Page 118 of Strictly the Worst

I giggle, because he really does look like he needs some release. “Can’t you just… you know…”

“What, Tessa? What should I do?”

“Touch yourself,” I whisper. “Make friends with Mr. Right.”

“Mr. Right?” He sounds almost disgusted.

“Your right hand,” I clarify and his scowl deepens.

“Why would I want my right hand when the most gorgeous woman alive is wet and waiting for me?”

“I’m not wet.”

“You would be if I was there,” he tells me.

Yes, I probably would. I’m learning that sex is Linc’s love language. It’s how he expresses himself. I can’t say I’m sad about that.

“And I can’t fucking come home this weekend,” he says. “That’s what I called to tell you.”

Oh. I take a deep breath because we knew this was possible. He’s meeting with clients every working hour to try to hit the ground running with the European Office of Hampshire PR.

“That’s okay. I’m seeing my other boyfriend this weekend anyway,” I tell him.

He rolls his eyes at me, still not amused.

“You can call me early on Sunday morning your time,” I tell him. Which will make it after midnight here. “I’ll make sure I stay up late.”

“For what?” There’s a hint of interest in his eyes now.

“You know what for.”

“So you can help Mr. Right along?”

I grin. “A threesome? So early in our relationship.” I can still remember our talk about that. And I’m mostly okay that despite him being younger than me he’s so much more experienced. In sex anyway.

“I’m not sharing you with anybody,” he tells me. “And just so you know, when I fly home next, you need to take a few days off work because you won’t be walking.”

“Is that all you want me for? My body?” I tease.

His face turns suddenly serious. “No. I want you because you make me smile. Because I like talking to you. Because I can’t sleep unless I’m wrapped around you. Did you know I only got three hours last night?”

“No wonder you’re grumpy,” I say smiling.

“Damn right.”

I blow him a kiss and then I feel my eyes start to get heavy. “I need to get some sleep,” I tell him. “I have a meeting at eight.”

“Okay,” he says softly. “But don’t turn off the the video. I want to watch you.”

“You pervert.”

“Damn right I am. Sweet dreams, Carmichael.”

“Mom, look!” Zoe runs into the kitchen. It’s the following week and I’m cooking pasta in one pot and stirring pasta sauce in another and I’m just plain exhausted because it’s been a long day and I hate this kitchen.

That’s the problem with renovating one room at a time. When each room is done it makes the others look even more shabby. And the kitchen is going to be the biggest – and costliest – room to remodel. Even with the bonus we’re getting from winning the Exuma account, I won’t be able to afford all the supplies until next year. Not after the costs for the bathroom overran, thanks to a pipe that needed digging out and replacing.

I’m down to a few thousand dollars in my savings account and I can’t take on any more debt.

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