“Yes, I’m going to text Chris. I don’t want him thinking for one second I regret what happened.”
“Then you can call me anything you want.”
“I’ll call you tonight after I talk to him. How’s that?”
“That’s perfect. Now go jump that pretty bearded handy boy before I do.”
“I’m hanging up now.” And Joey did.
For a few more minutes, Joey lay in the bed, the bed Chris made with his own hands. She couldn’t deny it was kind of sexy, that he
could literally make a bed. And it was such a beautiful bed, beautifully crafted, beautifully situated in a room beautiful enough to deserve such a bed. Hard to believe this cabin was the very same dump her family had lived in during all her summers from age eight to eighteen. Chris really could work magic. For a couple hours last night he’d made her sadness magically go away. It came back but for a while it was gone, and that was quite a trick. And it was almost Halloween, a season for tricks and treats and a little dark magic. Maybe Kira was right. Maybe she should give it another shot with Chris. Even if they didn’t have sex again—although they probably would if last night were any indicator—she did like hanging out with him. She felt like a kid again with him. Like as long as Chris were around, she’d be okay. And being okay after a bad breakup was the only kind of Halloween treat she wanted right now.
Joey picked up her phone and wrote a message to Chris. Hey, it’s Joey. Thanks for last night. It was pretty amazing until I fucked it up. Will you let me buy you lunch to make it up to you? I’d love to see Timber Ridge, anyway. If not, I understand. I might not want to see me, either.
Without sending the message, she put her phone back on the nightstand next to the wineglass they’d both drunk out of. She looked at it and smiled. Last night had been pretty spectacular. She couldn’t believe Chris had that side to him—that commanding, dirty-talking, wicked side. Still waters run deep, right? That’s what that saying said? Turns out still waters run deep and dirty sometimes. And now that she’d finally seen that deep and dirty side of Chris, she really wanted to see it again. If he didn’t mind. If he wasn’t pissed at her for her little breakdown she had postsex. Only one way to find out. She hit Send on the message. While she waited for a reply, Joey climbed out of bed, took a quick shower and threw on her clothes.
When she returned to the bedroom, she had two messages—one from Chris and one from Kira.
The one from Chris read, I remember two people fucking last night. I don’t remember anybody fucking up. Lunch sounds great. The Green Owl at two?
Joey replied with an immediate, See you there.
Kira’s text simply read, Just how magnificent a cock are we talking here?
To which Joey replied, It’s a lot like Mount Hood. Big, lovely and you want to spend a long time on it. Except you don’t want Mount Hood blowing its load and you do want Chris... This metaphor broke down really quickly.
Then Kira wrote back, I think this Chris guy fucked your brains out.
To which Joey replied, If my brains didn’t alert me that I was dating a married man, I’m better off without them.
* * *
“I’M GOING TO have to kill you, you know that, right?”
Chris stood up straight and clasped his hands behind his back. He’d seen this coming.
“I understand. I don’t make a habit of telling anybody what I do in my private life, but considering, you know—”
“That it was my bedroom? In my bed? And my sister?”
Chris would have preferred to have had this conversation at Dillon’s house or his own house. Somewhere a little more private than Dillon’s twenty-fifth-floor office with his administrative assistant sitting just outside the doorway. As it was a modern office building with an open floor plan, there was no privacy.
“I hate open floor plans,” Chris mumbled.
“What?”
“Nothing. Keep yelling at me. Quietly.”
Chris stood opposite Dillon’s desk and kept his voice low. Maybe he should have worn a suit, too. This wasn’t Portlandia in Dillon’s law firm. This was Wall Street on the West Coast. His was the only beard on the entire floor.
“Did I mention the part about my bed in my house yet?” Dillon asked.
“Yeah. Although to be fair, you haven’t paid me for the bed yet, so technically the bed’s still mine.”
“I will cut you a check. Then I’ll kill you.”
“Fair enough.”