I have a bad habit of that. I should consider not bringing a woman home unless I remember her name. This is twice in the same week this has happened.
“Rest is for the wicked,” she singsongs. “I have an early morning meeting, plus I figured you wouldn’t appreciate lingering. Should I give you my number, or was this a one-time thing?”
Well, color me surprised.
It’s not often a woman isn’t begging to exchange phone numbers and asking for a second date that I rarely give.
Maybe this one will be different and can handle no-strings-attached sex.
Tossing my phone in her direction, it bounces against my white duvet. “Add your name and number, gorgeous.”
I’m not sure why I call her gorgeous—she is, but I know what words can do to a woman, and I plan to make it abundantly clear that, emotionally, this will lead nowhere.
Picking up my phone, she bites her lip as she inputs her information. “See you at the courthouse later?” Her light, hopeful eyes meet mine as she drops it back down on the bed.
“Not today.” I sit up, giving her my back as my feet hit the floor.
Not offering more details, I stand and walk across my bedroom completely nude, bending slightly to grab a pair of athletic shorts from my bureau drawer. Pulling them on, I find her watching me with a glint in her eye.
When she realizes I’ve caught her looking, she pushes her feet into her pointed-toe flats and picks up her purse from where she dropped it last night.
“Well, you have my number now. Use it, yeah?”
“Yeah, I will,” I tell her out of obligation, following her through my apartment.
Pressing one palm against the wall beside the door, I use the other to unlock and open it, holding it open for her as she passes through.
Before she does, she turns and kisses me again. “Thanks for a great night.”
Then she’s gone, but not before I hear her say “hi” as she moves down the hall. Leaning forward, I look past the door and find Sullivan Rochester leaning against the wall with coffee in hand and a smug look on his face.
“What are you doing here?” I bark, although my tone has no bite.
“Forget about our gym date, Luce?”
“Dammit.” Walking away, I leave my apartment door open for Sully to come inside.
“Fun night?” he asks, closing it behind him with the sole of his sneaker.
“Relieved some stress.”
“You sure have a type.”
Stopping, I turn back toward him and think about my most recent hook-ups.
Blondes.
All of them.
Blondes with great bodies.
“I guess I do.” I shrug and turn on my heel, going back into my bedroom. “Give me five.”
Sully doesn’t follow me. “Funny how they all have similarities to a certain friend of your sister’s!” he yells over the sound of chair legs dragging against my flooring.
Bullshit. Just because I have a thing for blondes doesn’t mean they’re similar toher.
She’s aggravating and young and my sister's best friend.
