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He sees that’s not what I wanted to hear, so he kisses my nose and adds, “I promise.”
It’s not enough, but it’ll have to do for now. We finish our biscuits quickly, even though I’d still rather chill all day.
After a too-fast goodbye, I have to rush home to let Nut and Juice out to do their morning business. I tell myself it’s not a walk of shame but rather a Walk of Fame. Let all the jealous neighbors watch me walk out in his T-shirt, letting everyone know exactly where I spent last night.
So I hold my head high and add a little bounce to my step, knowing that Connor is watching me walk across the small yard to my own place with my dress and heels in my hands. It’s awkward at best, but then . . .
“Good morning, Poppy!” a voice calls out. I turn to see my neighbor, Jane, and a handful of other neighborhood residents on the sidewalk a few yards away. They’re all dressed in workout gear, complete with water bottle belts, sun visors, and matching smirks.
“Hi, Jane. Ladies. How are you?”
“Not as good as you obviously are,” Jane says, looking down her nose at me. But I’m not going to let her shame me right now.
“It was a great night,” I reply, agreeing with her that I feel great, satisfied, and boneless with bliss.
“It certainly looks like it,” one of the women with Jane says. “Too damn long since I had a good night.”
“Can’t hate on getting some of that,” another voice says, and I follow their covetous looks, glancing back over my shoulder to see Connor leaning against the doorframe of his place. He’s got his arms crossed over his bare chest, his coffee cup in his hand. Wearing only shorts, he exudes sex from his messy hair and scruffy beard to his bare feet. His eyes are heated, boring into mine and then scanning my body possessively. I flush, pushing the T-shirt down, mainly because I feel like I might flash him if he keeps that up.
“Come on, ladies. We’ve got a mile to go, though I think my heart is already racing,” Jane says, patting her chest at a pitter-pattering pace. “You have a good morning, Poppy.”
“Thanks,” I tell them honestly. “Have a good walk. I’m gonna . . . go.” I point toward my house, seeing Nut and Juice barking at the front window. “I’ve probably got a puddle to deal with.”
“Yeah, he’d leave me in a puddle too,” one says before waving to Connor. “And you have a good morning, Mr. Sexy Coffee!”
Everyone laughs as he lifts the coffee mug in a salute. But it’s me that he watches as I go back to my house, feeling good. The whole neighborhood knows now . . . and nobody’s trying to jump my claim.
Well, I mean, I can’t ‘claim’ him like a seat at a movie theater, but yeah . . . he’s mine. And I’m his, even if we’ve got things to work out.
I let Nut and Juice out to do their business and go back inside, heading to my bedroom. I consider taking a shower or actually putting on pants. But I don’t want to. I like that I smell like Connor, that I’m wearing his shirt. So instead, I pull on some short shorts so my ass doesn’t stick to my chair before I sit down and get to work.
First, I send Hilda an email update, letting her know that I am back on target. I don’t tell her any details about how I got my laptop back, only that it’s all good now and I’m working my ass off and making good progress. She replies instantly, telling me to keep at it and reminding me that the deadline is rapidly approaching.
“Yeah,” I murmur as I pull out my flash drive, back up yesterday’s work, and go back to my word processor. “No shit, Hilda. I’m foregoing multiple orgasms for this book.”
But though I bristle at her reminder, I do get to work, and the words pour out of me and onto the screen.
There’s a knock on the door a couple of hours later, and my heart jumps, hoping it's Connor coming over after all. Or at least coming over for one more kiss, so I hurry to the door, opening it with a smile. “Well now, I suppose I could—”
But it’s not Connor.
It’s Detective Jax Carter.
“Uh . . . Miss Woodstock?” he asks.
“What the fuck do you want?” I snap.
He recoils, his face going slightly pink at the less than friendly greeting. “Ahem. Like I mentioned on the phone, I want to discuss some new information about your missing laptop. Can I come in?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask, my hands on my hips and my tone getting more and more shrill. “I told you, talk to Hilda.”
