“We don’t—”

I shove the dish into Flint’s chest.

“I want you to eat all of it.”

A single brow slides up his forehead as one corner of his mouth twitches into a tiny grin.

I grimace. “The crisp.”

“The crisp.” He nods slowly. “Thank you. I look forward to it.”

In thirty-two years, I have never needed to get off like I do right now. Pink balls are real.

“It was fun.” I chomp down on the inside of my lip as I ease past Flint. So much blood has converged between my legs, waiting for a release of pleasure, even walking is a bit uncomfortable. “We’ll have to do it again.”

“Oh!” Harry almost runs into me as he stops and changes direction. “I forgot my guitar. We didn’t get to play.” He heads back to the rats’ room.

“Next time,” I say, keeping my gaze anywhere but on the man who has the superpower to make me squirm.

“Which finger or fingers of yours should I be jealous of tonight?” he says in a low, deep voice.

I hide my gasp, but it’s there. Apparently shockingly crude remarks are the theme of the night. I can play this game. Making a quick glance over my shoulder for young ears coming, I turn back and hold up my index and middle finger. “These two up front…” I add my ring finger “…this one in the back.”

And there it is … Flint Hopkins expressionless and speechless. It’s an oddly beautiful sight.

“Got it.” Harry brushes by us and opens the front door.

I grin, batting my eyelashes like someone wearing contacts for the first time. “Goodnight, boys.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

My alarm ruins my morning at seven, just like I set it to do. I like sleeping in, but the new man in my life inspires me to be the typical woman—self-conscious about my body image. All men should be forced to come back in another life as a woman.

I bring up my fourteen-minute kick-ass workout app and rotate through a series of jumping rope, burpees, squats, pushups, and tricep dips, followed by a long shower and thoughts of Flint Hopkins.

“Who’s calling me before eight?” I wrap a towel around my head and slip into my robe as I run to answer my phone in the bedroom.

“Hey, Dad. It’s Sunday. I’m not in your time zone. Do you keep forgetting?”

“Did I wake you?”

I sigh. “No, but—”

“Then stop making your old man feel bad.”

“Sorry. How are you?”

“Old.”

I laugh, plopping back onto my bed. “Aged like a fine wine.”

“Find yourself a worthy man?”

“Well …” I grin. “He’s definitely a man.”

“A good man?”

Is Flint a good man?

“I think so. He has a son.”

“Divorced?”

“Widowed.”

“Oh …”

“Yeah. It’s a little complicated. His name is Flint. He’s actually my landlord.”

“So he’s into real estate?”

“He’s an attorney.”

“A good one?”

I laugh. “I don’t know for sure. I haven’t needed his legal services. Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters. You want to be with a guy who’s on the right side.”

“Republican?”

“I couldn’t give a rat’s ass if he’s republican or democrat. And no offense to your baby varmints.”

I shake with silent laughter while rolling my eyes.

“I mean does he have good morals? Is he defending the right people?”

“I think he’s mostly family law, so I’m sure it could go either way.”

My doorbell rings. Seriously, do people not respect the sacredness of sleeping in on Sundays?

I jackknife out of bed and answer the door.

“I’m sure if you think he’s worthy to date, then he is,” my dad says as I spot a guy holding a package outside my door.

“He’s a good guy. I really believe so. Hang on a sec …” I slip the phone in my robe pocket. “Hi.”

“Miss Rodgers?”

“Yes.”

“Delivery.”

“On a Sunday?”

He’s not wearing a delivery uniform.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What company are you with?”

“I’m not with a company. Have a good day.” He hands me the small box and turns without further explanation.

I fish my phone back out of my pocket. “Sorry. Delivery.”

“On a Sunday?” my dad asks.

“Right? Yeah, I don’t know what it is.” I put my dad on speaker and set the box on the kitchen counter to open it.

“Chocolates? Flowers?”

I laugh. “The box is too small.”

“Hurry up. The suspense is killing me.”

“It’s my delivery.”

“But now you have me curious.”

“Okay, okay … just a sec …” Inside the brown box is a blue box with a ribbon. “Oh my gosh … it’s a blue box.”

“Is blue good luck?”

I roll my eyes. “It’s from a luxury jewelry store.”

“If this guy thinks he’s proposing without asking my permission—”

“Down boy. It’s too big for a ring. It might be a watch or bracelet.” He sent me jewelry. I can’t believe it. I remove the lid. “Oh my god …”

“What is it?”

“Um …” I take out the card next to the small bottle of water-based personal lubricant.

For my kinky lady. I’m a lot bigger than your ring finger. I’ll pick you up at noon. ~Flint

“Elle, I’m old … I want to know what’s in the box before I die.”

If I tell him what’s in the box, it will kill him.

“A watch.”

“Do you wear a watch?”

“Sometimes.”

“Does it look expensive?”

“Not terribly.”

“Well, that’s good. It’s never a good idea to purchase expensive gifts so early in a relationship. Does it fit?”

I clamp down on my lip to keep from giggling. “I … uh … think it’s a one-size-fits-all.”

“Is it engraved?”

My body vibrates with unleashed laughter, until tears fill my eyes. “No …” I manage to squeak out.

“For crying out loud … a luxury jewelry store that doesn’t do free engraving? If that’s the case, then they’re just screwing you up the ass.”

Oh. My. God … I can’t breathe. My stomach hurts from so much restrained laughter. I click mute on my phone to let it out. Howling laughter echoes in my apartment.

“You should teach your new guy a lesson on demanding good service, like I taught you. Never let someone screw you like that.”

I could pee. I squeeze my legs together to keep from leaking. Forcing a few deep breaths, I turn off the mute button. “So how have you been feeling, Dad?”

“Good. Stiff. Soft in the middle. But good.”

I’m drowning in gutter thoughts. I need to focus. “I miss you.”

“Then get on a plane and come see me.”

“Dad …”

“Live life, my lovely girl. Take chances—a new path—and find happiness. No fear.”

I nod. He has a way of sobering the moment.

“I will.”

“You’ll come see me?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

I smile. “Soon.”

“Holiday soon?”

“Soon.”

“Ah … fine. Love you. Tell that guy of yours to find a better place to buy jewelry.”

“Will do, Dad.”

*

Flint

“I called the Hamiltons. They’ll be home all day if there’s a non-9-1-1 emergency that requires assistance before I can get home.”

Harrison plugs in his phone cord by the couch. “I don’t think my charger cord works.”

“Not an emergency.” I check to make sure as many lights as possible are off. He’s never figured out how or why it’s important to flip the off switch. Someday he’s going to be introduced to a little piece of paper called an electric bill. “Do you have any questions?”

“Will you pick me up a new charging cord?”

“No.”

“You suck.”

“I try my best. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

The last time I truly dated a woman, I didn’t have a child or a guilty conscience. It wasn’t a big deal if after a few dates things ended. No hard feelings … I just moved on to someone else.

Things aren’t so simple anymore. I’m scared out of my fucking mind of what may come from this. I’m equally as fearful of what may not come from this.

I fuck around with my son’s “friend” and he hates me if he finds out. I break her heart and he hates me. Yet, here I am, ten feet from her apartment and unable to turn around and call it all off before anyone gets hurt or pissed off.

Ellen opens the door. I take a few seconds to admire the view. I fucking love that long red hair and those blue eyes. But more than that … I love the way she looks at me, like she has one hundred ideas in her head of what she’d like to do to me but she can’t decide where to start.