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I wondered if he’d kissed her yet.
The flush on their faces as they came back inside made me consider it, but no. We have boundaries, and Rick sticks to them.
Trust.
It means everything.
I refilled Katie’s glass, and she chugged another load back as though it wasn’t vintage. I liked that about her already. She lacked any kind of pretence. She was spirited, and free. Classy, without being stuck up.
A body to fucking die for.
And a sparkle in her eyes that made it clear she wanted this.
Correction. A sparkle in her eyes that made it clear she wantedRick. They always wanted Rick. Rick is fun, and sexy, and puts people at ease. Me not so much.
I could live with that. I didn’t give a shit about that. But I did give a shit about time. Six months was too long to wait, six months was wasted time, a stupid dance that could lead to a fat pile of frustration.
Six months was unacceptable.
I needed to know she could deliver, and I needed to know a fuck of a lot quicker than six bastard months.
Rick wiggled his eyebrows at me, and Katie was attached to him, her hand in his. They’d be fucking already if I wasn’t here, and I knew it.
“Have you eaten?” I asked, and she nodded.
“I grabbed something before I came over.”
“Do you need to call anyone, let them know you’re still in one piece?”
She shook her head. “I’m all good. Mum’s at work. I’m a big girl, she doesn’t worry about me.”
“She’s your mother. Mothers worry.” I raised an eyebrow.
“I’ve never given her cause to worry,” she said. “This is way above my usual level of crazy.”
“You’re quite safe,” I said. “A risk that paid off.”
“Yeah.” She smiled, but her eyes were on Rick. “It did.”
Drink always makes conversation so much easier. I kept my head, holding back on the wine while Rick knocked back the beers, and Katie loosened up on a couple of glasses of red. I let them talk, and I watched. I always watch.
Rick told her about graphic design, and made her laugh about some of his clients. Only Rick can make work funny like that. He asked her about her uni course, and her friends, and her horse.
She showed him a thousand pictures, but only showed me one.
She asked him a thousand questions, but only asked me a couple.
She touched his arm a hundred times, but kept her body an ocean away from mine.
Yet her eyes kept finding me, and kept staring, and there were nerves there, intoxicating nerves that tempted me to say fuck it, and grab hold of her tight little body and pound the fuck out of her over the kitchen island. I did nothing, just watched.
I checked my watch when they went out for another cigarette, and the time was getting on. Midnight called, and the stakes were getting higher. To fuck or not to fuck.
Her choice, and I couldn’t call it.
She was under his arm when they came back in this time, his fingers trailing the soft skin of her forearm. She was resting against him easily, her smile bright and body relaxed. It made me feel surprisingly irritated, an outcast in my own kitchen, even though I knew the idea was ludicrous.
Rick’s eyes told me the idea was ludicrous.
