She smiles and her fingers graze mine as they wrap around the stem of the fork. When she leans forward, her dress hem reaches a new height, one I imagine continuing until I can see between her pretty thighs.
She swivels toward me, her knees sliding along the outside of my thigh, as she attempts to get closer to the pie plate, and I’m officially hard. Eating pie in a diner at midnight with a boner. My friends are right, I need to get out more. Or stay in more. Whichever would allow my dick to get action from something other than my own hand.
“Hey, that’s not halfsies. Yours is bigger,” she says.
“Halfsies? Is that a technical term?”
“Yes. It’s very important to know the lingo when negotiating pie with a stranger.” Her words slur a little, she’s really cute.
“We’re not really strangers, are we, Brooke?” Her lips quirk to the side when I say her name, as if she wasn’t sure I’d remember it, but is pleased that I do. “I seem to recall you getting pretty handsy at the bookstore. I’m Cole,” I remind her.
“I know.” She smiles again.
“And that’s my finder’s fee.” I point to my piece of pie that is barely bigger than hers. If at all.
“What?”
“I get more because it was my pie, and although preschool taught me to share, I don’t particularly like doing so.” I reach for her fork in a mock suggestion that I’m rescinding my pie share offer. She rears back, grasping the cutlery with both hands.
“No backsies.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“More pie negotiation terms?” I tease.
“Exactly.”
She reaches forward quickly and takes a bite. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve seen in a long time.
“So how often do you negotiate for pie? Is this a regular occurrence?”
“My first time.” She smiles around a bite. “I’m pretty good, huh?”
“You’re something.”
“So, what’s with the scrubs?”
“I’m a doctor.” I motion over my left shoulder in the direction of Rose Medical Center down the street. “I just got off a shift.”
“Oh, good. I thought you were just one of those people who wear them for fun and I was going to feel really bad for you.”
“I’m glad that’s not the case.” When the bite of pie finally hits my tongue, I’m regretting sharing with her. It’s phenomenal, and I’m mad at my dick for making me share. She must have known I might have second thoughts because her half—and no matter what she thinks, it was half, because I’ve got precision knife skills—is almost gone.
“What about you?” My eyes roam over her dress, the question of her appearance evident.
“Oh, this is my ‘fuck me’ dress.” She takes her last bite of pie, then slides her fork slowly through her lips to clean it off. “You know, when you go out and want to send out a vibe.” She motions the length of the dress, which takes about one second. “Do guys have clothes for that occasion?”
She makes me smile. She’s also making me hard.
“I think guys want their entire wardrobe to ‘send out the vibe.’”
Brooke laughs and the sound is intoxicating.
“I don’t know. The scrubs aren’t really giving me the vibe. Maybe you need a stethoscope? A white coat?”
I finish my last bite of pie and set my fork down on the plate. I lean back and study her. If I stood up right now she’d be getting more than a vibe.
“It didn’t work tonight?” I ask her.
