Page 57 of Bombshells
“If you don’t get up, I’ll start inviting other people.”
“No!” I throw off the comforter. “Fine. I’m getting up.”
“Twenty minutes,” she repeats.
Grumbling, I sit up slowly. The daylight pouring through my windows is unwelcome. I have failed to hold onto the night, and now I’m faced with the reality of wild sex hair and Fiona’s spike heels askew on the floor.
After easing my naked body off the mattress, I make the bed without changing the sheets. Maybe the bed will still smell like Anton’s skin when I climb in again tonight. He’ll be in a hotel somewhere, and I’ll be here, thinking delicious thoughts.
I lean over to pick up the shoes. Leave those on, he’d said. It makes me shiver just hearing his voice in my head.
When I open the closet to grab my bathrobe, a glint catches my eye from the windowsill. Slowly, I belt the robe and then take three paces to the other side of my tiny room. But I already know what I’m going to find there.
It’s a hairpin. Copper-colored, this time. And suddenly I have goosebumps again, but not the fun, sexy kind.
“Mom,” I whisper. “Maybe there are things you don’t want to know.”
She says nothing, of course. It’s just like my mother to drop in on my life and make a comment, without letting me defend myself. That’s exactly what’s happening here. I took the wrong man to bed, and she has opinions. She thinks I should be patient and wait for Bryce to love me.
But I’m not doing that. In fact, I’m never doing that again. I am done pining for that man. So, so done.
I toss the hair pin in the box in my top drawer, grab a clean towel, and head for the shower to wash the (excellent) sex off my body.
And I’m not sorry. Not one bit.
* * *
Fiona does not ask me any questions as I sip my mug of strong diner coffee. And when the pancakes and bacon land in front of me on the table, I think maybe she isn’t going to pry.
But then she pounces.
“So… tell me how a very naked Anton Bayer ended up in our apartment last night?”
“Shh!” I glance around the diner, looking for Bombshells. But we’re the only ones. “It was just… a happy accident. I was frustrated with Bryce. Anton asked me to dance. I enjoyed it. A lot.” He’s always gotten a strong reaction from me. It’s just that I used to be better at ignoring it.
“Was it his idea?” Fiona asks, leaning forward in her seat, eyes bright.
“Nope.” I cut off another bite of fluffy pancakes. “I told him that you’d pinned me into that dress, and that without help I’d be playing hockey in it this evening.”
Fiona snorts. “And that’s all it took? I should have asked Anton Bayer to remove a pin from my collar ages ago.”
My stomach twists unpredictably, which is ridiculous. Anton isn’t mine. Still, the idea of Fiona staring into Anton’s bright, lust-filled eyes makes me unaccountably queasy.
“It was just a joke, Sylvie,” she says gently. “I wouldn’t really.”
I hide behind my coffee mug. “He doesn’t belong to me.”
“But he could,” she argues. “He’s really into you.”
“What? No he isn’t.” I take another fortifying gulp of coffee. “Why would you say that?”
“Because he looks at you the way you looked at that bacon when the waitress set it down.”
“They have really good bacon here, though.” I pick up a strip and bite off the crumbly edge. “You’re confusing me. I thought Bayer only played the field. You said it yourself.”
“Well, he’s well-known for that.” She looks thoughtful. “And men who are afraid of commitment will avoid it even when they really love someone. But he seems to really like you.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Isn’t it?
