“Another friend. She’s Lori’s vet. Well, she’s not her vet, obviously. She’s the vet for the Sanctuary. Anyway, it’s not important. My point is, I don’t think happily ever after exists, so I’m interested in happy for now. No pressure. No expectations.”
Shay grinned. “That sounds exactly right. Happy in the moment works for me.”
“And I’m just finding my feet in a new job, working crazy hours and dealing with even crazier clients.” She ran her finger along the crotch seam of Shay’s jeans. “Thiswas perfect. I needed to flush the day from my system, and a few orgasms have done exactly that.”
Shay raised her eyebrow. “A few?”
“What do you need? Validation?”
“I got that from your string of expletives and the way your eyes half-lidded in clear ecstasythirteentimes.”
“You were counting?”
“I was making sure you got what you needed.”
“And what about you? Did you get what you needed?” Rosie wasn’t going to point it out, but there were times during the sex when it felt like Shay wasn’t really there, and that Rosie could’ve been anyone. But that was the nature of casual sex, wasn’t it? With no complicating emotions involved, it was simply about the pleasure.
“Yeah, I did.”
Shay climbed off Rosie and went back around to her pile of clothes, but not before Rosie had seen a flicker of something like sadness in her eyes. The playfulness was gone, and her tone was flat. Rosie scrambled to decipher what she might’ve said that had killed the mood. Her phone buzzed on her bedside table. She rejected the call, wanting to keep her focus on Shay. Had she fucked up the casual situationship without even trying? Christ, she couldn’t even do booty calls right. No wonder she was always alone.
“Was that one of your crazy clients?”
Shay fixed the clasp on her lace bra and pulled her sheer sweater on. Rosie was impressed it was still in one piece given the way she’d torn it off. “Maybe. The international ones sometimes forget the time difference, but I work in advertising; I’m not a first responder. They can email me.” She didn’t want to think about the only other person who might call regardless of the time.
Shay tied the laces on the Converse Chuck 70 De Luxe heelsatin sneakers Rosie had briefly admired before they’d been thrown aside in their desperation to get into bed. The same shoes were in her Converse basket waiting for checkout, but if she got them now, she’d have to check with Shay anytime they went out, so they didn’t end up wearing matching shoes. That was a stereotype borne from reality, just like the U-Haul.
Rosie’s phone buzzed again and this time, she checked to see if she recognized the number before rejecting it. Her heart pounded when she registered the California area code.
“Looks like they don’t share your view on what constitutes an emergency.” Shay stood and retrieved her purse from the chair in the corner.
“They’ll learn. Are we good?” Rosie asked, still slightly confused by the sudden shift in Shay’s mood.
Shay paused at the end of Rosie’s bed and nodded. “We’re more than good,” she said.
Her wicked grin eased the tension in Rosie’s shoulders. She hadn’t blown it with the hottest woman who’d ever graced her bed. Yay for her. “Before you go… I can text you for this too, right?”
“Sure. It has to go both ways.”
“And there’s no expectation of exclusivity?”
Shay laughed. “Don’t worry, that word isn’t even in my dictionary.”
“Okay then.” Her phone began to buzz again, tempting Rosie to throw it out the window.
“Maybe you should turn that off when you’re home,” Shay said as she opened the bedroom door.
“Then how would we organize these hookups?” Rosie kicked the covers off and parted her legs slightly. If she could tempt Shay back into bed, she could ignore her phone a little longer.
Shay smirked and shook her head. “You asked me to stop, remember?”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t get on your back.”
“Next time.” Shay winked and closed the door behind her.
Rosie pouted until she heard her front door click shut then she grabbed her phone and checked the missed calls. When the phone buzzed again seconds later, she answered it. “Yes,” she said, waiting for the inevitable outpouring of yet another sad story.
“Hey, Rosarita, whatcha doing?”
