“Okay, traitor,” she says to her dog.
I giggle while petting Daisy with both hands. Daisy preens under the attention, especially when I coo, “Oh, you poor thing. Did your mom lock you out? Were you stuck in the living room all by yourself? Oh, I know. That was so mean of her.”
She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “I didn’t hear you complaining earlier.”
I wink at her before returning my attention to Daisy. “I know. I’ll sneak you an extra something for being such a good girl.”
Harlow watches us, a soft expression on her face, before she forcefully turns away and heads toward the kitchen. I linger a moment longer with Daisy before following after her. She pulls a popcorn machine from a top cabinet alongside an overflowing bin full of kernels, seasonings, and toppings.
“Holy shit. You weren’t kidding.” I set my hands on her hips and lean into the warmth of her body for a closer look at the basket. “Salted caramel, zesty cheddar, ballpark original—How many seasonings do you have? And tell me you haven’t actually tried”—I grab one and squint—“chocolate peanut butter?”
“What’s wrong with mixing sweet and salty?”
I shake my head.
She chuckles and points toward her kernel selection. “Mushroom or butterfly?”
“I’m sorry. What?”
“It’s the shape.”
I continue to stare, dumbfounded.
“Mushroom has a sturdy baseball-like shape that’s good for mixing with toppings and stays fresh and crisper longer. Butterfly is more delicate and what’s commonly used by movie theaters.”
I snort and rest my forehead against her arm. “Oh, my god. You’re such a dork.”
She clutches a hand to her chest in faux offense. “Don’t be rude, or you won’t get any.”
“Any of the popcorn or any …?” I trail my fingers down her front and slip them in between her legs. Her head falls back onto my shoulder, her eyes squeezing shut, as I stroke her center. I stifle my groan at how wet she is and softly graze her clit before sliding my hand up her stomach and kissing her back.
“Keep it up and you won’t get either,” she says unconvincingly, given the slight tremor in her tone.
I smirk and lean against the counter while Harlow pours kernels into the machine. As much as I want to continue what I started, there’s something I need to bring up first. “Em texted that you were a no-show at Carlos and Brandon’s party,” I say. “And asked if you came to my parents.”
Her hand stills. “What? Why would she ask that?”
“Well, since she knows my mom works with you. Plus, she was trying to set us up at gayme night—and may have picked up on the factsomethinghappened when they left toget pizza—she’s been unsubtly asking what I thought of you and pointing out how hot you are.” The corner of my mouth tilts up. “She’s not wrong there.”
Harlow swallows, her movements slow and controlled like she’s tense in thought.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her we hooked up,” I say. Harlow visibly relaxes, and I smile. “I got the vibe you’re a pretty private person.”
“Yeah, sorry, I just …” she scratches her head. “It’s not you or anything. I?—”
“Don’t like people in your business?”
She nods. “Yes. Especially because they’re all already trying to find me a girlfriend—even though I told them I don’t want one—and then Em and Naomi were trying to push us together when they left for pizza. I can’t imagine what they’d do if they knew that we were …” She swivels her thumb between our naked bodies.
“Oh, yes, they’d have a field day with this.” I chuckle. “But, yeah, I’m no stranger to well-meaning friends trying to force a relationship. They don’t get it. My career is my focus. I’m not in a place where I can devote the time or energy a relationship needs, so it wouldn’t be fair to someone to even try.”
“Exactly,” she says. “Like, sure, I’m no longer bouncing from place to place, but The Sweet Spot needs my undivided attention. I’ve never worked in the food industry before, and I have so much to learn. And, yeah, it’s the offseason, but, once we’re back open, I’ll be working ’round the clock. It’s like you said, it wouldn’t be fair to someone.”
“I totally understand,” I say. “But, you know, since neither one of us is looking for a relationship, I am curious. How do you feel about something casual?”
“Like friends with benefits?”
I shrug. “Yeah? I visit my family like once or twice a year. Nothing serious.”
