“Oh, yeah. You’re a pilot, right?”
“I am!”
“That’s so cool.” She thanks Manny, who sets a whiskey sour in front of her. She takes a sip and turns toward me, her knee grazes mine, and she leaves it there.
“I love it,” I say. “I’ve always wanted to explore and travel the world, so what better job than a pilot, right? Well, it turns out, more often than I’d like, the only places I’m exploring are airports and hotel rooms. But it’s okay. I fell in love with what I do, and when my schedule allows, I still get to see so many new places.”
“Oh, no shit? I love to travel too.”
“Yeah?” I brighten.
She nods. “I recently traveled the country in my van for two years.”
“Holy shit. That sounds amazing!” I gasp, and in my excitement, I reach out and grab her arm. “Tell me everything. I’m so jealous.”
Harlow chuckles. Her gaze almost imperceptibly drops to where I’m still touching her forearm. I almost pull away, but at the last second, decide against it. We both know what we’re looking for after we finish our drinks, why be subtle?
“It was incredible,” Harlow says and launches into sharing all the places she went. She’s a little light on details, only giving me the highlights, but I’m hungry for more. None of my friends or family are into traveling like I am, so, aside from the occasional vacation, I do most of my exploring solo, and I never get to talk to anyone whose eyeslight up with passion as we discuss our destination bucket list like Harlow’s.
“Wait,” she cuts herself off mid story. “Do you like crab legs?”
“Duh.”
She smiles. “Have you been to Baltimore?”
“Not yet.”
She gasps dramatically, and I laugh.
“It’s on my list!” I insist while she pretends to clutch her pearls in offense. “Stop.” I squeeze her knee and leave my hand there after she drops the fake outrage and grins.
“You have to go and pick your own crab at a crab feast,” she says. “Their blue crab is so damn delicious it won’t compare anywhere else.”
“I’ll definitely plan a trip soon,” I promise. “You know, it’s funny you mention that. I’m flying to St. Pete in two weeks, and I have a forty-eight-hour layover. I can’twaitfor warmer weather and to try this little hole-in-the-wall seafood place that everyone swears has the best crab legs in the state.”
“What? You mean you’re not loving all this snow?”
I snort. “Definitely not. I hate wearing so many layers. I’ll take bikinis over winter coats every day of the week.”
“I have to agree with you there,” Harlow admits, and she holds my gaze. “Especially if you’re the one in the bikini.”
Something heated passes between us as the air shifts. I become hyperaware of the way our legs have been connected all night, my hand still on her warm knee.
“How long are you in town for?” Harlow asks.
“Not long.”
She nods once before downing the last of her drink. She sets the glass on the bartop and drops her hand to my thigh.
“How about you?” I ask.
“I’m not sure,” she says as she strokes her fingers up and down the top of my leg. I subtly shift them further apart, and her hand takes the invitation. She teases the inside of my thigh, and the touch sends a tingle across my skin.
Electricity crackles in the air between us as our gazes grow hungry. We’re silent as her fingers explore. My breathing grows heavy, and I tighten my grip on her knee as her fingers toy lower, grazing my center.
“Another?” Manny points at our empty glasses.
Harlow doesn’t break our eye contact. She smiles wryly and says, “No, we’re ready to cash out.”
