But as we leave, footsteps grow louder behind me. The loudclop-clopof someone jogging in work shoes. I look back. Damn. It’s Ryan from the neighborhood site heading our way. We can’t leave just yet.
“Hey, Skylar. Hey, Ford,” he begins, as I hit pause on mydo bad thingsplans. “I couldn’t make it to the game—my partner was sick. But I sneaked off when he fell asleep. Can I get another picture and maybe ask a few more questions for our site?”
It’s just a neighborhood site. It’s small on the scale of things. But then again, I was just a Minor League player for a long time. An undrafted guy. Here’s Ryan, clearly hustling for a living.
“If it’s okay with Skylar,” I say.
“I’m up for it,” she says, and if that doesn’t sum her up, I don’t know what does. We talk with Ryan for a bit, answering easy questions and smiling for the camera.
When we’re done, he offers a grateful smile. “Appreciate you sticking around, man.”
He didn’t mean it this way, but his words remind me of my goal for this year—to stick around. As I leave, I start to wonder if romance and sticking around are as mutually exclusive as I’d once thought.
29
SPANK ME AND LOVE ME
SKYLAR
I can’t wait.
I can’t wait so much I nearly blurt out my plans on the drive home. But I’m a good girl, keeping my mouth zipped as Ford drives and pulls up in front of our houses. We hop out together, and for a brief moment, my mind spins forward.
This action—pulling up together at our homes—is so…couple-y.
It’s almost like we live together.
What will it be like when this ends? We won’t be driving home together. But how will we behave when I run into him in the front yard? On the sidewalk? In the backyard?
My brother’s concerns weigh on me.
But then I think of my plans for tonight, and what’s waiting in the bedroom, and I kick those concerns to the curb.
Best to stay in the moment.To enjoy.
After we take our dogs out for a walk, we head up the steps to my home. Before I unlock the door though, I set ahand on his chest. “I have something for you. Leave the suit on.”
His lips quirk up. “Whatever you want, baby.”
“But take the jacket off,” I say, then I don’t bother waiting. I push it off his shoulders myself.
“Someone’s eager,” he says, grabbing the material before it falls to the ground.
“So are you, so be good and wait here for me for a few minutes,” I toss back as I unlock the door, then take off for the staircase.
I can picture the scene. I nearly giggle at the thought of what’s to come. I fly upstairs, little paws slapping on the floor behind me, since Simon must be a part of everything. I wash my hands, change quickly into a sexy black bra and panties, grab my supplies, and position myself at the edge of the bed—Simon staring avidly from the floor, because of course he does. I do a double take though. Cleo’s lounging on the pillow, all stretched out and lithe. She probably knows Ford is here. She’s always had a thing for him.
“I get it, girl,” I whisper, then I call out to Ford. “It’s safe to come upstairs.”
A trail of laughter follows his voice. “Is it ever safe with you?”
“Reasonable question,” I call back.
His bare feet pad along the hardwood floor, growing louder with every step. Anticipation climbs the stairs inside me. I feel bubbly and frothy. My chest flips as I wait.
The second Ford turns into the room, he stops cold. “Fuck yes,” he murmurs.
The praise zips through me, and I wiggle my hips—though there’s not a doubt in the world it’s the only place he’s looking.
