Page 51 of Hot Shot

“What the hellisall this?” I yank her eye mask and snap it lightly.

“Careful!” she warns, her hands flying to keep everything in place. “They say the uglier you go to sleep, the prettier you wake up. Can confirm.”

I’m laughing again.

“Don’t laugh.” She swats my arm. “You’ll see in the morning.” I watch her pretty legs disappear as she slides them between the sheets.

I lean in a little, examining her plump, purple lips. Without thinking, I thumb the bottom one. “What’s this?”

Her cheeks flush, but my hand is already gone. “Lip stain. They won’t be this color when I peel it off.”

“Peel?”

“Oh, baby—in the morning, I will shed all of this like a sexy reptile and emerge a goddess.”

I make a face, confused. “What do you mean? You always look like a goddess.”

She might roll her eyes, but her blush deepens. “Really, Romeo?”

“What? It wasn’t a line. I don’t get how all this will make a difference.”

Smiling placidly, she pats my cheek. “That’s because you are not a woman. The first thing we learn after our ABCs is that you couldalwaysbe prettier.”

Of course I knew women were put through that kind of bullshit, but I frown through a pause as something I’d never considered occurs to me. “You don’t think Cricket feels that way, do you?”

She stills, blinks at me. When she sees I’m serious, she lays her hand on mine. “Maybe a little, but it’ll come later no matter what we do. It’s our job—yourjob,” she corrects herself, “to help show her that stuff doesn’t matter. You know, so she can joke about it instead of letting it be a real thing.”

“I mean, even if you’re doing it as a joke, it matters enough to you thatyou’redoing it.”

One of her auburn brows arches. “Maybe I’m doing it as a form of birth control.” She shoves one of the extra pillows between us.

A slow smile lifts one corner of my lips on the same side as her sassy eyebrow. “If you think all this would stop me from wanting to fuck you, you’re crazy.”

Her mouth falls open and her eyes pop, but laughter bubbles out of her. “I’d thank you for the compliment but I don’t want to encourage you.” She shakes her head at me as she slides all the way into bed.

When I stretch for the light switch, she’s reaching for her mouth guard. The room goes dark but for the glow in the hallway.

“Are we okay?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she answers.

“You’re not mad at me still?”

“No. I forgive you, even though I cannot figure out why you didn’t mail the papers.”

“Do you want the fake answer or the real answer?”

After a pause, she says, “Both. Fake one first.”

“I just forgot about them.”

“And the real one?”

“I couldn’t stand the thought of not being married to you.”

I hear the small intake of her breath. She says nothing for a protracted moment. Then, only, “Thank you for telling me.”

“You’re welcome.” I hear her roll over to face the other way. But I stay where I am, hunkering down for sleep, not expecting either of us to speak.

---