Stitches

When I pull up into Seb’s driveway tonight, I feel good. Better than good. I can’t wait to see Moira. I kill the engine and slide out of the car, pocketing my keys and heading for the door. I still remember the first time I met her. It wasn’t unusual to see Seb with a pretty girl. Between his looks, charm, and money, he made his way through his fair share of them. He started to resent the ones who only came with the money, though. One of the girls he dated even had money herself—old money, which apparently means something to people. Personally I don’t understand how there’s more prestige in inheriting a fortune from some dead grandpa who made a fortune in publishing back in the day than guys like me and Seb who busted our asses to make every dime we have, but “society people” are ass backward about that shit. This one girl, Evelyn Curtis, was the worst of them. Even with Seb’s finan

cial situation being what it is, she never felt he was good enough to introduce to her family.

He dumped her ass, then suddenly she came around to his new money. Tried to explain the unique pressure she was under, being so special.

God, she sucked. I was glad when he dumped her.

Especially because he met Moira shortly after, and I liked Moira on sight. It wasn’t just her looks. Moira is a looker, no question, but she exudes a sweetness that a lot of ladies these days don’t. There’s a spark of gentleness in her. It’s not hidden. It’s there in the sweet sound of her voice, the kindness in her eyes. The night I met her, I joined them for dinner at a restaurant; Moira went out of her way to talk to me and make sure I felt welcome. She didn’t have to. I felt welcome the first time she smiled at me.

It took a while before I started to feel jealous, though. I liked her too much, enjoyed being around her. I had always more or less had Seb to myself, even when he was seeing someone, but with Moira it was different. I kind of figured she’d be the one he married right from the get-go. You could just tell.

Now I stand outside the door of their house and I don’t know whether I should knock or let myself in. Formality wins out and I press the illuminated round button. I hear the doorbell ring out inside the house and a minute later I can see the outline of Moira’s figure approaching through the frosted glass of the door.

The door opens and she greets me with a smile, putting an earring in her left earlobe. “Hey, Griff. Come on in. I just need five more minutes.”

She changed clothes. I don’t know why I’m so pleased to see that; she looked lovely in what she wore earlier, but she changed into a sexy-as-hell black cocktail dress that hugs her curves just right. She’s dressing up to go out with me, like she’s excited. I can’t tear my eyes away from her as I step inside. She leans behind me to close the door, and I can’t help catching her around the waist and pulling her close for a kiss.

She stops fiddling with her earring and wraps her arms around my neck, drawing closer, slanting her mouth over mine and closing her eyes as she kisses me back. Blood rushes through my veins, heading straight for my cock. Fuck, I’m not supposed to be turned on already.

After a minute, she breaks the kiss and smiles at me mischievously. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you like the dress.”

“I’m a big fan of this dress, but an even bigger fan of the body it’s covering up.”

She grins, playfully swatting my arm and turning away to head for the bathroom. “You better stop that or we’ll never get out of here.”

That Chinese takeout is starting to sound damn good. The restaurant I made reservations at is great, but the chef is a real high-maintenance pain in the ass. Dinner and dessert will take every bit of two hours, maybe two and a half.

I adjust my slacks, watching her ass as she walks away. I guess a few hours having to look at her in this dress isn’t so bad when I consider what I get to do to her as soon as we leave.

Seb is the best fucking friend in the world. I know I give him hell sometimes, but damn.

Moira comes back a few minutes later with a fitted black coat over her dress and a pearl-encrusted clip in her hair. She styled her hair up tonight with a few loose locks hanging down. She’s so pretty I could die just looking at her.

Her blue eyes shine with affection as she takes my arm. “You look very handsome tonight.”

I tear my gaze from her to look down at myself. I wore a blue suit with a white shirt and matching navy tie. I’m not really all about suits, but Seb has been since we could afford them. He wanted us to look the part when we first had the money but didn’t feel like we really fit the part yet. We could wrap ourselves up in as many $4,000 suits as we wanted, but I still felt like the kid who wore hoodies ‘cause no one bought him a winter coat and he was too surly to ask for one.

I’m a long way from that now, though. Moira’s looking at me like she can’t see that kid, and if she could, she’d have bought him a fucking coat herself.

I take her out to the car and open the door for her. She gives me a smile and a thank-you as she slides in the passenger seat. Honest to God, I can’t believe this is happening. Seb’s the kind of guy who gets the girl like Moira; I’m the guy who only dreams about her from afar. Only here she is in my car, all dolled up to go out with me.

Once we get out of the driveway, I ask her, “So, how are you doing with all this?”

“The sharing?” she questions. “Well, I certainly have no cause to complain so far.”

That draws a smile out of me. “Glad to hear it.”

“How about you? Are you feeling good about it today?”

Is she kidding me? “I don’t see how I could feel any other way, to be honest.”

“I know Sebastian has a sort of… transactional view of things sometimes. He sees something that needs to be done and then he does it. I didn’t think that would extend to this, but… well, here we are.”

I nod my head in understanding. “I just wanted to make sure you feel good about it. I know Seb can steamroll over people sometimes when he gets an idea in his head, and I know you tend to be pretty submissive to him. I don’t want you to be here because you feel like you have to be.”

She reaches her hand over and places it on my thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I want to be here, Griff.”

“Was last night okay?” I ask, daring a glance in her direction.