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“I’m flattered. Seriously.” He gave her hand a squeeze. He thought about kissing her, but oddly enough, it was nice, just holding her hand. It was somehow sweeter and more fiery than kissing. A slow burn that he’d never experienced before in his life.
He wanted more.
He seriously wanted more.
The want was genuine. His need to see her again was genuine.
Alex almost gave his head a shake, but his nose hurt too much. He dug his phone out of his back pocket and passed it over. “Number. Now. Then I’ll give you mine.”
“You could just delete it after.”
“I won’t. Besides, if I didn’t call you back, who would be willing to take me out? Not very many people think going to see some stars outside the city is exciting.”
“Not very many people like being head-butted either.”
“You see. We make a good pair.”
Something flashed in Muffy’s eyes right before she bent her head and started entering her number into his phone. Alex slid back behind the wheel and started the truck up. It was getting cold in there and he made sure he pumped the heat onto full blast. The fogged up windshield cleared after that.
After he gave Muffy his number, he accepted his phone back. Their fingers brushed, and he tried not to focus on the sparks raging through his bloodstream. Or the guilt.
Because no matter what he felt or didn’t feel, it wasn’t actually real. He was there because of a bet he didn’t want to lose. Muffy might be the real deal, but he was playing a part.
Fuck, she probably should have hit him harder, because he definitely deserved a broken nose.
CHAPTER 9
Muffy
Muffy was shaking by the time she got back to the apartment. She let herself in and hadn’t even shed her boots before Carla was there, ready for details.
She was sitting on the couch, their cat on her lap, and had a tub of ice cream, the kind with the cookie pieces in it, in one hand, a spoon in the other. It didn’t matter that it was nearly midnight and she had no reason to stress eat, she looked like she was stress eating. And enjoying it. She slowly got up and ambled over to the door. She popped a spoonful into her mouth, closed her eyes, and made an mmmm sound at the back of her throat. How she could eat that much and still be curvy thin, Muffy did not know.
“How was the date?” Carla asked, after coming out of her ice cream orgasm. “You were gone for a long time. Either you did not go on that date and spent the evening doing errands and then decided to try and emergency second date later with someone else, or you went on the date and it sucked and you tried an emergency second date with someone else. Or the last option, you actually went on that date and you just… enjoyed it. The first date. The only date. One.”
Muffy rolled her eyes. “Yes, it was only one. Jeez. Give me some credit. I’m not a serial dater. You were the one that forced me into this. I wouldn’t just swipe left or right or whatever the hell it is people say and choose someone else.”
“I would have. I wouldn’t have wasted a good Friday night on a loser.”
“Well, he wasn’t a loser.” Muffy made a production of taking off her boots so she didn’t have to look Carla in the eye, but her friend was too sharp for that.
“Oh. My. God. You liked him!”
“He was okay.” One boot slipped off and was thrown in the direction of the closet.
“You thought he was hot!”
“He was okay.” The other boot followed the first.
“You want to bone him!”
Muffy straightened. “Good god, Car, seriously? I don’t even think that’s the right term. More like I wanted to ride his bone. Maybe that would be more appropriate, seeing as I don’t have a bone to do any boning with.”
“I’m pretty sure I used that term the correct way.” Carla popped another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.
“I’m pretty sure no one uses that term anymore, so no one would even know if it was correct or not.”
“Well… did he kiss you? Did he treat you to a romantic candlelit dinner in a restaurant he rented out just for the two of you and then take you into the back alley behind the place and fuck you senseless up against a brick wall?”
“No! What? That’s very romance novel-ly of you. No one rents out a restaurant. He’s a working, middle-class person, not some dark ass billionaire. And why, if he did rent out the place, would he fuck me in the alley? It’s winter, for one. For two, the place didn’t have an alley behind it. For three, he’d probably be classier than that if he had money. He’d get a limo or a private jet or something.”
