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I knew there was some screwed up dating rule about calling too soon, but I couldn’t send her a text, so I braced through the ringing until Jovie answered with a casual, “Hello.”
I smiled like an idiot apologizing for interrupting her lunch and asked if I could pass her number on. She agreed, assuring me that Ams could call anytime. I thanked her, told her I would see her Saturday, and left her to her lunch with her neighbor. I immediately called Scott.
“Well?”
“I may be in love.”
“Whoa. Slow down, Chief. Details now.” I could hear the excitement in his voice. I told him about drinks and dinner then talked about ending up at my house. “So, you totally got some ass?” I grunted an affirmative sound, “Man, that is great. Is it going to be a thing? Make a second date?”
“I’m cooking for her Saturday. But she spent the night.” Nearly thirty-five and feeling giddy about a woman spending the night. It was so silly. It was all I could do to keep my mind from wandering to how Jovie let me lay on her chest while stroking my hair. Jovie let me do whatever I needed and didn’t seem to judge me about it in the least. Then there was how reactive she was to my touch.
“You didn’t get all weird on her, did you?” I groaned, insisting to him I hadn’t gotten weird and finished my lunch, leaving him with no details other than yes, the woman was gorgeous. My day went by quickly, with Ams texting me to say they were going walking, but promised not to bother her.
I finally dragged myself home around six, ordered pizza, and started cooking dessert. Amelia’s bag was on the table, and she had several of her hand written assignments out. No doubt to let Jovie read. It was half an hour later when Amelia came in, releasing Clark into the house.
“I ordered pizza. I really hope you don’t plan on making a habit of bothering her like you did tonight. Jovie has a life, you know?” Amelia insisted she wouldn’t, rifling through the papers, while I mixed icing. “I mean it, Ams, I like her and don’t want you running her off with your stalkerish obsession.” We argued back and forth about how much I liked Jovie and how Amelia better not demand too much attention from her. She teased me about being in love and threw all the things I had said about American women in my face. Her favorite thing to remind me about was how poorly I spoke of American women. but it sounded good.
Then my sister turned toward the door. “Thanks for reading these, Jovie. They aren’t due until after Easter, so take your time.” The bowl in my hands hit the floor, sending icing everywhere. I braced on the counter, replaying the things I said, and hoping that Amelia was playing a cruel joke.
“I’ll bring them back Saturday. You two have a nice night.” Not a joke, brilliant. Jovie heard every single word I had said. The door closed, and I tore out past Amelia, and cleared the stairs in one stride, catching Jovie at the mailbox.
“Jovie, I am so sorry. She is beyond conniving.” I looked down at the icing splattered on my jeans and bare feet.
“Don’t apologize,” She leaned in to kiss me, and I turned right in time to capture her lips, making her smile. “I mean it; little sisters live to be annoying. I should have stopped her before you two started commiserating on how intolerable Americans are.” I tried to suppress my smile. “Again, I like your sister. So, don’t beat her too savagely when you go back in.”
“I’ll see you Saturday?”
“Yes.” I kissed her again, letting her slide her hand from mine, and watched her walk away. I wanted to kill Amelia, but Jovi asking me not to made me like her even more. She wanted to see me, and thought it was funny that I was embarrassed. Jovie’s hips swaying as she walked away from me made me hard. Jovie would be mine before long, because I was already hers.
ELEVEN
Jovie
I wanted to skip home like a silly schoolgirl and call my sisters screaming, “He likes me! He likes me!” but instead, I warmed up some leftovers and curled up on the couch to watch Doctor Who and read Amelia’s short stories. The girl was actually pretty funny. Our walk had been fun. She had text me just after lunch to ask me to walk with her, and I agreed. Amelia asked about the date, gave me a little insight into her relationship with Ewan’s ex, and then we talked books. Amelia felt responsible for his last break-up. The woman was a gold-digger according to Amelia, having him finance her habits.
I had planned on reading all the stories she had given me until Reese and Lydia showed up. They knocked on the door with a bottle of wine and chips. Best sisters ever.
“Tell me how it went since we know he isn’t an axe murderer.” Reese rifled through my fridge for dip while I set out glasses.
“He’s fricking perfect.” I rolled my eyes, leaning against the counter. “I slept with him,” I mumbled the last part, and they whirled around to face me, eyes wide. “Yeah, I know.”
“You didn’t freak out, did you?” Lydia poured the wine and we made our way to the living room to sit in the floor. I shook my head. “You whore.”
“Oh, please. I’m allowed an indiscretion or two. Anyway, he asked me to stay and we had breakfast.” My sisters alternated asking me questions about the date. What we talked about, what he ordered, and the stuff said at breakfast. Then Reese asked for the sexy details, which there were plenty to divulge. I tried not to get too in depth with them, but Lydia was very persuasive. I stopped the both of them when they started talking about dick size.
Reese talked about Julian and him going back to school for his business degree and how it made her want to go back. We polished off the bottle of wine and the chips without even being ashamed.
“Well, I think you should give him a shot. Like really try.” Reese glared at my curled lip. It was all a show. I fully planned on enjoying every long inch of him for as long as I could and as often as I could. “I mean it, Jove, you deserve to be happy, and if you think he could make you happy, you should let him. Or at least keep getting laid.” Reese followed me to clean up our dishes while Lydia flipped channels. “Go out with him at least one more time and try to enjoy yourself,” she commanded me like I wasn’t planning on it anyway. Reese knew exactly how I was—more than two dates and I got attached, which I didn’t want to do. Attached meant I could get hurt. Attached meant a guy could screw your best friend and swear it’s because you suck in bed. Reese was wise beyond her years when it came to reading people, so I tried to listen to her, but the thought of letting myself get close to him was really scary. I finally nodded. “Ewan’s not a Davis, is he?”
I nearly laughed. “Not at all. And I would be lying if I said I didn’t really enjoy myself.” My date didn’t seem to be complaining, either.
She threw a hand towel at me. “See, not all sex is bad.” I shrugged. I hadn’t said all sex was bad, just sex I had was bad. We dropped the sex subject, thankfully, and settled on my couch to watch Friends re-runs.
Ewan texted me randomly the rest of the week, sending me cute little, “hope you have a nice day” and “sleep well” messages in the morning and evening. It was so nice. I liked how hard he was trying, as hard as it was for me to admit, but no one had ever put so much effort into me. The man I was married to didn’t try as hard as Ewan was trying. Friday night he sent me a message simply asking what I was doing, and it led to a late night conversation as I drove back from Lydia’s. We talked until sleep threatened to take over both of us. Ewan wanted to know everything about me, and even followed my book conversations with ease. I told him about Nick, and he didn’t seem too weirded out by the concept of my best friend being a guy. Work was insanely busy with a holiday coming up, but we weren’t complaining. It was a much-needed distraction from obsessing over a guy. I started planning what I was going to invite him to do next time in-between work calls, training sessions, and cleaning up. Surely, Amelia liked bowling, even if it was with her brother and his nerdy date. I found myself wanting to do something for him since he was cooking dinner for me. I wanted to cook for him, or take him to do my favorite things. Such a strange urge.
By six on Saturday, Amelia and I were locked in a fierce Mario Kart battle. We were barefoot on the floor in front of the massive TV, both screaming at the game, and I struggled to keep my language PG rated. Both of us had the habit of leaning as we turned with the joystick even though it didn’t help, and we laughed every time we bumped each other. I beat her again and threw my hands in the air, letting out a victory whoop.
“You cheat! You have to be cheating!” Amelia shoved my shoulder making me fall into the loveseat.
