“Fine.” I eat another fry. “I did drive out to David’s tonight, though.”
“Wait, what? Did you just come home from there?” Her eyes scan my hair, my face, and my clothes, then come back to my eyes. “You look totally normal. Please tell me this is not how you look after sex with David Bennett.”
I nearly choke on a curly fry. “Harlow! What?”
“If you went out there and had hot sex with David and came back looking like this—not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle, not a centimeter of whisker burn, I will be very disappointed.”
I’m staring at her. “He…he wasn’t home. I didn’t go out there for sex. I took him pizza and tater tots.”
She opens her mouth. Then stops and smiles. “Aw, because you didn’t get to have that last night together. That’s cute.”
“Shut up. Why did you assume I’d gone out there for sex? And why do you assume I’d look all…” I wave my hand, not sure what word to use.
She sits back in her chair. “Because that guy has amazing-in-bed written all over him, and that means you would not only be very rumpled after, you should not be able to find your panties or even string coherent sentences together. In fact, you shouldn’t be sitting here with me right now, eating curly fries. You should not leave that man’s bed until late tomorrow morning.”
I’m just staring at her. All of that sounds…awesome.
“What if he didn’t want me to stay over?”
She grins. “He brought you animal track molds this morning. He’d want you to stay over.”
My heart does a little flip in my chest. “Maybe he just doesn’t want to have to come tow my car again. Or do the paperwork required when I’m mauled by a mountain lion. Getting the molds himself keeps me away from danger.”
She nods. “Okay, maybe. You should probably test that theory.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think you need to find a way to be in David Bennett’s company, just the two of you, for another two hours—or more. The tornado was kind of a cock-blocker.”
“Harlow!” But I’m laughing now, feeling lighter. Harlow isn’t acting like this is a horrible idea.
“I’m just saying, see what happens when he’s not worried about the weather, and you aren’t squatting in someone else’s house.”
I reach for a fry. This is intriguing. It sounds like fun, actually. Who says I have to wait for David to call me or ask me out? I’m a grown woman. If I want something, I need to find a way to get it. Like spending time with David Bennett.
The only problem is…
“What about Dad?” I ask.
“What about Dad?”
“He and David don’t get along.”
“So don’t invite Dad on your date,” she says.
I roll my eyes. “Harlow, you know what I’m saying. And David has already brought it up. He doesn’t want Dad to even know he rescued me last night.”
My phone lights up at that very moment with a text. My heart kicks. I don’t know why. There are a dozen people who could be texting me.
But for some reason, I know it’s David.
In the note I left with the pizza and tater tots, I told him to give me a call.
A text is not a call. And I’m not surprised he’s not calling.
“Hang on,” I tell Harlow.
She leans in, propping her chin on her hand, and watches me read my text.
