It was fine.
Just fine? he replies.
I pause, questioning the sanity of giving him any more details, but with a date as bad as tonight’s, I have to tell someone. Maybe I can just give him a general idea of the night.
It was fine. We went to Luigi’s, but he turned out to be kind of a dud.
Luigi’s? Isn’t that a cheap chain place?
A smile pulls at my lips. I figured that would be the detail he’d latch onto. Before I get a chance to reply, he shoots me another text.
If that’s the best he can do, you’re better off with someone else.
I heave out a sigh, staring blankly at my phone.
Lex is right. I would be better off with someone else. But the only someone else on my mind lately is the one I shouldn’t want.
16
* * *
LEXINGTON
I haul in Grier’s last bag, once again amazed by everything a toddler needs for an overnight stay. “Am I forgetting anything?”
Mom chuckles. “I can’t imagine what else there could possibly be.”
“She’s had her afternoon snack, so you have plenty of time to cook dinner if you start soonish, and she should be set after that. But since you might stay up past her usual bedtime, I packed a couple of applesauce cups just in case, but you’ll want to give her those before her bath because she’ll get—”
“You already said all that five minutes ago, sugar,” Mom says gently, interrupting.
Practically vibrating with anxiety, I look at Dawn. “And you’re sure you’re okay with this? If not, I can take Grier right back home, no problem, and you can keep the extra pay.”
She’s clearly amused. “I promise it’s fine. I already agreed to help out, and I love kids.”
Grier grins at me from her throne, a.k.a. Mom’s lap. “Me ’n Gamma sumba . . . subber . . . summer party!”
“Yes, my sweet pea, we’re having a slumber party. And it’s a summer party too.” Mom kisses the top of her head. “We’re going to play fun games and eat yummy snacks—”
Grier wriggles and flaps her arms and shrieks in Mom’s embrace, absolutely ecstatic.
“—and Daddy definitely doesn’t have to worry about us, so he should just leave us to it and enjoy his night off.” Mom gives me a pointed look, smiling.
I hold up my hands in surrender. “All right, all right, I’ll stop hovering and go. Have a good time, and don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”
When I get home, the house seems huge and empty and dead silent without my little spark of energy shooting all over the place. It hasn’t hit me until now that this will be the first time we’ve ever been separated for so long.
Tomorrow morning, I’ll pick her up and hear about all the fun she had with Grandma, and will bring her back home to our usual routine. And tonight . . .
“Now what?” I ask aloud, and laugh at myself.
I’ve barely had any free time at all for over two years, let alone twelve uninterrupted hours, so I’ve forgotten all the stuff I used to fill that free time with, and I’m drawing a blank. Eventually, I remember there was an interesting-sounding movie that came out last month. I search my streaming services until I find it, pour myself a splash of bourbon on the rocks, and sit down to watch. But I’ve gotten maybe ten minutes into it when there’s a knock at the door.
“Christ, never a moment of peace,” I mutter, getting up to answer it.
But my annoyance evaporates when I find Corrigan on my porch.
“Hi,” she says, holding up a large shopping bag. “Sorry for not texting or anything, but I just saw this at the store and I thought it would be great for Grier.” She looks around me, scanning the dim living room. “Where is she? Did you put her to bed early?”
“She’s having a sleepover at Mom’s tonight.” I take the bag and look at the box inside. It holds a tiny stepstool with an attached potty seat, bright purple and decorated with dancing cartoon monsters in a rainbow of colors.
“I figured she’s about the right age to start potty training soon, so I thought it’d be useful to help her climb up there.” Corrigan smiles.
“Wow, thank you. This’ll make my life a lot easier—and the design’s just the kind of thing she loves.” How like Corrigan to buy a gift both cute and practical. I try not to read too much into the fact that she was clearly thinking of me, as well as Grier. “How much do I owe you?”
She holds up her hand. “No way, don’t even think about trying to pay me back. Count it toward Grier’s next birthday or something.” Her gaze flicks over my shoulder again. “What’re you watching?”
“Terminal Honor 3. Just a dumb action flick, but it’s not the kind of thing I can watch with Grier around, and I figured it’d go well with bourbon.” An idea pops into my head, and I voice it before common sense can ruin it. “Want to join me?”
She considers, then slowly says, “You know what . . . why the hell not?”
After stashing her gift in the dining room, I pour an extra drink and set it on the coffee table, then sit down next to her on the sofa.
And from that moment on, I do not retain a single goddamn thing about this movie. I’m far too painfully aware of the exact distance between us, the occasional faint whiffs of sweet floral shampoo I catch, how her tight leggings show off every curve of her ass and those long legs, and how fucking badly I need to touch her.
“Hey,” she murmurs, her voice like honey. “I dare you to drink every time something blows up.”
I snort. “We playing truth or dare now?”
“No, inventing a drinking game. I’ll do it too.” She raises a challenging brow in my direction.
How can a guy say no to that? “You’re on.”
As if on cue, a car explodes into an inferno. She laughs, and we each knock back a sip.
Long before the movie is over, I realize two very important things. One, that we’ll both probably be dead if we keep this game up. And two, bourbon does fuck-all to distract me from Corrigan’s unfair sex appeal. The stirring in my pants is a testament to that fact.
“Hey, do you want to play truth or dare for real?”
She blinks at me, then laughs. “Is this high school?”
“You can always say no.”
“Hmm . . . sure. Sounds fun.” She rearranges herself on the sofa, this time facing me, one leg tucked under her. “Truth or dare?”
I rub my chin, which by this late hour feels like sandpaper. “I choose . . . truth.”
She punishes me with an exaggerated frown. “Wuss. Okay, let me think.” She considers for a while. “What’s your biggest turn-on?”
Every single thing about you. “It’s a tie between nice legs and dirty talk.”
She gives me a look. “Come on, that’s it?”
“You didn’t ask me to write a novel.” I chuckle. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” she says primly.
“Hey, you can’t criticize me for choosing truth and then choose the same thing.”
Her only response is to stick her tongue out at me. Call me crazy, but even that I find sexy. I can’t help but wonder if I kissed her right now, if she’d taste like bourbon.