Page 27 of About Last Night

“I ruined your shirt, which I’ll replace. You heard Greta. Take what you like.”

“How much older is Greta than you?”

“Three years. She never lets me live it down, just like you lord it over Willa.”

I roll my eyes. Of course, that would be one of the first things Willa tells Toni. “More like Willa uses being younger as an excuse for everything.”

“Sounds like my kinda woman.”

“My sister is a flirt, but she’s straight.” What the hell? Why did I say that?

Toni leans against a shelf and raises her eyebrow, the mannerism identical to Greta’s. “Is she? Interesting.”

“What?”

“I was getting a bi vibe. Or maybe she was checking me out to make sure I’m good enough for you.”

“She doesn’t know you were the one.”

“The one?” Toni’s eyes sparkle with mischief.

“My one-night stand.”

“Oh, you told her about us?”

“Not technically, no.” When Toni waits for me to continue, I say, “It was a little obvious when I didn’t get home until after two in the morning. Apparently I don’t have a poker face.”

She breaks into a gorgeous big grin. Dammit. Stop being so beautiful and endearing and fucking sexy in hiking clothes, of all things. I’ve never, in my entire time living in Colorado, been attracted to the sporty outdoorsy lesbians, which, let’s be honest, means I have a drastically shallow dating pool. But if Toni offered to take me into the backcountry and build me a cabin and live off the grid, I might just throw everything away and go.

“Hello?” Toni waves her hand in front of my eyes. “Where’d you go there? Or should I ask?”

I clear my throat. “Probably better not to.”

Toni grins, but thankfully doesn’t ask for details. “Do you want me to pick something for you? You know what? I will.”

She is in my personal space now, trying to squeeze between me and the shelf. I could shift back to let her through, but my body won’t move.

“I can pick out my own clothes,” I say, though I can barely hear my voice.

“I know.” Her gaze moves to my hair. “I like your new haircut.”

“You didn’t recognize me.”

“In my defense, it’s a pretty drastic change. I loved your long hair, but this…” She lets out a low whistle.

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m really not. It suits you.”

“It makes me look like a giraffe.”

“That’s not what I think of when I look at your neck.”

I should probably say my stomach flip-flops or something like that, but that is definitely not where I feel that comment.

“I think you know what your neck makes me think of,” Toni says.

I want her to move closer, but she stays still. No. No I don’t want her to move closer. I’m at work. This is an important contract; I need to be clear-headed. Then I realize I could be the one who moves away, so I start looking at the items on the shelves.

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