Page 51 of How to Get Lucky
28
Early the next morning
From the Woman Power Trio, aka the text messages of London and her two besties, Olive and Emery
Olive: Soooooooooooooo . . .
Emery: *taps foot*
Olive: *waits, waits, waits*
Emery: *prepares to show up at Teddy’s place and demand details*
London: Oh, hi! It’s me! Waking up next to this guy I like.
Olive: I WANT ALL THE DETAILS.
Emery: AND NOW.
London: He has a tattoo.
Olive: Hot. Go on.
London: I spent the night. So did my dog. The sex was intense, the conversation incredible, and . . . I’m falling for him, and I’m pretty sure he’s falling for me too.
Olive: So basically all that stuff about him not wanting more because of your brother and blah, blah, blah is out the window?
London: Ummmmm, maybe?
Emery: Whoa. This is huge.
London: I know, right? And I’m going to have to say something to Archer soon . . . but I want to figure out what this is first.
Olive: Smart. But can we rewind to the hot sex stories first and then do the wedding registry?
London: He’s waking up. More later!
29
Waking up feels better than it has in a long time. It’s for two reasons, I’d wager.
First—the great-sex effect.
I had it last night, and it was fucking awesome.
Plus, the aftereffects last till dawn.
Who knew?
That should be on the list of side effects of great sex—you’ll still feel fantastic in the morning.
But there’s another reason.
An even better reason.
My arms are wrapped around London as my eyes open. It’s a helluva way to start a day—with London’s rear nestled against my groin.
Why, yes, I’ll avail myself of this side effect too, thank you very much.
London grinds her hips into me on a low moan, then reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a condom.
My hand on her hip slides gently toward her center, where she’s warm, wet, and just as ready for this as I am.
Taking the condom, I sheath myself and slide into her from behind, pumping slowly to give her time to accommodate my length.
With one of my hands cupping her breast, we move together under the covers, feeling each other from this new angle. It’s not long before we’re coming together, and it’s fantastic.
I always knew morning sex was going to be awesome. I’m glad to finally have the proof.
“And now, I’m hungry for food,” London murmurs.
“Ravenous,” I agree.
We get out of bed, brush our teeth—shout out to my dentist for the drawer full of unused toothbrushes—and leash up the dogs for a quick walk.
As I clip the leash on Bowie, my phone pings with an alert. Sliding my thumb across the screen, I grin as I read a response to Bloom’s Yelp review.
A request for another wedding booking. “Yes!”
“Let me guess. You got a coupon for a free scoop at McConnell’s today too?”
“That is indeed cause for celebration, but so’s this,” I say, showing her the review.
She beams, her whole face lighting up with pride. Damn, that looks good on her. And it feels good, too, to elicit that reaction. “Teddy, I am so excited for you,” she says in a way that hooks into my heart.
“Thanks. Me too. I’m stoked. I’ve had two new booking requests this morning from her review. So things are looking up.” I rap twice on the doorframe for luck.
“It’s not luck. You’re good at what you do.”
“So are you,” I say.
She blows on her fingernails as she wraps the dog’s leash around her other wrist. “Look at us. Making things happen. My routine is almost ready to present to Archer and the partners, and to use in my portfolio, and you’re on a fast track to becoming LA’s premiere wedding and event DJ,” she says.
When she puts it like that, everything feels possible.
Everything including being with her.
Perhaps that maybe someday isn’t so far away.
We leave with the dogs. On the landing, the rattling of pans from inside Sherri’s home reaches my ears, so I give the door a quick knock to see if Vin Scully needs a trip outside. Sherri hands her dog over in no time.
“Buenos días, oso,” she says, greeting me, and then she catches sight of London as she’s clipping Vin’s collar. “Oh, is this the guapa you were telling me about?”
“Sí, Sherri. Por favor, no me avergüences. This is London,” I say, and after a brief introduction and a suggestive smile from Sherri, my sleepover companion and I head down the hall.
“Guapa? Is that good or bad?” London asks.
“It means ‘beautiful.’ I told her that you are, because . . . duh. Then I asked her not to embarrass me.” A slight flush heats my cheeks.
“Too late,” London says with a smile.
Yeah, it’s too late for a lot of things.
Like turning back.
That’s both the good news and the bad news.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, we arrive at my favorite breakfast spot.
“House of Pies? I didn’t know it was dessert for breakfast day, but sign me up.”
