“At the risk of sounding like a Netflix glitch . . . BUT WHY?”
“You know why,” I say as I finish with the dishwasher, then hunt in my fridge for something to cook for dinner. Maybe eggs and mushrooms? That is the decision of the moment, and I focus on it. The question of more than one night with Ransom is not up for debate.
The sympathy in Bryn’s sigh puts my back up. But not literally, because my head is inside the fridge. “You truly don’t want to even consider a relationship?”
I bristle at the idea. “Relationships have the potential to destroy your soul.” I find the mushrooms and grab a cutting board. “And I don’t want to ruin my friendship with him, and especially not the chemistry with our friends. Which is why it’s perfect that he’s not interested in anything more, and neither am I. You know that.”
She huffs. “You guys say that now . . .”
I shake my head, amused, as I wash the veggies then line them up to slice. “We say it now because it’s true.”
“It might not always be true,” she points out.
“It’s true enough for me,” I say, then segue to the topic of Fitz and Dean’s wedding next weekend.
When I end the call and whip up the omelet, I repeat the words to myself. It is true.
True enough.
Because otherwise, I’ll want a man I shouldn’t have.
A relationship that might rattle and rock all I hold near and dear—my found family.
But when I finish dinner, clean up, and walk through my empty apartment, I miss him already.
So much more than I expected.
10
Ransom
Luna arches a dubious brow as she mixes a cocktail. It’s her is this a true story look as I recount the tale of the auction.
Tempest laughs, nodding, then answers her in sign language. “It’s true. Someone actually wants to date him.” My sassy sister—well, one of them—finishes by pointing her thumb at me.
“Stranger things have happened,” Luna says. She can speak, but she prefers to sign. She also prefers to make the drinks, since she says we suck at mixing cocktails, which is why her speedy hands are occupied.
From my spot on a barstool, I roll my eyes as Luna adds mint to the mojitos. We’re at her apartment, and her husband is picking up takeout Thai food.
“I was the prize last night, ladies. I went for the highest donation, and that donation goes to the companion dog organization,” I say with my hands, gesturing to the big blonde Labrador sprawled on the floor.
Angela raises her snout at the word and the sign for “dog,” since she knows both. “Yes, you, girl,” I say to the gentle beast. “I’m talking about you.”
Luna puts down the glasses, rounds the bar to me, and wraps me in a hug, her blonde curls smushed against my face. When she lets go, she meets my gaze and says, “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” I say, making sure she can read my lips.
She returns to her mixing, and I continue the conversation by hand. “Admit it. I’m irresistible.”
They both laugh, then Luna signs, “In his mind, he’s a legend. So, who is this woman who bought you?”
“Yes, tell us everything about the miracle of last night,” Tempest adds.
Miracle.
I laugh privately. Sex with Teagan was like a miracle of pleasure. It was a revelation of bliss.
“She’s great. Teagan’s a friend of mine,” I explain.
“And will she stay a friend?” Luna asks.
“I thought you didn’t date friends?” Tempest asks.
Ah, they know me so well. “I don’t date friends, and I don’t plan on dating her,” I say and sign, but the second those words make landfall, they feel a little off, a lot wrong.
I’d like to date Teagan.
I’d like to see her.
But that’s not what we agreed to last night. We made a deal to do sex the right way, so it wouldn’t ruin anything. So we’d snap back like a friendship-shaped rubber band.
Luna hands me a drink, then one to Tempest too. “But you have a date with her,” Luna points out. “She won a date with you.”
Tempest clears her throat, eyebrows pinching together. “Doesn’t that mean you’re dating?”
I suppose that’s somewhat true. But not entirely. “It’s just a date. That’s all.”
Luna arches a dubious brow. “Just a date with the woman you’re always telling us about?”
I blanch, then blink. “I’m always telling you about her?”
Tempest drapes an arm around me, nodding vigorously. Always, she mouths.
Huh.
That sort of surprises me.
And sort of doesn’t too.
“Want to hear something funny?”
They both nod.
I tell them about how Teagan was jealous of Tempest’s hairbrush, thinking they’ll get a kick out of the story.
And they do.
Oh hell, do they ever.
They’re both howling with laughter.
So hard that I realize it’s partly at me—because I pretty much unwittingly admitted that Teagan spent the night. And they seem to be laughing both at the story and at what they think it means that I’m telling them.
