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“Okay, great.”
With a harrumph no one seemed to hear, Marcia spun around and rushed out of the pseudo-dungeon. She crossed the lounge with nary a glance at any swinging penises or bouncing breasts. In fact, she didn’t look up from her feet until she was at the exit and her cell started chiming in her purse.
Saved by the chirpy bell.
She tugged out her phone and checked the caller. Adam. Again. After a brief debate about which was worse—listening to her little brother wax poetic about Leigh’s big gray eyes or walking home—she decided she could always tune him out. “I need a ride,” she said in lieu of hello.
“I’m still on my date.”
“So why are you calling me?”
“Because she’s in the bathroom again. Do you think it’s that time of the month or something?”
“I’m sure she’s inserting her sponge so she can bang you like a drum. Now, seriously, I need a ride. Pronto.”
His smooth chuckle managed to make her grin in spite of her mood. “Where are you?”
“Uh, at an undisclosed location.” She glanced around and improvised. “But I might need the protection of my big, strong, ex-football player brother.”
“Sure, pull on my protective strings. Gimme an address. And where’s your car?”
She grinned again. Her brother might be a jerk of epic proportions when it came to boasting about his own accomplishments but he was also sweet and wonderful and probably way too good for Leigh anyway. “My ride can’t take me home. You sure you can leave for a bit? I won’t keep you long.”
“Yeah, it’s fine. We finished dessert. She’s not talking much. I was thinking she might just be the quiet type but when I asked her if she was a Democrat, she—”
“Oh, Adam the magnate. You don’t discuss politics on a first date.” Or ever, in her case. Her life was enough of a landmine without introducing twisty topics like tax reform.
“I was just feeling her out. I’m starting to get the idea that maybe she’s not into me.”
“What was your first clue?” Marcia asked innocently.
“Well, the bathroom thing. And she keeps looking at her watch.” He blew out a breath. “Let me pay the bill and drop her off at the Nook then I’ll come get you.”
“Thanks.” She rattled off the address then hung up. She definitely owed the lugnut a giant hug.
She also owed her lover a phone call. Making him worry wasn’t cool, even if she wasn’t certain he wouldworry, considering his state of fascination with Cale and his sexual proclivities.
She called Tony’s cell and got his voicemail. So surprising. After leaving a pithy message that indicated she was fine and had gotten a ride home, she went outside and crossed the street to the tire place where she’d directed her brother to pick her up. She wasn’t ashamed of hanging out a sex club but she also didn’t feel like entertaining questions. And Adam, being Adam, would ask plenty of them.
With a sigh, she sat down on the curb outside the front door and contemplated the pack of smokes she habitually toted around in her purse. It had been a long time since she’d lit up but every now and then, the urge appeared. Like right now. If she closed her eyes she could almost smell the smoke carrying on the wind.
Her fingers twitched but she tucked them under her other hand. Nope, no cigs. No distractions. She was just going to sit here and think.
Heaven help her.
She turned off her phone, not wanting to be tempted if Tony called—not wanting to know if he didn’t—and stared at the starry sky. It was such a pretty night, and out here away from the noise and madness of Kink she felt isolated, maybe even a little lonely. Definitely contemplative.
Her mindset had done a complete one eighty in just a few days and she still wasn’t sure what that meant yet. Or who would be coming along with her for the ride.
That she hadn’t pitched a scene at Kink showed exactly how far she’d come. She’d walked away and now she was thinking things through rather than making any rash decisions. God, growing up—even at almost forty—really fucking sucked.
Adam appeared a short while later. As soon as she shimmied into his pricey jockstrap of a car, she let out a laugh at the hair metal band pumping from the speakers. “Eighties music? Really?”
“Yeah, well, there was no dirty talking tonight, that was for sure.” He flashed her a wide grin then pointedly glanced out the windshield. “Oh and by the way, sis? If you think I actually believe you’ve been hanging out at a closed tire place all night, you’re wrong. Where’d you come from? Been streaking in the woods or something?”
Again a flush crept over her cheeks. Twice in one night. How disturbing. “Or something.”
“Not going to tell me?”
