Jordyn: You’ve opened the floodgates, girl. I told you there was a sex pot inside you waiting to break free.
Lex: He brings it out of me. Do most men get turned on just by giving a woman an orgasm?
Dee: Not most, but the good ones do. When a man’s that dialed in to you and your needs, he gets pleasure from pleasing you.
Jordyn: Facts! So . . .Did you do the deed?
Lex: Not yet. Still enjoying 3rd base. He used his mouth.
Jordyn: Hot damn!
Lex: OMG. It was. I want to try that too. But what if I’m bad at it?
Jordyn: Trust me, you won’t be bad. You’ll figure out what he likes in the first lick.
Dee: True enough. Not to be a buzzkill, but . . .Have you told him yet?
My stomach goes from thrumming with pleasured thoughts to thrumming with tension.
Lex: I’m going to.
Jordyn: When?
Lex: Tonight.
Maybe.
Dee: If Chaz feels about you the way I think he does, it won’t matter that you’re the daughter of a business mogul. Keeping it a secret just makes it bigger than it needs to be.
They’re probably right. I had every intention of telling him last night, but it was all so complicated. I would never have even known about Bayside if not for seeing that prospectus on my father’s desk. The pictures of the waterfront enchanted me. I didn’t expect to find a man here who was even more enchanting. A man who hates big corporations for deeply personal reasons. A man who had likely taken on the very company that I’m intricately tied to. It’s a big, messy knot to untangle.
Telling him over dinner didn’t feel right. And once we started fooling around, I completely blocked it out. Then, I was high. The excuses keep coming. I know the real reason is that I don’t want anything to change between us.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Chaz step out of the office. His gaze sweeps the café before finding me. Heat and guilt rushthrough me at once, but I manage a smile and hold up a finger, signaling I’ll be right there.
Lex: Gotta get back to work.
Jordyn: TELL HIM!
Chaz watches me approach, that dimpled grin warming me through and through. But Jordyn’s all-caps reminder flashes through my mind, stirring the pot of anxiety I’ve been trying to keep a lid on. My finger starts tapping against my thumb, and he notices. One of the drawbacks of someone knowing you that well is that they recognize the tells you can hide from others.
“What’s up, Blue?”
“Nothing.” I force myself to stop the tapping and keep my tone breezy. “I was just texting my friends aboutthings.” I let the implication hang on a flirty note, dissolving his worries.
“Things, huh?” His lips twitch. “Did I get a good review?”
“You got all the stars and a would-buy-again.”
He laughs, the rich sound breaking apart the tension in me, but I still know what I need to do. Chaz has been so good to me. A lie—even one of omission—is still a lie. He deserves better. He deserves the truth—no matter how imperfect it is.
That evening at the food market on Main, I grab a basket and start wandering the aisles, grabbing ingredients for penne arrabbiata. I’d found the recipe on Simple to Make Dishes, and it seemed pretty easy. When I toss in fresh basil and garlic, Chaz leans down, his voice dropping to a husky murmur against my ear.
“Will you cook for me in nothing but your pretty cotton panties?”
“No!” I give him a playful shove. “Oil splatters.”
“Ouch. Good point. I wouldn’t want anything to harm that soft, silky skin.”
