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“I love you,” she said to the empty room. She tried the words a few more times. Not so hard without Mason standing in front of her. That’s what she could do—leave a message on his answering machine. Or text him. Ooh, a handwritten note.
Juvenile ideas, the lot of them. He’d had the courage to tell her face-to-face, with no guarantee she’d reciprocate. Which she hadn’t…
She needed therapy. Luckily, she had the perfect person for the job.
* * *
ANDIE
“Are you exclusively sleeping with your boss?” Andie asked between bites of a chicken panini. She’d have been happy eating at a coffee shop, but Lasha had insisted on a restaurant where everything cost three times as much. For an accountant, Lasha wasn’t budget-minded.
“Hell, no. If I was willing to settle for fucking just one man,” Lasha mock-retched beside their table, “it sure as hell wouldn’t be him. He has a monster cock and he knows how to plow, but he won’t shave because it’ll raise questions with his wife. I generally prefer my men on the smoother side.”
“I’ve seen him in a golf shirt, he’s not that furry.”
“Below the belt, sweetheart.” Lasha threw back half a glass of Cabernet in one swig. “Ever blown a cock that’s surrounded by bush? It’s no joy. He likes me to suck his balls too, and they’re hairier than a yeti’s must be. And you don’t even want to know how nasty it is rimming that asshole. When I can find it through the tangle, that is.”
Strangled gasps came from the neighboring table. Lasha didn’t acknowledge them, just resumed picking at her overpriced salad. Nothing fazed her, ever.
In contrast, Andie’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. She had zero issue with the content of their conversation. The audience they’d garnered was another thing.
“So why do it?” Boinking the boss wasn’t going to get Lasha a promotion or more money. A relationship wasn’t in the cards, nor did Lasha want one. “Seems like a lot of fuzz to deal with for some extended lunch breaks.”
“Did I mention his girth? The anal is crazy wild, it’s like having two in there at once. Since his wife won’t even let him finger her ass, let alone fuck it, he’s a very eager puppy. And Idoexpense the lunches,” Lasha said with a wink.
The puppy comment gave her away. For Lasha, sex was about control—getting it, having it, keeping it. The day her boss stopped being desperate for her, Lasha would dump his hairy ass—and balls—and move on. For the sake of her best friend’s tongue, Andie hoped that day wasn’t too far off.
Lasha pushed her dishes aside and crossed her arms on the table. Today her eyes were bright green—thanks to contacts—and they bored into Andie’s face. “I’ll never complain about a lunch invitation from my bestie, but I think I got the call for a reason. Summarize.”
“I’m a little stressed. Mason wants a serious relationship. I emailed Scott, who got his tighty-whiteys in a bunch and cut their vacation short, but whatever. They’ll be back today. Scott has to approve Mason first, then I can introduce him to Dylan.”
“So, that’ll be never.”
“Scott has no grounds to turn down my request.”
“Other than wanting you back.” Lasha’s long, violet nails drummed on the tabletop. “Back to the stressed part. I hate to be the voice of reason, so shame on you for making me go there. Maybe deep down, you’re not so sure about this step, or this guy.”
“I’m sure about both. Especially the guy.”
“What if he only wants to meet your kid so he gets more booty time once Dylan is back in the picture?”
“I don’t think that’s his motivation.”
“Hmm. He’s young and mouthwateringly hot. I doubt he’s itching for family games night with somebody else’s twelve-year-old boy.”
Andie winced at that little dart of probability. “He told me he loves me.”
“Was he drunk?”
“No. But thanks for your multiple votes of confidence.”
Lasha shrugged. “Were you fucking, or more to the point, was he coming at the time of the big reveal?”
“Not the last time he said it, no.”
“Good. Because you can’t count on the shit they spew out when they’re under the influence of alcohol or orgasm.” One perfectly manicured hand snuck across the table and snatched Andie’s half-full glass of wine. Two swallows later, it joined her empty dishes.
“Mason’s not the bullshitting type.”
