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Yet I want to bring him a muffin.
In the girlfriend/boyfriend sense.
Maybe I will since that’s how Louisa and Ciaran got started. They bought each other muffins and then screwed each other’s brains out. Muffins and sex seem a pretty legit combination, in my opinion. Be a nice late-night snack. Before I can fall too deeply into my thoughts of sex, muffins, and Riggs, my phone rings.
“Hey, sis!” I answer, and Elliot’s voice fills my SUV.
“Hey, what’ve you got planned tonight? I thought maybe we could go shopping since I’ll be busy tomorrow with the game.”
I press my lips together. “I’m surprised you’re not gonna shack up with Alex.”
She giggles. “I will if you have plans, but I wanted to tell you all about his mom. How amazing she is, and what happened in Michigan.”
“What happened?”
“I want to tell you in person.”
My heart clenches. “Tell me now.”
“Why? Do you have plans?”
I make a face, but I don’t feel right lying to her. I thought I could lie to her when it came to Riggs, but I can’t. I love and respect my sister too much for that. “I do.”
“Oh! What are you doing?”
“You tell me your news first.”
I don’t have to see her face to know her brows are drawn in and she’s glaring. “Clara Drew, what are you doing tonight? Or rather…who are you doing?”
“Rude!” I yell, even though I laugh too. “For your information, there will be dinner before I do him.”
She scoffs. “Shit, knowing you, you’ll probably fuck him as you two eat.”
I snort. “You make me sound so dirty.”
“You are. You make me look like a nun. And I don’t mean by how many guys. I mean by the freaky shit you do with them.”
“Hey, don’t play. You take all my ideas and use them on Alex.”
Her laughter is like music, but I know she’s blushing hard. “I did use that little blow job trick the other night.”
“Which one? Where you fuck yourself with a dildo and suck him off?”
“Jesus Christ, Clara!”
“What? That’s hot.”
“No, when I hollow out my mouth and have him fuck my throat.”
“Oh,” I say dryly. “That’s not a trick, El. That’s normal head on a Tuesday afternoon.”
“Oh my God, Clara!” she squeals, giggling like a little Sunday-schooler. “You are too much.”
“But you love me.”
“I do,” she agrees. “So, tell mewhoyou’re doing tonight?”
Damn it, I thought I had distracted her. “I don’t know if I want to tell you yet. Let me see how it goes.”
