Page 115 of Lucky Mother Pucker

“Good. Because I don’t want to.”

Her lush mouth parts open like she’s about to say something, but then she quickly closes it.

“What is it?” I ask.

Her eyes are still hazy from all the alcohol she’s had, but there’s a focused look now that wasn’t there before. “What are we doing, Leo?”

“We’re hanging out. As friends.”

She starts to smile, almost like she’s silently calling bullshit.

I gently brush her hair out of her face. “I don’t know what we’re doing, Luce. All I know is that I want to be here with you.”

“As friends,” she says, repeating what I’ve said with a teasing lilt to her voice. She doesn’t sound mad. More amused than anything. Like she understands that we’re in this weird space of being friends, but wanting something more…but also being too nervous to risk it…

Just then, there’s shouting and laughing from the bar. We turn to look and see one of the female servers, who’s dressed in a black lace bodysuit and cat ears, hop on the bartop. She waves a hundred-dollar bill in the air and yells, “Hurricane shot!” The whole bar erupts in cheers and whistles.

We watch as the guy downs a shot of liquor and she throws a glass of water in his face, then slaps him. Everyone hollers.

Lucy turns to me, heat sparking in her pretty blue eyes. “I wanna do a hurricane shot with you, friend.”

She grabs my hand and drags me toward the bar.

Chapter 42

Lucy

Ipull Leo behind me as I make my way to the bar, a giddy, excited feeling swirling through me.

And something else I don’t have the words for. Something eager and bold and brazen. And a little stupid too.

The way we’re behaving is ridiculous. We’re two friends who share an insane attraction to each other. Who both admit that we don’t want to see each other with anyone else…but we’re not going to cross that line into something more.

Because we know the second we do, it could ruin everything.

But we’re still gonna flirt and push each other’s buttons because it’s fun and exciting, and I don’t want to do this with anyone else.

We’re playing this silly little back-and-forth game where we’re touching each other, flirting with each other, calling each other “friend” like it’s a naughty word.

Yeah, it’s silly. But I don’t care. Because Leo is the only one I want—he’s the only one I care to play this dumb game with.

I think about how confused and turned off he looked when I suggested he go out with Danielle. How relieved I was when he said he wasn’t interested in her. How giddy I felt when he said he didn’t want me to be with any other guy.

How it was crystal clear in that moment, he wanted me and only me.

My tummy dips as I toss him a glance over my shoulder. He’s staring at my ass. Heat flickers up my chest and across my skin. I bite back a smile. He wants this. I want this.

And even though neither of us is ready to set fire to our friendship by jumping each other’s bones, we’re both good with flirting, with pushing the boundaries of our friendship a little and seeing what happens.

It’s a weird and crazy game, but I love playing with him. I’ll play it all night long. I’m in that perfect spot—the drunker side of tipsy where I’m not thinking much about what I should be doing, only what I want.

And I want to do a hurricane shot with Leo.

“What kind of liquor do you like?” I ask Leo.

“Tequila.” His voice is a rough growl that makes me shiver.

I order a shot of tequila and a glass of water from the bartender. I turn back to Leo, my head swimming as I take in the heat flickering in his coffee-brown eyes.