I’m sure my eyes are just as bright.
“Come here.” He nudges my nose with his and slides me off the counter. Without letting me go, he carries me through to my room. Just when I’m smiling at his act of romance, he pulls out of me and dumps me unceremoniously on my bed.
I shriek and grab my sheet to stop myself from falling onto the floor. “You dick!” I yell as he disappears into the bathroom.
Of course, he laughs. He never takes me seriously when I yell insults at him, and that’s half the fun.
“Hey, bitch.” He throws a towel on top of me and then jumps over me. His knees are on either side of my thighs, his forearms by my head, and his grinning face is hovering just inches above mine.
“What?” I ask, awkwardly reaching between us and wiping. Somehow, I ease my panties down and throw them on the floor.
His smile widens. “You never gave me my blow job.”
My own lips move to mirror his, and I tap his nose. “That’s what you get for teasing me and fucking me on my kitchen counter. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to clean the counter while you call and order me a replacement dinner.”
I scoot up the bed and swing my legs over the side. Then I grab a pair of cotton shorts from my drawer and pull them on.
“You forgot your underwear.”
I pause at the door and glance over my shoulder. “A woman never forgets her underwear. What she puts on—or doesn’t—is entirely deliberate and always serves a purpose. You should remember that.”
I rub my temple as the receptionist on the other end of the phone babbles on about…well, I don’t know. Nothing informative.
“Yeah, okay,” I cut in. “But can you give me prices? Packages? Or do I physically have to come to California to get this information?”
She pauses. “I can email it to you.”
“That would be great.”
“Okay. Can you give me your preferred dates so I can check availability…for how many people?”
“Uh…four or five.” Despite the wedding, I know that Day doesn’t want a huge friggin’ bachelorette party.
“For a bachelorette party?”
“You know, there’s another spa two blocks away from you that was very accommodating when I called earlier today.”
“Just a second, ma’am.”
I can’t help it. I smirk.
“We have availability for you, but not for our complete package.”
“No good,” I say immediately. “All or nothing.”
“We don’t have time slots for five of you that day, ma’am.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I hang up and drop the phone.
Three spas. Two no-gos. One possibility.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
I drop my phone on the coffee table and stand up. Immediately, Angus starts mewling at me and runs over to his food bowl. I check the time. Shit. I have to get ready for work.
I dump a can of food into his bowl—much to his Lordship’s delight—and dart into my room. I pull some skinny jeans and a black shirt from my drawers and quickly slink into them. As quickly as you can slink into skinny jeans, that is. And, let’s be honest, there’s no graceful way to do it.
I hop into the bathroom, still tugging them up my thighs, and fall into the doorframe. Yup, definitely not graceful. That bitch will bruise in the morning. I shove toothpaste on my toothbrush then the brush into my mouth, holding it still with pursed lips as I button the jeans. Success!
Brushing my teeth with one hand, I run my hairbrush through my hair with the other. And look in the mirror. Fuck a duck, have I been wandering around with panda eyes all day?
So nice of Tyler to tell me when he left a few hours ago.
I spit out my toothpaste and wipe the makeup from my face simultaneously. I hope my best friend appreciates the late and frantic efforts I’m putting into this bachelorette party business. I was kind of hoping that I could forgo the planning shit and just turn up somewhere… Alas, no.
I have a list in my messages. A real fucking list. A to-do list.
Until this morning, there was only one thing on my to-do list: Tyler Stone. Now, there are around fifty million things she wants me to do.
Book the party. Invite Tessa. Email details to everyone. Find a hotel to stay at. Organize a restaurant and book a table for dinner and drinks. Find evening entertainment.
Yeah. I’m not even going to think about the effing bridal shower.
I grab my phone and keys from the side and run down the stairs. It’s raining outside—of course it is—and I forgot my coat. Fantastic. This isn’t how Wednesdays go. It’s how Mondays go.
Or is Wednesday the new Monday?
I tuck my phone into my bra and ready the key fob between my fingers. I press the button as soon as I open the door and run to my car. I yank the door open and slide in.
Pushing my hair from my face, I tear out of the parking lot.
I can just tell that this shift is going to be complete shit.
“Did Tyler tell you that Tessa is staying with him for a month?”
I pause and look at Dayton. “No.”
“Oh.” She sucks in her bottom lip. “Then this is awkward. I thought you knew.”
“No. I wonder why he didn’t say anything.”
“He fucked you before he told you his name. And you’re surprised he hasn’t told you that his sister is staying with him?”
“I… No.” I take my cup of coffee from the counter and sit down. She takes the seat opposite me and I continue. “When she is coming?”
“Three days from now. Said she needs to get away while her divorce is going through.”
“Great. So, essentially, seven days after officially starting to date, I’m meeting the family.”
I don’t like families. Not that I have anything against them, per se. In fact, I’m sure his sister is lovely. I just don’t like them. Families are…serious. When you meet them, you get all…well, serious.
Sure, I’m thinking about beginnings with Tyler, but I’m not thinking about serious beginnings. Because, really, how serious can a relationship between a sex addict and a love addict be?
“Liv…” Day says slowly. “You can breathe, you know, sweetie.”
I shake my head. “Nope, nope, and nope.”
“No, you’re not going to meet his sister yet?” Day raises her eyebrows with an amused twist of her lips.
“Nope. I’m not going to. I’m going to hide for the next three weeks, because then it’ll be, like, a month and a totally acceptable duration of a relationship for that stuff.”