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“Can’t be a good friend if I keep thinking about ye the way I am now.”
Mia groaned. “Cut that out and put a shirt on before I jump you. We are not going there.”
I shrugged, remaining bare-chested. “So we’re just talking? How about ye tell me if ye read that paperwork we collected from Molly’s.”
“I skimmed it.”
“And?”
“More of the same legal waffle plus reports on how Tobi’s dad’s businesses were doing. Badly, which I already knew. My guess is they’re just trying to get me to go to them. I won’t. They can’t make me.” She swigged her wine. “There’s something I want to ask. A favour.”
“Go for it.”
“Heck, no. Not face to face. I’ll text you later.”
She stood, wobbling slightly.
I took hold of her hand, tugging so she dropped back onto the sofa. The remaining wine in her glass sloshed, and Mia giggled.
“Ye came to find me and have something to ask. Ask it,” I ordered.
I didn’t want her to leave. She was here. Happy. I needed to just stare at her, like some kind of visual drug.
Mia downed the rest of her wine and put the glass on the floor with aclunk. Then she reached to take a lock of my long dark hair, fingering the damp lengths. “Do you even own a hairdryer?”
I raised a shoulder. “Tobi mentioned something about cookies when I saw her earlier.”
Mia pulled a face. “We made you a batch and brought them to the hangar. You were…occupied.”
“What was I doing?”
Her cheeks flushed darker pink. “Don’t leave this wet or you’ll catch cold.”
Neat subject change. There was something strange in her expression now. Not embarrassment, but an awkward kind of vibe. I held her wrist to still her movements, catching her gaze. “What happened? What was I doing?”
Mia tugged her wrist away, her amusement fleeing with it. “I don’t want to say.”
“Fine. Then tell me why ye came to find me tonight. One or the other.”
“I want you to model a vibrator for me.”
The second the words were out of her mouth, she clapped her fingers to her lips, like saying them had been an accident.
My heart thumped. “Ye want me to what?”
I’d heard just fine, but I wanted her to say it again.
“One of the women bought a kit where you can make a vibrator from your partner’s… You know what.”
“Ye can say dick, little spy.”
She laughed and shoved me. “Anyway, I don’t have a partner, but I want a vibrator. And your equipment seemed like a good place to start. So I bought a kit and now I need a model for it.”
Amusement caught me at her drunken confession, but then was rapidly followed by an image of what she was asking. My mind spread over the idea. Of her on her bed, naked, ready to go with a Valentine-shaped dildo…
But before I could question her, Mia leapt to her feet, sidestepping me with more agility than a drunk lass should have.
“Think about it?” she asked, then she was out of the door and gone.
