He grinned. “Uh huh. It’s our thing.”
I slid a glance to Conor. “It’s their thing.”
“Damn, that’s romantic,” his brother said. “You gonna jerk off to that cheese plate later?”
Hatch nodded. “I just might. Or maybe one of the racy photos my girl sent me.”
“Fun times with your hotel roomie later, Uncle J.”
Not if I could help it. The idea that Franky was in the same hotel and no one but me knew was making me a little crazy. My phone pinged and I surreptitiously checked it.
“The doc again? What’s going on?” Conor had seen the incoming text from Franky earlier, but as far as he knew I was speaking to the team physician.
“Nah, but I should give him a call.”
Thankfully, the meal was at an end, though NoBo was trying to convince everyone to order tres leches cakes all around. I had promised Franky I’d deliver another sample before the night was through—hedging our bets seemed the way to do it—but I wasn’t sure how appropriate it was for me to ask her to participate.
Had she hated what happened earlier? She had ushered me out mighty quickly, and while I knew the sample was viable for a short period of time, I couldn’t help getting the impression she had been embarrassed about what occurred. As much as I hated the idea, this time, I would retreat to our previous method.
Doc
Are you nearby?
Me
Can come over now.
Doc
Yes, please do.
As I headed back to the hotel, I wondered about couples with fertility problems, the ones that had to time sex to the point where it turned into a chore. I tried to imagine sex with Franky as a chore. Or just sex with Franky, period. Unfortunately, a little too easy to picture.
And there I was getting hard again, when really that was not the energy I needed here. I needed to treat this as the job it was and not let any other factors, well, factor.
I had barely raised my hand to knock when the door opened.
Damn, she looked sexy in those leggings and a Lakeshore U sweatshirt with her glasses slightly askew, her hair bundled up and held in place with a clip. The clip was shaped like a snail shell, which tracked, of course.
“Hi,” she said brightly. She seemed nervous.
“Hey there.”
We stood staring, like drinking each other in was an Olympic sport.
“Could I come in?”
“Oh yes! Of course!”
I closed the door behind me. “I should say sorry.”
Her brow crumpled. “Really?”
“What happened earlier. I crossed a line.”
“You think so?”
“Don’t you?”
