“Far more than I could’ve imagined.” My voice came out husky, the lust pumping hot through my veins. “Thanks for the invitation.”
“I should be thanking you,” Rory said. “I haven’t been that turned on in years. Though I’m regretting coming in my pants, because fuck, that’s so uncomfortable in jeans.”
“Need me to stop off?” I asked.
“What, for pants?” Rory let out a bark of a laugh. “Babe, I’ve dealt with worse. I just like to complain. I don’t regret anything we did, though. Damn, that was hot as fuck.”
“Seriously,” I said, letting out a low whistle.
“Have you been curious for a while?” Rory asked.
I wrinkled my nose as I got off at the exit, closer than I liked to the station. “No? Honestly, I shut a part of myself off for a long time. Susie and I tried to keep things alive during the earlier days of us being together, but then it petered off, intimacy growing less and less. We were always affectionate, though, so the whole living-on-my-own thing has been the biggest shock from the divorce.”
“Well, I’m glad you took the leap,” he said. “Even if it’s complicated as fuck with Harp.”
Fuck. That doused ice water on the heat percolating between us. I didn’t want to hurt my daughter. Moving on wouldn’t, and shewouldn’t care if I dated a guy since she came out as bi in high school, but thewhoI was interested in created the problem.
“Shit, I made that awkward, didn’t I?” Rory asked. He had this habit of babbling when he was nervous, another one of the traits I noticed about him the more time we spent together.
“It was going to come up eventually,” I said, my chest a tangled mess of knots. I turned the car into the lot for Malvern station and pulled up to an open spot, throwing my hazards on. “But I haven’t sorted any of that out yet.”
“Hey, if this was a flash-in-the-pan fumbling, just tell me,” he said. “It was hot, and I got to come.”
My heart clenched tight at the false lightness in his tone, and I reached out, threading my fingers through his. When I met his eyes, he glanced away from me.
“You might not be aware of this about me, but I’m not the sort to leap into situations. All I’m asking is for time to process—but I do want to see you again.”
Rory swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Okay. You’ve got my number. Hit me up.” With that, he unbuckled his belt and slipped out the passenger door in the span of a heartbeat.
Shit. I fucked things up. I scrubbed my face and tugged out my phone, shooting off a quick text. I’d maxed on impulsive actions for today, and I hadn’t been lying—I needed time to process. But I also didn’t want to leave him hanging.
Thank you for tonight. I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to see you again. You’re a rarity, Rory, and I can’t seem to get enough of you.
Chapter eleven
Rory
Aweek had passed since the great Come in My Pants Incident, and I hadn’t seen Wyatt since. Granted, he hadn’t been giving me radio silence. He still checked in daily, and we talked about our days, how many bees live in a hive, and why no-signal drivers were the worst, but he hadn’t pushed to meet up again. After putting myself out there far more than I was comfortable with, I wasn’t willing to bring it up, though.
“Why did you get here an hour early again?” Harper asked. “Just to lurk?”
“Mmm, more like broodily sulk. Do you think I have mystique?” I lay out on the table in the back, staring up at the ceiling. Harper poked at my side. It was a slower day for both of us, so it wasn’t like I disrupted any clients, and I’d needed to get out of my house so I didn’t gnaw my arm off or something drastic.
Harper snorted. “You’re the least mysterious person I’ve met.”
I bit back what I was about to blurt out—because I did have a secret I kept, but guilt trickled through me about that one. And it wouldn’t be fair to out Wyatt when he was still figuring himself out. But damn, I hated secrets. I shared everything because I didn’t live well with hiding. Probably one of the reasons I was the first to have come out in my family, even though I was the second youngest.
“Do you think I should bring up the tattoo convention?” I wrinkled my nose as I stared up at the white ceiling. “Or is it ridiculous?”
Harper shrugged. “If Owen doesn’t want to sponsor, do a booth on your own. It’s a smart career move, babe.”
Shit, Harper was the best. She wasn’t a lifer in this industry like me—we knew about her next moves into vet school—but she was so fucking supportive and chill. I was an asshole for making out with her dad. Would she hate me for it? Or would she be happy he was finding himself?
What made it all worse was that my obsession with him grew by the day. This didn’t happen with me. Usually I indulged in the sparkly, shiny distraction, and then it went by the wayside. Piercing was one of the few things that had continued to keep my interest due to how the industry constantly shifted, same with the day-by-day clientele. Variety was the spice of my sanity.
“Yeah. The booth application deadline is closing, though, so if I want to do it, I need to figure it out soon. Or, you know, talk to Owen.”
“Talk to me about what?” Owen’s voice boomed from the doorway.
