Julie swiveled the speaker side of the cell phone toward his mouth. “Would you like to add anything else, Test Subject Seven?”
He gripped her phone over her own hand, tugged it closer to his mouth, and grunted. “Me hungry and big strong muscles sore from PT. Time for dinner. Then you, woman, will go to hot springs with me.” He added another grunt for good measure.
Julie laughed and bit her lip. She leaned closer, and he caught a whiff of vanilla and jasmine. His heart hammered faster, and his throat went dry. “This scientist will concede to the demand for food.”
Gavin swung his legs off the side of the bed, happy for a change of subject and planning his rebuttal in favor of the hot springs once they had food in their bellies.
“If,” Julie continued, and the line of his back snapped into a rigid line. “You agree to show me some of the messages women have sent to you. I’m going to need at least five examples of what doesn’t work, five that fall in the middle ground and can go either way, and five that were successful enough that if the two of you had been in the same place, both of you would’ve gotten lucky.”
Gavin groaned, cursing himself for not lying and declaring women didn’t message him. Not that it would’ve worked. As she’d pointed out at the airport, he wasn’t a very good liar, and he and Jules didn’t lie to each other, ever. Occasionally he softened things for her benefit, but outright falsehoods—as his mother referred to them—weren’t his style.
Considering his best friend had morphed into Julie the Science Gal who didn’t take no for an answer, she wouldn’t have believed him anyway.
Julie lightly placed her hand on his elbow and, speaking of softening, his internal organs went completely squishy on him. “It’s important to have a varied test group in order to get the most accurate results and, Gavin, I desperately need results. My self-esteem can’t take another hit.”
Dammit. When she put it that way, how could he refuse? Somehow, he was only now realizing how tightly she had him wound around her finger. Because she was his person. That one special someone who was there through the ups and downs, no matter what. She’d been the first one he called when he’d been drafted, and when the offer with the Mustangs came in, he’d discussed it with her before anyone else.
His parents had been numbers two and three, which turned into a bit of a shitshow when a nosy reporter had called his mom and she’d spilled the beans. Both he and Lance Quaid had experienced some heat over the snafu, but luckily, they’d ironed things out and moved on.
All that aside, when he glanced over his shoulder and saw the combination of pleading and longing on her face, he couldn’t say no. “Fine. But before you do any excessive celebrating, it’s gonna come at a price…”
“Wait? I’m getting a penalty when I haven’t even committed the violation yet?”
He raised an eyebrow, and she harrumphed. “If we want to get technical, it’s more of a quid pro quo.”
…
“Okay, here’s one of the too far messages,” Gavin said.
Julie abandoned her attempt to keep the fillings of her burrito inside the tortilla and licked at the escaping salsa. Once you released your hold on a burrito from Ramon’s, there was no easily picking it up again. Still, for the betterment of her sex life, she set hers down, grabbed a napkin off the pile between her and Gavin, and wiped her mouth and hands. Then she wiggled her fingers in the universal gimmie gesture.
“Isn’t this an invasion of privacy?”
“Yes,” Julie said, snatching the phone from him anyway. “But here’s the thing. Women do this all the time—share texts, convos, and messages with one another, and then overanalyze together and figure out the best course of action. I shouldn’t be punished just because my best friend is a dude.”
“Wow. Really feeling the love here.”
Julie waved the phone at him. “That’s what all these messages are for, hello. I’m the person who keeps you humble.”
Keeping one eye on the screen, she blindly reached for her drink cup until her palm made contact. She sipped from the straw and read the message.
I’d let you come over and murder my vagina. Next time you’re in Philly, HMU.
“HMU?”
“Hit me up,” Gavin said.
“And did you?”
He tilted his head and narrowed his brown eyes to slits.
“What? You said it was too far, not that it didn’t work. Plus, how often do you get permission to murder a vagina?”
“I’m starting to rethink doing this in the middle of a restaurant.”
“Is that a good pickup line or a bad one?” Julie asked, unable to stifle her smug smile. First, she’d embarrassed him in his bed—wait, that came out wrong. While they were in his bed, he’d gotten embar—still not right. Earlier, while in his bedroom and doing totes platonic activities, he’d blushed. His discomfort shouldn’t be so entertaining, yet amusement coursed through her in a steady rush.
“This one also made me think the woman might be a tad unhinged.” Gavin scooted closer and tapped another of the DMs he’d received through Instagram.
Biology had been Julie’s second language but had taken the lead as her favorite form of communication through the years. Anatomical terms were her home base, and she could discuss the dissection of a testicle over meatballs. Seriously, some dude had shot one of his while cleaning his gun, and she’d gotten to be the one to dig into it and record the damage.
But as she read how this random woman had used anatomical terms—it included a suggestion about his uvula, her vulva, and defecation—Julie’s stomach churned enough that she rethought picking up the other half of her burrito. “Whoa.”
“Yeah. And before you ask, no I didn’t meet up with her or even respond. I blocked her after this message.”
“Fair.” Thanks to getting caught up in articles about women harassed in the office, she’d read some pretty creepy come-ons, but now she was concerned for Gavin’s safety. “You’ve got, like, bodyguards around you wherever you travel, right?”
Gavin shot her a look like she was being ridiculous. “I can take care of myself.”
She continued to stare, unconvinced. She emphasized her feelings on the subject by crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat. Without a partner, she was going to have to somehow balance playing good cop and bad cop at the same time.
“In addition to my own strength, speed, and the boxing conditioning I do during the off season, I also travel with an entourage of defensemen who could take out an angry bear.”
“If they worked together, or a bear per defender?”