Page 11 of Mother Pucker

I survey the black keycard and keys dubiously. Sure, I’m now Rowan Parker’s official physical therapist, but having my own keys? That seems like something a celebrity hockey player would give to a friend, not someone he’s only known for a few days, wouldn’t it?

“Um, thank you?” I don’t know why it comes out as a question, but the woman doesn’t seem to mind.

I won’t lie and say the enticing gift delivered to me last week didn’t get my attention. The man obviously knows exactly what he’s doing.

It could have been a simple bouquet of flowers or nothing at all, but a gift likethat? He’s not just determined, he’s bold. Reckless.

All the things I haven’t been in a long time.

All the things I told myself I’d never be again.

However inappropriate his gift might have been, it had me chuckling. Giggling like a kid on a sugar rush, actually.

Once in the privacy of my bedroom, a gasp slipped through my lips when I’d examined the contents inside the box. Because while I knew what I’d find in it, I hadno ideait would bea twenty-four carat, gold-plated G-spot vibrator!

I’d set it on my bed, as if it were a newborn baby, before staring at it like it was from another planet. Then, I’d promptly pulled out my laptop and searched for it online to find out howmuch it cost–because,who wouldn’t?–and I swear, the price tag had my eyes bugging out of their sockets.

Fifteen thousand dollars?!

For a vibrator?!

In one small exchange–off an assumption he made as to the buzzing inside my purse that night–the cocky bastard had decided to woo me with an extravagant gift of the most lewd variety. I mean, talk about the balls on this guy! I didn’t know if I should have felt offended or flattered.

But holy shit, a gold-plated vibrator?! Oh, how the filthy rich lived, stuffing fifteen grand into their hoo-has.

I’ve just pressed the button for the private elevator inside a smaller, more secluded lobby, when my phone vibrates inside the front of my pants.

Ajay used to ask me why I even carried a purse if I was always going to tuck my phone into my front pocket or hold it in my hand, but I like having easy access to it.

Jeena

Guess who broke his arm skateboarding today?

I didn’t have many friends back in San Francisco–or none I felt close to–but Jeena was one even my guarded personality couldn’t fend off. The woman knew exactly how to get me out of my shell and have me laughing until my stomach hurt.

I only met her a few years ago when my best friends and I decided to do a girls' weekend in Napa, and Jeena was our tour guide. She got about as drunk as we did, and before long, she was going into detail about her husband’s ‘potatoes’.

“They’re large.” She blinked at each of us for effect–to really hone in the point–with a wineglass held in her hand, swaying a little. “The largest, meatiest, and juiciest.”

We figured he was a farmer, and she was just enthusiastic about his recent potato harvest. It was only some time later that we found out the potatoes were actually a euphemism for a part of his body she was rather fond of.

Needless to say, the girl was a hoot, and before long, Ajay and I started hanging out with her and her husband, Wayland. I never could look Wayland in the eyes, though, because well . . .potatoes.

And even though their oldest son, Wynn, was a couple of years younger than Kai–and a hell of a lot more rambunctious–our boys got along great.

And when Ajay died, and I had no one nearby, it was Jeena and her family who lifted me up and stood by me while I slowly picked up some of mine and Kai’s broken pieces.

So, while I’m closest to my best friends Dylan, Liv, and Delia–because of the years we’ve known each other–there are things Jeena has gone through with me, like holding me while I hit rock bottom, that even my best friends haven’t.

The elevator doors open, and I click the send button to fire off my text before I lose signal.

Me

My guess is either you or Wynn. It wouldn’t be Wayland or Weston because, like his dad, Weston takes measured, careful steps. You and Wynn, however? Only the two of you are capable of getting yourselves into a cast.

I read her reply as I step out of the elevator and into another beautiful lobby in front of Rowan’s front door.

Jeena

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