“Hi, neighbor,” he says. “You’re beautiful.”
My throat is dry. “Thanks, Doc.”
He steps closer until all I feel is the heat from his body.
His gaze dips once more. “Those are worse than I remembered.”
I swallow. “You insisted.”
He extends his hand toward me. “Let me get you out of here while I still have the strength.”
I slide my hand into his.
Behind me, Emmy whispers, “Don’t ruin it!”
Celeste hisses, “Shut up!”
I blow them both a kiss before I step out and pull the door closed behind me.
My heart is still racing from the conversation in my bedroom.
From him.
He glances down at me as we walk toward his car. “You okay?”
No.
Yes.
Maybe.
“I’m fine. Just making sure you’re prepared.”
“For?”
I look at him. “For maintenance.”
Forty
Beckett
The date was exactly what I wanted it to be.
It was a proper restaurant with a proper table, and proper wine that requires a small lecture before they let you drink it.
Madison sat across from me in that black dress and those red heels, like I wasn’t two minutes from hauling her over my shoulder and taking her back to my bed. She talked with her hands and asked me questions about work that most people glaze over by the second sentence. It was easy to be with her.
But as we walk toward the car, one thought keeps circling.
I am starving.
The place was Michelin-starred, which apparently means the food must fit on a cracker.
Madison’s quiet beside me. Her heels click against the pavement in an even rhythm.
“Dinner was great,” she says. “I haven’t been to that restaurant before.”
No one over six years old should go to that restaurant.
