Love Hacked (Knitting in the City #3)(11)
Author: Penny Reid

We studied each other for a beat; then we both started talking at the same time.

“We could always….”

“How about if we…?”

Our shared, tentative laughter filled the small space; then I offered, “You first. Go ahead.”

“Are you free Thursday?”

I nodded in earnest, not even thinking about my smile—it was unplanned, unmeasured, and completely genuine. “Yes. Free as a bird not in the zoo or any other kind of captivity, including but not limited to, belonging to a falconer.”

“Good.” He studied me as though he thought I was weird, but he liked it. “Meet me outside Chase Bank around six thirty. I’ll….” He paused, glanced over my shoulder, his eyes narrowed as though he were working through a problem. “Just get in the line; you’ll see it when you get there, and I’ll get in line behind you.”

“Get in a line? What are we doing?” I hoped it was either lewd or lascivious, or both.

“You’ll see.” He flashed a new grin, one that showed a devastating dimple in his left cheek, and then he leaned backward, away from me. He let his arm drop, and my path was now clear.

“Okay.” I stuck out my hand to shake his, feeling that if we shook on it, then it would be a deal.

He continued to watch me in his unnerving way, his eyes still narrowed subtly, but he accepted my hand. Instead of shaking it, he brought it to his lips and kissed the back of my fingers. His full lips were wet. I felt nine different kinds of zings and arousal as he pressed them against the space between my first and middle finger, just below the joint.

He lowered my hand, his thumb caressing soft circles over the spot where he’d just placed his lips as though rubbing the kiss into my skin.

“Wear the red dress.” It was a request, though he’d spoken it like a command.

“I’ll see what I can do. Should I wear anything else?”

I asked this with a pointedly unflustered lift of my eyebrows as if this were something I did all the time…as if his words weren’t turning me into a breathless Alex-aphrodisiac-addict…as if I didn’t care to remember how it felt to orgasm using something that didn’t plug in.

But he knew I hadn’t been kissed in going on three years; therefore, I had no idea how truly successful I was being in my attempts to mask my borderline-manic excitement.

His eyes flashed a lightning strike, an electric current, and his thumb stilled on the back of my hand. “Shoes.” He said calmly, though his voice was somewhat choked. “You should probably wear shoes. And a coat.”

“Hmm.” I nodded, trying to appear contemplative as I reluctantly pulled my hand from his. “See you then.”

I was pleased that my last question seemed to elicit some discernible reaction, even if it had only been a small difference in the inflection of his voice. This small victory, and our heady encounter, carried me in a happy cloud back to the dining room.

And I didn’t even wobble as I walked away, which was kind of amazing.

***

When Kat and I arrived at my apartment building, I tried my best not to be outwardly relieved when she informed me that she couldn’t stay the night. In fact, on our way to my place, she’d received a text from a member of her wayward family, likely one of her snobby cousins. She was needed in Boston—again.

I wasn’t concerned. This happened to Kat with frequency. I knew more about her than most of the group did because I’m nosey—that, and I got her drunk one night. While intoxicated and under my pointed questioning, she told me that her parents were wealthy and she was an only child.

And by wealthy she meant insanely wealthy, so wealthy that they could purchase a small country and several moderately sized islands, and still have funds left over to buy a congressional election or two. And by only child she meant that she was the heir apparent to some sort of massive, global, gazillion-dollar company. She ran away from home at sixteen, but made a tentative peace with her parents on her twentieth birthday, three years ago.

I didn’t pry, but her trips to Boston had been more frequent of late. I assumed either someone was sick, or her family was attempting to brainwash her into coming back permanently.

I waited with her until a cab arrived, then I dashed upstairs to my apartment. I had just enough time to shower and change before making it back to surprise Alex before he closed the restaurant and locked the doors.

Seventeen minutes later, I was approaching the corner of Taj’s. With a smile on my face and no underwear on, I allowed myself to feel excited. It was, most definitely, the most throwing-caution-to-the-wind thing I’d ever done, and it felt fantastic, as long as I didn’t think about it too much.

I was going to have a fling with a completely manlicious younger man.

I tried not to think about Fiona’s words of concern and caution; they would wet-blanket the entire experience. Instead, I focused on visions of Alex taking off all that black he wore and letting me cover him in something sweet and sticky, like honey or…yeah, honey…lots of honey.

However, just as I rounded the corner, I stopped short. Alex stood outside the restaurant; as usual, he wore no coat. He was talking to a teenage girl or a woman, I couldn’t tell which. She was about my height, and her dark hair was gathered in a high ponytail.

I loitered for several seconds, not precisely sure what to do. They weren’t touching. They were talking. Her hands were on her hips, and his arms were crossed—not exactly friendly body language. But before I could make up my mind as to whether I should leave or stay, she laughed. Then, Alex opened the door behind him and she walked in. He followed.

I stood there rooted in place for a full minute and tried to sort through what I’d just witnessed.

When they didn’t reemerge after a full minute, I wrapped myself in Fiona’s cautionary wet blanket and decided that everything happens for a reason, and went home to put on some underwear.

I wasn’t upset with him, not even a little. After all, my expectations of him were actually quite low; they were no-strings-attached low.

But I was still very disappointed. I was disappointed that the unknown woman would be the recipient of Alex’s Tuesday attentions. Undeniably, I was a little frustrated by the Wookie costume I couldn’t seem to escape.

CHAPTER 6

Thursday’s Horoscope: Things should be going your way, and you may feel like quite a bit is getting done without your having to lift a finger.

Most women might have been put off by discovering that the guy they were interested in saddle bagging was already digging his spurs into another filly.

Not me. I was curious.

Furthermore, when I gave myself time to reflect on it, I realized that my rational side was relieved. Confirmation of his multiple mounts spared me any concern that he might be interested in more than a simple fling. Given the situation and our age difference, the chances had already been negligible. But now I had indisputable confirmation.

Thus, 6:30 p.m. Thursday night found me standing in line outside Chase Bank.

I tried to Google Chase Bank and Thursdays or Line, but all that came up were search results related to banking hours and opening lines of credit. Therefore, I stood dutifully in the cold for a full ten seconds, glancing around the small square for any sign of him.

Eventually, I leaned forward and spoke to an elderly couple in front of me. “Excuse me, what is this line for?”

“For the show, of course.” Alex’s voice answered from behind me before the man could respond.

I sighed as I turned, ready to make a new appraisal of him now that I knew he had several booty-call partners. Slamps is what my friend Elizabeth called them, which, also according to Elizabeth’s colorful vocabulary, made Alex a Wendell. Because, after a great deal of meditation on the subject, I became convinced that it wouldn’t make me crazy to assume Alex and the mystery lady on Tuesday night were on their way upstairs to do the dirty deed. I just happened to arrive seconds after she did.

Unexpectedly, as I met his gaze, I felt a pointed measure of both possessiveness and jealousy. But I wasn’t crazed with jealousy. More precisely, I was aggravated with jealousy. I freely admitted it…to myself. And there it was.

Alex looked quite happy to see me, and the vision of him smiling with genuine anticipation, his left cheek dimple out in full force, made me a little sad because it felt like a deception.

But I would get over the sadness. After all, he hadn’t been vetted for a relationship. I had no long-term designs or plans. He was my right-now guy; and, right now, I wanted to have a good time.

I was looking forward to slamping it up. In fact, I was counting on it. Embrace your inner slamp!

“Hello, Sandra,” he said, taking his place by my side in line.

I tipped my head up to smile in greeting and found his grin contagious. “Hello, Alex.”

His eyes swept over me, a quick surveillance. I was wearing brown leather riding boots, dark jeans, and a white down coat with a furry hood. Under the coat, and currently hidden from view, I wore a scandalously low-cut red halter-top that did great things for my boobs and waist. I even wore a necklace that dangled just above my cle**age, just in case I wanted to torture him with the vision of my (currently) unavailable tatas at some later point.

“You know, the first time I saw you in pants was on Tuesday.” His smile didn’t falter, and his eyes, on their return pass, lingered on my legs.