Touch & Go

by Mira Lyn Kelly

  So rather than jump up and demand to know what Maggie was thinking so she could set her straight, Ava flipped the magazine page and then held it up for her friend to see. “I like my bridesmaid dress way better than this one. They’re similar, but that tuck thing? Nonsense.”

  Maggie’s eyes narrowed and Ava wondered if maybe she’d let on to more than she realized. The windows to her place had been closed last night, and she’d been sure Maggie was working late. But even if she’d come home, between the water running, the Kings of Leon blaring, and, well, the rock-solid exterior walls of both their buildings between them, she thought she’d been close enough to quiet.

  “What’s up with you?” Maggie demanded. “You look weird.”

  Ava blinked. Looked around for the closest mirror—there were about seventy-five set up throughout the two main rooms—and then made something of a show of getting distracted by her own reflection.

  “Is it my hair? Is it doing that cowlick thing again, or my face? I didn’t get enough sleep last night, so I was worried I had some puffy-eyed action going on.” True story, thanks to Sam’s shower fantasy, his creative use of the pulse setting on the showerhead, and her selection of the silky white robe that prior to last night had existed mostly as a decoration for the back of her bathroom door because it was so pretty and impractical…but just happened to be the closest thing on hand once the hot water ran out.

  Turns out Sam liked it, and sleep had been in blissfully short supply.

  Chewing her bottom lip, Maggie shook her head. “No. Your hair is fine. It’s actually got a nice gloss to it.”

  Well, there had been a bit of a conditioner surplus in play.

  “And your face isn’t puffy. It’s healthy looking. Like you’ve had some exercise this morning. Wait. Did you go to the gym…without me?”

  Ava’s hands flew up in defense because this had become one of Maggie’s cray-cray hot buttons over the past few weeks. She was worried about the dress fitting, about looking good, even though Ava was about 99 percent sure Tyler wouldn’t care if Maggie showed up at the altar in a burlap sack so long as she showed up. The guy wanted his ring on her finger, and bad.

  “I swear I wouldn’t go without you. We’ve got plans for tomorrow morning, so let’s put the gun down and back away from the desk, okay?”

  Maggie covered her face with her hands and shook her head.

  “I’m sorry,” she croaked. “I know I’m being unreasonable. I just—I just can’t wait until the wedding is behind us. It was so stupid to agree to the whole big ceremony thing.”

  Ava nodded. Maggie had wanted to elope, but Tyler pushed for the whole nine yards, wanting Maggie to have the wedding she’d once dreamed of and was afraid to wait for. He wanted her to see that she wouldn’t lose him, even with an engagement that lasted more than seventy-two hours. But the seven months they’d agreed to had maybe turned out to be a few weeks too long.

  Taking Maggie’s hands in hers, Ava pulled her down to sit, then scooched closer until they were hip to hip. Ava rested her cheek against Maggie’s shoulder.

  “I know you just want to get through this thing fast. But you know once the big day is here, you’re going to love that Tyler gave it to you.”

  Maggie was nodding, her eyes getting suspiciously shiny.

  “I know. It’s going to be beautiful and special and amazing. But until then I’m acting like a total psycho.”

  “It’s going to be all those things. No buts. And if you’re worried about a little emotional unsteadiness, we’ve all been there. We get it. We love you. And a week from now, you’re going to be Mrs. Apartment Three.”

  Maggie sucked an unsteady breath, her watery smile fragile. “I love you.”

  Ava’s heart swelled to bursting. “I love you too.”

  Maggie laughed, then her eyes turned serious. “You know, if I can do this—this whole white dress fantasy—you could do it too. If you really opened yourself up to the possibilities…if you let yourself believe—”

  “Margaret Lawson, we’re ready for you,” the attendant said with a maternal smile from the fitting area.

  Maggie pushed up to her feet, hooking the handle of the bag containing her wedding lingerie over one finger. “You ready?”

  Ava nodded, the smile affixed to her face bright and cheery. Completely fake. “Not quite. Just give me a bit and I’ll meet you back there.”

  She needed a minute. Because with all the fantasies Sam had promised to fulfill, the white dress fantasy, the first and most enduring of them all, was the one she knew without question she couldn’t have.

  —

  “Half-inch or three-quarters on the boards?” Rawley asked, his head bowed over the clipboard where Sam’s newbie apprentice was scribbling a list of materials as Sam passed him on the stairs at the Evergreen job.

  Dwayne answered from ahead, adding a few words of helpful advice to the mix of smack talk and flak that was the usual communication between them.

  With a quiet chuckle, Sam walked through the plastic drapes into the gutted kitchen to check on Larry’s progress. The guy had the base of the new island installed and was taking measurements when he noticed Sam.

  “Hey, man. What’s up?”

  “Electrical in already?” Sam asked, kneeling down to check the work. Larry was a reliable guy and Sam counted on him for a lot. But when the job was done, it was Sam’s name that was going behind it. His reputation. So his guys knew no matter how much he trusted them, he’d be in, checking the work throughout.

  Larry walked him through the progress and then asked a question on an issue that had come up, taking a few notes as Sam offered a solution that would keep them on deadline.

  Sam should have been grinning ear to ear.

  The day was rolling smoothly, the job as complex and challenging as Sam liked. His team of guys were all pulling their weight and getting it done. But as Sam checked the time, rather than letting out his usual groan over how little they had left, today he was groaning at the hours still ahead of them.

  He wanted this day done.

  Or at least the work end of it. The part to come, though—where he got Ava alone? Got her to make those little mewling sounds at his ear as he found new ways to get her wet for him?

  That part he couldn’t wait to get to. That part he wanted to last all night.

  And fuck, thinking about that part was the reason he’d been walking around half stiff all damned day.

  A couple more hours was all he needed to wait. Couple more hours and Ava would be done with work too. She’d be home. And he’d be backing her through her apartment, coaxing her into revealing every last dirty imagining she’d ever conjured.

  Couple more hours.

  He could totally make it.

  —

  Two hours later, Sam was going out of his freaking head. With every hour that passed, his plans for once he got his hands on Ava became more elaborate. More colorful. More urgent. Until finally he completely broke down and let his guys go a full twenty-three minutes early.

  It wouldn’t get Ava home any faster, but after a day of work—well, shit, a gentleman would shower first. So that’s what he was going to do.

  He hauled ass home. Made a lightning-fast detour to the Walgreens on North Milwaukee for a six-pack of Gatorade, a bulk box of Trojans, and a bag of Pepperidge Farm Sausalito cookies because Ava liked snacks almost as much as he liked her mouth.

  And she was going to need to keep her energy up.

  If the night ahead went anything like the night before…once he got his hands on her, there was no telling how long it would be before he gave that hold up. Before he let her kiss him good night and close the door in his face so they could get at least a couple of hours’ sleep in before needing to function the next day.

  In truth, Ava shooing him toward the door at the end of the night had bothered him some. But it was one of those few lines he’d always kept between them as friends.

  No matter how long they’d hung out, wh
ether they were cuddled up on the couch watching a movie until four A.M. or camping in a tent up at Devil’s Lake on the coldest weekend of the summer, he didn’t actually sleep with Ava, ever. It just hadn’t seemed like a good idea. She was snuggly and squirmy, and with all those soft spots rubbing up against him when he wasn’t totally conscious, he’d been afraid he’d do something he shouldn’t.

  Of course considering all the things he’d done lately, that inadvertent grope he’d been so concerned about didn’t really seem like such a big deal. And he’d liked the idea of holding her while she fell asleep,

  So yeah, he’d been after the stay.

  But Ava had just shaken her head at him and told him to sleep tight.

  Maybe it was better. She had a knack for seeing the big picture and he trusted her enough not to push. So he’d gone downstairs and started counting down the hours until he’d have the chance to get at her again.

  Now the waiting was almost at an end. He’d locked up the van and bolted for the shower to get all the plaster grit and sawdust out of his hair, from behind his ears, and from every other place Ava had put her mouth on him the night before. What he didn’t do? Give in to the driving need to take himself in hand and beat out a little relief as he thought about the possibilities ahead. Because tonight was Ava’s turn to pick, and his girl was crazy creative.

  Add to that his recent discovery that she was also a little dirty and a lot enthusiastic—yeah, resisting the lure of the lather had been a monumental accomplishment.

  One he was anticipating being rewarded for in about thirty seconds.

  Taking the steps up two at a time, he glanced at the one last impulse buy he hadn’t been able to resist. The single rose, with its little plastic water capsule at the end. He wasn’t really a flowers guy, but there was just something about being with Ava that let him do all the things he never wanted to risk with the other women he was with.

  He wasn’t in love with Ava, but he loved her.

  And the fact that their friendship was strong enough to allow them to take it to where they had—Jesus, that was incredible.

  So he’d picked out the reddest rose, with the fullest blossom. And now he was standing at her door with his Walgreens haul in hand, feeling kinda like a chump of the highest order. But the one thing he knew he could count on with Ava was that it would make her laugh and smile, and she’d tease him about it but it would be in that way she had where he knew it came from the sweetest place.

  And maybe she’d even like it.

  Maybe she’d let him run the soft petals over all the soft places on her body and—

  The door swung open in front of him. And holy fuck, forget about all those fantasies with Ava offering up one of those come-hither smiles he’d never realized she had in her. Standing in the doorway was Ava’s big brother.

  Chapter 15

  Sam was holding a single red rose, thirty-six rubbers, and enough Gatorade to get two able-bodied adults through a sexathon of Olympic proportions. And even if there’d been a snowball’s chance Ford might buy that all of the above was for some as-yet-to-be-determined other woman Sam planned to hook up with later on, the bag of Ava’s favorite store-bought cookies pretty much shot it straight to hell.

  Ford stared down at him. His brows drawing forward, his expression darkening as he took in Sam’s supplies. “Jesus Christ, you didn’t.”

  He could hear himself at fifteen meeting the eyes of a guy who’d become a brother to him, swearing not to touch the girl he’d never think of as a sister. He could see Ford looking back at him like he wasn’t sure whether to believe that promise, and then finally making the decision to do it, anyway. Grinning and throwing a quick jab at his shoulder to show they were good. And he could feel the weight of that trust, his pride in having it, his commitment not to break it.

  Shit.

  This could be bad.

  Ford leaned back, his body twisting as his right arm cocked. Sam nodded, bracing for the solid punch, because despite Ford’s usual chill demeanor, the guy had it in him. And whatever Sam had coming, he’d take it. No brother should be faced with the kind of electrolyte-burning debauchery his kid sis was getting up to.

  So Sam would apologize for not doing a better job of keeping something that was between him and Ava private, but not for anything else.

  He was good with his promise. He’d kept himself in check when Ava was still in school. He’d protected her as well as Ford, and a few times he didn’t enjoy thinking about, he’d protected her even better.

  But Ava wasn’t a kid anymore.

  And with the memory of those soft brown eyes peering up at him as she whispered how much she needed what they were doing fresh in his head, he wouldn’t feel guilty. And he wouldn’t promise to stop.

  Only the swing he’d thought was already in motion didn’t come. Ford’s hand planted against the door frame as he hollered back into the apartment.

  “It’s a bust. Prophylactic police on the scene. Condoms on the table, so Safety Sam can check your expiration dates. He’s locked and loaded, ready to replenish any questionable supplies. And apparently offering cookies and juice for,” but then he just shrugged, shaking his head with one of those indulgent smiles that reminded Sam a hell of a lot of Mr. Meyers, “fuck if I know, but knock yourself out. I’m running over to my place for Monopoly. Back in a few.”

  Sam nodded, shrugged, and pushed his body through a series of several more casual movements to make up for the fact that he couldn’t force a single word past his seized-up throat.

  Then from the stairs, Ford called back, “What’s with the rose?”

  Stomach souring, Sam coughed up the first thing that came to mind. “Ran into a friend at Walgreens and, uhh, she gave it to me.”

  Another shake of his head. “Man-whore.”

  “You know it.”

  Okay, and the way that flat-out lie landed in his gut, he half wished Ford really had hauled off and socked him.

  Inside the apartment, Sam realized he was going to have to make a few modifications to his evening plans. Ava was sitting cross-legged on the sofa wearing a pair of pink plaid flannel pj bottoms, an enormous sleep shirt, and her flannel bathrobe. With oversized sweat socks.

  And beside her, Maggie had on a matching ensemble.

  Which could only mean one thing.

  The girls were having a sleepover. And even better…it was game night.

  He was so fucked.

  Ava was currently spanking Tyler and Maggie in Scrabble, while Tony was giving her a run for her money. Ford was getting Monopoly. And that hard-on Sam had been sweet-talking with promises of just a little longer all day? Not happening.

  Ava shot him a little sideways glance, nothing telling, nothing provocative, nothing more than the usual hey-you’re-here acknowledgment—which was significantly smoother than the flower-toting, condom-wielding BS he’d managed on arrival.

  Ava looked back to her tiles, let out a whoop as she laid them on the board one after another, and then started bouncing on the sofa.

  “Suck it, Tony!”

  Usually his cousin would be sitting there eagerly watching every bounce, but this time the guy was shaking his head pointing at the board. “Twerk? That’s crap, Ava. It’s not in the dictionary.”

  “Like spuge is? I let you keep that.”

  Sam laughed, heading for the couch, where he cracked open the box of rubbers and, stifling a sigh, started doling them out. Tyler and Maggie waved him off, making him wonder if they’d already started working on the baby he knew they wanted. Man, that would be awesome. They’d make such great parents. But then maybe they just had their own protection covered and Sam was the jackass offering up more.

  Tony took three, then waved his hand all “keep ’em coming” until he was stuffing a strip Sam seriously doubted the guy could go through in the next year in his pocket.

  Ford was next door and, being the responsible sort himself, took care of his own supply. Which left Ava. Who raised a single brow a
t him as he held up a packet.

  “No idea what the expiration date is for that last box you sprung on me.”

  Sam nodded. Knowing that last three-pack, which had still been sealed when he got to it, had died a good death.

  Jumping up from the couch, he headed toward the hall. “I’ll check.”

  —

  In Ava’s bedroom, Sam started stocking rubbers in all the places he could imagine ever needing to get to them in a pinch. The nightstand. The top drawer of her dresser. The top shelf in her closet. The room was rife with potential, the fantasies piling up one atop the other as he took in the space around him. Every workable bit of wall, mirror, headboard, door frame, closet rod, vanity top, corner, and rug. Jesus, he was going to need more condoms.

  Only then he thought of the way Ava looked at him when he walked in. Like she wasn’t burning up inside. Like it was any other night and he was just another one of the guys.

  Maybe he wouldn’t need anything.

  Or maybe he needed to stop being such a wuss, because where the fuck had all this angsty BS come from?

  So his epic sexcapade plans hadn’t panned out. So what? It was one night. Ava was playing it cool because she was cool.

  What did it matter if they had to wait another day? A week. Or hell, if she decided she wasn’t interested in anything more at all.

  Only, something made him think it wouldn’t go that way, that he wouldn’t be left holding some squirming bag of unfulfilled fantasies waiting for their day in the sun.

  His thoughts drifted to the way Ava had been sitting on the couch. How she’d scratched her knee and his attention snagged on the little drawstring holding her pj’s up. A scenario where he undid them with his teeth started unfurling in his mind. He’d slide his hand down the front, working his way inside her panties and making her say his name a few hundred times before he let her come.

  Fuuck, he wanted her. Alone. Tonight. Here. Now.