Page 45 of Pick Six
He kisses me again, soft tender passes of his lips over mine. Ones that don’t feel like practice.
“You’re gorgeous, Saint. I hope you know that. In that dress tonight. On this counter like this…” he whispers.
I’m quiet then, trying to process the fact that I’d come so hard just fromthat.Just from his touch, and his words. On his kitchen counter.
His—as in the all-pro defensive end for my favorite team. Football’s king libertine. My ex-husband’s best friend. The one who’d sat across from me at holidays and begrudgingly eaten the subpar turkey and stuffing I’d made before joining my husband for scotch in the other room. Who made out with famous singers in my home. Who was on a billboard right now off of I-5.
His hands had worked me perfectly. Like he knew my body inside and out. Better than any I’d had in recent memory. All while sitting on his kitchen counter after I’d woken him up in the middle of the night to confess that I was having dirty dreams about him.
Shit.
I start to try to formulate some sort of apology. An excuse. Some reason why this wasn’t one of the craziest things I’d done in a while but before I can, his lips brush over my forehead and his hands wrap around me, picking me up off the counter and setting me down gently on my feet.
He grabs my underwear off the counter and hands them to me. He looks at me warily like he senses I’m off kilter.
“It’s four in the morning, Saint. Whatever analyzing you’re doing, just save it, and let your orgasm put you to sleep for a few first.”
I take my underwear and do my first ever walk of shame, from a kitchen to a guest bedroom, in my life.
TWENTY-FIVE
Harper
The next dayI’m sitting outside with Scarlett, one of the assistant curators I work with and one of my absolute favorite people. We’d worked together since I was the assistant curator and she was a registrar, and we’d spent all morning this morning elbows deep in old boxes in the back of a warehouse storage room. When we can escape the dark doldrums of the collections warehouses we try to and having a picnic for lunch while the weather is still nice is the best part of my day so far. Minus the 4 a.m. incident, that is. But I’m trying not to think about that.
“How’s the channel going?” I ask Scarlett. She’s recently started a video channel on social media teaching about history and even though she doesn’t want to own up to it most days, it’s started to gain some serious traction. She’s incredibly smart, witty, and stunning which is apparently a lethal combination for luring in history nerds to watch you talk about the nuances of twentieth-century signal corps insignia.
“It’s going really well. I’m honestly blown away and a little scared at how well it’s doing. I haven’t told the bosses yet or anyone else. I’m guessing they won’t love it.” She tucks a piece of her long red hair that’s fallen out of the loose bun she’s pinned up behind her ear.
“I’m guessing it’s none of their damn business. The pay is awful. If you can make extra doing that to make sure you can afford rent next month, they can’t really blame you.”
“And yethe’llprobably try.”
We both know she’s referring to one of the archivists whom she has a love-hate relationship with.
“He’s such a dick. And he’s jealous that a woman is as smart as he is with half the number of years in the field. I also maintain that he has some sort of hate crush on you.” I glance back at the building where said archivist is probably working as we speak.
“Hate crush?”
“Like he’s jealous but he thinks you’re smart and gorgeous. I’m pretty sure he’s all in his feelings about it, just the way he looks at you.”
“Well, he’s never done or said anything inappropriate. Other than just being fucking hard on me all the time when we have to work together. I just feel like if he finds out about the channel, that’s going to double the animosity and I don’t need it.”
“If he starts anything, tell me. He and I already go rounds over some of the things he wants to rubber stamp, so it’s not like I’m worried he won’t like me.” I give her a small smile.
“Well, none of it might matter soon if we lose the funding and the building.” She sighs.
“Yeah, well… I’m working on it. And Violet’s been helping. She had another idea for creating a new fund. Having a bunch of museums and cultural organizations here band together and pool funds. Then we could all support each other when things are down. Hopefully, create a stronger lobbying block too. I’m not giving up yet. Plus… I’m hoping that working with Alex will get us some of the exposure we need.”
“Oh yes, speaking of hate crushes… how is yours going?” Scarlett gives me a knowing look and then grins at my suffering. She’d been the only person outside the football friend group I’d confided in about my situation. I couldn’t bear lying to her, and I need someone who isn’t already biased toward Alex to talk to.
My mind flashes back to the early morning run-in in his kitchen and I can feel the blush climbing up my neck as I think about sitting on his counter again.
“I had to stay the night at his place last night—in the guest room,” I add when her brows start to rise. “But then I got up during the night for water, and he was up… I had a little moment of weakness.”
“You kissed him again, accidentally?” she says “accidentally” like she doesn’t believe it because she’s been set on the idea of us getting together for revenge since I told her about our situation.
“It might have been more than just kissing.” I scrunch my nose.
