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“When we get back, I can start working on it more by the way. I didn’t forget, just got a little distracted by everything that’s been going on lately. Do you want me to set you up on some dates?”
“About that. I think we should hold off on that.”
“Why?”
“You’ve got a lot going on. We need to figure out this stalker situation. Who to get involved to help us figure it out. If we should call the cops or—”
“I don’t want to call the cops. Once they find out who I am, they’ll contact my father’s security team to see if they have information that could help, and he’ll drag me back to Seattle. I need to find a private investigator or someone who can look into it discreetly. I’m still fairly certain it has to be a fan of yours. Especially if they came to your house…”
“Maybe. But it didn’t start until you showed up.”
“If it’s a woman, the fact that you’ve been out with me and then had me move into your place could have set her off. She could think I’m your girlfriend.”
“I guess that’s possible. I’ve never had anything like that happen before.”
“But you’ve never been serious with anyone before, have you? I mean, I know there were a couple of celebrity relationships. But I assumed those were more for show than anything.”
I wince. They had been. Neither I was particularly fond of remembering since both women had pretty much hated being set up with me.
“Something like that.”
“Ah. That bad, huh? Now I see why you don’t want to be set up. I promise I’m much better at it. You can ask Quentin. I mean… he obviously wasn’t going to change his mind, but if he wasn’t obsessed with Madison, I’m pretty sure he would have liked my picks for him.”
“I don’t doubt your talent, Trix. I just don’t think it’s for me.”
Especially not now. When I’m practically in the same boat as Quentin. I don’t know about being in love. I’ve never experienced it, and I don’t know what the early stages feel like. But if they start by being singularly focused on one woman who haunts you day and night, I’m in trouble. Because she’s it for me right now.
“All right. Well, if you were giving me a shot at it, what would your type be?” she asks as I set the food out for us, a mix of BBQ meat and veggies, including baked potatoes roasted on the fire. She’s got a salad and fruit all prepped for us along with some wine as I take a seat across from her.
“My type would be… Tall. Curvy. Long, dark-brown hair with some waves to it. Deep-brown eyes. A gorgeous smile. Long legs. Smart as fuck. She has to keep me on my toes and keep up with Lizzy. A little bossy when it’s about the important things. Up for new adventures. Doesn’t mind the outdoors or hanging out around my guys. You want the dirty list too? She’d have to be up for that.” I risk a glance up at her, and her face tells me she’s knows what I’m up to.
“The dirty list?”
“I have my own adventure list, Trix. Don’t look so surprised.”
“I have a hard time believing there are things you haven’t tried.”
“There are. Plus there are things I haven’t done in a long time. Got to knock one of them off the list the other night.”
She gives me a curious look and a tentative smile. “Like?”
“I haven’t done missionary since… I don’t know. High school?”
“Oh.” She looks down at her plate. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about… I didn’t mean to make that awkward. We could have—I would have been fine with—”
“No.” I grab her hand instinctively, and she stares at the spot we’re touching like it might burn her. There’s panic in my chest that I fucking said this all wrong. “No. I mean I liked it. I wanted it that way. Wanted you that way. You’re beautiful, and I wanted to watch you. Wanted to hear every sound you made for me. It was good. So fucking good.” I’m tripping over my words like I’m in high school and hating myself for not being able to charm her the way I could charm almost any other woman if I had the chance.
Her fingers move again, the tips of them circling over the inside of my palm before she tilts her head.
“It was good,” she agrees, looking off in the distance before a smile returns to her face. “So what else is on your list?”
“You still haven’t told me the rest of yours.”
“You heard the whole thing. Loudly. In your kitchen.” She lets a pretend shiver go down her spine as she takes a sip of her wine.
“I told you. I was in shock, and then once I heard I was on it, things short-circuited. You’ll have to tell me again. But hey, that means we knocked at least one thing off.”
“Two things now.” She smiles.
