Page 21 of A Very No Strings Halloween
NIGHT OF THE LIVING DATE
I spritz a little more perfume behind my ears and toss the bottle back into my handbag. After doing a twelve-hour shift at Mrs. Amato’s house, I changed into a simple black dress and high-heeled boots in her powder room. I didn’t want to looktoogood tonight, since it’s not really a date, but then Mrs. Amato asked me whose funeral I was going to at this hour, and I’m thinking I may have veered a little too far in the not-sexy direction. So at least I’ll smell hot.
Billy wanted to pick me up at work or at least drive me to the restaurant from the apartment, but I insisted on meeting him there. Lines are already being blurred, what with him helping to fix up my house and me helping to fix him up in the dating department, and then there was the dream I had about us back at the house…of us living there together and having kids… I think it’s important for us to remember that we’re just two people who live next door to each other who screw each other while pretending to be other people.
I’ve never been to Monarch before, but I’ve heard of it. Rooftop northern Italian fine dining on top of a fancy hotel in Back Bay. I heard they book reservations months in advance, but Billy said he knows a guy and managed to get us a table within forty-eight hours. Normally I don’t waste money on valet parking—normallyI take the T—but Billy insisted he’d cover the parking fee, and well, it’s raining. When I pull up to the hotel, I see a gorgeous man in a beautiful suit shooting the shit with a few uniformed valets.
To my surprise, when said gorgeous, suited man turns and sees me in my Honda, I realize it’s Billy. Based on how he’s usually dressed around the apartment, it wouldn’t have surprised me if I found out he worked as a valet here. The way he looks tonight, I would believe it if he told me he owned the place. He straightens his tie and combs his fingers through his wavy brown hair. Looks like he got a haircut. Looks good.
Goddamn it, he looks really good.
People are going to think I’m his grieving cousin.
He saunters around the front of my car and opens the door for me. “Greetings,” he says, holding out his hand. “Lovely to see you, Donna.”
I’m inwardly giggling, but outwardly I just nod athim as I take his hand, trying not to think about all the incredible things that hand has done to my body in the past year or so, and say, “Sup?”
As he pulls me up and out of the driver seat, he leans in to whisper into my ear, “YouareDonna tonight, right?”
Goddamn it, he smells really good too. Like whiskey and pumpkin spice and a mysterious, fancy cabin in the woods. “Yeah,” I tell him, “I am. And you’re Billy Boston.”
A megawatt smile lights up his handsome face. “Fuck yeah, I am.” He waves one of the valet parkers over. “Joey! You take extra special care of this Honda, you hear me?” He presses a twenty-dollar bill into Joey’s palm.
“You got it, Billy.”
Billy winks at me and places his hand on the small of my back as he leads me through the entrance to the lobby. “You look beautiful, Donna,” he says into my ear again. “And you smell amazing.”
His breath is warm and minty, and if my stomach dips and my knees wobble the tiniest bit, I’m sure it’s because I’m hungry and I’m not used to wearing high heels anymore. “Thank you. My patient said I look like I’m going to a funeral.”
“You look like someone any guy would wanna bury his stick in is what I say,” he mutters.
And perhaps I shouldn’t findthat flattering as we stroll across this marble lobby floor, but I do. “Why, thank you. You look very handsome.”
He presses the elevator call button and smooths down the front of his suit jacket. “Thanks. How’m I doin’ so far?”
Oh. So the whole compliment thing was all part of Date School. Good for him.
“So far you get an A, young man.”
He rubs his chin with his thumb. “What’s a guy gotta do to get an A-plus, huh, Miss Fischer?”
Just keep doing what you’re doingis what I’m thinking. But I roll my eyes and smirk. “Extra credit is considered on a case-by-case basis.”
The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Billy waits until the group of people disembark and walk past us before saying, “Well, in this case, I hope you’ll consider me a very eager student.” He holds his arm out, ushering me into the elevator car. “Who’s willin’ to break the rules to please his favorite teacher, if you know what I mean.”
Do I ever.
When I step inside the elevator, I press my back up against the side wall and clutch my handbag to my chest, like I’m afraid he’s going to steal it along with the rapidly beating heart that’s hiding behind it. Billy jabs at the button for the top floor and languidly leans against the opposite wall, resting his hands on the brass railing behind him, his groin ever so casuallythrust in my direction. A muffled, instrumental version of “Werewolves of London” is being piped through the speakers overhead. I watch as his gaze travels up the front of me, from the tips of my leather boots, lingering at my bare knees and lower thighs, up to my hips, and my scarlet-stained mouth.
Aside from his eyes, he is perfectly still. And that’s when I realize Billy Boston is always moving. Alive in a way that few people are, especially in my world. Always talking. But right now he’s holding himself back, and it’s even more electrifying. Right now he’s quiet and he’s saying more than I can bear to understand.
If the air felt thick with something like sorrow at the farmhouse, the air in this elevator is thick with all the sexual tension between us. I don’t even know how there could be so much tension between two people who’ve had sex as many times as we have. But it’s there.
Before Billy’s slow, hard stare meets mine, I drop my handbag to the floor and we both take two steps forward, meeting in a frantic kiss. My hands are cradling his face and his hands are all over my ass, and I want him to bury his stick six feet deep inside of me right here, right now.
“You are so fucking hot,” he exhales.
“You look so fucking good in a suit.”
