Page 61 of Fluke
“And how we sat there for hours—even after everyone else gave up and went home?”
“And how I persuaded you to let me teach you how to dance because you were going to … an event, I think it was? Or a wedding?”
“My cousin’s wedding, yeah.”
“You turned your headlights on, and we got out in the rain, and I showed you how to dance.”
How could I forget? It’s a core memory—a life-defining experience.
It defined the kind of woman I wanted to marry someday.
The woman Iwantto marry someday.
Pippa laughs. “Okay. Do you remember the night we were at Publix at the same time? And that little old man thought we were together even though we were just catching up at the deli counter, and we ended up walking around the store with him?”
“I remember. You convinced him to try vanilla coffee creamer.”
“I forgot about that!” Her laughter gets louder. “Oh my gosh. He was so sweet. He tried to give us five dollars each for helping him. Do you remember that?”
Oh, I remember.I remember every time I’ve ever seen you, heard you, picked up the scent of your perfume in a crowd.
For fuck’s sake—I’ve loved this girl forever.
And I have one week to convince her to love me too—or make enough memories to last me a lifetime.
“We’ve had some fun together,” she says, her eyes following me as I move back into the living room.
“That we have.”
I sense her moving behind me. She comes into the lanai as I sit on a barstool at the bar that Moss and I installed a few summers ago.
I struggle to keep my breathing even as I sort through my options.
She stops in front of me. I take her hand and pull her closer to stand between my knees.
“So …” She’s smug. Her nipples are hard under the thin fabric of her dress, and I have to practically sit on my hands so I don’t touch them. “What now?”
“What do you want?”
I know the answer. I just want her to say it.
“I want you to fuck me so hard that I forget my name,” she says.
Fuck. Me. “That’s awfully specific.”
“We have a week,” she says, looking me in the eye. “I want you to do me so hard that when I see you out with another woman, I know she can’t possibly be getting you like I did.”
What. The. Actual. Fuck. Is. Happening?
“Is that really what you want?” I ask, giving her one final chance to back out. To modify her request. To change her mind.
She licks her bottom lip. “Take me, Jess.”
“Back up,” I say.
Mischief plays along her features as she does as she’s told. “Yes, sir.”
I give her a look. “Take off your dress.”
