“You get so worked up over nothing,” I remark. “You’re gonna have a heart attack before you’re forty. And I’ll tell you what, as the second smartest sibling, I’m not about to take over your job. So figure that shit out, will ya?”
“You couldn’t do my job, asshole.”
“The hell I couldn’t.” I think about it for a moment. “Yeah, I probably couldn’t. You’re right. Plus, I’d have to see Dad every day, and that makes me want to shoot myself in the face.”
He chuckles. “You know, there’s a good chance I’m going to need a secretary soon. Mine just keeps missing more and more, and I’m getting further behind.”
“Fire her,” I say easily. “Just cut her the two-weeks check and call it good.”
“You ever fired anyone?”
“Nope.”
“Yeah. So shut up,” he laughs. “I am going to have to do something. But I hate change.”
“You’ll live.” I pilot my SUV into the entrance to my gated community and press the code. The gate rises and I go through. “I’m almost home, G, so I gotta go. You good? Need anything?”
“Nah. Let me know about your shoulder. And for fuck’s sake, man, call Dad tomorrow.”
“We’ll see.”
“Talk to you later.”
“Later.”
Sliding into the garage, I cut the engine and hop out. Stepping over a set of dumbbells, I climb the stairs to the door leading into the laundry room. There’s a bounce in my step that even I notice, a little hop that makes me laugh at myself.
I haven’t felt like this in a long time. Just happy. Not overcome with a million worries and needing to figure shit out. With her, it’s . . . easy. There’s no talk of contracts or backup plans or dollar amounts. I’m not sure she even cares. Hell, I’m not completely convinced she wants to see me again. Which is precisely why I have to see her again.
“Danielle Ashley,” I say, stripping my clothes to the floor and putting them in the hamper for Rita. “You are one intriguing lady.”
Danielle
The washcloth hits the laundry basket with a splat. I still smell like him. His scent is in my hair, on my skin, and now on the washcloth in my hamper from cleansing between my legs.
I should take a shower, but I don’t. Not yet. I just want to feel this little buzz a while longer. I thought maybe when I took off my clothes and put on a robe some of it would vanish, but it didn’t. I’m still soaked in Lincoln Landry.
My phone rings in the kitchen and I tighten the tie around my waist and nearly skip in there. I swipe it on with a smile when I see it’s Macie.
“Hey,” I say happily.
“Wow. What’s that all about?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you get laid?”
My laugh probably confirms something of the sort, but I don’t care. I usually try to keep some of my intimate moments private, even from Macie, but not this one. It needs celebrated.
“You did!” she exclaims. “It was by the baseball god, right? Please, please let it have been by the baseball god. And please have taken pictures because I want to see his body. I mean, I’ve seen it online without a shirt, but there are things I’d like to know, and I’m not even sorry I’m saying that about your potential man because whoa.”
“Breathe!” I laugh.
“I’ll breathe. You talk.”
“Okay. Yeah, it was Lincoln. But we didn’t have sex,” I tell her. “He just fingered me.”
“Like in middle school?” she giggles.