Page 42 of The Trouble with Flings

My heart stumbles.

“He calls you wild girl?” Mia says from over my shoulder.

“Mia!” I lower my phone.

“That’s hot,” Leni says.

I glower at my sister for starting this.

“What?” Mia laughs. “You left out that little detail when you told me about your fling.”

“Now you’ve got to spill the goods, wild girl,” Leni says. “Does our Fitzy have a dark side?”

“No,” I say as his voice traipses through my mind. Now you’re going to show me just how much you want my cock…Take that pretty dress off, and get on your knees. The part of me that might share those details if he were anyone else rears up, urging me to give kudos where it’s due, because most men are pretty damn boring in the bedroom. “Not dark, exactly. He just knows exactly what he wants, and he’s not apologetic about it.”

“Damn,” Leni says. “Go, Fitz.”

I down my drink in one gulp and feel the heat of their stares burning through me as I put the empty glass on the bar. The second I step back into the fold, they pepper me with questions.

“How often do you guys talk?” Leni asks.

“We don’t, really. He texts sometimes to say he’s thinking of me, and we go back and forth a little bit, but I’m careful not to lead him on.”

“Sounds like he’s not done with you,” Shea says. “I think it’s sweet.”

“No, it’s not. It’s torturous. It can’t lead anywhere, and get this. He sent me a freaking surfboard for Christmas with a note that said it was for when I change my mind and come to the island.”

“What? You didn’t tell me that, either,” Mia says.

“Because it’s ridiculous!” I laugh, remembering how shocked and amused…and touched…I was when it was delivered. “It barely fits in my apartment. I put it on two boxes and use it as a coffee table.”

They laugh.

“The real question is, what did you do on a surfboard?” Leni asks.

“Nothing. He taught me how to surf, and it was fun. We had a great time.” Memories of what we did off the surfboard barge in, and my body flames. I look away, hoping they don’t notice.

Leni bumps me with her elbow and says, “Your expression says otherwise.”

“We weren’t on a surfboard,” I say, then lower my voice. “We were in the waves.”

They howl with laughter, and I laugh, too, because the whole thing is silly. Who sends a woman a surfboard?

The same man who knew I’d laugh when I saw it.

A little while later, after Leni and Shea leave us to mingle, Mia and I get another drink. As we walk away from the bar, a guy materializes at Mia’s side. He’s not half-bad-looking, but he reeks of the kind of arrogance that comes from being told yes too often. He leans close to Mia, saying something that makes her smile politely.

“That’s very sweet,” she says in the same way as when a Southerner says bless your heart.

He doesn’t catch the kind dismissal and grins like he’s won something. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Mia holds up her glass. “I have one, thank you.”

“Then I’ll buy you another after you finish it,” he says.

“You’re very persistent,” I point out.

“I prefer optimistic,” he says, undeterred. “I like a challenge.”