer to her. She doesn’t know about Clover, but I can’t help but feel like she just called her a slut. I’m so angry, I’m having trouble keeping my voice under control. “I can do as I damn well please. You and I were never good together, and I can’t even fathom how I put up with you for two years.”

  I push my cart past her, leaving her gaping at me.

  My heart thumps hard in my chest, my body full of adrenaline. I go to an open cashier and pay for my cart full of stuff, getting myself ou
t of the store as quickly as I can. The fresh air helps me calm down. By the time I load my groceries into the trunk of my car, I’m more or less back to normal.

  I am not going to let Jennifer get to me.

  After a quick stop at Old Town Café for coffee, I go home. I find Clover lying on the couch, her head on my pillow, my blanket up to her chin. She has a plastic bag full of ice on her forehead.

  “Oh, hey, don’t put that right on your skin,” I say. I grab a paper towel and rush over to her.

  She opens her eyes and lifts the ice. “What?”

  “You want something between the ice and your skin. It’s too cold,” I say. I take the ice and wrap it in the paper towel, then place it carefully back on her forehead. “There. Better?”

  “Yes, thank you,” she says.

  She tries to get up, but I put a hand on her shoulder and nudge her back. “No, lying down is good.”

  “But, coffee.”

  “Fine, coffee, then you lie down.”

  I grab our two cups and hand one to her. She scoots herself up to sitting and takes a sip.

  “Is Jennifer your girlfriend?” she asks. “I heard your mom say something.”

  Her question catches me off guard. “No. She was, but we broke up. Recently.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” she says.

  Is it just me, or does Clover not look sorry? “Don’t be,” I say. “It was long overdue. I’m much better off.”

  Her face brightens. “Well, that’s good then.”

  My phone dings and I take it out of my pocket to check, hoping it isn’t Jennifer. I have a text from Nicole. How’s Clover? Is her head okay?

  I type out a quick reply. Concussion, but she’ll be fine in a few days. “My soon to be sister-in-law is checking up on you,” I say.

  “Are you serious?” Clover asks.

  “Yeah, you met Nicole at the restaurant last night. She texted to ask how you’re doing.”

  Clover looks genuinely baffled. She puts the ice down on the coffee table. “Wow.”

  I get another text. She still at your place?