Page 34 of Eligible Best Friend

“Not the only reason. You’re still enjoying your time with him.”

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I really am. I’ve never gotten to experience this part of fatherhood before. I almost feel guilty. He’s miserable, but I’m wandering around the house with a dopey smile on my face.”

“I’m really glad you were able to help.” I’m also glad I didn’t sit at home, but I wish I could’ve done more than offer supportive messages.

“I wish we could’ve gone on the date, too.”

“We’ll have another chance. I’m just gonna make myself a pizza and find the most explosive action movie I can.” I keep my voice chipper. Ford needs support, not to feel like crap because he had to cancel.

“The way you watch those shows, I’m surprised you didn’t become a cop instead of a paramedic.”

“Less paperwork.”

“Agreed.” There’s a beat of silence where neither of us knows what else to say. We could talk for hours during the slow points of our shifts, but this whole kinda-sorta dating thing is new territory. “I better let you go.”

“Take care. And seriously, don’t worry about today. See you at work on Monday?” Sundays don’t really seem like a date day, so I don’t bring up getting together tomorrow. I’m sure we’re both thinking that tomorrow was supposed to have been spent lounging in bed together after a late night, most definitely not sleeping.

“See you Monday.” He sounds as disappointed as I feel.

I busy myself with supper. Once my pizza’s ready and my house smells like tomato sauce, I settle on the couch and select a movie. I hit start on an old-time action flick that I’ve seen no less than ten times. I guess tonight is about comfort food, comfortable pajamas, and comforting entertainment.

The movie wraps up and my empty plate is abandoned on the coffee table. Do I watch another movie and stay up late for an entirely different reason than originally planned?

My doorbell rings. It’s already dark out. Who would be stopping by this late? In San Francisco, I had an active social life that included parties I didn’t care to go to, Samuel’s luncheons, and my family’s fundraisers. But here in Fargo, my social life doesn’t exist.

I creep to my front door and peek out the peephole.

On the other side of the circle of warped glass is Ford, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, hair all rumpled like he’s run his hands through it a million times.

I’m in pajama boxer shorts and my cami. Not exactly presentable, but at least I don’t have pizza stains on my top.

It’s Ford. It shouldn’t matter if I’m in my uniform or my pajamas. But it does.

My house is dark. I could pretend I’m asleep. Maybe he didn’t see the TV flickering. Maybe he didn’t see me moving around. It’s Ford. He drove across town at night and he’s here. So, do I open the door and invite him in?

Ten

Ford

Fuck, this is a bad idea. She’s probably not even going to answer. What single woman, sitting home alone, is going to whip open their door after dark?

I should’ve called. Should’ve messaged. But by the time Cass left after stumbling through my house, collecting Jayden’s things and apologizing profusely for how long she’d napped, I didn’t even realize I’d made this decision.

When Cass drove off, I was in my car and parked outside of Lia’s home before I knew it.

There’s no going back. I ring the doorbell. Either she’ll answer, or she won’t.

The door inches open. She’s scrubbed clean of all makeup, and her hair’s tumbling over her shoulders like it’s had little more than a finger comb. She’s disheveled and sexy as hell.

“Is everything all right?” she asks.

Her rich voice is enough to short-circuit my mind, which is already struggling with her take-me-to-bed appeal. I nudge the door open farther. She steps back, her confused gaze on me, her brow wrinkling.

“I had to come,” is all I say. I take another second to drink her in. The frilly shorts she’s wearing bare her legs more than anything I’ve seen her wear. Her skimpy shirt fails to conceal her full breasts.

Damn, she has nice tits. Creamy and round, I can fondle them while I suck a sweet nipple into my mouth.

Lust rams into me. I’ve admired every other part of her body, including her brain, but this is the most I’ve seen of parts I’ve been trying hard not to think about for over a year. Now, they’re right here, and the reasons why I shouldn’t do this aren’t coming to mind. Instead, the memory of her sultry voice saying, “We’re adults,” loops over and over in my head, drilling need into me until I have to taste Lia more than I have to breathe. Desire coils under my skin, writhing, waiting for a sign from her, anything that says it’s okay for me to unleash everything I’m holding back.

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