“And it was just sitting there,” my breaths came in short gasps in between laughs, “on his suitcases.”
Leah had tears in her eyes and her hands covered her mouth. I buried my face in my arms to stifle my laughter, not wanting to wake the kids, my stomach aching with each round of laughter.
“I’ll be sure to ask around school to see if anyone knows of a good sitter in the area,” Leah said when our laughter finally quieted. “And I’ll see about getting Max and Ryla into the summer school program at the elementary school. There’ve been a few kids who’ve dropped, so there’s room in my class. Max can stick tight to me if he wants. I know he’ll have some trouble feeling nervous. You know I’ll do whatever I can to help y’all.”
“I know. And I’m grateful.” A tight lump rose in my throat at her words. Herinstant understanding. I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my still aching stomach, the laughter easing some of the weight from my shoulders. I felt lighter than I’d had in months. “I think that’s the first time I’ve really and truly laughed since the divorce.”
“Come on, you must have laughed some other time. No one goes ten months without laughing at least once.”
Her words made me think back to my conversation with Jace at the country club this morning, when I’d laughed in surprise at his teasing. “Other than with my kids, only once that I can remember.”
“That’s the most pitiful thing I’ve ever heard.” Leah frowned, picking up her wineglass. She wasn’t one to beat around the bush, this best friend of mine.
“I unfortunately agree.” Because itwaspitiful—I couldn’t recall a single time during myentire marriagewhen I laughed that hard with my now ex-husband. And while laughter wasn’t going to help me find a new nanny or tap me out with the kids when my patience was running low, it did feel good to laugh with someone. I glanced at Leah out of the corner of my eye as I reached for my water glass, picking it up to give her a little toast in the air. “But I do feel better.”
Leah held up her wineglass in kind. “That’s what they say, right? Laughter’s the best medicine.”
CHAPTERTHREE
JACE
Love hurts. Especially when it comes with fangs.
Love Bitesby Lena Benjamin
Two Weeks Later
“I’m telling you, the epoxy floor was so simple. It turned out pretty damn good considering I’d never done it before.” Sam thrust his phone toward me. We were in the Viking MMA locker room changing into our sparring gear. Scrolling through his camera roll, I was surprised to see there were several photos at the same angle over time.
“Did you set up a time-lapse camera?” I asked, semi-impressed he even knew how to do that.
Sam scratched his forehead with the back of his thumb. “I, uh”—he cleared his throat— “started the top coat for the epoxy the wrong way. I had to sit in the corner of the garage for five hours while it dried before I could leave.”
Chuckling, I handed back his phone. Typical Sam. I wasn’t surprised. When he started the company, we were a good team. It gave me the freedom to be my own boss, it paid well, and I got to try new things. This worked well for a few years. Sam had the big ideas, and I had the ability to focus and get the jobs done. But saving Sam from lawsuits and bodily harm was becoming a full-time job these days. A full-timeunpaidjob. I was up for adventure, sure, but Sam’s focus was on money and had a tendency to say yes when he shouldn’t and commit to more jobs then we had time for. Which is what I’d said to him last week when I told him I had to take a big step back from the number of projects I took on.
He shrugged, putting his phone away. “I might add it to the website as a new service we provide.”
“We?” I questioned.
“Yeah. I’ll teach you. It’s a breeze. We could make so much money.”
I shook my head as I pulled on my sparring gloves. “I already told you I’m taking on less projects. You gotta find someone else.”
I was already busier than I wanted to be lately. Besides the jobs I did for Sam, I valeted on Sundays, helped run the Young Wills program every Tuesday and Thursday night, drove my car for Lyft whenever I could, and volunteered to help out some performing arts classes at both the Green Valley Middle and High School a few days per week during the school year.
My pop always joked I had wanderlust without the desire to wander. And when I was younger, his comments didn’t bother me. But lately, I’d become more restless, feeling truly aimless for the first time in my life. On a nice Sunday afternoon like this one, I’d typically stop at one of the county’s driving ranges to hit a bucket of balls, then relax at home or go for a hike. Today, I needed to let out some pent-up energy, so I called up Sam, who met me at Viking MMA.
I couldn’t get Polly Alberton out of my mind. It’d only gotten worse since I’d found out she wasMissPolly Alberton two weeks ago. I also knew she showed up every Sunday at 10:00 a.m. on the dot, always tipped forty bucks, and the only thing hotter than her shoes, was playing on her car’s stereo.
For the last six weeks, I’d pathetically spent the best two and half minutes of my week opening her car door, smiling and joking playfully with her, loving her shy smiles as her honeyed floral scent washed over me. Then I’d get in her car, listen to ten seconds of her book, and take a picture of the car’s stereo screen so I could remember the title and author. I’d bought and read all the books she’d been listening to, and one thing was for sure: perfect Polly Alberton . . . was anything but proper. Polly’s audiobook choice today was about a group of virile young women abducted from Earth, only to crash-land on a planet of giant blue humanoid aliens with huge dicks.
Some guys have all the luck.
Since the first book I’d bought, I’d had a crash course in romance novels. And believe me, it’s been an education. These books had some of the straight-up filthiest things I’ve ever read while also being surprisingly funny and well written. Each book varied widely on how much sex was actually in the book, most of them only had a few chapters. I’m not saying everything that happens is believable; the positions, the angles, the stamina of these guys—they really deserve a round of applause. I’d hit the gym extra hard over the past few weeks because,shiiit.I thought I knew how to make sex good for a woman. Cocky for a twenty-four-year-old? Sure. But clearly, I hadno idea.I’d gone as far as marking pages for the really good moves. I shook my head, thinking about my poor eighteen-year-old self, hell, thinking about my poor twenty-two -year-old self, thinking I was good at sex. Apparently after all these years, all I had to do was read a damn romance novel.
That’s not to say I hadn’t noticed other things about Polly. Like how she seemed tense over the last two weeks. Or how she visibly steeled herself, rolling her shoulders back as she approached the front doors of the club. Making her laugh two weeks ago had made me feel ten-feet tall. I wanted to hear her laugh again. But after six weeks of Sundays, I’d only learned her name, her shit hot taste in books, and that she was single.
That wasn’t close to enough.
