That didn’t help. An image of Rayah in bed, her hair spread out around her, crumpled sheets beneath them. That wasn’t what he needed to think about.
“In which case you really need to get a new bed. But yeah, the sofa’s good for sleeping on. I’ve done it enough.”
“I remember. Chicken pox-gate. One after the other.” She gave a little laugh. “I thought we needed to put a sign on your door and start passing bread through some disinfected gap.”
“Can we not talk about that?” He groaned. It really had taken a village for those six weeks where first Harry had caught it, then Charlie and finally Sadie. Charlie had been the worst, needing a late night trip to hospital when his temperature had been scarily high.
“Tell me about your evening instead. Have you met any nice ladies given you’re newly single?”
Jonny laughed. “Not really.”
“Which means you’re being coy. I know your style Jonny Graham and I don’t believe for a second you haven’t had any females trying to get into your pants.”
He didn’t want to be having this conversation with her. He didn’t want to be out in the city right now. He wanted to be at home, on that sofa, finding out what was under those pyjamas.
“Maybe I have. But I’m not interested.”
“I’m sorry that you and Robyn didn’t work out. It seemed like you had a lot in common.”
He rubbed his scruff with the hand that wasn’t holding his phone. “We were just friends. It suited each other’s purposes.” He wouldn’t have lied to her anyway. Had there been a conversation about in the last few weeks, he’d have told her the truth about him and Robyn, but she’d been busy dating and being Rayah, and when he had seen her they’d always had the kids with them.
“Oh. I thought it was semi going somewhere.”
He couldn’t read her expression. “No. The kids had sleepovers. We, err, didn’t. She’s a really good person, but there wasn’t any spark and you know us firefighters, got to be a spark there.”
Rayah smiled sleepily. “That’s a terrible pun. You need to up your pun level if you’re going to try those games, mister.”
He nodded. “What about you and who you’re seeing now?”Brandon. That was the name of the high school librarian. The perfect name for a complete twat.
“I’m not seeing him. There were a couple of dates but he’s not my type.”
Jonny felt an odd sense of relief. “What is your type? Maybe I could try and set you up, you know, like you were going to set me up.” Not going to happen. Ever.
“I don’t have a type. And I don’t want you setting me up. I have a date between Christmas and New Year. Maybe he’ll be able to dance better than Brandon. Because you know what they say about men’s dancing…”
Jonny shook his head. “Totally untrue. I can’t dance but that doesn’t mean I don’t have rhythm for other things.”
“You mean you can keep a good beat going with your hose?” Her mouth was curved up in a playful grin and she’d started to uncurl and sit up, the blanket that was half covering her dropping lower, exposing the pyjama top, three of the buttons of which were now undone.
“I’m assuming you’re talking about the hose that’s good for getting a firegoing?” He kept his words as quiet as he could, aware that he was now flirting with the girl he’d known since they were both in primary school, except she wasn’t exactly a girl anymore.
“None other. So how big is this hose?”
She was unaware of how much flesh she was exposing even though he knew his eyes kept dropping down to her cleavage. Never had he been so interested in pyjamas.
“Big enough too…”
“Hey sister!” Jake arrived over his shoulder and then sat down next to Jonny, shoulder checking him to move up. “Sort yourself out Ray, you’re practically flashing Jonny here and given that my man isn’t interested in taking any of the offers he’s been made tonight you might be responsible for a bad case of blue balls.”
Jonny rolled his eyes. Jake had been drinking steadily, no shots or spirits, and he’d eaten and taken a break to visit the hotel with one – or two – of his new friends, but he was still merry and therefore unfiltered.
“They’re fleece lined pyjamas with rabbits on them. Quite possibly the most resistible sleepwear ever.” She made no attempt to do up the buttons. Instead her eyes found his and he saw something there that was familiar, something that had been there before but he’d never noticed it.
“They’re cute.” The words were for her, even though he was going to get ribbed to shreds by Jake, probably in front of everyone else. They were also torturing him because he wanted to find out what was underneath them. No bra, but what was her skin like? Did she wear panties?
Jake turned to him. “Jesus. Cute is a word you use with kids. Although this is Rayah, so I suppose it’s the same. Anyway, I’m going to introduce Jonny to one or two ladies who were interested in finding out if what they say about firemen is true.” Jake stood up and wandered off, a couple of cat calls greeting him from a table of women in their twenties and thirties.
“So my PJ’s are ‘cute’?”
