Page 24 of Leaving Lando

Next Year

A knock soundsat the back door of the bakery. It’s Lando, here to pick me up. He saunters in, gives my ass an affectionate pat, peeks into the goodie bag, and tugs me close for a kiss.

“Hi,” he says when we come up for air.

“Hi.” I’m a little breathless, as always after one of his kisses. Even the mild ones leave me boneless.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah.” I look around a final time, check the closing to-do list, and shrug on the sweater and extra-warm hooded jacket Lando bought me.

Things have not been going how I expected.

We didn’t sleep at all that first night together. After Lando fucked my brains out several times over, he made me coffee and took me to work. So there I was, wearing the same pair of jeans for the third day in a row … but the rest of my outfit was all Lando.

I had on another pair of his boxer briefs, one of his t-shirts, and a flannel shirt he made me wear under my jacket, which I took off as soon as I got to the bakery so I didn’t melt.

It was so obvious we’d finally done the nasty that Quinn and Jade didn’t say a word.

I didn’t mind my lingering soreness; in fact, I relished it. Most of that day, whenever I had a free moment, I played back the memories of our night together, cementing them in my brain. So far, everything was going according to plan.

That afternoon, I decided not to announce to the entire police department that Lando and I had been together. I messaged him that I’d be a little late with the goodie bag and Jade gave me a ride to Carlotta’s, where I changed my clothes, and then back to the bakery.

Lando was in the alley in his truck, waiting for me, when I got back. He followed me inside … and we never made it to the police station. After that, he took me home, and we had a replay of the previous night, except he made spaghetti instead of lasagna and we actually got a little sleep.

It’s been a week now. A week. And he isn’t giving me space at all.

I was all geared up to play it cool and keep my distance, but Lando won’t let me. Every night, I’m getting my brains fucked out on every conceivable surface and in every possible position. The man is both insatiable and highly creative.

Not that I mind. At all. But it’s messing with my head.

Because we aren’t only having sex. We hang out, and talk and laugh and give each other shit, the same as always. He even took me with him to check on Jeeter at the motel. It feels an awful lot like having a boyfriend.

And then there are those moments when he’s sweet to me, and that door in my heart bangs open. Nailing it shut is getting harder and harder. But I have to find a way.

Yes, Lando is the best fuck buddy ever, but that’s all he is. He’s never said a word about my wanting to travel, except telling me I should go. And why should he care if I leave? If I disappeared tomorrow, he’d have women lined up ten feet deep to take my place.

When he spoons with me at night, it just means he’s affectionate and tactile. When his lovemaking turns gentle and he stares into my eyes, when he comes with his face buried in my neck, groaning my name, it proves he’s an attentive lover. When he rubs noses with me, or keeps his truck and his house too warm for his comfort for my sake, or buys me a little stuffed panther after I mention they’re my favorite big cat, it tells me he’s a good guy.

One who is not, in any way, in love with me.

I’m doing my best to be a good fuck buddy in return. Lando won’t get any leading questions from me, like whether he’s had any thoughts about settling down, or what his plans are for the future. I keep my focus on the amazing sex, the good conversation, and the easy company, and when those mushy feelings threaten to erupt, I shove them away as fast as I can.

Last night he had to do a stakeout — another effort to catch the drug dealer he’s after. I spent the night in my room in Carlotta’s house, all alone. It should have been the perfect opportunity to catch up on sleep.

Except I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, and felt terribly lonely and unaccountably weepy. It was ridiculous. Now here we are in his truck, and I’m determined to keep it together and not let him get to me.

“Where are we headed?” I ask when he doesn’t head for the police station or make the turn toward his house.

“Tonio and Cait invited us over for dinner.”

“Oh. Okay, cool.”

Why did they do that? Do they think we’re a couple? Did Lando say something to them?

For fuck’s sake, Bree, stop it. It’s no big deal. “So the goodie bag is our contribution to the meal?”

“Yeah.” He glances at me. “You don’t mind, do you?”

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