Page 22 of Bottle Rocket
That expression, that eyebrow, had made him hit his knees in the past. Today, it made him spill the beans.
“I loved her once.”
“How the hell did I not know that you used to be in love with my head of marketing’s older sister? I’m friends with Rosie too.”
He bit his lip and turned his attention toward the window on the other side of the room. Robin had the ability to strip you down with her eyes. He felt off-kilter.
“I didn’t know Sasha worked for you until I got the emails from her about the pop-up party, and we’d never crossed paths at conventions. Plus, Rosie was married. I never expected to see her again. It’s not like you tell me about your long-lost loves.”
“Oh, I don’t have any of those,” Robin said coolly but with a playful tilt of her lips. He was not good at reading Robin, so he had no idea if what she’d said was true.
“Can I ask you a question? It’s inappropriate, so if you’d prefer I wait until you’re not at work, I can.”
Robin glanced at her watch. “Consider this my lunch. What’s up?”
“Rosie and I are hooking up while I’m here. It’s a no-strings thing but not quite that simple.”
“I gathered.”
“Right. So. She wants to have a threesome. Or, at least, generally, have sex with more than one person. Conceivably, there could be more than three.”
A tiny glint of excitement flashed through Robin’s eyes. “Go on.”
He gestured kind of impotently. “Know a way to arrange that, Oh Great Orgy Master?”
Robin laughed. “I might be having a Fourth of July barbecue that could devolve into something interesting. Does that sound like an event you and little Rosie Holiday might be into?”
“Yes. It does.” He knew Robin would come through. He’d been to parties at her house before. Interesting was an understatement.
“Both of Rosie’s siblings will be there with their partners, but they usually leave before the debauchery begins. I’m not lying about it being a barbecue. We will barbecue before we orgy. BYOM. Bring your own meat. Also fireworks.”
“Wait. Do I really need to bring meat?”
She laughed. “No. I was just being weird.”
“You succeeded.”
Robin fixed him with a slightly predatory glare. “Invite Dean. He’s a good kisser. I wonder if Rosie is a good kisser. Maybe I’ll get to find out.”
Leo’s heart rate spiked. “Maybe you will.”
* * *
Rosie’spatriotic fruit basket looked like a kindergartener had painted it, and she would know. She was a connoisseur of the art of five-year-olds. It wasn’t that she’d expected to be a pro as soon as she picked up the paintbrush, but she’d hoped it would at least be fun rather than stressful. Maybe it would have been fun if the community center had served wine like those paint and sip places, or mimosas, to account for the time of day.
Whatever. Painting was not going to be her newest passion. That was okay. She still had the whole hot-sex-with-Leo thing going for her. It would be fleeting, but maybe that was exactly what she needed to catapult her into a new frame of mind when it came to sex, intimacy, and relationships. Sasha—who until a year and a half ago had been the casual-sex queen, God love her—had been telling Rosie for ages that she needed to get back up on the old sex horse again.
However, this thing between Rosie and Leo wasn’tcasual. It was impossible for her to feel casual about him. She felt realistic about him. She felt pragmatic. They would have fun with each other for less than a week, then he’d drive off into the sunset with his RV. She would be left behind with nothing but sexy memories and probably a broken heart.
Holy shit, what was she doing? Besides having a mild panic attack about her high school sweetheart while eating pistachio ice cream in her underwear.
Was this whole agreement a massive mistake?
Maybe.
Was she going to milk it for a handful of good orgasms and hope it didn’t obliterate her afterward?
Definitely.
