About the only person I could think of that I wasn’t mad at was Claire. As soon as she entered my mind, my entire body thrummed with heat, my insides pulling tight. I wanted to feel the way I had last night. I wanted that warm, sexy magic. I wanted to lose myself inside her, be surrounded by her sweetness, see her smile, hear her laugh. I wanted to smell her hair, taste her kiss, touch her skin. I wanted to undress her, whisper dirty words, play our little games. I wanted her to look at me again like she had last night, like she trusted me, like I was worthy of her trust.
I wasn’t an idiot. I knew nothing could come of it. I wasn’t worthy of her or her trust—it was all pretend.
But damn, it had made me feel good.
I needed to feel good again.
Sixteen
Claire
* * *
When I looked at my phone the morning after the wedding, I noticed I’d missed five texts from Jaime and three calls.
7:52 PM Hey, how’s it going?
9:07 PM Hellooooo? Are you alive?
9:32 PM Missed call.
10:25 PM Either you’re having a great time or you’re stuffed in a trunk and I’d really appreciate knowing which one it is, thanks.
10:30 PM Missed call.
10:50 PM I just sent Quinn to your house.
10:56 PM Missed call.
11:24 PM Quinn says there is a car in your driveway, lights on in your house, and no sign of foul play. If you are not dead, I’m going to kill you because you promised to keep in touch.
Oops. I’d forgotten all about that promise what with all the excitement (and by excitement I mean orgasms). I texted her quickly that I was fine, I was sorry, and I’d call her with details after I made coffee.
Her reply: Boo you whore.
Smiling for the first time since Theo had left, I got the coffee going, picked up my phone, and called her.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Claire. I’m sorry.”
“You should be, I was having heart attacks all night imagining all the terrible places your lifeless body could be stashed.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you? You don’t sound that fine.”
Sighing, I leaned both elbows on the counter and watched the coffee brew. “I’m alive and unharmed, I mean.”
“What happened with the guy?”
“We had a good time.”
“Did anyone suspect he was a fake date?”
“Not that I know of. And actually, it kind of turned into a real date.”
“What?! Details. Stat.”
“Well, at some point in the night, things just started to feel…real, I guess.” My stomach flipped as I recalled the moment on the dance floor.
“And then what?”
“And then when he brought me home, I asked him to come in.”
Jaime squealed. “Did he?”
“Yeah.” I closed my eyes, feeling him sink into me again and again. “He did.”
“And? You’re killing me!”
“And we had fun.”
“How much fun?”
“A lot of fun.”
Jaime gasped. “How many times did you have fun?”
“Three. Once on the living room floor and twice in the kitchen.” Pride made me smile a little bit—I could just imagine her eyes bugging out of her head at how un-Claire that was. Turns out I am audacious. At least with Theo.
“The kitchen?” she shrieked.
My smile widened. “Uh huh. The last time was on the kitchen table.” Something clattered in my ear.
“Sorry,” she said a moment later. “I dropped my phone. I’m in shock. So that was his car Quinn saw?”
“Yes.” The coffee pot hissed as it finished brewing, and I grabbed a mug from the cupboard that said The earth without art is just “eh” on it, a gift from a former student. I poured myself a cup and opened the fridge to grab the cream. “And I get it. I even shocked myself.”
“But you had a good time, right?”
“A great time. Best I’ve ever had with any guy.”
“So why do you sound like you regret it?”
After pouring in a little cream, I added some sugar. The sight of it reminded me of licking Theo’s fingers, and my body went weightless for a moment. “I definitely don’t regret it. I just wish he wanted to see me again.”
“Why doesn’t he?” Jaime sounded outraged.
I put the lid on the sugar bowl and returned the cream to the fridge. “Because he made it very clear right from the get-go that he was not looking for anything more than fun.”
“But if it was so good, and if you’re both just looking for fun, why not see each other again?”
Leaning back against the counter, I took a small sip of coffee. “He said he’s not in town very long and doesn’t know when he’ll be back.”
“Why? What does he do?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I thought he was a pilot, but that turned out to be more of a hobby. I actually know very little about him—not what he does, not where he lives, not even his real last name.”
“What the fuck? He didn’t give you his last name?”
“Well, he gave me a last name.” I almost laughed at the memory. “Woodcock.”
“Woodcock? That can’t be real.”
“No, I don’t think it is. Although it fits him.”
Jaime didn’t laugh. “This is weird, Claire. Why is he so secretive? What’s he got to hide? A wife, you think?”