Holy shit. He’s totally flirting. And I’m totally smiling. Why can’t I stop smiling? It’s the champagne, dammit. I glance at my flute and remember I’ve only had a glass and a half.
Okay, maybe it’s the fact that he’s three thousand miles away, on the other side of the country. Flirtation is safe at a distance like this. I tap out a short response:
I’m game. I’ll expect you here in 20 minutes ready to satisfy my every sexual desire.
His reply is almost instant.
I’ll be there in 10 if traffic’s not bad.
I stifle a giggle as I tap out my speedy response.
You’ve got the address. I’ll be waiting. Maybe naked.
I bite my lip to keep from grinning like a doofus. I’d never have the balls to write stuff like this to anyone else. Or to anyone in my same zip code.
But this is Ian, and we’re obviously joking, so it feels safe.
Safe, and maybe just a little naughty.
I set my phone down, embarrassed to be the kind of person who ignores her houseguests to message some random dude. “Sorry about that,” I tell them.
Cassie grins. “Are you kidding? This is the most fun I’ve had all week. I love seeing you get all glowy.”
“Please.” I pop an olive into my mouth and do my best not to glow as I turn to Junie. “So how have driving lessons been going?”
“Great.” She beams. “Simon says he’ll take me in for the license test next month if I pass the class.”
“Junie, that’s wonderful.” It is wonderful. I love that she’s been hitting so many milestones lately. Not all adults with Down Syndrome can tackle challenges like driving or dating or living independently, but Junie’s always been high-functioning. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks.” Junie looks at Lisa. “Dax says he’ll teach me to ride a motorcycle next.”
Cassie stands up and opens another bottle of champagne while everyone starts chattering about motorcycles and wedding plans and whether we should schedule a night out at the new tapas bar down the street. I’m mostly relieved we’ve moved on from the topic of Ian, but a tiny part of me is dying to check my phone again.
A splash of trepidation leaks into my subconscious. If he’d responded, wouldn’t my phone have buzzed? And if that’s the case, maybe I offended him. Did I cross a line?
A sharp chime bounces off my living room walls. It takes me a second to recognize the sound of my own doorbell. I hop to my feet and pad sock-footed across my living room.
“If one of you ordered pizza, I’ll love you forever.” I reach for the knob to fling open the door. “Forget what I said about not wanting presents. Right now, I’m craving p?—”
The word pepperoni dies in my throat as I face another fierce craving. Something that’s definitely not a twenty-inch pizza with extra cheese.
Swallowing hard, I force my voice to work. “Ian?”
Chapter 2
Ian
Damn.
Sarah Keating is stunning.
She was always pretty in that girl-next-door way, and her smile could light up my whole dorm room ten years ago.
But a decade has transformed her lean angles into lush curves, and she’s gone from clean-scrubbed lovely to grown-up sexy in a way I never would have imagined. Her dark hair is longer than it used to be, and it’s pulled back in a low ponytail that shows off flawless bare shoulders.
It occurs to me I should probably stop staring like a dork and say something.
“Sarah.” I clear my throat when my voice comes out a little gravelly. “Happy birthday.”
