Page 34 of Done with You

Oona growled. Rayma was such a meddler.

She had the best of intentions, and an enormous heart, but her filter was nonexistent, and her mouth was colossal. If there was ever a person on that planet who gave less fucks about what people thought of her than Rayma Young, Oona would love to meet them.

Scratch that, no, she probably didn’t want to meet them, because they were probably just a never-ending runaway train terrorizing their way through life, wreaking havoc and causing bedlam wherever they went.

Jordan had certainly tamed Rayma in a lot of ways. She was still wildly inappropriate most of the time, but her intentions were slightly less misdirected.

But she’d missed the mark in a big way this time.

A worse match did not exist. And even though the sex had been great, and the conversations stimulating, Aiden and Oona were less compatible than a fox and a house full of hens.

Her bladder reminded her that it needed to be relieved, so she lobbed a weary sigh, resigned to her fate, and silently crept out of her bedroom and into the bathroom.

And yep, her panties were soaked. Which meant she’d probably actually orgasmed in her sleep. Not the first time, but she hadn’t done it in a while.

It was essentially the female version of a wet dream.

Fucking Aiden.

Yeah, fucking Aiden, or at least dreaming about fucking Aiden was what had caused such a puddle.

Growling, because what else was there to do besides channel her inner honey badger, she used one of the wet wipes from the package on the back of the toilet to clean herself up properly, then she washed her face, brushed her teeth, and, holding her bunched and damp underwear in her fist, tiptoed back to her bedroom. She put on new underwear, but didn’t bother getting dressed. Her pajamas were loose flannel pants and a black tank top. She was still too warm for the McGill hoodie, but she did throw on a thin cardigan just to cover up a bit more.

Rayma had already pointed out where the blender was and all the smoothie making ingredients, so at least Oona would be able to hold onto that part of her routine.

She continued to tiptoe through the house, not wanting to attract any attention to herself if she could help it.

A quick glance into the living room showed the pull-out couch all folded up blankets and pillows stacked neatly on one side.

Where was Aiden?

Unease and relief ran neck-and-neck inside of her. She was alone. Thank God.

Relaxing, she went about making herself a smoothie, forgoing any tiptoeing and just enjoying the peace, quiet, and aloneness.

Rayma had a Costco-sized bag of spinach in her fridge, so Oona grabbed a cup and a half of that, along with a frozen banana from the freezer, a cup of frozen blueberries, a scoop of vanilla protein powder, and oat milk. She considered cutting into one of the six pineapples on the counter, but then thought better of it.

Someone with six pineapples had to have a plan for them, so she didn’t want to dip into their supply and ruin something.

And also, the pineapple fibers always seemed to get tangled in the blades of her blenders.

The whirr of the blender was noisy, but nothing she wasn’t used to. It did, however, drown out the sound of the door opening, and since her back was turned, when the door closed—and not gently—she jumped and squealed.

Turning off the blender, then whipping around, she found Aiden, a smug smile curving up the corners of his mouth. He was dressed in a pair of running shorts over top of running pants that were skin tight. His long-sleeved black running shirt was pasted to his body like a second-skin, and his face was flushed. Black earbuds were in his ears, and he had on a black running ball cap. Everything he wore was black, but he also had reflective gear—straps around his wrists and ankles, a blinking light on the back of his hat, and white reflective stripes on his shirt.

Her tongue turned into the consistency of stale bread.

“’Morning, Luna,” he said. “Nice of you to finally join the land of the living.”

Glaring at him, she returned to her smoothie and turned on the blender again.

He ditched his shoes and came around the other side of the island to stand directly in front of her. She kept her head down, watching her purply-green concoction whirl around in the glass pitcher.

Once it was sufficiently mixed, she turned it off and poured the entire contents into a tumbler along with a silicone straw. It wasn’t easy avoiding eye contact with Aiden, but she did it. She was proud of herself.

“Seems like there is enough there for two people,” he said just as the icy drink hit her soft palate and icicles formed in her gray matter, making her wince.

Once the brain freeze was gone, she blinked up at him. “Yeah, there probably is.”

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