Page 72 of Hard Hitter
Georgia peeked out from behind her palms. “He discovered that my office door locks. We did it on my desk.”
“Omigod.” Becca grabbed a copy ofSports Illustratedoff Patrick’s coffee table and began to fan herself. “I’ll never eat donuts on your desk again.”
“We were very tidy,” Georgia insisted, her face pink. “And anyway, we’re getting off the topic. Is Doulie a good boyfriend? I’ll bet he is.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Ari insisted. “I can’t have one of those right now. I think I need to remember how to be alone.”
“I remember!” Becca cried, raising her hand. “And it blows. So forgive me if I don’t think your argument holds any water.”
“Even if I wanted to date someone right now, I don’t think we’re a good fit. I always fall for the bossy macho men, and then I can’t figure out why they want to control my life.”
“Hang on,” Georgia said, running a hand over the bumpy nap of Patrick’s sheeplike rug. “Macho can take many forms. They aren’t all bad. Does Doulie push you around?”
Ari shook her head. “He’s bossy, though.”Usually when we’re naked. But was that even fair? “Ugh. He shouldn’t press me for a relationship, anyway. I’m a freaking wreck. My ex is trying to break into my home, and even worse...” She cut the sentence off. Some things were harder to admit.
“What could be worse than a violent ex?” Becca asked. “I mean, seriously. You’ve got no place to go but up.”
“Bec!” Georgia scolded. “Everyone makes mistakes.”
Mine last for eight years. “I can’t afford to make another mistake,” she admitted. “Because I want a child. And Patrick told me once that he’s never having kids.” Even as the words came out, she recognized how important it was to her. The truth was that she liked Patrick a lot. He was a good man, and she didn’t really doubt he’d make somebody an awesome partner.
But she wanted kids. And he wasn’t the type.
Georgia pointed at Becca. “Maybe it’s time to move on to the nail-painting portion of the evening. Before we’re too drunk to do a good job.”
“Good call.” Becca peeled herself off the couch. “I’ll setup the footbath.” She disappeared to rattle around in Patrick’s kitchen.
“Let’s pull the coffee table out of the way,” Georgia suggested. “We need the whole rug.”
They set that up, and then Ari remembered the bakery bag. “Hey—I have baked goodies.”
“Yesss!” Becca yelled. “Let me guess—whoopie pies from One Girl Cookies?”
“How did you know?”
Becca’s laugh was evil. “I may have been consulted.”
“Youhelpedhim?” Ari yelped.
“Who wouldn’t?” Becca asked, carrying a tub of soapy water and a dish towel toward the rug. “He’s adorable. You know—in a really rugged, panty-ripping kind of way.”
Georgia arranged the towel and the tub. “Take off your shoes, Ari. You’re going first. Becca’s theory is that everyone thinks better with her feet in a tub of warm water.”
Ari didn’t argue. She stripped off her socks and put her feet in the bath.
“Oh—and Becca likes to choose the polish. She’s bossy like that.”
“Only for you, sweetie,” Becca said, opening up a big bag full of nail polish and poking through the bottles, which knocked together like marbles. “Because you aren’t vain enough to get it right.”
“Well, damn,” Georgia said. “Just for that I’m going to warn Ari that you screw with the travel reservations sometimes. Don’t be too shocked if Doulie ends up in the adjoining room when you go to Ottawa tomorrow morning.”
Ari almost swallowed the wedge of lime she was sucking on. “Omigod!” she said, setting the glass down on the floor just off the rug. “That was your doing in Raleigh?”
Becca grinned, and passed the bag of nail polishes. “Did it work?”
“Good lord. Hottest night of my life,” Ari admitted. Shestillcaught herself thinking about the way it felt to slide down the table toward Patrick’s waiting...
Gah.
