Page 120 of The Moment You Know

“For real?”

“For real.”

She then told him to go have a seat while she opened a bottle of wine and as she eased her hand out of his, he realized he’d been holding it for several minutes. Feeling slightly off-balance, he turned toward the living room and as he passed a tiny alcove office with a desk buried in clutter, he couldn’t help but tease her. “Some things never change, I see. You’re still so organized.”

She looked to see what he was referring to, before narrowing her eyes at him. “Shut-up. I take shit about not being organized at work from Andrea, but I draw the line at taking shit about not being organized in my own home. Especially from you, when you made me do all our taxes.”

“Of course I did. I didn’t want to do them.”

“Neither did I.”

“Really? You should’ve said something.”

“If I had, would you have done them?”

“Hell no,” he scoffed. “I’d have taken them to H&R Block, like I do now. They’re in business for a reason.”

She said something he didn’t quite catch and he smiled to himself, knowing it probably hadn’t been nice.

He looked around some more, stopping in front of her book shelves, which held all her favorite books, including the complete collection of Stephen King hardbacks, some of which he had given her as birthday and Christmas gifts. There were also several framed pictures of them in happier times: their first kiss as man and wife, the two of them huddled together and freezing their asses off on their honeymoon at Cannon Beach, celebrating an anniversary, and dressed to kill for Halloween.

Because it was her favorite holiday, they had always gone all out. The first year they’d been together, they’d dressed up as the twins from The Shining and when David had suggested it, she’d laughed and told him, “You know they’re twin girls, right?”

“I know.”

That had set a funny precedent for them and the year after that, he’d suggested they dress up as Bonnie and Clyde.

“Are you Bonnie or Clyde?” she’d asked, although he’d thought she knew the answer.

“I have dibs on Bonnie,” he’d told her. “You can be Clyde.”

The year he’d wanted to be Jasmine and Aladdin, she’d vetoed that, given he would’ve wanted to be Jasmine, making her Aladdin … who wore an open vest.

When he was done snooping, he made his way over to the loveseat and had just gotten comfortable when Paige came out of the kitchen with their wine.

Halfway into the living room, Paige felt that same awareness she’d felt when she’d opened the door and let him in. It was a lot stranger having him in her apartment than she’d thought it would be and there was a definite energy in the air, which felt like it had little to do with the story she was going to tell. Pushing forward, she went to where he was semi-sprawled on the loveseat in typical male fashion, with an arm draped over the back, his legs slightly spread.

She handed him his glass of wine and as he took it, saw her eyes go to the juncture of his thighs.

And then linger.

He blinked. Jesus, was she really looking at his junk? God, she was. It felt like it lasted forever, but in reality it was only a few seconds before she realized she was staring and jerked her eyes up to David’s face.

He actually felt stunned. Her blatant appraisal of him had been unexpected, to say the least. But what really had him gobsmacked was the interest—and dare he say, admiration—that he’d clearly seen. She had actually been checking him out. Specifically, his dick area.

Paige froze in mortification. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this uncomfortable in her life, or as embarrassed. She’d literally been caught staring on his dick and they both knew it.

“Thank you,” he said.

For a really weird moment, she thought he was thanking her for checking him out, but quickly realized he was referring to the wine. “You’re welcome,” she managed to get out.

Just then, her cat, Sputnik, walked into the living room, unknowingly creating a perfectly timed diversion.

“And who might this be?” David asked smoothly, deliberately shifting their focus to the cat for Paige’s benefit; she looked so flushed it was almost comical.

“His name is Sputnik.”

Sputnik gracefully jumped up onto David’s lap, like they were old friends and David set his wine on the coffee table so he could rub the cat’s head. “Sputnik?”

---