Page 16 of Unwrapped

“Eight,” I tell him as I start up the car.

“Will you come back tonight?” I look into his blue eyes and shake my head.

“I can’t. I have some family stuff I have to do.”

He nods sadly. “Text me when you get home.” He kisses me one more time and closes the door. He stands in the driveway, finally leaving my sight when I make a left turn onto the main road.

Once I reach a red light at the intersection, I lay my head on the steering wheel, still not believing what happened between me and a man I met just two nights ago. When I get home twenty minutes later I’m relieved to see both of my parents’ cars are gone.

I cannot let what happened last night happen again.

CHAPTER 11

NICK

Two hours after Miranda left my house, she still has not texted. My plan was for us to go out to breakfast and talk about how things between us would work, but she shut me down. She tried to avoid looking at me, but I could see the uncertainty in her eyes. I could tell from her body language she was having second thoughts about our night together.

After finishing my coffee, unable to stop myself, I pull out my phone and send a text.

Me: Did you get home okay? You didn’t text me.

I slide the phone in my pocket and continue my search for more coffee almost colliding with Mona Moore on my way to the kitchen. She sidesteps and turns to the coffee machine.

“Mona,” I say. “Good morning. I hope you had a nice Sunday with your family.” She purses her lips and nods, yes. It’s the first attempt I’ve made at informal conversation since the accident involving the mug. Part of me wants to tell her I know her Sunday did not include her daughter since she was with me, naked and spread wide in my bed. The more mature part of me knows I’d never say such a thing, so I try a different tactic.

“Did you have a good time at the party Saturday night? It was nice to see everyone outside of the office.” She looks at me, her eyes sharp as she gives me a once-over, likely trying to figure out why I’m being so talkative.

“I did.” That’s all I get. She turns back to the coffee machine, no longer acknowledging me.

We stand there while the coffee brews, neither one of us looking at the other as I try to think back to our first meeting and how I possibly could have offended this woman.

“Any plans for Christmas?” I ask, trying again.

Before I can think back to my first week here, her phone moves across the counter and the name Miranda flashes across the screen. I almost pick it up, but Mona’s hand snatches it before I can.

“Hey, baby girl. Did you have a good time last night?” The coffee finishes brewing, and I pour myself a mug as I do my best to eavesdrop. I open the fridge and pretend to look for creamer.

“Okay, baby. I’ll meet you at the mall when your shift ends, and we can do some Christmas shopping. I know exactly what I want to get for your father, but I’m going to need your help with your brother’s gift because I have no idea.” She stops talking, and I hold my breath until she speaks again.

“Sounds good. Love you too.” She ends the call and walks out of the kitchen. Like a fool, I check my phone and find nothing. No missed calls. No text messages.

Irritated, I return to my office, close the door, and try to focus on my bid for a construction project that starts this summer, but I can’t concentrate on anything right now.

The only thing I can think about is last night. The sounds she made when I first sank into her. How her brown eyes would roll to the back of her head when she came. The feel of her small hands stroking my hair and gliding down my back.

I knew I should have tried harder to miss out on that fucking party Saturday night. I don’t know what the hell possessed me to go after her like that, but I don’t regret it. If only the circumstances were different.

The hot liquid is bitter in my mouth, and my stomach growls loudly in my office, reminding me that I skipped breakfast. My phone finally buzzes, and when I pull it out of my pocket, I breathe a sigh of relief when the name I’ve programmed for her flashes across my screen.

“Hey,” I say, doing my best to sound calm.

“Hey,” she says back.

When she remains quiet, I check the time and say, “Are you on your way to work?”

“Yeah.” An awkward silence falls between us, and I feel a sense of dread take over. “Listen,” she continues, “last night was really nice, but I can’t see you again, Nick.”

“Why not?” I ask as my heart rate accelerates.

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