“Mostly because it annoys you,” he said. His hand moved back to my knee, and it stayed firm there.
“Can’t believe I wasted an entire weekend with you,” I said to myself, crossing my arms.
“You did, but I’m sure you forgot some of it,” he said. “You blacked out a couple of times. My cock is talented like that.”
“Right, if you call coming within fourteen seconds a talent.”
“I do, Shannon. I really do,” he said. “Those fourteen seconds are why you’re walking with a limp today, right? And why you groan every time you sit down?”
“Don’t you have some guns to polish or a tomahawk to sharpen?”
“Yes to both, but first,” he said, pulling into my garage. “The second weekend in November. I’ll figure out where.”
I started to argue but Will pressed his fingers to my mouth and cupped his hand on the back of my neck. “Yeah, I know, I’m gonna choke on your dick, and I’ll enjoy it, too. And you…you will be seeing me in November.” He met my eyes, pausing, and slipped his thumb between my lips. “Now let’s go upstairs and get you on your knees where you belong.”
*
“It is bizarreto be doing this on a Tuesday,” I said, settling into my seat at the attic conference room table.
Neutral. I was aiming for neutral this morning. No one was going to notice me wincing as I sat—Will’s parting gift was fucking me hard enough to leave my ladybits throbbing his name—and no one was going to notice that I was slowly coming down from the wild rollercoaster of this weekend if I kept it locked on neutral.
“It would be less bizarre if you were on time,” Patrick muttered.
“I’m five minutes late. Does that warrant a debate?” I asked. “Or are we going to start the meeting?”
“All right, people. Shannon’s here, so we can start.”
“Thank you, Patrick,” I said, rolling my eyes. Bickering was expected; for this crew, it was the definition of neutral. I glanced at Matt, Sam, Andy, and Riley, ready to turn the attention away from me and onto them. “How was everyone’s long weekends?”
“We went to a seafood festival in New Hampshire,” Andy said, nodding toward Patrick.
I loved them together. It shocked the shit out of me when I realized they didn’t hate each other, and now, whenever they talked about all their foodie endeavors or weekends spent geeking out overHarry Potter, I wanted to coo all over their dorky cuteness. I wanted them to have a cute, dorky wedding, and loads of cute, dorky babies, too.
“You went to aseafoodfestival?” Riley asked.
“He ate the fish,” Andy said, jerking her thumb at Patrick. “I drank the beer.”
They exchanged a quick high-five before he said, “I was bartending down in Rhody. Newport kicks ass on long weekends.”
“Are we not paying you enough?” Patrick asked.
“I was filling in for a buddy, and I just like it,” Riley shrugged. “But if you’re looking to unload some cash, I won’t stop you.”
An instant messenger window opened on my screen.
Patrick:Are we paying him enough
Shannon:Yes
Patrick:You’re sure? His shirt has a hole in the armpit and he’s not wearing socks.
Shannon:I’m sure.
Shannon:That’s his look. It’s RISD chic.
Patrick:In other news– Sam has a black eye.
Shannon:Either a chick decked him (probably deserved) or he got it stumbling around drunk.
