Page 101 of Sawyer
“It’s after seven o’clock! How did we not know this?”
“We were like horny owls last night,” he replied, makingher smack him with a pillow. “Nocturnal loving until the sun rose, and then we slept forever, and then we?—”
“Yes, we did. Don’t distract me. Where’s your phone? You need to text your friends. Tell them we’re still going to be there.”
“We can just show up,” he responded, rolling over and searching for his phone on the floor when she glared at him.
He found it amidst the scattered array of his clothing heading toward the bed. God, he needed to paint that. He’d call itThe Trail of Love.She would be in the bed, of course, with a sheet, provocatively waiting for him to come back. No, that could be in another painting. “You know. I just had two new painting ideas come to me. I’m awash with ideas. And it feels so damn good.”
“I’m so glad. Sex does inspire creativity, I’m told.”
Then he was set for life. “Whoa! Brooke and Kyle texted me saying they want to talk about something. That’s never good.”
Dean had also sent a pic of him wearing some feathery New Year’s crown that was probably supposed to be Jacqueline’s, telling him not to worry if he and Phoebe didn’t show. “Told ya. Dean says we’re off the hook.”
“But Kyle and Brooke want to talk?” Phoebe tripped on her purple boots on the floor as she headed to the bathroom. “We should still go. Your friends mean everything to you, and they’ve been really great to me. Even Madison breaking into my apartment. She did bring that awesome soup.”
She would see things in the best possible light.
“So the soup was that good?” he called, hearing her turn on the shower.
Her tousled head popped out of the doorway. “Of course it was. Like Madison said, she made it. I scarfed it down—when I’d thought I’d never eat again. But that was after hearing confirmation from your dear friend that I was totally wrong about things. Horatio, are you coming?”
He leaned back, content to sit on the floor and simply talk with her. “Where?”
She crooked her finger.
Sitting on the floor was overrated when he had a better offer. He hustled after her, only to trip on his pants. That should have been a sign. Because he discovered a truly depressing truth—Paris showers were terrible for shower sex.
“I don’t know how the French manage it,” he commented afterward, after banging his elbow on the wall for the umpteenth time.
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” She slapped his butt and squeezed it. “Get dressed. We’ll have to swing by your house and find you more suitable attire. Let me blow-dry my hair.”
That would take a while with her long tresses, he knew.
“I’ll call Kyle,” he shouted as the roar of her hair accoutrement sounded.
Since it didn’t blow a circuit, she clearly had better electricity in her building than he’d had at Nanine’s with his electric shaver. After putting on his day-old clothes, he closed the bedroom door and walked the short distance to the tiny kitchen to get away from the noise so he could make the call.
Kyle answered on the first ring, conversations sounding in the background. “Hey, Doc! Everyone wants you to know they totally understand if you two don’t show.”
God, that made him smile. “We appreciate that, but we’re coming. Phoebe is doing her hair as we speak. I need to swing by the house for some clothes.”
“Terrific! I’ll let our roomies know.”
Their roomies…
Yeah, that would be changing too. He’d watched as Thea’s time with them had changed,; then Dean’s; and finally Brooke’s. The house hadn’t been as full, and he’d found himself missing the fun and chaos. Dean showing up in the kitchen in one of his new comedic boxers. Brooke telling themto put their dishes in the dishwasher like good boys. Thea no longer singing in the kitchen while baking bread.
He'd missed them.
Now he was going to go on with his life, his home orbit becoming twinned with Phoebe’s. She loved her space, but she would probably need to move now that she wouldn’t be running the gallery beneath her apartment. He’d assured her they would find a space they both loved.
He planned to finalize his current slate of commissions, with Beverly’s help, so he could contribute to a down payment. Phoebe would use her trust fund. Because they wanted their own place, something that reflected both of them, even though he planned to keep hisatelier. They’d discussed that after making love that first time last night, when they’d poured out the urgings in their hearts as freely as a waterfall.
Now Kyle and Madison would be alone…
“You said you wanted to talk.” Sawyer faced the small window, the golden streetlights shining on happy partygoers below. “Brooke did too. Is something up?”
