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“Yes.” She said it with a dreamy look on her face, the smile automatic. She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “We’ve gotten good at quickies.”
I set my glass aside, which just happened to require looking near my phone, which still showed no new messages. “Never doubt the joy of a good quickie.”
My belly fluttered thinking about the text exchange with Lear the night before and how it had turned into us on the phone, listening to each other. It hadn’t been a quickie, though; we’d talked for over an hour, the heat rising, teasing each other with words. I clenched my thighs at the memory and tried to push away the awareness that he’d known what to say to turn me on and keep me going, even in a text.
“What was that look?” Britta’s eyes narrowed.
“What?” I cut a quick glance at my phone. “Nothing.”
“Do you have some thoughts on quickies you’d like to share?”
“I do not.”
“Thoughts on making relationships work?”
I laughed. “Certainly not. That’s you and Wes’s domain.”
Britta narrowed her gaze. “What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing. Stop trying to read me.”
“Did something else happen with that guy?”
I glanced at my phone, which I knew she saw.Rookie mistake.“What guy?”
“ ‘What guy,’ ” she said, mocking. Lowering her voice, she said in a hushed tone, “The hot guy from the coffee shop. The one you kissed. The one with whom nothing was evolving.”
“Why are you whispering? Will Wes get upset at you calling another guy hot?”
She laughed, her smile taking over her face. “No. He’d want to hear all the details, come out here all nosy, and then you wouldn’t share any of the good stuff. So... spill.”
“There’s no tea here,” I said, settling back against the couch.Don’t look. Don’t look.“I go to work, I do weddings, I repeat.”
“But I know what you’redoingat these weddings, or ratherwhoyou’re doing.” She waggled her eyebrows.
I rolled my eyes. Britta wouldn’t judge a casual fling. She was in her love bubble, but I wasn’t worried she’d look down on the sex-only arrangement with Lear. I bit the inside of my cheek, debating what to tell her, because I was pretty sure she’d see through any of my deflections. Turns out I didn’t have to.
“You’re still sleeping with him, right?”
A flash of memory hit me from our morning in bed at the hotel: us thumb wrestling and how he’d made me want to share things about myself. It had really stuck with me, even though I’d played it off. There had been other moments like the one in the hotel when he’d looked at me like he saw me. When he’d said we could dance, I’d been tempted to agree.
“Are you dating?”
“We’re not dating. It’s casual.”
I sipped my wine.Don’t look at the phone.“To his credit, he’s not the dude-bro I initially thought. He’s funny and kind of quirky. He’s helped me out a few times and can be sort of sweet when not being aggravating.” The thought of his hyper-organized trunk and how he secretly listened to musicals in his car brought a smile to my face.
“You like him,” Britta commented, sporting her own smug grin.
“I do not. He’s hot and good in bed.”
“Funny, you didn’t mention any of that when you were telling mehow he was funny and quirky.” She pointed to my phone. “Is he whose text you’ve been looking for all night?”
My cheeks heated. Not only had I been caught, I’d been caught waiting for a text that hadn’t come. “We were exchanging messages last night. I just thought he might reply.”
“Oh, that’s all? Just late-night texting like you do with everyone? Debriefing upcoming wedding ceremonies, I’m sure. Definitely sexting within an inch of your life... or maybe... eight inches of your life?”
“I’m not taking the bait, and I really don’t know why we’re friends.”
