She laughs at the ridiculousness of my excuse. I’m sure whoever is behind the front door a few feet outside the guest bedroom can probably hear her, she laughs so loud. That means they won’t stop knocking and go away.
“A door-to-door salesman?” Zoey repeats and laughs again. “Is that a real problem in this building? Should I put it in the sales listing? Building lives in some kind of sixties vortex so expect encyclopedia and vacuum salesmen?”
I want to kiss the sarcastic look right off her face but there’s another fucking knock, and she starts to move—past me and toward the front door. I grab her around the waist, halting her forward movement and pulling her into my torso. I kiss the curve of her neck and whisper urgently, “I don’t want you to answer it.”
“What if it’s Dixie or a teammate in trouble or something?”
“It’s no one I know. I swear,” I promise her because it’s true. Even if it’s someone I’ve seen naked, which it probably is, it’s not someone I know.
She hesitates, but when they knock again, she leaves my grip, unlocks and opens the front door. Standing before Zoey is a tall, sultry brunette I recognize from a couple weeks ago. She was the last hookup I had before running into Zoey again. Her name is…
“Who are you?”
“I’m Zoey. And you are?”
“Zoey, this is Kassie.” I step past Zoey and into the hall, putting a hand on Kassie’s shoulder. “Can you give us a minute?”
“It’s Kasey,” she snaps and gives me a look of pure, drunken venom. “And don’t bother. I’m leaving. At least now I know why you weren’t answering your phone.”
She storms back toward the elevators. Well, it’s actually more like a stomping stumble. I sigh, scrub my face with my hand and wait until Kassie…I mean Kasey is safely inside the elevator heading down to the lobby before I turn to face Zoey. Only when I close the front door and turn around, she’s not behind me. I make my way through the apartment and find her in the kitchen grabbing her purse off the kitchen island.
“Please don’t go.”
She lifts her head, auburn hair tumbling in untamed waves, still damp from the shower, around her shoulders, and it reminds me of how she used to look coming out of the ocean in Maine. I suddenly long for those times when I was younger and innocent and hadn’t made a million bad decisions that keep biting me in the ass.
“If you think you need me to stay because you’re too sick, I’ll stay. On the couch out here.” She points to the living room. “But that’s the only reason I would consider staying.”
“Zoey.” I sigh and feel my shoulders sag. “I’m sorry. I wish you hadn’t been here for that.”
She looks suddenly nervous. Maybe “nervous” isn’t the right word. Worried? Whatever the emotion, it’s painting her pretty features, causing her to avoid eye contact and tug her bottom lip in between her teeth. It gives her an air of vulnerability, and it kind of destroys me for some reason.
“That happens a lot?”
I could lie to her. I’ve lied so much to so many women, especially ones I’m trying to get naked, it’s my natural instinct. And those lies start to fill my head:“She’s one of Dixie’s friends.” “She’s just a confused fan with a crush.” “I think she was looking for my buddy Eddie. He borrowed my guest room last week and brought her over after a night out.”
One of those stories would fly, convincingly, from my lips if this were any other woman besides Zoey. Although they’re on the tip of my tongue as I look at her, uttering them feels impossible. So even though it brings a hot wave with it—of humiliation, not illness—I go with the truth. “Yeah. It happens a lot. It’s gotten completely out of control since I got back from Torontothis summer, and it’s one of the main reasons I need to move.”
Silence. Nothing but silence. And then a soft “oh.”
“I’m not proud of it, obviously,” I blurt out as I fight the heat rising in me. Suddenly all my one-night stands seem pathetic.
“If I wasn’t…” She pauses midsentence and bites her lip again. Oh, how I want to do it for her. “It’s not my business, but if I wasn’t here, would you have let her in?”
“No.” The answer flies out of my mouth, and it probably sounds like a lie, like I’m saying what she obviously wants to hear, but it’s actually the truth. I lean forward, my forearms flat on the island that’s between us, my handspalms down on the cool surface, fingers outstretched like I’m reaching for her, because I kind of am. “I would have answered the text and told her I wasn’t interested, and that would have avoided the phone call and the visit.”
“Because you’re sick.”
“No.” I shake my head firmly. “Because I don’t want her again. I haven’t wanted anyone but you since the minute I saw you again.”
The words settle between us, shocking both of us if I’m honest. I’ve made that proclamation before, to one other woman, and when I did it, I thought I meant it, kind of. But this feels different. It sounds different. My tone isn’t dripping in false confidence because I’m covering hesitation. And the declaration doesn’t feel like a sacrifice in even the slightest way. It’s just the simple truth. Holy shit.
She blankets my hand with her own, curling her fingers under my palms and squeezing gently. “Do you need me to stay?”
I shake my head. “No. It’s okay. I’m not going to be able to stop harassing you to take your clothes off, but I’m also not going to be able to do anything about it if you do. So it’s probably better for both of us if you head home.”
Zoey laughs gently and lifts her hand, pulling her cell out of her bag. “I’ll call an Uber.”
I follow her toward the front of the apartment, grabbing her around the waist and kissing her gently on her cheek before moving to that delectable part where her jaw meets her neck and kissing her more firmly there, reaching up and biting her earlobe softly before pulling back. I’d love to pin her to the back of the door and sear a kiss onto those plump lips, claiming her mouth with my tongue, but that will lead to something I can’t finish.
