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The vibration of my phone in my pocket pulled me from my dirty thoughts. Cole’s name scrolled across it and I instantly laughed at the beginning of his message.
Cole: Please tell me you didn’t get a date with her!
Me: Dinner tonight at her place.
Cole: I hate you. Greek bastard.
Me: That’s what you get for hiding that bakery from me asshole.
Cole: I hope your dick breaks out in some weird rash.
Me: You still have hope with the other hot chick that works there.
Cole: That’s true. I still hope your dick breaks out in a rash.
Laughing, I didn’t respond as I got in my truck and started it up. Before pulling out, I glanced at the clock.
Six hours until I could see those beautiful eyes again.
THE SMELL OF basil filled the kitchen as I got out my great-grandmother’s recipe for chicken parmigiana. I found myself singing “Tied Up” along with Olivia Newton-John and Charity. The song was blaring from her room. Her obsession with Olivia had caused me concern when we first moved in as roommates. After countless hours of hearing her songs, going to two concerts in Vegas, and repeated viewings of her movies, I was a bit of a fan myself. Nothing like Charity though.
“Why are you cooking dinner? I told you I had a date.”
Glancing over my shoulder to Charity, I replied, “I know. I’m making dinner for someone else.”
I turned before I could see her reaction. Charity was pretty much the only friend I had in Colorado Springs. Well, besides the ladies from knitting club and Max and Liza.
She was next to me in a flash. “Really? Who?”
“Just someone I met earlier down in the bakery. It’s sort of a thank you dinner. He helped get rid of Ms. Loft once and for all.”
Charity took a step back, held up her hands and said, “Wait. Hold on. Back things up a bit here. First off, Ms. Loft is gone? What happened?”
“She freaked out on me and I might have accidentally called her a name when I thought I was thinking it.”
Laughter roared from Charity. “It’s about damn time.”
“Funny, Max said the same thing. No thanks to you though. I wouldn’t have thought it had you not have said it earlier in the car.”
“You can thank me later. Now tell me about this date.”
With a quick chuckle, I shook my head. “It’s not a date. It’s a thank you dinner.”
She leaned against the counter, folded her arms and stared at me.
When she quirked her eyebrow up, I knew I needed to be truthful not only with her, but with myself.
“Okay fine. It’s a date!”
Charity grabbed my hands and began jumping. “Oh my gosh, this is the best news! Finally your vibrator will get a break!”
I stopped jumping with her and pulled my hands back. “Hey!”
Staring at me like I was the one who was insane, she tilted her head. “Since I’ve known you, Gabi, you’ve only gone out with one guy and I’m pretty sure you were not getting any nookie from him.”
My mouth opened, but I couldn’t argue with her. Jack was a nice guy, but we never hit it off. We went out a few times and that was it. He never even tried to kiss me.
“It’s just dinner. And really, Char. Nookie? What are we, ten?”
She bumped my shoulder. “Oh! I see it in your eyes. You want the nookie! Who is he?”
The heat on my cheeks was hard to hide. “His name is Nic Drivas. He’s a police officer.” Peeking over to her, I added, “A SWAT officer.”
Her eyes widened. “Shut up. Was he in uniform?”
Sinking my teeth into my lip, I couldn’t help but think of Nic in that tight black T-shirt. It had been a long time since a man had made my body come to life like he had. “Oh, yes he was in his uniform. Well, kind of I guess. Everything was black, including the two-sizes-too-small shirt he had on.”
“Holy shit. You totally want nookie! If he is SWAT, he’s got a rocking body.”
I nodded. “That’s putting it lightly. He was all muscle.”
“What did he look like? Oh, my gosh! My roommate is finally replacing her BOB with a real life dick!”
I pushed her away. “Stop it! I’m not looking to have sex. It’s just dinner.”
“Liar. It’s written all over you face. Now, answer me. What did he look like?”
Putting the knife I had been chopping the basil with down, I faced her. I couldn’t help but smile when I thought about Nic.
“He’s tall and built. Really built.”
She nodded. “Right. I got that.”
“He’s got dark hair, almost black. Some stubble on his face with the most beautiful hazel eyes and olive skin I’ve ever seen.”
Wiggling her eyebrows, she asked, “Italian?”
I shook my head. “Nope. Greek.”
She stumbled back. “What? Like full-on Greek?”
Shrugging, I answered, “I’m not sure. He sure looked like it.”
