Page 59 of Fiona and the Fixer

“If he makes you feel amazing and crazy at the same time.”

Did he? He made me feel and that was a first.

I shrugged. “I’m fine with Mr. Right Now.”

She leaned in close as sharing some state secret. “If Mr. Right Now talks to you like he read that book during storytime this morning, you’re one luck lady.”

I blushed. I could feel my cheeks practically on fire. I didn’t know what Dax read at the bookstore, but I did know what he sounded like when he was deep inside me and telling me I was his good girl for taking it so well.

She waggled her eyebrows. “He’s the talk of the town.”

“Oh?” I returned my focus to the delicious salad.

“The ladies are acting like it’s the Second Coming and their men aren’t too keen on it.”

I shook my head. “The men should be thrilled.”

“How so?” she wondered.

“These women are all hot and bothered and need to take care of that with someone. The guys should be buying him beers and sending him thank you cards for all the action they’re going to get tonight.”

Her lips quirked. “I never thought about it that way.”

I wanted some action tonight, too. But I shouldn’t rely on Dax for sex, or even showing up. While the orgasms were real, our dating was fake.

I liked Dax, when he wasn’t annoying. When he didn’t interrupt me in the pickle shop. Or say he was my boyfriend. Or make me keep that going at the bookstore. Or leave me in charge of the place.

It was when we didn’t talk that I liked him the most.

But love? No way.

“Don’t you want some?” I asked, changing the subject and pointing to my salad with my fork.

She shook her head. “No dear. I already ate with Mr. Dotson. You finish up because we’ve got to get going.”

Going?

“Where?”

She rubbed her hands together and her eyes lit up. “Craft night, remember?”

Oh boy.

I held up my non-fork hand in a stop gesture. Because I definitely wanted her to stop.

“I don’t think that’s my thing.”

With a wave of her own hand, she brushed off my words. “Nonsense. It’s all a bunch of fun to get away from our husbands.”

I hadn’t met Mr. Dotson yet, but I had a feeling he was a nice guy.

“I don’t have a husband,” I reminded, hoping that would exclude me.

“You need some fun in your life,” she countered.

“I think we have different definitions of fun,” I muttered. “Mine is target shooting and running five miles.”

She started to laugh. “It’s time to try some new things on your vacation.”

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