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Chapter Eleven
It had been almost three weeks since our night of the vibrator takeover with, unfortunately, no repeat performance. Colby had been spending a lot more time in the office during the day, which he insisted was coincidence and not because he was purposefully trying to avoid me. I wanted to believe that, given the days he’d taken off following my accident, he was most likely making up for the lost time.
Currently, he was in Cabo San Lucas for a hotel crisis his brother had needed him to take care of. He’d only been away two nights, but I found myself missing his presence in the bed. That scenario hadn’t changed, and since it felt amazing to be wrapped up in his arms each night, I never did bring it up again.
Yeah, operation Get-Over-Colby-Singer was a big, fat failure. If anything, I was more determined than ever to figure out why he was so convinced I deserved better. Was it because I was Brian’s sister? Or was it because of Colby’s reputation with women in general? Something told me it was probably a little of both.
Thursday morning brought great news in the form of cast removal for my wrist. My ankle wasn’t as lucky as the break was more severe, but at least I traded up into a removable boot, which meant no more plastic bags while showering. Matter of fact, after a quick trip to get a manicure and wax, courtesy of the spa certificate Sasha sent me to commemorate the occasion, the very first thing I did when I arrived back at the house was take the longest shower in history. It was glorious.
Colby texted me later that afternoon. “Let’s celebrate you getting your casts off tonight with dinner. You did get them removed right? I’ll be home about six o’clock.”
I was anxious to see and talk to him. Aside from some text messages to check in on me, I hadn’t actually had a conversation with him and missed the sound of his voice.
“What am I wearing for this celebration?”
“BRAT! Did you get the casts off or not?”
“Yes, the wrist is off permanently, but I still have to wear a soft boot on my foot. Prepare yourself, as my right arm will be naked.”
“How does it feel?”
“A little stiff, but good, all things considering.”
“That’s what she said.”
I laughed. “Rolling my eyes. I’m supposed to work on my grip strength. Any ideas?”
And now we both had the texting maturity of teenage boys.
“You’re a bad girl.”
“Who needs to be punished?”
“You have no idea. Now behave.”
“Hmm, you’re no fun. Now what am I wearing: jeans, a dress, panties?” I knew I was playing with fire, but damn, I missed flirting with him.
“A cocktail dress with granny panties.”
“You got it.”
“That was too easy.”
“That’s what he said. See you when you get home.”
“See you then.”
* * *
I was sittingcross-legged on his bed, so engrossed in playing my guitar for the first time in weeks, that I didn’t hear him come in. I was rusty and my fingers were stiff, so I went slowly, singing a stripped-down version of Adele’s “Set Fire to the Rain.”
At the end of the first chorus, I looked up to see Colby leaned against the doorframe, unapologetically eavesdropping. My voice stuck in my throat at being caught in so vulnerable a position. Meanwhile, he stood there looking gorgeous in his tailored suit, which outlined his delicious body.
His gaze traveled over me from head to toe and then rested on my right hand. “You’re, uh, wrist looks good.”
I cocked my head to the side, smiling at him. “You really need to work on your game with a line like that.”
He chuckled. “I didn’t intend to interrupt. That was beautiful.”
