"You've been avoiding his calls?"
I look over at her. "Yeah," I admit. "My life's kind of crazy right now."To put it real mild.
She shrugs. "I'm never too busy for a piece that fine."
I laugh. "He's more than a 'piece,’?" I say, attempting to make air quotes with my gloves on.
She shrugs. "Come on, let's get back to work."
We go two more rounds, and she wins them both. My legs and butt are burning with exertion, and my shoulders are going to throb tomorrow, but it’s a good feeling.
"You should come to my dojo," Synthia says. “I want to start working on some more advanced weapon training."
My heart gives a small thump. “Great," I say, my mouth dry.
"You're going to need to know how to look good with a light saber."
I laugh. "Too true."
A thrill of excitement races through me. I'm going to be the star of a freakingStar Warsmovie. As we push into the changing room, I let gratitude grow inside of me. My life is good, even if it's so damn complicated.
The next morning,when I text Julian to confirm our date, he gets right back to me. “How about my place?” I suggest. “I’ll cook.”
“Sounds amazing,” he responds.
“Wait until you taste my cooking.”
“I like what I've tasted so far.”Damn.
I bite my lip, not sure how to respond. Memories of his head between my legs rush over me, raising goose bumps. Why did I wait so long to get back together with him? Oh right, because I'm a freaking secret agent, and I'm pretty sure someone is trying to kill me. My eyes scan my living room. Not that anyone has tried anything since we got back from Shanghai; it’s been all quiet on the secret-agent front. I have not even heard from Temperance about that whole Reginald Grand thing.
“Can't wait to see you tonight,” I type, then delete. I want to write something sexy. Last time he saw me I was all sweaty, wearing headgear and holding a spit-covered mouth guard.
Should I take a sexy picture?No. That's the kind of thing that gets hacked and posted online.
“My skills in the kitchen are nothing compared to my bedroom skills.” I delete that immediately. Archie jumps up on the couch next to me and circles once before snuggling into my side.I need to say something!
I turn my attention back to the phone. It starts ringing before I can respond.Saved by the bell.
I don't recognize the number so I let it go to voicemail like any sane person does. I'm left staring at Julian's message again, feeling all hot and bothered when a voicemail pops up.
I hit play.
"Hi, this is Reginald Grand. I'm sure you've heard of me."Seriously?"I'd like to meet you. There are some issues of national security I'd like to discuss. Call me back." He leaves a number.
I close my eyes.Ugh.My to-do list is getting long: call back a presidential hopeful, figure out something sexy to say to Julian, and make dinner tonight.I haven’t even decided on what to cook.
First, Julian. I switch to that screen as another text comes in from him. “What can I bring?”
“You can carry the watermelon.” It’s aDirty Dancingreference I’m hoping he’ll get. Not sexy, but it is funny… I think.I’m such a goober.
Now on to figuring out dinner. I’ll save political intrigue until later. Standing up, I grab my reusable shopping bags from the front closet, slip on my sandals, and heft my purse onto my shoulder. Archie follows me around. "Okay, boy," I say, pulling his bag out. He barks with excitement when I put it on the floor for him to climb in.
My phone pings. I glance at it quickly before heading out the door. Julian sent me an emoji of a couple dancing.The man might be my soul mate.Warmth spreads over my chest as I put the phone back in my purse and head to the market.
I've goteggplant roasting in the oven and marinara sauce bubbling on the stove, a bottle of red wine open—though I've limited myself to just one little jam jar full as I cook. Don't want to be wasted when Julian gets here. I'm making Mario Batali’s eggplant Parmesan. A rare indulgence. Cheese…yum.
Inviting a man over for dinner and then offering him my usual platter of steamed vegetables and poached salmon is just wrong. Besides after that hard workout with Synthia I'm sure I can handle a little mozzarella. There is nothing fried here!