by Sarah Curtis
She grabbed a fistful of the waistband, pulled the elastic from her hair and used it to secure the excess material. Not a great look either but an improvement over the camel toe. Now she just had a big lump showing through the side of her t-shirt.
Nothing left for it, she ran her fingers through her hair to detangle and fluff, then opened the bathroom door.
She didn’t expect to find Colt sitting on his bed waiting for her. “Sorry, had I known you were waiting, I would’ve been faster.”
“I thought we should talk.”
She played dumb. “About what?”
“The kiss.”
“Oh, that.” She waved a hand. “Already forgotten.” She didn’t know why he’d kissed her, but she did know after it happened, he’d regretted it. Pity, because she really wanted to do it again. “Platonic business relationship. That was the deal, and I’m a girl of my word.”
His shoulders slumped, and she couldn’t tell if it was from relief or disappointment. She’d never wished for anything more at that moment than the ability to read minds. Where were her latent mutant powers when she needed them?
“I want to apologize.”
“Please don’t. That was the best kiss I’ve ever had and if you apologize, you’ll ruin it.”
A smirk tugged at his lips. “Best kiss?”
Kriff! When would she learn to keep her mouth shut? “You know, upon reflection, I’m gonna downgrade it to second best.”
He raised a brow. “Dethroned already? Who usurped me?”
“Billy Weinstein, seventh grade. Our braces got locked and we were stuck like that for five minutes. Best kiss I ever had.” She folded her arms over her chest for emphasis.
He raised his other brow. “Well, I can see how that would be hard to top.”
She ignored both his sarcasm and his sexy eyebrows. “See? No harm, no foul. We’ll just forget it ever happened.”
As if that was good enough, he nodded, stood, and walked to her side. “Are you hungry? I thought I’d make lunch before you get started again.”
“You cook?”
“Well, I’m not Gordon Ramsay, but I know enough not to starve.”
“A ringing endorsement.”
He chuckled. “I’ve got cold cuts from the deli. I can manage slapping meat between two pieces of bread.” They both laughed. “Maybe I should rephrase that.”
“I seem to be rubbing off on you. Not sure that’s necessarily a good thing.”
“I can think of worse.”
And cue the heart-eyes.
The man was one big walking contradiction.
It was enough to drive any socially inept girl insane.
Chapter Six
Colt
“How’s it going?”
“Good. I’ve almost got the website finished.” Ivy sat up from the computer, stretching her arms over her head.
The move pushed her tits out. Colt quickly darted his eyes to her face. And they promptly landed on her lips. He’d spent the last few hours reminiscing and kicking himself in equal turns for kissing her earlier and didn’t need the reminder.
He shouldn’t have kissed her.
It did bother him Ivy seemed to dismiss their kiss so easily. Okay, bother was putting it mildly. Irritated was a better word. Especially getting shown up by a thirteen-year-old named Billy Weinstein. His ego wasn’t huge, and she’d managed to crush it.
Or had that been a cover? His ego liked to think it was. Was she still thinking about it like he was? Looking at her now, he would say, an unequivocal no. She looked tired, not dreamy-eyed. Even in the fading light, he could see her eyes were red.
“You’ve done enough for one day.”
She nodded and covered a yawn. “Agreed. I can come back tomorrow and finish if you don’t have plans.”
“No. I’m free.”
“Great. Let me just get my stuff, and I’ll get out of your hair.”
“You don’t need to leave.” He hoped that didn’t sound as desperate as it felt. Why did he feel panic at the thought of her going? Oh, yeah, because of those feelings he was pretending he didn’t have. “I mean, you haven’t eaten since lunch. The least I can do is take you to dinner.”
She glanced down at herself. “I’m not exactly dressed to go out.”
“I washed your jeans. They came out of the dryer about an hour ago.”
“Oh. Well, thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” Her cheeks grew red. “You didn’t, um, notice anything unusual?”
“Unusual?”
“Yeah, you know, like—”
“Like your panties stuffed in the pocket?”
“Yeah, that.”
“Nope. Because to acknowledge that would be to acknowledge you’re going commando under my sweats.”
“And we don’t want to do that,” she deadpanned.
“No, we don’t.” He was equally as serious.
“Right! Well,” she stood, “I guess I’ll go change and let you take me to dinner.” She quickly skirted around him, ran out the door, and stopped. “Um…”
“Upstairs in my bedroom.”
“Right.”
He watched her run up the stairs. He took a seat on the couch and was still flipping channels, trying to find something to watch when she came back down.
“Let me just grab my bag.” She darted into the office.
“What do you feel like eating?” he asked when she returned.
She shrugged. “I’m not picky.”
“Chinese? I know of a great place on Burnside and 8th.”
“Sounds good.” She made a beeline for the front door.
“The garage is this way.”
“My car’s out front.”
Shit. He forgot she drove there. “We’ll meet at your place, then go out from there.”
“That’s a waste of time and out of your way. I’ll just meet you.”
“I’d like to be able to take you home.”
Her head tilted. “This isn’t a date.”
His teeth ground. “Humor me.”
She stared at him a beat, trying to dissect his reasonings. He could tell her he wanted to watch her walk into her house to know she was locked in and safe for the night. But she’d want to know why, and that he didn’t have an answer for.
She shrugged. “Fine, but we’ll go somewhere closer to my house. We have some great Chinese restaurants in my neighborhood.”
He agreed with a nod and grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter.
“See you in ten.”
He stared at the closed door after she left. His place felt quiet and surprisingly empty now that she was gone. He shook off the weird feeling, locked the front door, and made his way to his car.
“This place has the best potstickers in all of Portland,” Ivy said as Colt held the door to the Chinese restaurant open for her.
“You’ve eaten in every Chinese restaurant in Portland?”
She looked a little sheepish. “Well, no. But they are good here, and they even have a plaque to back it up.” She pointed to a wall near the hostess stand.
“Ah. Sorry I doubted you.”
“Legend has it, potstickers were invented by a chef in the Imperial Court.” She stopped a moment to think. “I can’t remember the date, but a really long time ago. Anyway, he accidentally burned a batch of dumplings, leaving them on the stove so long the water evaporated. He didn’t have time to make a new batch, so he served them burnt side up and called them a new creation.”
“And people loved them,” Colt guessed.
“Well, I wasn’t there,” she rolled her eyes, making him smile, “But they’re still around today, so I’d say, yes.”
The hostess walked up to the podium. “Two for dinner?” She grabbed a couple menus.
“Yes. Corner booth if you have one.”
“Of course. Right this way.”
Colt ignored the few stares he got as he passed by tables and waited for Ivy to slide into their booth before following her in. He took
the menu the waitress handed him.
“Your server will be with you shortly.”
“Thank you,” Ivy said, flipping open her menu. “Do you want to share a few entrees or get your own? Personally, I like to share so there’s more of a variety.”
“I don’t mind sharing. What do you like?”
“Anything. As long as it isn’t spicy. I’m a lightweight when it comes to hot stuff.”
He nodded. “No spice. Got it.”
“Oh, and nothing chewy, like oysters or squid. I don’t like swallowing food whole.”
Colt scanned the menu. “So, no spice and must chew up.”
“Oh. And no eggplant.”
Colt looked up in time to see the look of disgust on her face. “No eggplant, check. Anything else?”
“Nope, I told you I’m not picky.”
“Right.” He looked back down at his menu to hide a smile.
“Do you like chicken and mushroom?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“What about beef and broccoli?”
He nodded.
“Perfect. And, of course, we need to get an order of potstickers, egg rolls, and chow mein.”
“Of course.”
“Great. We’re all set then.”
Colt closed his menu and set it aside just as their waiter arrived. He rattled off their order, only pausing to ask what Ivy wanted to drink.
“So, there’s something I’ve been dying to know,” Ivy said when the waiter left after delivering their drinks. “What does the P in your name stand for?”
He grinned, shaking his head. “Nope.”
“Nope? What does that mean?”
“It means, I’m not going to tell you.”
“Peter?”
He shook his head.
“Parker?”
He shook his head again.
“So, you’re not Spiderman?”
He held his palms out. “No webs.”
She looked disappointed. “Paul?”
“You can guess all night, but you’ll never get it. And even if by some chance you did get it right, I wouldn’t tell you.”
Her lips turned down, the bottom one sticking out just a bit. It was cute as hell. “Fine. But I’m not giving up.”
“I’d be disappointed if you did.” And he would. Her tenacity was one of the things he liked about her.
“If you won’t tell me your first name, you owe me a childhood story.”
“What do you want to know?”
She shrugged. “Anything you want to share.”
He tried to think of something interesting and came up empty. “I had a pretty normal childhood. Mom, dad, sister—”
“Older or younger?”
“Older by four years.” He shrugged. “Not much else to tell.”
“Have you always loved football?”
“Yes. So did my dad. During my teens, it was the one thing we agreed on.”
She frowned. “I can’t picture you as a troubled teen.”
“I wasn’t. But what teenager gets along with their parents?”
“Touché.”
“What about you? What was little Ivy like?”
“Not normal.” She laughed.
“So, no Barbies or dance classes?”
“Oh, I had Barbies.” She frowned. “I don’t think any survived without me chopping off their hair though. And I tried ballet when I was seven. Mom dubbed me rubber band legs.” She threw up a hand when Colt opened his mouth. “Don’t ask. Tap didn’t go much better.” She played with the tine of her fork that lay on the table. “I liked to read. Anything and everything.” She looked up at him with a smile. “Still do.”
Her eyes turned dreamy, and he wondered what she was thinking. He didn’t get a chance to ask. Their waiter arrived with the food. The aroma of garlic, soy, and ginger permeated from the dishes, making his stomach rumble.
“Can I get you anything else?” the waiter asked after setting down the last plate.
“I think we’re good.”
He looked at Ivy and she agreed. “Thank you. It smells delicious.”
They piled their plates and started eating.
A few bites into the meal, Colt stuck a forkful of noodles and veggies into his mouth.
“I think we should have sex.”
And promptly choked on a snow pea.
“Are you okay?” She slid closer and started pounding on his back.
Coughing, Colt reached for his water and swallowed everything down. Gaining his breath, he waved Ivy off. “What?”
Scooting back to her plate, she picked up her fork and speared a piece of broccoli. “I think we should have sex.” She bit off the floret then added the stem to the pile of other discarded stems that already filled the side of her plate.
He watched her chew, completely speechless.
She swallowed. “What do you think?”
He opened his mouth and willed words to come out. “You’re telling me this now, in a Chinese restaurant?”
She shrugged, forking up another bite. “I just decided.”
He watched her chew, still not knowing what to say. She’d thrown him for a loop.
Setting her fork down, she turned on the bench seat toward him, hiking up a leg to get comfortable. “I’ve been thinking about the kiss.”
He gave himself a mental high-five. She had been thinking about it.
“I know you said you wanted a platonic association, but, and hear me out before you say anything.”
No problems there. He was still trying to find words.
“You say the reason for that is because you want to keep your focus on football and relationships can get… complicated. I think we both can agree we’re attracted to each other—that kiss alone proved it. And that, in and of itself, can be a distraction. If it’s just sex, we can scratch that itch without the messy feelings that go along with a traditional relationship.”
Their kiss was distracting. The proof being the fact that it’s been all he’s thought about since it happened.
“There would need to be rules.” Was he actually contemplating no-strings sex with Ivy? Hell yeah, he was.
“I agree. There needs to be boundaries.”
“No. Well, yes, that too, but I was thinking more in line with exclusiveness. Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t like sharing. I want to make it clear that while we’re having sex, neither of us has sex with anyone else.”
“No need to worry about that.” She waved a hand. “I’m not having sex with anyone else at the moment.”
His jaw locked. How could he love her honesty yet hate it at the same time?
“Okay, so rule number one is we’re exclusive friends with benefits.” She took a sip of her water and set the glass back down on the table.
“And rule number two is we don’t call it that.”
“Fuck buddies?”
“No.”
“It really needs a name.”
“No. It doesn’t.”
“Oh, I get it. If we don’t label it, it’s not a thing.” She nodded, smiling as if she discovered the meaning of life.
That’s not what he meant, but he didn’t bother to correct her. His ego had taken enough of a beating for one day. Any more of her nonchalant attitude might do him in.
He moved on. “Rule number three—”
“I think it would technically be rule number two as your rule number two wasn’t technically a rule.”
He bowed his head. God save him, why did he find her so amusing? He cleared his expression and looked back up. “Fine. Rule number two. We have a conversation when we’re ready to end things. I don’t want any misunderstandings or hurt feelings.”
She bobbed her head. “It lasts until we both agree it’s over. Got it. And no hard feelings.”
His teeth ground together again. Why did he find her ease with the situation so annoying? “You’re okay with all of this?”
She sat back, looking at him a moment before she answered. “You asked
me earlier why now and I answered because I finally decided. I don’t take my decisions lightly, but once made, I’m always one hundred percent sure. I carefully weighed my options. I enjoyed our kiss, a lot, and I think I’d enjoy sex with you, too. I decided I want that. You made it clear you don’t want a relationship,” she shrugged, “I’m trying to get my business off the ground and not looking for one either. So, I think we can agree, non-relationship sex—for lack of a label per your non-rule number two—works for both of us.”
He studied her features. She was sincere. Not that he should doubt her. Ivy was nothing if not honest. “Rule number three,” he said slowly, finally coming to his own decision and firmly committing to Ivy’s crazy plan. “We have the right to add rules any time we see fit.”
“Is that all?” She pushed her plate out of the way to scoot closer to him.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Then how about a kiss to seal the deal?”
He didn’t lean in. Instead, he slid from the booth, tossed some cash on the table, and held out his hand. “I have a different idea.”
Ivy
Colt sped them through the streets of Portland faster than Ivy thought possible during rush hour on a Saturday night.
“Is my driving making you nervous?”
They’d just stopped at a red light, and Ivy looked over to find Colt staring at her. “No.”
“Because you’re gripping that handle so hard, I’m afraid you might tear it off.”
She looked down at her hand, her grip so tight, her fingers were white. She let go and shoved both her hands between her thighs. “Sorry.”
“Are you having second thoughts?”
“No.”
He kept staring at her. “Something’s wrong.”
She lost his eyes when the light turned green, and she took a deep breath. In for a penny, in for a pound. “It’s more concern.”
His eyes flashed to hers for a second before landing back on the road. “Concern over what?”
“It’s just… I’m more talk than action. I know you might find this hard to believe at the ripe old age of twenty-six, but I haven’t had a lot of varied sexual experience, and I’m worried how I’m going to stack up.”