AllFreeNovel
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She wants time, I get it. I’m more than capable of taking things slow – even if it means if have to spend a full twenty minutes under the icy spray of a cold shower morning, noon, and night. Sign me up, and call it a cold plunge.
Because I already know, she’s a woman worth waiting for.
This morning,I manage to hold off my curiosity – and lust – until all of 9 a.m. before presenting myself on her doorstep. I ring the doorbell, wondering if those papers from the hidden box have revealed anything juicy for our treasure hunt. If Jake has all the resources of his TV show out searching right now, I don’t want Ivy to get left behind.
There’s no sign of life inside the house. “Hello?” I call, but there’s no answer, so I text Ivy.
‘At the museum.’ She texts back immediately. ‘Some of us aren’t on a relaxing vacation.’
I smile. ‘Until you find the treasure, and retire to your life of luxury and travel.’
‘I’d take that over back-to-back school sessions, any day.’
‘Can I come see you in action?’I text, because frankly, the end of the day is too damn far away to wait – for news of the next clue, or to see her.
There’s a pause, as her typing bubble appears and disappears. Then:
‘I thought you already had.’
Damn.
Suddenly, I’m right back there reliving it in full Dolby surround-sound Technicolor: on the rooftop, in the wardrobe, Ivy’s body arching against me, the feel of her body climaxing under my hands.
Make it IMAX, and I’ll be there every night.
I’m still standing there, holding my phone like an idiot, when another message comes.
‘And also yes, you’re welcome to stop by, if local history is your jam.’
I don’t know about that, but the local historian definitely is, so I drive into town, stopping by the coffee shop to pick her up her favorite drink – thanks to a $10 tip to the kid behind the counter. I’m equipped with Ivy’s favorite mocha frappe whatsitsname, heading to the museum, when my older sister, Hazel, calls.
“Good morning,” I greet her, upbeat, tipping a nod to the old guy sitting outside the hardware store. “How’s tricks?”
“Tricks?” Hazel repeats. “Are you on mushrooms or something?”
“What? No!” I protest.
“Then why do you sound so … relaxed? And happy?”
“I’m on vacation! Besides, do I need a special reason to be in a good mood?” I banter back. “It’s a glorious fall day, and I’ve got a spring in my step.”
“You’re definitely on something,” Hazel mutters, and I laugh. We’ve always been close, especially since my niece, Lottie, was born. Back then, Hazel was trying to keep things together as a single mom at twenty, and you can bet I did my share of babysitting and diaper changes. Now, Lottie’s a frighteningly-smart tween, and Hazel’s put her visual flair to good use as a sought-after production designer, making all my movies look incredible.
She’s also the biggest pain in my ass.
“You haven’t joined a cult out there, have you?” she demands now. “Or gone and fallen in love with some chakra-balancing, microdosing hippie chick?”
“Nope,” I reply, but there must be something in my voice – or Hazel’s sibling ESP is working overtime, because she gasps.
“You have! Who is she? Tell me she’s not taking youcamping!”
“There’s nobody,” I lie. “And I camp just fine. Remember that time I took Lottie out to Big Sur for the week?”
“And you both came back with poison oak, sunburn, and temporary tattoos?” she counters.
I grin. “How is our future astronaut, anyway?”
Hazel sighs. “Bugging me about that space camp program in the spring.”
