This was my best friend, after all.
“Yes. Little things like the way that you respond to touch. If you don’t like something, you let the person know immediately by pulling away. If you enjoy it, you lean into it. You can pull him closer, make a noise that communicates what you’re feeling.”
“I don’t think I did much of that in my past relationships.” She started stacking the dishes on the table.
She was done.
This was too much for her, I could tell.
“Well, who could blame you? I don’t think anyone was touching you in a way that you liked. So, don’t be afraid to take charge, Jeege. You can tell them or show them what you want.”
“Dirk asked me out to dinner, but I’m not even remotely attracted to him, so I don’t think this plan would work with him.” She gathered the plates, and I stood up and took them from her.
Dirk fucking Roberts.
The audacity of this asshole to think he had any business asking Gracie out.
“I’ll take these in. And that’s a terrible idea. You can’t go out with Dirk.”
“Why not?” she huffed as she carried the wine bottle and glass while she walked beside me.
“Because it’s a conflict of interest. You’re an authority figure at the office.”
She set the bottle and glass down on the kitchen island, and I placed the plates in the sink before turning to look at her.
“I don’t even work there,” she chuckled. “How am I an authority figure?”
“Because he’s a subcontractor for us, and you’re a VP. That causes a power struggle, and we can’t have that type of shit going down in the workplace.”
“A VP of what?” she asked over hysterical laughter.
“You’re my VP of design. You’re in a position of power.”
“Cutler.”
“Gracie,” I mimicked her as she placed her hands on her hips.
“What’s your problem with Dirk?”
“Dirk is a jerk.”
“Thanks, Busta Rhymes. He does a ton of work for you. I thought you liked him.” She shook her head in disbelief.
“I like him fine. But he’s cocky, and he’s a player. He’s not your type.”
I mean, I know…glass fucking houses. I’m not worthy of her either. Maybe no one is.
But she deserved the best, and it sure as hell wasn’t Dirk Roberts.
“Well, that’s the thing. I don’t want to date my type. I don’t like the guy romantically, but he’s good-looking and he mightbe good to practice on.” She laughed even harder now. She was clearly tipsy from the two generous glasses of wine she’d had.
“That’s not you and you know it. And let’s not choose some fucker who I’ll have to fire because it’ll piss me off if he puts his hands on you.”
She stepped closer before reaching past me and pouring the rest of the wine into her glass. “Fine. I’ll find myself a temporary man, a no-strings-attached hottie, when we go line dancing this weekend. Maybe I’ll find me a cowboy,” she said, howling as she pretended to toss around an invisible rope.
I was grateful it wasn’t real, because she had no clue what she was doing.
Now it was my turn to laugh. “Great. I’ll help you choose. I know everyone in town, so I can fill you in.”
