Heat flashes through me—both from his words and images of last night. His mouth on mine, his hands exploring my body—
Okay, no, you’re at work, Scarlett,I tell myself.Take this down a notch.
Or five hundred.
I text him back:
Come over around seven for dinner. You can play with Mochi and Matcha beforehand.
Then I send a follow-up text:
And play with me after.
It doesn’t take him long to reply to that:
Tonight can’t come fast enough.
I put my phone aside.
No, it can’t,I think excitedly.
* * *
My apartment smells so good.
Because my space is small, the scent of enchiladas baking in the oven permeates the air. I’m down the hall, in my bathroom getting ready, and I still smell them.
I run a flat iron through my hair with a frown. Crap, do I smell like enchiladas?
I put my flat iron down and stare at my reflection in the glass. I’m wearing a red spaghetti-strapped tank top that hits above my hips, paired with a matching long red skirt that has a slit up the side. A sliver of my skin is exposed between my tank and my skirt, and the look is completely sexy, yet casual. Perfect for a date night.
If it doesn’t smell like enchiladas.
I dip my head towards my shoulder, trying to see if the fabric of the strap smells like what I’ve been cooking, but I can’t tell. I stop. Am I actually trying to smell myself?
Yes. Yes I am.
I grab my bottle of Carolina Herrera’s Good Girl perfume and spray it on my neck. Instantly I smell the sensual blend oftuberose and jasmine mixed with cocoa and tonka bean. Then I lift up my hair and spray it on the back of my neck.
There. Fingers crossed my perfume should dominate over the scent of spicy chicken enchiladas.
I finish putting on my makeup, and when I check my phone, I see it’s nearly time for Aiden to be here. I head back into the living room, which definitely smells like a Mexican restaurant. I should put chips and salsa on the coffee table and ask Aiden if he prefers a booth or table when he walks in, it’s that bad.
I wrinkle my nose.
The upside of my apartment? The ability to see the ocean out of my living room window and be down the street from amazing restaurants, cafes, and shops—not to mention the beach.
The downside? It’s small.
And it takes on the smell of whatever you cook in the kitchen, even if you run the vent fan.
Buzz!
My phone vibrates on the kitchen countertop, and I pick it up. Excitement rushes through me when I seeBrooksflash up on my phone. I tap open his message:
Just parked. On my way up.
I text him back that I will see him in a few. He has the security code for access now so he can come straight up to my apartment. Which is good, because I’d be worried someone at the concierge desk or in the lobby would eventually recognize him. The quicker he can get into the elevator, the better. Aiden told me he would wear a ballcap pulled down low, too.
