Hot Stuff

Lauren: When did the pain start?

Me: Monday morning, early. Close to three a.m. or so.

Lauren: I was with you at close to three a.m. on Monday! Why didn’t you say anything?

Me: I know, but it didn’t start until I had to leave. Right when I had to leave, actually. And it’s been building ever since.

Lauren: Where is the pain?

Me: In my chest. My heart, I think.

Lauren: You might be having a heart attack!

Well, shit, this isn’t going as planned…

My eyes go wide at her overreaction, and I type out another message.

Me: I don’t think that’s it. It’s also in my lower abdomen.

Lauren: You should go to the hospital just to be sure!

Me: I don’t think the hospital will be curative. I really need to see YOU.

Lauren: I’m not a heart doctor, Garrett. You should go to the hospital. I’ll meet you there.

Immediately, I picture her running around the office, gathering her belongings so she can speed over to the hospital to meet me. I type quickly to cut off her panic at the pass.

Me: Lauren, I’m not having a heart attack, I promise. I was just trying to be cute about my heartache—about missing you. About being horny for you. I MISS YOU. I guess I should have just come out and said it…LOL.

Lauren: OH MY GOD, I’m an idiot! And I’m sorry! And you’re so cute, omg! An ache that started when you left!

Me: You don’t have to humor me.

Lauren: NO! Be cute again! I swear, I’ll catch it this time!

I grin at her cuteness.

Me: Date me. Tomorrow night. Please. There’s a comedy show downtown I can get us tickets to, and I don’t want to wait any longer to see you again.

Lauren: I’d love to.

Me: Great. It’s a date. In the meantime, I have just one more favor to ask of you.

Lauren: Of course. What do you need? Something with the kids?

Me: Nope. Just wanted to ask you to give Fat Frank my regards.

Lauren: You…want me to say hello to my fish for you?

Me: He’s your soul fish. So, yes. I need him on my side. Tell him there’s something special in it for him if he takes care of you in my absence.

Lauren: Fat Frank’s not really the bribable type. Believe me, I’ve tried.

“What in the hell are you smiling at, Alexander?” the Cap barks from his seat across the rig. I tuck my phone back into my pocket as calmly as I can.

“Nothing, sir.”

“My asshole, nothing,” he comments. “You better not be fucking sexting in my truck, you animal.”

I bite my lip and look to the side, willing myself not to snap back with something pithy or dirty. Lord knows it’s what the rest of the guys expect, but I’m hoping to hell and back that one day, Lauren and I will still be together, and we’ll be out in the open. The last thing I need is some comment coming back to bite me in the ass when he finds out the woman in question was his daughter all along.

“No, sir.”

He nods, but it’s pretty clear he doesn’t believe me. “Same goes for the rest of you!” he yells at everyone else. “When you’re on the clock, you keep your dick in your pants, got me?”

I hear him, all right. He just has no idea what I’ve been up to after I punch out.

And I have no idea how long I’m going to have to wait to tell him. The longer we wait, the worse it gets, that much I know for sure.

Resolute, I set my intentions. Tomorrow, I’m going to have to talk to Lauren about coming clean.

February 1st

Lauren

Garrett links his fingers with mine, filling the space so perfectly my whole body sighs. He opens the door to the outside of the club, and I can’t help but take a big gulp of happy air as we walk down the sidewalk together toward his car.

“Tonight was so much fun. I don’t want it to end.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“It can’t go on forever, Garrett.”

He smirks, almost like he wants to say something, but in the end, he doesn’t. Instead, he just pulls me close and places a kiss on my lips.

It’s long and sensual, and after spending the last hour and a half laughing our asses off and stealing flirtatious looks at each other, it seems like the perfect precursor to a night of desperately desired connection—physical connection.

Garrett’s body feels unbelievably good against mine, and neither one of us wants to put any space between us; that much is made clear when he pushes me up against the side of the Suburban and pins me in.

My breathing increases its pace, and my breasts ache in my low-cut dress.

He leans down, whispering against my bare collarbone, “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

I do my best to suck in air, but it’s getting harder by the minute, and if the feel of Garrett against me is anything to go by, it’s not the only thing firming up.