The Charmer (Harbor City 2)
“But they shouldn’t use the bathroom while on the phone,” Fallon said.
Felicia couldn’t argue with her sister there. “Duly noted, Queen of Etiquette.”
“So, what’s this I hear about you calling Frankie for outfit advice,” she said, taking full advantage of the thirteen months age difference between them (hello, Irish twins) to launch an interrogation. “Who’s the dude? Please tell me it’s not Tyler Jacobson.”
“What if it is?” she asked, her voice doing that thing it always did whenever she felt cornered and out of place. “What if he’s naked and sprawled out on my bed right now?”
Fallon wasn’t impressed by her bravado. “If there was a hot, naked man in your bed then there’s no way you’d be answering the phone.”
Of course, she immediately singled in on a mental image of Hudson with the sheet wrapped around his bare hips, and her body warmed way more than was acceptable considering she was talking to her sister. “Probably not.”
“Oh, that sigh sounded hopeful.”
Oka
y, this was going to go nowhere good, way too fast if she didn’t distract her sister. “What’s wrong? No hot guys in Vegas so you have to imagine them in my apartment?”
“Don’t even ask,” she huffed. “There were shots so I can’t confirm or deny any of that beyond the fact that I met one giant jackass.”
“Please don’t ever say that to Frankie or he’ll freak.” As the oldest of the Hartigan kids, Francis James Hartigan was as bossy as he was tall, broad, and determined to keep all of his siblings out of trouble as much as he got into it. “Speaking of which, how did you know he helped me out the other night?”
“Our big brother has an even bigger mouth.”
That was so the truth. “What did he say?”
“Only that he’d steal my nursing clogs if I told that he’d helped you pick out a date night outfit.”
“That’s your fault for giving your extra keys to a firefighter with a history of being an overbearing pain in the ass.”
“Fair enough,” Fallon said. “So who’s the dude?”
“Just a friend who’s helping me out with a project.” Not totally a lie, so she managed to keep her tone steady. Mostly. God, she sucked at lying.
“You’ve got an ant man, huh?”
She flashed on the look of horror on Hudson’s face when she’d explained how the honeypot ant had gotten its name. “More like the opposite.”
“And you’re not gonna tell me more?”
“Nothing to tell.” How could a person even begin to explain this crazy ass situation? They couldn’t—especially not her latest lesson that had left her screaming her release as she rode Hudson’s face.
“I can practically see the blush from my living room across the river in Waterbury. You always were the worst liar.”
“Seriously, Fallon, there’s nothing to tell.” Nothing she could tell, that was for sure.
“So meet me for lunch and don’t tell me all about it.”
Felicia glanced at the clock. Hudson would be here soon and she was still wet and naked, in a totally different way than the last time he’d been inside her apartment. “I can’t.”
“How come?”
“I’m going out of town.”
“Promise to tell me all the details when you get back, and I won’t tell Frankie you’re headed off for a weekend of amazing hot monkey sex.”
“I’m not having sex.” Lessons. She’d be having lessons and that was totally different. Her core clenched. Totally. Different.
“Then why haven’t you asked me for advice on packing if you aren’t planning on leaving everything in the overnight bag?” Fallon said with all the superiority an older sister could muster.