“Oh, absolutely.”
A beat.
“Are we going to talk about it,” Caitlin added, “or are you going to make me drag it out of you one painful inch at a time?”
Izzy stared straight ahead.
“It was late,” she said. “There was wine. Poor judgment was involved.”
“That’s not a detail.”
“It’s the summary.”
Caitlin leaned closer in the saddle. “Izzy.”
Izzy groaned. “Fine.”
A beat.
“I asked him to unzip me,” she muttered. “In the hallway. And he’s—” she made a vague gesture, “—large. And there was a wall. And it was … unfortunate proximity.”
Caitlin went dead still.
Then—
“Ohhh,” she said slowly.
Izzy shot her a look. “Do not.”
Caitlin’s grin spread. “Did this proximity involve tongues by any chance?”
Izzy closed her eyes briefly. “You’re the worst.”
“That’s a yes,” Caitlin said, delighted.
Izzy blinked at her, a flicker of surprise cutting through the mortification. She’d half expected Caitlin to shut this down immediately on general principle where Grant Scott was concerned. Apparently not.
“It is not a yes,” Izzy said. “It is a ‘this was a terrible idea and will not be repeated’ situation.”
“Mm-hm.”
Izzy shifted in the saddle.
“I’m serious,” she said. “It went from zero to extremely bad decision in about three seconds.”
“And then?” Caitlin pressed.
Izzy hesitated.
Then, quieter?—
“He stopped.”
Caitlin’s expression changed. “He stopped?”
Izzy nodded once. “Yeah.”
“Huh.”
