"Nice to meet you, Jolene. Are you aware that your best friend is incredibly funny and has a knack for alliteration?"
Jolene's lips purse, I think so she won't grin like a loon. "I've noticed this about her once or twice."
Hugo's standing behind me, and even though there's a back to the stool, it's like I can feel him through the upholstery. His nearness is hypnotizing. Distracting. Makes me curl my bare toes around the bottom rung on the counter stool, my body looking for a place to put the tension.
"So," Hugo says, "you think Mallory should stay with me?"
"Either that or find the perv who took photos of her sleeping and castrate him. Can she borrow one of your swords?"
I glance up at Hugo to gauge his reaction. He's showing no horror or shock, face straight as he plays along. "A sword is too much weapon for a job like that."
Jolene shrugs one-shouldered, eyes glimmering with mischief. "I guess she'll have to stay with you."
"She's welcome here. Her and Peanut." Then he touches my shoulder, the lightest, kindest connection, and my body responds by throwing tiny flamethrowers all over the place.
"I promise we won't overstay our welcome," I assure him. I don't miss the way the corners of his eyes squint like he has words balancing on the tip of his tongue but he's not sure he should say them.
"I knocked off early so I could take you into town for your car, and lunch." He cranes his neck at my empty plate, an inch of sourdough crust the only evidence there was ever food on it.
"I thought you said you had a full day?"
"I made room," he answers. "Let me grab a shower and we can leave when you're ready. Jolene, it was nice to meet you."
He retreats from the kitchen, entering the hallway I came from awhile ago. His pants are work-softened, tight in all the right places. Just before he disappears from my sight, he reaches behind his head, gathering his shirt at the neck. One more step and he's gone, taking what was sure to be a spectacular view with him.
"Mal," Jolene fans herself with her hand. "Are you kidding me? My ovaries volunteer as tribute."
"Give me three more seconds and I'll be out of earshot," Hugo shouts.
"Way to go," I mutter.
"No, no. Way to go, to you. You probably put your phone on timer and took those photos yourself so you could weasel your way into Hugo's bed."
"Guest bed," I correct.
"Not for long," she counters.
"You're a pill, you know that?"
"But you love me."
"I do. Now go subsist on your sad and concerning diet and send me all the info for our marketing meeting."
Jolene blows me a kiss and ends the call.
I wash my plate and the cooled frying pan, drying and replacing them where I found them. Walking to the guest room to get changed, I hear the muffled sounds of the shower coming through the inch of space under a door at the end of the hall.
Hugo's in there. Naked. Soapy. Slick. I bet his hair darkens to pitch when it's wet. Does he have a tattoo? Freckles on his upper back that resemble a constellation? An interesting scar? Wounds from all those years fencing?
I dart into the guest room before I can do anything foolish. There will be no giving in to the fantasy playing through my mind right now. Maybe I should find an icepack and place it in my underwear, because that ho at the top of my legs is parched, and my temporary roomie is looking like water.
Firmly, I close the door behind myself. I spend a few minutes changing into one of my loose dresses and brushing out my mostly-dried hair, then wind it into a bun at the nape of my neck. Grabbing my purse and a pair of slip-on sandals, I make my way to the living room to wait for Hugo.
He's already there, standing near a window, holding a sandwich in one hand and a can of soda water in the other. He wears a fresh pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. My stomach rolls at the sight of him. How am I going to stay here and not spontaneously combust?
I must make a noise as I enter, because he turns to find me. His gaze lowers to my stomach, followed by a fleeting look of disappointment.
I stop at the far end of the room beside the couch and look down at myself. Am I not dressed appropriately? "We're only running errands, right?"
