Page 66 of Three Sweet Nothings (The Blindfold Club)

Only . . . I wasn’t single now, was I?

I sifted the dry ingredients into the meringue and began to fold the batter. “Go ahead and order it. I’m going to be piping these in a few minutes, and then they need to rest.”

I didn’t allow myself to think about last night, because when I did, my thoughts skipped right over the scorching hot sex and straight to the conversation afterward. To the kiss which had sent us both into a panic.

He used to kiss me like that, and I’d used those kisses as proof he loved me when he didn’t speak the words.

Last night Kyle had offered to drive me home, but he’d had two glasses of bourbon, so I took an Uber and collapsed into my bed feeling like a confused mess.

“Pizza’s been ordered.”

I lifted the rubber spatula and watched the tails slowly melt back into the batter, signaling I was done mixing. Another turn of my spatula could overdo it and ruin the cookie shells.

My phone chimed with a text message. I hadn’t heard from him all day, but why would I? This was supposed to be about sex only. He wasn’t going to ask me to a movie or fucking brunch.

My heartbeat picked up and my breath went shallow.

“Who are you texting?” A curious voice floated from around the corner.

Shit. “Uh . . . McAsshole.”

Heavy footsteps pounded closer until Grant came into view. “What the bloody hell? You gave him your number?”

“Yeah, like six years ago.”

Concern etched my friend’s face. “He’s decided to use it now, yeah? What’s that dickhead saying?”

“He wants to come over.”

Poor Grant. He stared at me like I’d just confessed I was an alien. “What’s this?”

I rolled down the sides of my piping bag and picked up the bowl, spooning the batter inside the bag, mostly so I didn’t have to watch his face as I dropped the bombshell.

“I slept with him last night.”

All I got from Grant was silence.

I twisted the bag closed, went to my baking trays already lined with the silicone template sheets, and began to pipe the circles.

“And also on New Year’s Eve,” I added. The quiet was unnerving. “It’s just sex.”

“Just sex.” His tone was dubious.

“Yeah. We’ve come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Grant gave a humorless laugh. “Oh? What’s that about?”

I squeezed the bag with too much force and the blob of batter overran the template. “Shit,” I muttered. “We’re, like, fuck buddies. Whenever one of us wants to bang, we bang.”

I risked a glance at him. His expression was unease. “So, he wants to come over and bang.”

“Yeah.” I felt his judgement and frowned. “I’m a big girl.”

“Hey, sure. I’m not telling you what to do, or how I think it’s a bloody awful idea. It isn’t my place, is it?”

I pressed my lips into a thin line. “Nope.”

“Though I’m remembering what you were like when we met, Rube. Right after he’d left you.” Grant was the only one who used the nickname, and I liked it, but his words now cut through all my bullshit.

He was right. I’d been a mess. It was a miracle I’d made it through my first semester my final year of law school, with all the drinking and stupid partying I’d done. Grant had even helped my sister scrape me off the bathroom floor the night I’d been with Whiskey Dick. The first guy I’d brought home, some random from the bars I was going to use, determined to fuck Kyle out of my thoughts.

It hadn’t worked, but it did take me on the express elevator down to rock bottom, and from that moment on, things improved. I also went celibate for the next two years, choosing to focus on my career.

“Like I said,” I aimed for a firm tone and failed, “it’s just sex. I’m not going to get attached.” I couldn’t have sounded less convincing if I’d tried. One night with Kyle and I was already in serious trouble.

My phone chimed again.

I swallowed hard. What would happen when he got here and discovered I had company? Male company? I lied to myself that I was curious to see how Kyle would react, but deep down the truth was there. I was desperate to see him again.

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