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“Let me help with that,” I say with a warm smile. “Thank you, Stephen... for the chairs and for calling Lucas out. It makes a difference when your peers do it instead of me.”
He snorts derisively. “He’s not my peer. He’s a cretin looking to get laid.”
A small laugh escapes at his vehemence, but Stephen doesn’t crack a smile, much less laugh. I glance back at the door the guys walked out of and wonder if Stephen’s right.
“I liked your perspective on attractiveness increasing as you get to know someone—”
Whatever Stephen was going to say is cut off by Jim coming in. “Hey, Samantha, come check this out. The boys are chattering ‘bout your classes on the podcast. You probably wanna hear this.”
“Oh!” I exclaim. “Thanks, Jim!” I’m halfway to the door when I remember that Stephen was saying something. I turn back, but he’s finishing up with the chairs and his back is to me. “See ya next class, Stephen?”
He throws a wave my way with a small smile. “Sure. Bye, Miss Redding.”
I take off down the hall, my heels clicking over the tile to the media room where Evan usually edits the podcasts. The one they’re recording right now is playing on the computer.
I sit down in the chair and watch the colored lines going up and down to indicate the sounds of Chance and Evan talking.
“Okay, I’ll admit it... you were right,” Evan says. “Adding a female perspective has made a big difference in the club. But I still say rule six has its place.”
“Blah, blah, blah, all I’m hearing is... I’m right,” Chance teases back. “You heard it here first. Evan’s going to listen to me from now on. My opinion is the best because I’m right!”
I can almost see Chance throwing his arms up in victory as he exaggerates wildly with what Evan actually said, and I laugh to myself, trying to stay quiet so I don’t interrupt their recording.
“That is not what I said,” Evan sputters, though I’m pretty sure it’s part of their banter. “But I’d like to put it out to our audience... how would you feel about a guest star for the show that’s a woman so that we get a more varied viewpoint? Let us know in the comments.”
Is he talking about me joining in on the podcast too? I kick my feet and spin in the chair, silently squealing at the idea.
Not only would it help the Club,I think,but what a way to launch my professional bona fides! Samantha Redding, world-famous sex therapist! Move over, Dr. Ruth!
CHAPTER20
CHANCE
“Don’t move.I’ll be right back,” I tell Samantha. Hopping up from my bed where she’s spread out like a starfish in a post-bliss haze, I smack her ass and laughingly promise, “Snacks and hydration, STAT!”
She laughs too, calling out weakly, “Gatorade, please!” A moment later, her head flops back to the pillow.
Naked, I stride to the kitchen and dig around in the fridge. I grab a cheese stick for Samantha from the stash I now stock. Two Gatorades, and then I pop an egg-white-veggie muffin into my mouth for some protein.
I’ve got it all balanced in my hands when I hear the elevator ding.
Shit! Who could that be?
Only a couple of people have my building code. Not many need that type of access to me, and none of them need to see naked.
The doors open, and I lunge for a pillow to hide my dick, letting the cheese stick and drinks fly. “No!” I shout, and my muffin falls from my mouth to the floor.
Not giving two fucks about what she might be walking in on, Kayla struts from the elevator and into my living room like it’s her own. “Sent on a mission from on high, so your objection is vetoed. And it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
Kayla looks like she’s come straight from the office in a professional blouse and skirt paired with high heels that make her model tall. Her blonde hair is gathered at the nape of her neck, and behind the glasses she typically wears to block the blue light on the computer, I know her eyes miss nothing. Whatever she’s here for, her secondary assignment is clearly information-gathering.
I press the pillow a bit tighter, making sure nothing private is visible, and sigh heavily. I want to scream, but the fastest way to get her out of here is to let her complete her mission. “What do you want, Kayla? Who sent you?”
“Mom, of course,” she says with an eye roll as she sets her purse on an end table. I’m pretty sure she gives the surface a swipe test for dust too. As if she’d find any here. “Aunt Viv’s coming to town for her birthday, so we’re all being punished with a family dinner.”
I don’t give a shit about Aunt Viv. She’s my dad’s sister and completely insufferable. When people started calling entitled, bossy, I’m-better-than-you type women ‘Karens’, we’d privately joked that they should’ve called them Vivians because the caricature fits her one hundred percent. She’s never met a person she’d consider her equal, never thought about someone else before herself, and drones on endlessly about how her son is basically the Second Coming.
None of which is remotely true.
