It was the honey. Was it the honey? The fig? Some mind-bending alternate universe?
I don’t know, but I’m not sure I ever imagined Ford and I would kiss again, and even if I everdidlet the thought popinto my mind, I never could’ve possibly imagined how freakinghotit would be in reality.
But that’s what it was. Hot. Hotter than hot.
Unexpectedly hot. Surprisingly hot. There’s a chemistry there I wasn’t expecting from afriend.
And now I’m a jumbled puddle using phrases likehotter than hotbecause I can’t freaking think straight after what he did to me.
It was akiss.
It was intimate and erotic, sexy and sensual, and now all I can think about is how if a kiss was that intense, what wouldmorebe like with him?
It’s out of the question. Obviously. I mean, come on. He’s Archer’s brother. The guy I dated on and off for the last seven or eight years. God, was it really that long?
We started dating when we were sophomores in college. I needed a date to a formal, and he was my go-to guy. I asked him, we got a little tipsy, and he kissed me at the end of the night.
“We’re doing this now?” I’d asked him. It was the one thing I always wanted, and he was finally giving in.
“Oh, we’re doing this now,” he’d said back to me, and then he went for it. Like,wentfor it. It was urgent and intense and hot, and the sex later that night was, too. It wasalwaysthat way for us—urgent and intense and hot, but I think that’s sort of just Archer’s personality. Eventually all that fizzles, and then you’re left with…
Well, you’re left at the end.
We were only together for two months the first time we broke up. We were apart as long as we were together, and then we tried again. That time stuck. We were together for a couple years, and then I think I got scared when he graduated college and went to the minors. He spent a couple years inthe minors, during which we were together. Eventually, he got called up to the majors and started with the Vegas Heat.
He’s been there for four years now, and our relationship in-season was always more stable than out of season. Probably because we hardly had time to spend together. It’s easier to stay together when you’re never around someone. But put one fiery, passionate person against another, and sometimes things just explode.
Ford is milder. Calmer. Softer. Gentler. He makes me that way, too. He rubs off those good traits on me when I feel like I’m a hot freaking mess.
And somehow, last night, he showed me that he has that urgent, intense side to him, too. It was something I didn’t see coming, but now it’s something I want to explore. Only—I can’t. Not with someone who’s putting up with me when I needed to leave town for a while, and it’s not just that we’re friends on top of him being my ex’s brother.
We’re becoming business partners in a sense, and it would be far too complicated to introduce any sort of feelings into that equation.
And so we won’t.
I’ll set aside whatever this is I’m feeling. It was just a surprise. Maybe even just a show for Calla so she’d think we were a couple, just like we let Ms. Winston believe we were.
It’s too soon anyway. Sure, things were over with Archer a long time ago, and yes, honestly, I’m pretty sure I’ve been ready to move on for some time. I stayed because things were comfortable and because I liked our life. We still had fun together even though the passion left, and I was content enough to stay if that’s what he wanted. It wasn’t. And now here we are, and I won’t allow someone new to feel like a rebound because of some timeline imposed by societal standards.
Wait.
Is that why I set him up with Morgan?
What a confusing thought. Maybe those actual feelings I’ve relegated to the back burner were actually front and center much longer than I realized, and I tried to put him in a category of non-temptation by giving him a woman that seemed perfect for him. But she wasn’t. And maybe she wasn’t becauseI am.
Or not.
I can’t let this become a mess, but it feels messy already.
I visit a few florists today, and I head home in Ford’s SUV, a black Range Rover that errs on the side of conservative rather than flashy like a lot of his teammates drive, yet is still totally luxurious.
I’m wondering what tonight will be like when he gets home. I’m nervous, actually. Will we talk about that kiss? Will he bring it up? Will I? Will he do it again?
As it turns out, the answer to all of that is no.
He brings dinner in. He asks about my day as we sit on his terrace and eat out of takeout boxes. I ask about his as we sip wine together.
The kiss doesn’t come up even though it’s simmering between us.
