by Laura Lee
“Nathan!” Devyn scolds. “You’re not supposed to ask for presents. Remember, buddy?”
“I sorry, Mommy,” he says.
I ruffle his blonde hair. “You know what, big boy? I did bring you a present. But you’re going to have to wait until everyone finishes their cake and it’s time to open them. Do you think you can do that for me?”
“Okay,” Nate agrees with a pout.
“Damn! Shit! FUCK!” Drew shouts.
“DREW!” Devyn cries.
“Fwuck!” Nathan repeats with a giggle.
She breaks out her mom voice and points to the kitchen. “Four bucks in the jar. RIGHT NOW!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Drew mutters. “Can’t a guy stub his fucking toe around here without being taxed?”
Devyn glares at her brother. “Five bucks!”
After Devyn ensures that Drew has paid his dues, she walks over to me and pulls me into a hug. “Lorraine, you’re a lifesaver. Thank you so much for stopping by the bakery on the way over. When Jackson called saying he couldn’t do it, I was scrambling. I wouldn’t have had time before the party started.”
“You know I always have your back, Dev. Is everything okay with him?”
Jackson is the man that Devyn’s been seeing for quite a while now. He’s a bit on the boring side if you ask me, but he treats her well, so I let it slide. It was good to see her finally moving on from Nathan’s father.
“Yeah, he’ll be fine. Some emergency at work. He was really bummed he couldn’t be at Nate’s party, but I guess these things happen during tax season.”
Did I mention Jackson’s an accountant? Bor-ing.
“Hey, speaking of work...you know I’d hate to cut out before the party’s over but they’re at capacity with laboring ladies and my boss asked if I could come in early.”
“Oh, of course,” she says. “Do what you have to do.”
I pull her into a quick hug before making my exit. “Take care of that birthday boy, Mama. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay, Lorraine. Thanks again.”
Brody catches my eye as I open the door. “Have a good night at work, princess. We’ll continue our discussion later.”
I narrow my eyes. “Whatever.”
His boisterous laughter carries out into the hall as I make my way to the elevator. See what I mean? Infuriating.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Present Day
BRODY
I’m sitting in my office where I’m supposed to be reviewing the latest schematics on a new jet we’re launching. I was lucky enough to get hired on at one of the largest airplane manufacturers in the world almost immediately after receiving my master’s degree. Commercial, military, and corporate jets are our specialty, but you’ll find me in the freighter department. With the increasing demand from online retailers with lightning fast delivery windows, the forecast for cargo fleet demand has skyrocketed. I’d like to think that my irresistible charm and brains got me the job so fast after graduation but it’s more of a supply and demand thing. I’m one of the lower men on the totem pole around here but I’m doing what I’ve always dreamed of for a living, so I can’t complain.
Instead of reviewing the specs for the new cargo handling system, I find myself scrolling through my spank bank, filled with fantasies of my favorite ginger. I groan as I adjust myself through my slacks. I can’t believe that after all these years, that woman still makes me hard as a rock with a simple thought.
You’re probably thinking it’s the thrill of the chase, but I’d beg to differ. You’d have to be actually chasing for that to happen, and I haven’t done that in years. Yes, I hit on her regularly, but I’m never really serious about it—I do it because she makes it so much fun. If you had to put a name to my current position, I suppose you could say I’m biding my time. I’ve never been known for my patience, but it’s different with Rainey.
After she found out about Dr. Dickface’s duplicity last year, she’s closed herself off from the possibility of forming another relationship. I know that won’t last forever, but I also know that she needs to come to that conclusion on her own. In the meantime, I just go with the flow—I work, I play, and yes, I still date. Unlike Rainey, I’m not closing myself off to being serious with someone—as my mother likes to remind me, I’m not getting any younger—but no other woman has been able to hold my interest like she has. Trust me, I’ve tried finding one that does.
My cell phone rings, interrupting my musings. I smile when I see my buddy Riley’s name on the caller ID.
I press the answer button. “Well, this is a nice surprise, Sugartits.”
He laughs. “Hey, man. How are things on the West Coast?”
“Oh, you know, brother, living the dream. How are the Southern Belles treating you?”
I haven’t seen Riley since grad school, but we talk fairly often. As much as adulting will allow anyway. He’s actually one of my closest friends, right up there with Drew. After graduation, Riley moved to Savannah to design private jets while I opted to come back home to Seattle and work in commercial.
He ignores my question and gets straight to the point. “I need a favor, dude.”
“What’s up?”
“I’m moving to Seattle.”
This causes me to sit up straight in my chair. “Yeah? You’re coming over to the dark side of commercial aviation, huh?”
He laughs. “Something like that. I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure, but I just accepted a position with the business jet department.”
“Ah, blending private aircraft luxury with commercial.”
“Exactly.”
“So, what’s the favor?”
“I’ll need a place to stay,” he replies. “They want me to start next week so I’ve been scrambling to get everything together. They’re putting me up in corporate housing until I can find something more permanent, but the apartment won’t be ready until a few days after my arrival.”
“Look out, women of Seattle. Riley-fucking-McIntyre is coming to town.”
“I’d hate to break this to you, but you’re going to have to find a new wingman. I’m over the whole pointless dating scene.”
“What does that even mean?”
He sighs. “I’m done pretending she doesn’t exist, man.”
“The M.P.?” I ask.
I’m pretty sure he’s nodding right now because it takes him a few beats before he actually answers me with words.
“Yeah, the M.P.”
Well, shit.
I used to think the magic pussy was an urban legend—no pussy is so good you can’t forget it—but nowadays, I’m willing to admit that it might have some merit. I haven’t even had the pleasure of tunneling through Rainey’s love channel, yet she infiltrates my thoughts on a regular basis. If I’m this bad now, I’ll probably be a fucking psycho once we actually do the deed.
Yeah, that was intentionally assumptive. We all know it’s only a matter of time before she caves.
“Have you talked to her?” I ask.
Riley banged his best friend one night during his undergrad years, completely obliterating the friendship line that stood between them. He claims that she ruined him for all other women, but he was an idiot and lost all contact with her. I watched him date one hot blonde after another trying to get over the clichéd one that got away. I tried convincing him to call her once, but he was a stubborn ass—swearing that it was for the best. At the time, I was too concerned with finding my own pussy to push any further. Rye was a fantastic fucking wingman and I benefited greatly from that.
Don’t judge me; I was a twenty-two-year-old college student. You’re allowed to be stupidly obsessed with getting laid. It’s, like, a rule or something.
“No,” he replies. “I figured I’d settle in first, so she knows I’m serious about sticking around before I reach out to her.”
“Well, mi casa es su casa, buddy. Just give me a call when you get to town.”
“Thanks, Brody. I owe
you.”
I smile when I end the call. Drew, Riley, and I in the same town is going to be way too much fun.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
BRODY
“So, Devyn...I guess we have something in common.”
She gets the cutest little crinkle between her eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”
“Riley. We were both friends with him in college. He’s a great guy, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, super great,” she mutters.
Okay, you’re probably wondering what’s going on, right? Well, it turns out Drew’s little sister went to the University of Oregon with my buddy, Riley. Better yet, I have a sneaking suspicion that she’s the goddamn magic pussy. I was there when they ran into each other for the first time after he moved to Seattle, and let me tell you, it was about as awkward as it could possibly be. Riley claims he never slept with her, but I’m not a fucking idiot. You could cut the sexual tension between those two with a silicone dildo. Since Riley’s not giving up the information, I’m working this angle.
I smirk. “You don’t think so? It seemed to me that you two know each other really well. I don’t know anyone that doesn’t love that fucker to death.”
She takes a bite of her salad and chews it completely before replying. “Yeah, he’s probably a little too charming.”
Ah, there it is. The scowl on her face when she said that was barely noticeable, but it was there. If I hadn’t known her for so long, I wouldn’t have seen it. They definitely have a history.
“Why do you say that?”
Her fork drops onto her plate with a clang. “Brody, why did you invite me to lunch? If you’re looking for something to gossip about with my brother, it’s not going to happen.”
“I told you why I invited you. I was right by your office and I was hungry. Excuse me for being considerate.”
Total bullshit right there. I had absolutely no reason to be downtown at noon on a weekday. But if I’m right about this, I’m going to be fucking stoked. If Rainey’s best friend hooks up with one of my best friends, I get even more time with her. And more time with Rainey is always a good thing. She’s getting so close to giving in to me; I can feel it.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude,” she says. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”
“No biggie,” I say through a mouthful of cheeseburger.
She scrunches her nose when a piece of cheesy meat flies across the table, barely missing her arm. “Gross, Brody.”
I shrug. “Oops. Anyway...back to Riley. He—”
“Brody, I don’t want to talk about Riley. Please respect that.”
Well, shit. So much for that plan.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
RAINEY
“So, Bryce, you said you were an architect?”
“Well, not exactly,” he hedges.
I narrow my eyes. “What does that mean?”
Bryce takes a drink from his coffee before answering. “It’s just a technicality, really. I work in an architect firm. I just don’t exactly...have a degree in architecture. Or any skills related to it.”
I take a moment to chew on that and choose my next words carefully. “So, what is it, exactly, that you do at your firm? And to avoid any confusion, what is your actual job title?”
He clears his throat. “I’m a receptionist.”
My mouth falls open, stunned. How could I possibly be this unlucky in love? This is my third online date this month and my third strike. Why can’t people tell the truth on those match sites? I mean, seriously. The whole point is to meet up in person, right? Why would you lie when they’re bound to uncover the truth? I wouldn’t care if this guy was a receptionist, or that he’s easily three inches shorter than what’s listed on his profile. Just tell the truth, people!
The guy before Bryce failed to mention that he was married. He claimed he had an open marriage, but I think we all know by now how I feel about dating a married man. The idiot before him was the biggest jerk of them all. He didn’t think it was necessary to put his real photo on his profile. Not even a ridiculously filtered one. I walked into the restaurant expecting a six-foot-tall, bearded man that defined lumbersexual. Imagine my surprise when a five-foot-six, balding man with a protruding stomach introduced himself as my date. When I told him that I felt we should end the date before it began, the asshole started screaming at me in the middle of a restaurant. I tuned out his tirade after he called me, “just another shallow bitch” and walked away. Um, hello, Liar McFibberpants! Maybe it’s too much to ask, but I’d expect the common courtesy of his being the person in the picture! How is it fair for him to judge me, when he’s the one who pulled a bait and switch?!
“Are you okay?” Bryce asks.
Damn, I must’ve been lost in my internal rant for too long. “Uh, yeah, just fine.” I look at my watch. “Oh, look at that, I really need to get going. Stuff to do and all.”
He eyes me skeptically. “I thought you said you had the day off.”
“Oh yeah, I do. But I’m really not feeling a spark so why draw it out?”
“But we just got here,” he says, frowning. “How could you possibly know that already?”
Um, because I have a serious problem with dishonesty? “I just do. It was nice meeting you, Bryce. Thanks for the latte.”
I swing my purse over my arm and get the hell out of the coffee shop before he has the chance to stop me. When I’ve rounded the corner, I pull my cell out of my purse and dial.
Devyn picks up on the first ring. “Hey, I thought you had a date right now.”
“I did,” I say. “But another one bites the dust.”
“I’m sorry. I know you had good vibes on this one. What happened?”
“Another liar. Why do I keep getting these assholes? That’s the sixth one since I joined SeattleSingles.com. I swear to you Devyn, I’m about to give up men entirely. Can I interest you in switching teams?”
She laughs. “Oh, Rainey, we both know you love the D way too much for that to happen.”
“True,” I grudgingly admit. “I just don’t understand why it’s so hard. I haven’t had sex in eighteen months. A year-and-a-half, Devyn. I’ve never gone more than a few months since losing my virginity. I’m pretty sure Gina is riddled with cobwebs at this point.”
“I’m pretty sure that Scott would beg to differ,” she retorts.
You’re probably confused, aren’t you? I just said I haven’t had sex in eighteen months. Let me clarify. Scott is my favorite vibrator. Why’d I pick that name, you ask? Scott-Panty-Wetter-Extraordinaire-Eastwood. Enough said?
“And would you please stop referring to your lady bits by that stupid name?” Devyn continues. “There’s a woman at my office named Gina and I cringe anytime someone says it. Besides, a year-and-a-half is nothing. Before I met Jackson, I had you beat by a long shot and my girly parts worked just fine.”
I ignore her comment about Gina because we both know I’m not gonna stop.
“Yeah, but you were a single mom trying to get your footing in life. And you were pregnant before that. That’s much better than being a magnet for losers. I’m thirty-three, Devyn. Let’s face it; I’m no Spring chicken. If I have any hope of finding the future father of my child, I need to actually find someone worthy of a second date.”
She laughs. “Okay, first of all, thirty-three is not old. You help deliver babies for a living, Lorraine. You know more than anyone how many women give birth later in life these days.”
“I know,” I mutter.
“Besides,” she continues. “I happen to know an extremely attractive man who’d love to go out with you. Poor Brody is just waiting for you to throw him a bone.”
“Ugh, poor Brody is waiting for the chance to bone me. There’s a difference. If I was just looking for a hookup, I’d have a Tinder account. I want a relationship, Devyn. We both know Brody is pretty much allergic to monogamy.”
She laughs. “Okay, so Brody’s off the table. Although, as a side note, I don
’t think you’re giving him enough credit. What about the new obstetrician that’s been asking you out?”
I shake my head furiously, even though she can’t see me. “No way.”
“You said you’re attracted to him, right?”
“I’m pretty sure every woman at Memorial has the hots for Dr. Thomas.”
“So why not give it a shot, Lorraine? You can’t write off all doctors just because you had a bad experience with one.”
“Understatement of the year,” I mutter.
Her voice softens. “I know, honey. I really do get it—Adam scarred you, and it will take time for those wounds to heal. But you work in a hospital. You’re surrounded by doctors. And this Dr. Thomas guy is not Adam.”
I sigh. “I don’t know, Dev.”
“C’mon, Rainey. You already have things in common, working in the same field. You’re both single and attracted to each other. Why not agree to one date and see where it goes from there?”
I bite my thumb, something I always do when I’m nervous. “You really think I should?”
“I really think you should,” Devyn says with the utmost confidence.
Okay then. I guess I’ve got myself a date with a doctor.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
RAINEY
“So, how was your date?” Devyn asks.
I put my head on the table with an audible thunk and groan. “Ugh, can we change the subject please?”
She shakes my forearm until I sit up. “What do you mean? I thought you really liked him.”
I pick up my wine glass and down half of the contents before answering. “I did really like him. That’s the worst part.”
Her brows furrow in confusion. “You’re not making sense, Lorraine.”
I glance over to the pool tables to make sure the guys are still engrossed in their game. “You know how much I was looking forward to it. It was our third date and I was really hoping the evening would end in orgasms.”
“And?”
“And...it was heading in that direction until things came to a grinding halt. We were fooling around, but when it got to a certain point, I just couldn’t go through with it.”