“She’s a lovely woman. I might call her. Maybe she wants to visit New York.”
“If you so much as breath in her direction I’ll bury you alive under the new headquarters in Midtown. We just broke ground. I still have time.”
Adam doesn’t say anything, and I don’t have to look to know he got what he wanted. The smug bastard.
“You’re an idiot.”
“I don’t need a lecture.”
“No, you need someone to whack some sense into that thick skull.”
“Is that a threat?”
“You know I don’t get my hands dirty.” He laughs. “I’ll call Logan.”
“She’s…” I scramble for an argument that makes sense. “Too nice.”
“Oh, the horror,” Adam deadpans.
“I’ll come back home in June. She’s not the casual type.”
“Did she tell you that?”
I refuse to entertain this conversation and talk with Adam about Eliza’s sexual habits.
He heaves a long-suffering sigh, “I get the whole”—he waves his hand around to find a word for the subject we’ve been avoiding—“scaremessed you up. But you won’t die if you have sex. Enjoy life a little. You almost ran out of chances.”
I mull over his words on the drive back. Thoughts about Eliza have plagued my brain for weeks and they’ve become more persistent, even when I did my best to distance myself. Lately, it’s been worse.
Every time I catch a glimpse of her bare legs, I’m itching to press my fingertips along the backs of her knees and find out if her flesh is as soft as it looks. To fill my ears with the noises she’d make if I teased her until she was overcome with frustration.
Maybe I’d get over it if I surrendered to the pull. Just once.
At the last moment, I notice the yard sale in front of a dilapidated Victorian house and hit the brakes. She told Adam about going to auctions hoping to find a vintage light fixture.
“Excellent choice,” a bespectacled teenager says. “It’s an original mouth-blown glass lantern. The fern pattern is hand cut.”
“How much?”
“My Gramps says fifty bucks, but you look like you could pay more,” the girl says with confidence, despite her colorful braces.
“You’re not supposed to say it out loud when you want to hustle money out of your mark,” I tell her, handing over several large bills. Her eyes almost pop out and I can’t help smiling.
My good mood gives way to doubts when I park outside the cabin.
“I thought you’d convinced Adam to smuggle you back to New York,” Eliza says absentmindedly, typing at her laptop on the kitchen island.
“He’s rather attached to his balls. Doesn’t want to cross my mother.”
“You make her sound scary.” She shudders. “Tell me if she visits so I can find a hideout.”
I laugh awkwardly because my mother is the last thing on my mind right now.
“I found this.” I show her the light fixture. “It practically rolled into the road—”
“No way,” Eliza shrieks, jumping off the barstool. “It’s gorgeous. The glass is intact,” she coos. “Where did—” Her mouth is agape and her eyes are shiny.
I have only a second to brace myself before she charges forward and envelops me in a bone-crushing hug. My free hand has a mind of its own and slides up her back, holding her tight to my chest. Plastered to my front I can feel her inhale, the pounding of her heart and the sweet pressure of her breasts.
