Page 47 of Touch Me

“Enough, Smash. Leave the poor girl alone.” Jen turns around and threads her arm through mine. “Tuesdays, we do margaritas and nachos at the Pink Taco. You are more than welcome to join us.”

“First Doggie Style, and the Nut Hut, now The Pink Taco? What’s with all the restaurants being named after sex around here?”

I don’t know if my palms are still sweaty from the deep-dive into my sex life at lunch or if it’s just first day jitters. I look over my shoulder, not able to shake off the feeling that I’m being watched. Are there hidden cameras set up somewhere? Am I going to show up as an extra in a porno or something?

“It’s great, isn’t it?” Ashley giggles. “If you like jewelry, we can go shopping at Beading Off. They have the cutest stuff.”

“Oh my god, it’s like I’m walking around in a satirical porn set.”

“Oh, and if you need a new show to watch, try the time-travel romance series in the Scottish Highlands. So good,” Ashley raves.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I deadpan. No idea why she suggested it, but I’m leery of her intentions at this point.

We head back to work and finish the day, actually trying to get some work done. My first day was mostly uneventful, aside from the Spanish Inquisition about my sex life over lunch, but all in all, I call it a win.

THIRTEEN

IT SLIPPED OUT, I SWEAR

When I makeit home from work, Jace is in the gym, and Henry’s lounging in the strip of sun streaking in from the terrace.

“Hey, handsome.” Bending down to ruffle his ears and squish his face, I coo all the good boy praises.

Setting my stuff in my room, I change into yoga pants and a t-shirt with Cyndi Lauper in all her blue eyeshadow and pink-haired glory on the front. Making my way to the kitchen to search for a quick dinner, my stomach growls, and I'm instantly thankful I prepped food for the week to make packing lunches and cooking dinner easier.

With grilled chicken at the ready, I whip up a couple salads with fresh spinach, peppers, tomatoes, hard-boiled eggs, and cheese. I pull out a loaf of ciabatta and slice some to make a quick batch of garlic bread.

The music abruptly cuts off in the gym, and Jace descends the stairs, once again clad in jogging pants and a long-sleeved shirt. His clothes cling to his muscular frame, and his hair’s dripping with sweat. My eyes dip to his crotch, and I mentally chastise myself.

Fucking Ashley.

Got me all interested. Not that I wasn’t before, but whatever.

“Thanks for dinner. I’m just gonna grab a quick shower.” The breathiness of his voice has my downstairs tingly as I watch him drag a towel over his sweaty face.

“Oh, you don’t have to shower on my account.” Although I like the fresh, clean man scent, sweaty-just-from-the-gym man scent is quite effective.

Please don’t shower. Please don’t shower.

“That’s okay. I’ll be a few minutes. You don’t have to wait for me.”

Womp womp.

“I don't mind," I promised with a shrug, shaving a little parmesan on the salads. “I've still got bread in the oven anyway."

Having a few minutes to wait, I send a message to a group text with Jess and Ella, telling them about my first day and how much I miss them. We set plans for drinks this weekend, and I’m already mentally scanning my clothing options for girl’s night.

The elevator doors ding and open while the click-clacking of heels rings out across the tile. Henry perks up at attention, giving one warning bark before a scantily clad woman rounds the corner, taking the steps down into the dining room and toward me. Carrying a bag of groceries, she sashays all the way to the kitchen before looking up and stops dead in her tracks, her face falling as soon as her eyes land on me leaning over the island, phone still poised in my hand.

She raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Who are you?”

“I’m Cassie.” I glance over my shoulder, hoping Jace will choose this very moment to appear and explain who this too-pretty-for-me-not-to-immediately-be-jealous female is. “I’m, uh, living here.” I hold my position bent over the counter, stunned into a statue, apparently.

“Living here?” The bags drop to the counter and her hands fly to her hips. “Where’s Jace?” She has long, black, wavy hair and eyes so dark they’re almost black. She’s wearing tight leather-ish looking pants, a red bustier-looking thing, sky-high heels, and makeup applied so perfectly I secretly want to ask her for tips.

But I won’t.

Hoe.

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