Page 93 of A Love Song for Ricki Wilde

It took a physical toll, the effort to seem so la-di-da, business-as-usual for eight entire hours. Ezra could relate.

He stood with his back to the door, watching her in the shadows. Ricki looked up, meeting his eyes. There was nothing left to say.

Within two heartbeats, Ezra was in front of her, comfortingly large. He rested his forehead against hers. His touch was a relief, an exhale. She let out a small sound of surrender.

He bent down, sliding his strong arm around her lower back. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he picked her up. They melted into a ravenous, possessive kiss, a desperate blur of hands,tongues, teeth. Hungrily, he tore off her T-shirt. As she trailed kisses down his throat, he grabbed the bottle of prosecco, taking a lusty swig. With a low growl, he kissed it into her mouth, liquid trickling down her chest, dampening the filmy lace of her bra. Ezra ran his tongue up her neck, making her shudder. Gasping, Ricki arched her back, clawing at his shoulders. Then they were kissing again with delicious urgency. Ezra hiked up the diaphanous layers of her skirt, and then—

Brrriiiing!It was the Wilde Things doorbell.

They froze, two pre-orgasmic deer in headlights.

“Maybe they’ll go away,” he rasped.

The bell rang again. And then there was an urgent pounding on the door.

“Who could that be?” hissed Ricki.

They disentangled themselves from each other. Ezra hurried to the bathroom as Ricki straightened her skirt, threw on her T-shirt, and rushed to the front door on extremely wobbly legs. So annoying, but actually it was five minutes to closing—Wilde Things was technically still open.

Pasting on a customer-service-ready smile, Ricki flung open the door. And let out a bloodcurdling yelp.

Almost instantly, Ezra came flying back into the shop, shirtless and brandishing a candlestick.

The three women standing in the doorway gasped. They all had the forty-something version of Ricki’s face but were taller—over six feet in stilettos—and intimidating in their austere, monochromatic designer fashions. Individually, they would have been a force. But together, they were an impenetrable wall of icy glamour. Even if Ricki’s sisters couldn’t agree on the color of an orange, they certainly presented as a unit.

Ezra’s eyes widened. And Ricki’s squeezed shut.

This was not happening. No. There was too much going on.Ricki was three days from certain death, quietly withering under Ms. Della’s silent treatment, and attempting to fuck her soulmate for one of the last times ever. She couldn’t take this on! Why the hell were the Witches of Eastwick at her shop?

Ezra just stood there in his bare-chested glory, his face registering awe and panic.

“What,” started Ricki, “the absolute fuck are y’all doing here?”

“We were in town for business, and we wanted to see your shop. And you.” Rashida then pointed at Ezra without taking her eyes off Ricki. “Are you aware there’s a shirtless himbo wielding a lethal weapon behind you? What kind of establishment are you running here?”

Delighted judgment flickered in Rashidaginarae’s eyes. Ricki was all too familiar with this look. Wearily, she gestured at Ezra to come over. With a winning smile, Ezra placed the candlestick on the table and joined Ricki at the door.

“He isn’t a himbo; he’s my boyfriend.” “Boyfriend” was too slight a word, but she was too emotionally frazzled to think of another. “Ezra, meet my sisters, Alvin, Simon, and Theodore.”

“Ricki, I swear to God.”

“Sorry. Ezra, this is Rashida, Regina, and Rae.”

“Pleasure’s mine,” he said jovially, shaking each of their hands and trying to approximate some level of normality. “Come on in out the cold.”

“No, stay in the cold,” intercepted Ricki, holding up her hand to stop them. “Tell me why you’re here.”

“Why so suspicious?” asked Regina, who was holding up her iPhone and snapping pics with the demented urgency of a fan who’d later sell the pics to TMZ. Ricki tried to grab it, but Regina dodged her.

“We wanted to see you! And your shop.” Rae peered behind Ricki. “It’s… eclectic. And wow,somuch greenery.”

“Like a cosmopolitan Rainforest Cafe,” added Rashida.

Ricki glared at her. “Well, we’re closed. There’s nothing to see here.”

Rashida adjusted her Louis Vuitton Speedy bag on her shoulder. “Are you really going to turn away your flesh and blood after we traveled economy class to visit our baby sister?”

“Also, I’m starving,” announced Regina, pursing her lips and finally lowering her phone.

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