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“I have no idea. You’re the math and engineering brainiac.”
I sighed, trying to keep up with Mallory’s busy thoughts. I was the quiet shy one and she was the extrovert constantly trying to pull me out of my shell. It had worked since elementary school when our desks were side by side, but after high school, I’d gone to MIT for college. Far from Hunter Valley, Montana. When everyone wanted to know why I’d returned a semester early and without my degree, it hadn’t helped. Mallory was trying, but it was going to take more than a sex quiz and ladies’ night to get me out there again. “Do you want me to finish this quiz or not?”
“Finish. Finish. Finish,” she began to chant.
I laughed, then pushed on.
What do you want a guy to do to you in bed? This is anonymous so share your darkest fantasy.
I exhaled loudly.
“You’re on the fantasy question, aren’t you?”
“Yup.” I paused, stared at the blinking cursor, then typed. What the hell, I thought. It was anonymous since no name was on top and Mallory was going to print them all out and bring the stack to the bar. Knowing the other ladies who were joining us and answered their own sex quizzes, my fantasy response would sound like it came from a nun in comparison. They weren’t tramps or anything. Not that any woman was a tramp, but these were more Mallory’s friends than mine since I’d been gone for three years and I always felt like I was tagging along. I may have left the time zone, but I was back now. Home with my proverbial tail between my legs.
“What does it matter? I mean, guys go for pretty women like you and your friends. High maintenance. Like you said, I’m just the smart one not wearing the cute top.”
“Bridget Jane Morrison, we need to find a man who will spank your ass for me for saying that.”
My mouth fell open. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
“I can’t believe you just put yourself down. Again.”
I frowned, then typed in my answer. My secret fantasy.
Moving on… Who do you want to do it with? Name your dream lay.
“Bridge, come on. What the hell’s taking so long?” she poked.
I typed in the first thing that came to mind to get this over with and Mallory off my back. Jake Ryan. The cute hero from Sixteen Candles. The same answer that Samantha gave in the movie. My first true–fictional–love.
“Done,” I say, saving the document.
“Send it and let’s go already. I’m wearing that new push up bra and I have to tell you my girls never looked so perky.”
Mallory regaled me all about the benefits of her new bra as if she worked with structural engineers instead of me. She moved on to making the Jeopardy countdown music which was as annoying as someone filing their nails in front of you as I attached the document and hit Send.
“Done!” I shouted, hoping she stopped.
“Finally. See you in a few. And don’t get sidetracked by some report. I will hunt you down!” She hung up.
Hopping up, I grabbed my things and headed out, ensuring the office’s entry door was locked. Climbing into my car, I slumped in my seat and took a breath. Friday night. Thank God. I didn’t hate my job, but there were aspects of it that sucked. Like my boss. Now my ex-boss. The letch. I didn’t want to think about him now, or ever, again. I shifted my thoughts to my latest and greatest fantasy instead and put all my mental power on my ride across town to Maverick James.
Big. Manly. Hot. Brash. And I didn’t realize until earlier today, a badass. A gorgeous, older badass. Broad shoulders. Muscular like exercise was his religion. Square jaw. Dark, penetrating eyes that didn’t just look at you, but into you and made you squirm.
I did just that now in my car thinking of him. My panties didn’t stand a chance when he was around. Or on my mind.
Ten minutes later, I searched the interior of Kincaid’s for Mallory and the others. Happy hour was in full swing and the crowd spilled out onto an exterior deck.
“You’re not going to get away with it,” Mallory said, setting her hands on my shoulders once I found the group at two high top tables pushed together out on the deck. Her blue gaze raked me over as she spoke. She shook her head, and I knew she was taking in my outfit. “Are those boots even sold in women’s sizes?”
Of course she looked adorable in a pair of high waisted jeans and pale blue, low cut top that only validated everything she said about the push-up bra. Her light hair was styled and she had on makeup. Like a normal twenty-something on a Friday night.
“Getting away with what? My shoes?” I glanced down at my feet. “It’s a law that I have to wear steel toed shoes at a construction site.”
“Not the shoes, although they are God-awful. Leave a pair of non-construction site shoes in your car or something. I’m talking about the quiz.”
I frowned as I waved to Zoe, one of Mallory’s friends, over her shoulder. “What are you talking about?”
