Ryan leaned forward, his arms braced on his knees. “Holy shit.”
“Yes, that’s the correct sentiment.” I bobbed my head many times. “I got to talk to a bunch of dudes who took everything very seriously and they had a lot of questions for me about where my vibrator has been?—”
“Oh, fuck, no.” He pressed his steepled hands to his lips.
“—and the last time I used it?—”
“Oh my god. Em.” Closed his eyes.
“—and who has access to it.”
“Fuuuuck.” Shook his head slowly.
“Pretty much, yeah.” I went on pacing. “While that little conversation took place, they searched all my stuff. Like, all of it. Thoroughly. Then they decided I’m not a terrorist bomber or anything terrible like that. I tried to tell them from the start I’m just a girl who buys knock-off sex toys that malfunctionat the worst possible times but I guess they had to reach that conclusion on their own.”
Ryan blew out a long breath and clasped his hands together between his knees. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” Tears filled my eyes and spilled right over before I could do anything to pull them back. I hadn’t let myself experience any of the panic I’d felt until now and it hit me all at once. “But they confiscated the vibrator.”
“I’ll buy you a new one,” he said.
“That’s not the point,” I sobbed. “I woke up late this morning and didn’t have time for—well, that doesn’t matter but everything’s just a mess now. And I was supposed to work on my plans for field day on the flight but this happened and my life flashed before my eyes. Now I have field day to organize and lesson plans to write for next week, and I might be on the no-fly list. I know the lesson plans don’t matter as much because it’s the end of the year and that’s a shit show anyway but I need to make it look like I’m trying to be good at my job. Especially if my principal finds out I was involved in a sex toy bomb scare.”
When I wiped the tears from my face and took a long, shuddering breath, Ryan just watched me, shaking his head. His shoulders started bouncing before the sharp crack of his laughter filled the living room. He fell sideways on the cushions, his face buried in a collection of decorative pillows embroidered with sayings likeSeas the DayandSea, Sand, Surf.
“It’s not funny,” I cried. “I wasinterrogated.”
He barely made a sound but his entire body shook with the force of his laughter. He clutched the pillows to him as he went on wheezing. Stomping to the sofa, I grabbed a pillow readingThe Beach is My Happy Placeand whacked his denim-clad ass with it.
“I wouldn’t react this way if it’d happened to you,” I said, snatching away one of his pillows to wail him with it.
“Not only would you laugh your whole ass off,” he said, chest heaving, tears running down his cheeks, “you’d never let me forget about it.”
I walloped him in the gut. “For your information, I’d be very sympathetic.”
“You’d throw me a birthday party with a sex toy bomb scare theme. The invitation would be a fake mug shot and you’d hand out Fleshlights as favors.”
“You’re a very mean boy.” I pulled the last few pillows out from his grip, pounding him with each one. “I’m standing herecryingbecause I was detained by like five different government agencies and you’relaughingabout?—”
He caught me around the waist and had me pinned beneath him on the sofa before I could even thump him with either of the pillows in my grip. He reached for my wrists, gathering them over my head and holding them flat against the cushions. When he dropped his hips to mine, I shifted against him and his gaze snapped up. I’d only meant to test how much wiggle room I had but it seemed like I’d tested something else altogether.
“I’m not making fun of you,” he said softly. “I just—this might be the greatest Emme fuck-around of all time.”
I jerked against his hold on my wrists but he didn’t let go. “I’m not making this up!”
“I know you aren’t,” he said, “but it would only happen to you. This one definitely tops the time you got arrested in Montreal.”
“I don’t think a voicemail from Gary would’ve gotten me out of it.”
“No, but my lawyers would’ve.” When I only blinked at him, he asked, “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I don’t know. Everything was happening so fast.”
He nodded like he understood exactly how it went with bomb scares and cheap vibrators. “Next time, call your husband.”
Leaning down, he brushed his lips over mine and I didn’t stop him. Not at first. Not when he deepened the kiss and rocked against my hips. But then I remembered myself, remembered that friends were more important than fake-marriage fuck buddies, and I wrenched a wrist free and whomped him with a pillow.
He stared at me, no amusement to be found in his expression. “Something you’d like to say, wifey?”
