Page 63 of Bad Love

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Life has been kickingmy ass for the last week. I’ve been fighting back the only way I know how: multitasking like amother.

My kid had the flu, which meant rebooking meetings I'd scheduled weeks ago while I stayed home with him until he stopped generating a new load of dirty laundry everyhour.

One of my clients decided they want to do a rebrand of their entire business. By LaborDay.

In the moments I could sneak away, I emailed parents about buying tickets for the talentshow.

I eventually replied to Blake’s texts, telling him Rory and I would be visiting my parents in a few weeks, and if Rory was up to it—which I hadn’t asked him yet—we could arrange time for themtogether.

He followed up by saying that wasn’t soon enough, at which point I said he was welcome to come to thecity.

He’s as welcome aschickenpox.

But I haven’t heard from himsince.

The other person I didn’t hear from all week wasHunter.

I’ve practically forgotten his parting words.Blah, blah blah, foreplay. For a long and sweaty night. And you’re going to beg forit.

Yeah, I don’t remember the confidence in his voice. The way my knees gaveout.

Because I’m focused on lining up advertisers while Ben works on taking the product from “good” to “nextlevel.”

I’m finally starting to dig myself out of the giant hole over the weekend when Hunter surprises me by sending a calendar invitation for a noonmeeting.

Maybe it’s a peace offering. To be honest, the idea of a working lunch—instead of working at my desk with no actual food to speak of—has me crying ingratitude.

I show up at the café I normally get my coffee from, and Hunter’s already at a table, on his phone, giving me a second to catch mybreath.

He’s dressed in slacks and a dressshirt.

And my lumberjack looksgood.

I should’ve prepared more for this meeting. Not in terms of getting updates from Ben or on advertisers, but maybe taking some time tomeditate.

Since last week in the bathroom at work, I’ve been trying not to think about him. It worked for the first couple ofdays.

I mean, not when I was actuallyinthe bathroom. At which point I’d lock the door and lean over the vanity, staring in the mirror as if I could recreate what hadhappened.

But the rest of the day, I walked and talked and parented and behaved like a reasonably adjusted person instead of the lust-fuelled monster I might bebecoming.

Friday night, I caved to the influence of BadKendall.

After Rory went to bed, I got myself off to LoganHunter.

Without thevibe.

At least, the first time was. Last night, I used it, letting the sound of the shower drown out the low vibration. As much as I hate to admit it? It got me there, but it wasn’t the same as having himnear.

Nowhereclose.

I shiver despite the warmth and smooth down my skirt as I approach histable.

He looks up with an easy grin that melts the tension in my back like the hands of a great masseuse. “Hi.”

“Hi. You lookcomfortable.”

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