one
“When I askedyou to help,I didn’t mean get drunk and supervise,” I grumble, shoving another handful of tank tops into a box.
My best friend Noia is sprawled across my bed holding a glass of wine, looking far too comfortable for someone who’s supposed to be helping me pack.
Boxes are stacked like skyscrapers throughout my condo, labeled in both my and Noia’s handwriting. Within the past few hours, the whole place has gone from feeling like home to smelling like packing tape and cardboard.
She grins, raising her glass. “Moral support: It’s a serious job, but somebody’s gotta do it.”
I snort.
“Aww, comeon.” Noia’s laugh is light and bubbly. She’s been so much happier since she hooked up with her hot, tattoo artist boyfriend Ryder Blackwood. The guy tends to have that effect on women, apparently. My best friend, the ‘Queen of Steam’ herself, is disgustingly in love. “I just want to celebrate the fact that my bestie is now going to be living just twenty minutes away, instead of a couple of hours.”
“So,” she drawls, her eyes glinting at me over the rim of her glass. “Are you excited about moving to Lakeside?”
“Excited about the new Summit Studio and being closer to you. I’m… ready for a new start.”
“Uuuh-huuuh.” Stretching her legs, she gets up from the bed. “A small lakeside town with fresh air, cute shops and restaurants. Maybe even a certain sexy tattoo artist wandering around…”
I stop mid-fold and groan. “Come on. Will you let up already?”
“Oh, I’mdefinitelynever going to let up about that.” She sets her glass down on my dresser with a smirk. “We’ve talked about this. Did you actually think you were going to move to the same town as Jax andnotrun into him? Please. It’s destiny.”
“It’s not a big deal. And in no way is it destiny.”
“It’s cosmic foreplay,” she tosses back.
I throw a rolled-up pair of socks at her head. “You’re an evil bitch.”
“Yeah, but I’myourevil bitch,” she sing-songs as she ducks, causing the socks to bounce off the wall and fall to the floor instead.
“Get your mind out of the gutter. Out of all the times I’ve visited you since ‘the-night-that-shall-not-be-talked-about’, I haven’t run into him. Not once. Just... saw him from a distance a couple of times.”
The last thing I’m going to tell her is that anytime Ididhappen to see Jax, I would turn and high-tail it in the other direction.
“Pure damn luck. You know, setting up a Summit Studio right across the street from Skin & Ink means you’re bound to run into each other sooner or later.”
I’m about to fire back when I see her open my nightstand drawer and pause, eyes goingwide.
“Oh, my. What is this?”
Before I can stop her, she snatches the T-shirt I’m folding out of my hands.
Reaching into the drawer, she lifts her prize high, grinning like some sort of deranged psychopath. “Hey, Sash? What box do you want to pack this bad boy in?”
My favorite 8-inch anatomically correct vibrator is dangling in the air between her thumb and forefinger, mocking me.
Stomach dropping, I roll my eyes with a sigh.
“Noia,” I warn. “Put it back.”
“Oh. My. God,” she cackles. “Is this how you’ve been spending all of your free time thinking about Jax? Wait. Don’t tell me. This bad boy is a replacement for theotherbad boy?”
“Gimme that!” I snatch it out of her hand with a huff and toss it into my go bag that’s already half-full of things I would rather trade my left tit for than lose. “It’s calledstress management,thank you very much.”
“Stress management? Sash, that thing hasmultiplesettings!”
Cheeks burning, I glare at her even as I laugh. “You’ve got no room to judge. I’ve seen what’s in your nightstand, too.”
