“Let them stay,” Lucy argued with her girlfriend, hands on hips. “Totally my fault for unleashing an adorable dog on them. I cry for mercy upon this innocent team.”
“The judge’s ruling is nope.” Kristin dropped the mic to her side. “But you look cute asking.”
Lucy offered an imaginary curtsy to the side of her shorts and fired back a wink. We left the field and looked on as two of the marketing assistants took the win and a gift certificate for admission for two to the nearby movie theater, complete with a built-in snack budget.
“That could have been us,” I said somberly to Carrie. “Free snacks. We have to pay for them.”
“I don’t know how we’ll recover,” she said, handing me another handful of paper towels. “And I’m really sorry about the shirt. I’ve been admiring it on you all afternoon.” I glanced down at the tragedy. My shirt was temporarily ruined, but because I worked on a variety of unpredictable stories, I always traveled with a change of clothes.
“Not to worry. Back in a few.”
“I’ll keep my best friend safe while you’re gone,” she said, scooping up Micky, ruiner of egg tosses, and peppering him with more kisses. He looked at me gleefully. I glared back, jealous and not afraid to show it. “We’ll be just fine.”
“Mm-hmm.”
When I returned, the margarita truck had arrived, and Carrie had secured frozen drinks for both of us. “I took the liberty,” she said. “You and a straw sounded kinda fun.”
“You did good.” It was getting warmer out as the sun moved lower in the sky. The frozen margarita felt cool on my tongue and lowered my body temperature. Heaven-sent, like everything about this day. The fun, flirtatious vibe that bounced between us was the kind of drug I urgently craved. The bonding with my new coworkers had me feeling victorious, and to top it off, Michelangelo was a hit. Especially with the person who mattered most. Egg-bombing aside, this was shaping up to be my day.
“What are you doing after this?” Carrie said and sucked ever so gently from her margarita straw. I now saw her point about these things. Holy hell. Heaven help me.
“I have no plans that I can think of.” My eyes were still on her lips and the way they worked that straw.
We were alone. That hadn’t happened a lot today. “I was just remarking to myself—you’ve seen my place, but I’ve never seen yours.”
“You were remarking?” I loved the way she constructed sentences. My center went tight, and I shifted, ordering myself to stop that.
“I was. I was doing that. Thoughts?” Her eyes sparkled, and my heart rate sped up.
“I think your proposal is the best idea I’ve heard today.” It had been a long afternoon, and the sun had almost disappeared behind the trees. I imagined us relaxing on the couch together. Maybe opening a bottle of wine. Her go-to. Maybe my hands had a way of wandering to her thigh. I looked around. About half the crowd had already left. “I think it would be okay if we left now.”
“I’ll follow you this time. Your shadow.”
I smiled. “We have a theme.”
“It works.”
I led the way home with Carrie following not far behind. I met her on the sidewalk out front, nervous energy abounding. “Disclaimer. There’s no incredible landscaping on the way in, and it’s not a deceptively huge apartment. No false walls or big rooms hiding in the back.”
“Disclaimer. I wasn’t expecting anything in particular, Sky. I just wanted to see where you live.”
Sky. She’d only called me that once before, but I liked it very much on her lips. I had to pause to absorb all the feelings it brought on. I’d have to unpack that later along with the newfound urgency she’d shuffled into my agenda. “Right this way.” I led her inside, now hyperaware of every little detail of my decorating, and grateful I kept a relatively clean apartment. “This is it. This is the place.”
She smiled and perused the living room that opened to the small serviceable white kitchen, separated by an oversized island that would have been super-helpful for someone with more advanced culinary aspirations than my own. These days I came home so exhausted, I was lucky to have the energy to pop a bag of microwave popcorn or heat a bowl of Campbell’s. “You have cultivated a very nice place for yourself in the world. This looks like a great apartment to come home to.” She sat down on my lavender couch and gave it a bounce. “Comfortable, too.”
I rolled my lips in. I liked the look of her on it. “The walls could use a bit more decor. I haven’t had the time to shop.” She looked around at the framed art I did have and pointed to the painting of a cat reading a book on a bench. I liked quirky things.
“I don’t know how you’re going to beat this one.”
“Well, I can’t. It’s one of the reasons I resist the effort. Can I interest you in something to drink?”
“Mm-hmm.” She stood and made her way over to me. “Can I just do this first?” She wrapped an arm around the small of my back, angled her head, and kissed me like the expert at it she was. She knew how to push my buttons in just this short time. I sank into the warmth of her mouth and the way she held me close, like she couldn’t bear there to be distance any longer and she was here to change that. The swell of her breasts pressed against mine made me dizzy. Not a complaint. I wanted every part of her pressed against me. I pushed my tongue into her mouth and took her face in my hands, angling more for better access. She murmured her appreciation, and a shot of something potent hit between my legs and then upward. This was the moment I’d been dreaming about all day. Our third kissing session, which now came with a familiarity and, dare I say, even more heat than before. We were looser. Hungrier. It felt like the sexual tension between us continued to climb, and I was pretty sure we were about to rocket right off the scale altogether.
She stepped back, and I almost cried out in protest, needing those lips. That kiss had been too good to end. “Let’s have that wine now.” Her voice was smooth, low, like she’d been good and turned-on.
I blinked, trying to remember how to open a bottle and where to find one. All my brain cared about were her swollen lips and the pleased look she had on her face. She should be pleased. My body was on fire, longing to be touched, sexually aroused to a level I wasn’t used to, while at the same time wanting nothing more than to take this woman to heights of pleasure while she wore not a single stitch of clothing. My head swam at the image. Maybe even on my new lavender couch.
“What’s wine?” I asked.
She laughed and placed a hand on my head.
“Don’t say adorable,” I warned. “Not right now.”
“I was merely going to say that I see a bottle back there. May I?”