Page 57 of Count Your Lucky Stars
That’s right. She’d mentioned Brad before the batter hadsplattered, distracting Olivia from finding out what Margot meant. “You said that earlier.”
Margot hummed and pinched off a piece of cookie dough. She popped it in her mouth, eyes immediately falling shut, a moan escaping her mouth that made Olivia flush for reasons completely unrelated to the oven’s preheat cycle. “Damn, that’s just as good as I remember.” Margot slumped against the counter, eyes fluttering open. “You’re telling me Brad had youandregular access to these cookies and hestilltook you for granted?” Margot’s lips curved upward. “Clearly, he didn’t know how lucky he was.”
Olivia’s cheeks burned hotter. Heat spread down her jaw and the front of her throat, an ember of warmth flaring to life inside her chest.
Margot couldn’t just say things like that. Not if she didn’t want Olivia to get the wrong idea.
“Well.” Olivia ducked her chin, staring at the kitchen floor, as if that might do something to disguise how Margot’s words affected her. HowmuchMargot’s words affected her. Olivia’s face was probably a neon-pink sign practically screaminglook what you do to me. There was nothing casual about this feeling. “Nowyouget cookies.”
Margot’s socked feet entered Olivia’s line of vision, her cotton-covered toes curling against the tile as she reached out, one hand with dark red–painted nails rising to settle against Olivia’s waist. Her other hand rose, too, before sliding down, both hands tucking into the back pockets of Olivia’s jeans. Warmth from Margot’s palms seeped through the denim, causing Olivia to shiver as she stepped closer.
Olivia’s heart thundered, her pulse pounding in her temples and at the base of her neck as Margot leaned in, lips grazing the corner of Olivia’s mouth. One hand slipped free from Olivia’s back pocket. Margot’s fingers danced all the way up Olivia’s spine, her palm cupping the back of Olivia’s neck. Margot tilted her own head to the side, her lips pillowing Olivia’s bottom lip in a tender kiss that caused Olivia’s breath to catch in the back of her throat, her stomach suddenly full of butterflies.
Margot stepped back, dropping her hands, palms opening and closing like she didn’t know what to do with them. The skin from her collarbone up to the crests of her cheeks was mottled with a pink flush, and the front of her throat jerked when she swallowed, her breath escaping in a shaky exhale, her smile even shakier. “Lucky me.”
Chapter Thirteen
Rain splattered against the windshield, evergreens blurring past as Olivia drove down I-90, heading east to Snoqualmie.
Annie and Brendon’s joint bachelor-bacheloretteextravaganza—Brendon’s word, not Olivia’s (extravaganzamade her think of the annual mattress sale at the furniture store off State Route 410)—was taking place at Salish Lodge & Spa, a resort getaway half an hour outside of Seattle, halfway between the city and the ski summit. They’d be spending two nights—Wednesday and Thursday—at the lodge, before heading back to the city in time for the rehearsal dinner on Friday night and the wedding the following day.
In the passenger seat of Olivia’s Subaru Outback—it had all-wheel drive, unlike Margot’s Toyota Camry—Margot stared at her phone, rattling off facts about the lodge where they’d be staying. “Ooh, get this. Every guest room has a gas fireplace—fancy—a shower with dual heads, and an oversized soaking tub. And there’s an on-site herb garden and...ooh, there’s anapiary that provides honey for both of the lodge’s restaurants and the spa.”
“Mm.” Olivia sped up, passing a minivan going ten below the speed limit.
“Let’s see... award-winning spa... steam room, sauna, soaking pools are available by appointment,” Margot read from the site. “Fitness massage, tranquility massage, hot stone massage...”
That all sounded fantastic, but Olivia had too much to do to simply send the next two days relaxing in a spa. She needed to follow up with the vendors, make sure the final payments had been received by the suppliers, and deliver the final head count to the caterer for the rehearsal dinner and the reception. All of which she could do from the lodge, but she’d packed her laptop and double-checked the resort had reliable Wi-Fi for a reason.
“Hey.” Margot waved her fingers, frowning softly. “Where’d you go?”
“Sorry.” Olivia smiled and shook her head. “I’m just thinking about everything I still have to do with vendors and suppliers and... I don’t know. I—maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to come. There’s justsomuch and—”
“Hey, whoa.” Margot swiveled in her seat the best she could with the seat belt strapped across her body. “Brendon and Annie invited you.”
“Right, and relaxing right now should be their number one priority,” Olivia said, eyes flitting between the road and her rearview mirror as she changed lanes. “Mypriority is making sure their wedding goes off without a hitch.”
“And you totally will,” Margot said. “But I’m pretty sure you can squeeze in a massage, too.”
Olivia hummed under her breath and rolled out her shoulders. “A massagedoessound nice.”
Margot looked over at her and smiled. “If you needed a massage, you could’ve just asked.” Her brows wiggled. “I’m good with my hands.”
Olivia’s face heated at the memory of Margot using her hands to edge Olivia for what felt like an hour, driving her to the point of babbling and begging until finally Margot had wrung four orgasms from Olivia before relenting, leaving her a puddle of goo.
“That you are,” Olivia agreed, voice a touch breathless.
Margot’s smirked and turned her attention back to her screen.
Olivia reached for her bottle of water, suddenly parched. She flipped the rubbery straw up on her CamelBak and took a long drink, eyes flitting away from the road briefly to return the bottle to the cup holder.
On the center console, Margot’s hand rested, slightly cupped, fingers curled toward her palm, facing up. Olivia had a sudden, jarring flashback to seventh grade, when she’d gone out on her first date to the movies with Michael Louis, a boy who’d had a sweet smile and an unfortunate floppy bowl cut that made him look like a cute mushroom, or Jim Halpert circa season one ofThe Office. They’d gone to see some cheesy action movie and sat dead center in the theater. He’d rested his hand on the armrest and stared, not at the screen, but at Olivia, until she’dgotten the hint and slipped her hand into his, his palm damp and warm and oddly sticky.
It wasn’t a question that Margot was good with her hands or that she had clever, talented fingers that could drive Olivia to new heights of pleasure. It was a question of whether Olivia could hold Margot’s hand.
Was that... something they did now? If Olivia slipped her hand inside Margot’s, would she be pushing her luck?
Olivia held her breath, hand hovering above the cup holder, and—
