by Kendall Ryan
I pull up the pizzeria’s menu on my phone and start scrolling. My mouth waters just reading the topping options. Moving’s harder work than you realize, even if you pay a couple of burly men to do most of the heavy lifting for you.
“You wouldn’t happen to have any white wine in that fridge, would you?” Maren asks, prodding Scarlett’s side and wiggling her eyebrows. Clearly, their small moving-related fight is over.
“Mmm, no, but I can have Caleb stop and pick some up on his way over.”
Maren and I exchange a look.
“Caleb’s coming over?” I arch a suggestive brow.
Scarlett shrugs innocently, holding her phone tightly to her chest. “He’s a good friend of mine, actually. We’ve known each other since college.”
Interesting. I’d assumed Scarlet first made friends with the girls in the group. I didn’t realize Caleb was one of her oldest friends.
Maren gives her an appraising look, perching on the edge of the couch. “You guys have been hanging out a lot,” she says delicately. “Anything going on there?”
“With Caleb?” Scarlett’s eyebrows jump. “God, no. Can you imagine?”
A mischievous grin spreads across Maren’s face. Apparently, she can imagine. But not knowing Caleb’s personality well, I have no idea what exactly she’s imagining.
In the few interactions we’ve had, he seems funny and chill. But now I’m wondering if he has a revolving bedroom door of a past like Connor apparently did.
“I invited a few people over to see the new place,” Scarlett says, waving one hand.
My stomach leaps. To Scarlett, “a few people” probably means the majority of her friend group. The majority of her friend group means the men of Frisky Business, and the men of Frisky Business means Connor, who I haven’t seen or spoken to since he kissed me on his birthday.
Yeah, let’s just say that’s one detail I’ve left out of this girls’ evening so far. Not that I think Maren and Scarlett would disapprove. Quite the opposite.
I just don’t think I’m ready to spill the tea with them about Connor yet. Especially not when I still haven’t found a solution to the whole “I’m leaving you and your baby girl in a few months” situation. Nope, I’ve made my bed. Now I’ve just got to lie in it. Even if that means lying in it alone.
“Okay, so . . . pizza toppings?” I say with a smile.
“Get the roasted garlic, four cheese and truffle oil, and two of the Turkish lamb pizzas,” Scarlett says. “I’ll pay you back.”
“Lamb pizza?” I ask.
Scarlett lobs a serious look my way. “Believe me, it’s the best thing you will ever put in your mouth.”
“True story,” Maren says with a nod.
I place the order on my phone and select delivery, because who in the heck wants to go out right now?
“Pizza has been ordered,” I say.
“Thanks, girl,” Scarlett says a second before her phone buzzes, and she lets out an excited squeal.
“Hellooo?” she answers, her voice an excited singsong. Her face falls slightly. “Oh. Sure, I’ll let you up.”
Maren and I give her the same curious look. “It’s Connor,” Scarlett mouths with a halfhearted shrug.
I can feel Maren watching my face for a reaction, but I’m too busy wondering if Scarlett’s excited reaction was because she thought it would be Caleb.
Scarlett disappears down the hallway, her footsteps fading before the distant sound of a door slamming alerts us that she found him successfully. Their footsteps approach quickly, and my heartbeat races to catch up with them. When Scarlett bursts through the door, she has her hostess face on, all bright smiles and warm sashays.
“Our first guest has arrived,” she sings again, waving for Connor to enter.
Speak of the devil, and apparently he will appear with a bottle of rosé. How thoughtful.
Connor steps through the doorway looking as gorgeous as ever, his dark hair pushed back off his forehead, a gray T-shirt revealing the subtle outline of his muscles. His green eyes find mine within seconds, and a shock wave of heat passes through my core.
Down, girl.
Yes, he’s attractive and fit, and did I mention before how long it’s been since I’ve gotten any? But none of these thoughts are the least bit helpful right now. I’m only here for a short time, and I’m certainly not going to get wrapped up in anyone before I leave the country. And least of all my new boss.
“Wow, nice place, Scar,” he says, surveying the kitchen briefly before his gaze lands on Maren, and then me. “Hey, Maren. Hi, Jessa.”
I smile weakly at him and wave.
Oh my God. Did I just wave at him? Sweet Jesus, kill me now.
I’m never normally this awk-weird, but ever since we woke up tangled together in that hotel bed, I’m majorly off my game. And now add making out to the mix, I’m acting like a thirteen-year-old crushing on the most popular boy in school.
Yep. Kill me now.
Scarlett whisks Connor away to give him the grand tour of her new place, which will probably take all of two minutes. While they’re gone, I turn to Maren, who’s still eyeing me with playful suspicion.
“I’m thinking it’s definitely time for a drink,” I say quickly. “Are you with me?”
She nods and takes my hand, leading me into the kitchen. “So, you wanna talk about it?”
Maren’s been the sweet one from the beginning, someone I know I can talk to about these things. She knows better than anyone what it’s like to have complicated feelings for someone. Maybe it would be a good idea for me to open up to her. To talk to someone about the craziness swirling around in my head. Girl talk would do me a world of good.
“Well, I guess it’s just—”
But before I can finish, the front door to the apartment bangs open, followed by a chorus of hoots and hollers. My eyes grow wide and I stare at Maren, shock and worry all over my face, but she just smiles and rolls her eyes.
“The boys must be here. They can get a little . . . rowdy when they’re all together. It’ll pass after the first, like, twenty minutes, though,” she says, clearly noticing that the worry on my face didn’t fade away. It sounds like a freaking rugby game is being played in Scarlett’s front hallway.
Drinks in hand, we walk back out into the living room to find that the rest of the “get-together” has arrived. And now that everyone is all in one place, we might as well call this what it is—a housewarming party. Scarlett’s having a party, a small impromptu one, sure, but a party nonetheless. Meanwhile, it’s taking all my self-control not to melt in Connor’s presence, even with the rest of the crew here.
Maren is quick to close the distance between herself and Hayes, and he lifts her into his arms and plants a sweet kiss on her mouth.
One day, I hope to be so in love that I can make out in front of a room full of people without caring that everyone else can see. It would be sweet if it didn’t happen every time they see each other. I can only imagine what their reunions are like when it’s just the two of them. That’s love for you, I guess.
Connor makes his way across the room to me, and my pulse quickens with every step closer he takes. “Hey,” he says when he reaches my side.
His wrist almost brushes mine, we’re standing so close. I have to keep myself from trembling.
“Hey,” I say back.
He looks at me apologetically. “I didn’t really say hi to you before.”
“That’s okay,” I say with a smile and a shrug. “It’s good to see you. How’s Marley?”
I’ve never sounded so stiff, so polite around him before. But I’m not exactly sure where we stand after the last time we saw each other. Besides, we’re with his friends now, and they’re quickly becoming my friends too. So, whatever’s happening between Connor and me can take a back seat to hanging out with the crew.
“With her mom,” he says. “Marley misses you, I think.”
I freeze. Or maybe whatever’s happening between Connor and me w
ill be the only thing I think about all night.
Is he actually talking about his baby, who barely recognizes human faces yet? Or is this some kind of code for the fact that he misses me? But that can’t be right, can it?
Does Connor miss me? Is he trying to tell me something?
Feeling his gaze on me, I take a sip of my wine, grateful for the cool bite of the liquid going down my throat.
Penelope appears from the kitchen, a sullen-looking Wolfie in tow. “Connor,” she says quickly, rushing toward us. “How’s my niece? Please tell me you have pictures.”
Connor nods. “What kind of dad would I be if I didn’t? Hey, Wolf, did you grab one of the IPAs from the fridge?”
Wolfie grunts and jerks his chin. Apparently, that means yes, because Connor and Penelope turn back to Connor’s phone, leaving me to smile awkwardly at Wolfie. He’s so big . . . and so quiet, sort of like a big teddy bear. I’m really not sure what to make of him.
“So,” I say, clasping my hands in front of my waist. “How’s life?”
Wolfie grimaces slightly.
I’ve been told he hates small talk more than the rest of the guys, but I can’t help it. What am I supposed to do, stand here in awkward silence and wait for Connor and Penelope to be done gushing about the baby? I’m not about to interrupt their sibling time. I’m trying to make a good impression here, after all.
“It’s good,” Wolfie says and takes a long pull from his beer bottle.
Thankfully, Connor and Penelope resurface from the phone quickly, and the three of us start chatting easily.
Penelope and Wolfie are quite the odd couple, that’s for sure, but it’s hard not to be taken with Penelope’s kindness. She’s just one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. It’s easy to see how she and Connor are related, especially with the two of them standing right next to each other. They have the same bone structure, the same easy smiles. And Penelope’s sharp, like her brother. She may be young, but that doesn’t mean she’s one to underestimate.
“Please tell me my brother’s not taking advantage of you,” she says with a playful arch to her brow.
“I . . . what?” I look between Penelope and Connor. Did he say something to her? Are they really that close of siblings? But Connor looks as panic stricken as I feel.
“I’m kidding.” She punches Connor in the arm, and my face relaxes into a smile.
I chuckle without really even meaning to, and he and I share a passing glance that communicates everything we were both thinking in an instant—thank fucking God.
“No, he’s a good boss, and a good dad.” I glance at him again and a small smile curls my lips. “Even if he can be a little overly stressed sometimes. Did he tell you about last week when he thought Marley had scarlet fever?”
“Oh, Con, no,” Penelope says, giving her brother a sympathetic look.
“It’s still a thing, you know,” Connor says, protesting weakly.
Penelope and I give him reassuring looks.
“Marley’s lucky to have you,” I say, and without thinking about it, I place my hand on his arm. After a second, I pull away, but my hand feels electric just from touching him.
Connor holds my gaze a second longer than necessary, and when I look away, I catch Penelope studying us. She gives me a curious smile, and I pull my lips into the blandest, most innocent smile I can manage. The last thing I need right now is Connor’s sister getting any ideas about what’s happening between us.
What is happening between us?
Nothing, I quickly decide. It was one hot kiss. And some lingering chemistry, but how wouldn’t there be? Connor’s young, fit, and attractive. That’s all. It’s nothing I can’t handle.
Wolfie loops an arm around Penelope’s waist. “Give us the grand tour, Scar.”
Scarlett grins and leads the way, pointing out features of her new place—like the cozy dining nook, and the built-in shelves in the hallway—until we end up in the guest bedroom. “Look, plenty of room for you idiots to stay over and crash if someone has too much to drink.”
“I call dibs on the guest room,” Caleb says, flopping his big body onto the queen mattress.
Wolfie raises one eyebrow. “Well, this room is claimed.”
“What about me?” Connor grumbles. “Do you have a pullout for me?”
“We all know you don’t pull out,” Caleb says with a playful look, and everyone dissolves into laughter.
“Ha-ha, fuckers,” Connor mutters, frowning, and I suppress a laugh.
As the tour winds down, we end up back in Scarlett’s living room. Hayes and Maren squeeze onto the same armchair, Penelope and Wolfie sit closely on the couch with Scarlett nearby, and Caleb takes a seat near Scarlett’s feet, leaving Connor and me to fight it out for the last armchair.
“Oh, do you want to sit here?” I gesture to the chair. I can feel Penelope and Maren watching us, even as the rest of the group laughs and continues talking loudly over us.
Connor nods for me to sit. “No, go for it.”
“No, really, you should take it,” I say, insisting.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Scarlett throws her hands in the air. “One of you grab one of the stools from the kitchen and sit down already.”
A blush burns my cheeks.
Connor runs a hand over the back of his neck and walks to the kitchen in a few short strides. He returns with one of Scarlett’s tall silver bar stools with sleek black seats. He sets it down next to the big chair and takes a seat, and I curl up in the plush armchair.
Wolfie watches our entire interaction with interest.
Is it just me, or is Wolfie weirdly perceptive sometimes?
The doorbell rings and the pizza arrives. Scarlett sets the boxes on the table between us, and we descend on the food like hungry vultures. Clearly, everyone worked hard today, whether that work included selling vibrators and dildos to very horny people, or moving Scarlett’s life two neighborhoods over.
The conversation shifts from teasing Connor to Maren’s work to whether or not it’s acceptable to dip pizza in ranch dressing. Another two hours pass, eating and drinking and talking with my new friends, and before I even know it, it’s almost midnight.
Just a few weeks ago, I moved to a temporary new place, expecting to detach from my life in Chicago and start a new one thousands of miles away. But lately, it’s getting harder and harder to remember why I decided to go to Central America in the first place.
I like my life here, even if it’s not a normal nine-to-five job. I have friends and a place to live, and . . . well, there’s Connor. I feel like I fit here, more than I realized. Maybe more than I have any place before.
And I don’t know if I’m ready to give that all up just yet.
9
* * *
CONNOR
Turns out, all it takes for me to act on a very, very bad idea is a little peer pressure.
Well, more like nonstop pressure from my peers—in person during work, over text after work, and all throughout the weekend. The onslaught can be summarized in one simple question: When are you gonna ask Jessa out?
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about our kiss. If this were one of the movies Penelope likes to watch, that one kiss would have had life-changing effects on the protagonists.
But this isn’t a movie.
This is real life, and to be honest, it shocked me how perfect Jessa’s mouth felt on mine and the soft noises she made when I deepened our kiss. I can’t explain the rush of emotions that left me breathless and wanting more. The truth is, I’m lonely, and for a lot more than just sex.
And as crazy as it sounds, I think my friends are right. The only way I’m going to survive this overwhelming attraction to the nanny is to finally take her out on a date. Maybe it’s just the taboo aspect of it all that has me sex-crazy for her. Maybe we’ll have zero chemistry, and we can file this one away under awkward mistakes and move the fuck on with our lives.
Or maybe this is my best shot at something real
.
“Hellooo, Earth to Connor . . .”
Jessa’s musical voice snaps me back to the present, where we’re sorting and labeling frozen baggies of Beth’s breast milk on the kitchen counter. She gave me a whole cooler’s worth when I dropped off Marley last night for the weekend. Not exactly the most romantic of circumstances to ask someone out on a first date, but I’ll take what I can get.
“Sorry, what were you saying?”
“Nothing,” Jessa says with a laugh. “You were in the middle of telling a story about Hayes and Wolfie and how they grew up together?”
My heart swells a little at the familiarity with which she talks about my best friends. She was amazing with everyone the other night, totally natural and in sync with their joke slinging and name calling. Honestly, that may have been what cinched the deal for me on this whole date idea.
“Shit.” I chuckle, setting another bag into the freezer. “My bad. My mind’s wandering.”
“You need a break,” Jessa says solemnly.
“I was thinking the same thing. We both need a break,” I say, proud of myself for this smooth-as-hell transition. “Actually, I was thinking about going on a date.”
“Oh, okay. Yep, you should.” Her gaze flits to mine for a second before locking back onto the measuring cups. “I’m good to watch Marley whenever.”
Wait. What? Jessa thinks I meant a date with someone else.
Fuck. That’s my bad for being vague.
“No, I mean . . .” I reach for her hand, instantly regretting the electricity-inducing contact and craving it in equal measure. “You and me. Would you like to go on a date . . . with me?”
Jessa is shocked speechless. With each second that passes as I wait for her response, I’m closer to throwing myself through the nearest window.
Is this wildly inappropriate? Have I just lost my nanny?
Finally, she blinks, and her lips purse into a secretive little smile. She tugs at my hand playfully. “You mean us? Like going on a date-date?”
“Yeah. A date-date. If you’re up for it.”
“Well, duh,” she blurts.