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Nora: Why not?
Beck: Just wasn’t.
Nora: Hmmm…
Thirty seconds later, another text popped up.
Nora: Whatareyou into tonight, Beck?
I was more excited at the thought of a little sexting with a woman two-thousand miles away than I’d been at the prospect of going home with my actual date for the evening.
Beck: Considering I’m home all alone and you declined my offer to hop on a flight, I could be into some pictures…
Nora: What type of pictures?
The liquor had definitely kicked in now. I didn’t want to come off like a dirtbag and tell her to send me some skin shots—even if that’s exactly what I wanted. Instead, I treaded lightly.
Beck: The bikini one with the dolphin was kind of nice.
Again the dots jumped around, then stopped for a few minutes before my phone vibrated again.
Nora: Goodnight, Beck.
I sighed. Guess I’d pushed things too far.
A half hour later, I was in the bathroom getting undressed when my phone buzzed again. It was Nora, and when I opened the text, a video popped up.
She was standing to the side with her camera pointed at the mirror, wearing the same pair of leather chaps with fringe down the sides that she’d been wearing earlier. She zoomed in on her bottom half and then turned until her ass was facing me.
Jesus.
Freaking.
Christ.
And I do mean her ass was facing me—because she had on only a thong under those assless chaps now. She bent, giving me an amazing close-up of two big round globes, and then looked back over her shoulder and winked right before the video stopped.
I pressed play twice more before I even realized another text had come in after.
Nora: Sweet dreams.
I shut my eyes, trying to calm down, but that only made things worse. A visual of my hand leaving a print on that beautiful ass had my eyes springing open and searching for the play button yet again. I watched the video one more time before swallowing and typing back.
Beck: There will be nothing sweet in my dreams tonight as I imagine all the things I would do to that ass if it were here.
CHAPTER 14
Beck
ROUND TWO.
A week later, I found myself on another date. This time it was with Claire Wren, a woman I’d gone out with three times before—on the same day for three of the last four years, our joint birthdays.
Claire was an IT security expert who owned her own firm. She’d done some work for me a few years back and somehow we’d figured out that we shared a birthday—not just the day, but the year, too. A few months later, I was out for drinks with my friends when she texted to wish me a happy birthday. She wound up coming to the bar where I was, and we ended the night by celebrating back at her place, just the two of us. Claire was driven—maybe the one person I knew who was busier than I was at the time—so it wasn’t until the same day the next year that we got together again. After that, it became our thing. She texted on our birthday each year, and we got together for our once-a-year celebration. The only time we hadn’t was the year I was out of the country. Tonight I’d almost declined and said I couldn’t make it, because I wasn’t in the mood, but I’d convinced myself to go in the end. Birthdays alone were just sad, as was sitting home drinking alone, which I’d done all too often lately.
Claire ordered us shots of Bailey’s at the bar, and we held them up in a toast.
“A smart, handsome, successful person was born today.” She smiled. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t you. It was me. Who knows, maybe next year will be your year. Happy birthday, my birthday twin.”
