Chapter 7
I’m three miles down by the time Abbie and Charley find me in the gym, and their arrival is a thankful distraction from my most recent encounter with the Adonis. I wasn’t able to focus for the rest of the day at work, and that’s unheard of. My two late-afternoon calls were a mess of gibberish as I tried to recall what advice I was supposed to be giving my clients, both of whom were most unsettled by my uncharacteristically disorderly meetings. Thank you ...
What the hell is his name?
Abbie hops on the machine on my right, Charley on the left. This isn’t our usual pattern for running. I’m always to the far right, Charley to the far left, Abbie in the middle. Age order, oldest down to youngest, which is me. I’m trapped between them, feeling their eyes on me as they find their pace.
“Talk,” Charley demands, tying her wild curly hair back as she jogs.
“Now,” Abbie adds, adjusting her sports bra to get her huge boobs comfortable.
I blow out my cheeks, my sweat building. “He asked me to dinner again.”
“Tell me you said yes this time,” Abbie begs. My awkward smile pointed her way gives her the answer she didn’t want.
“No, that would be stupid,” Charley pipes in, pulling my attention to her. I smile, happy she’s on my side.
“She’s already had hand sex with him.” Abbie laughs. My eyes go back to her. “What’s dinner between two people whose hands have made out?”
I roll my eyes.
“Explain this hand sex,” Charley says, lifting her hands and looking at them.
“It was more a massage,” I reply, my breath a little shorter than the girls’. A very sensual massage. “I was soaping them for something to do.”
“Other than ripping off his clothes?” Abbie chuckles.
“Yes,” I breathe. “Have you seen how handsome he is?”
“I have indeed, which begs the question: Why you won’t just have dinner with him?”
“Because she’s smart,” Charley says.
“I’m smart,” I reiterate. So why did I let him practically seduce me in the restrooms in my work building? I pout. I should be forgiven. What that man can do with his hands.
“You’re fucking dumb.” Abbie sighs. “You’re single. Free. Let a man wine and dine you.”
“It sounds like he wants more than wining and dining,” Charley muses.
My head swings back to her.
“A bit of bodily attention after the wining and dining can’t hurt,” Abbie says.
Back to her.
“Can’t it?”
Back to Charley.
“Definitely not.” Abbie smirks. “I can’t even begin to imagine how boring sex was with Nick.”
I frown, my head turning back to Abbie. “It wasn’t that bad.” Was it?
“But it wasn’t that good.”
“How do you know? I’ve never talked about the sex I’ve had with Nick.”
“Exactly. And yet you were straight on the blower to me after just a bit of hand sex with the mystery hot man.”
A shudder mixes with the guilt. It’s true. Sex with Nick was as predictable—and boring—as my father’s misogyny.
“Did he ever make you come through penetration?” she asks.
“Abbie!” I gasp.
“You’re so uncouth,” Charley grumbles, now getting a little breathless too.
“What about you?” Abbie goes on. “Has Lloyd got the magic moves?”
Charley’s nose goes in the air. “A married couple keeps their private encounters private.”
“Bollocks.” Abbie snorts, laughing. “When you were two bottles deep at my thirtieth, you told me Lloyd likes flicking your bean while you’ve got your finger up his bum.”
I let out a bark of laughter, nearly flying off the end of the treadmill. “Charley,” I cry, giving her wide eyes, steadying myself. Her bright-red face—not through running, it should be noted—tells me she absolutely did say that. “How is that even possible?”
“Sixty-nine,” she grumbles.
“I’m never sharing a bag of crisps with you ever again.”
“I wash my bloody hands.”
“Back to hands!” Abbie sings. “Could you have come?”
My head is swinging back and forth so much, I think I’ve given myself whiplash. “I think I could have,” I admit, reliving the whole amazing experience. “I was a puppet on a string for him.”
“How delightful,” Abbie muses.
“And dangerous,” Charley adds. “Don’t lose yourself. Remember, that’s the whole reason you ended things with Nick.”
“I love how sensible you are.” I reach across and pat her arm. “Thank you.”
“Welcome.” Charley looks across to Abbie and sticks her tongue out. “Now, when is our next night out?”
“Still no transaction from Amazonico?” I ask them both, getting a shake of their heads.
“But they said we paid, so we can go back, right?” Charley says.
“I guess so.”
“So when?”
“We’re easy,” I remind our dear friend and mother of two. “So you tell us.”
“Not Saturday,” Abbie says. “I’ve got a full-on morning in the shop and a wedding to sort in the afternoon.”
“And not Sunday. I’ve promised my mum I’ll go make peace with my father. Maybe Friday?”
“Let me run it past the boss,” Charley says.
“We all know who’s boss in the Chaytor household.” Abbie laughs.
“Do you think Arlington Hall will run their special offer again?” she asks. “It was nice, just the three of us.”
“The three of us and the God.”
I smile, trying to keep it to myself. “I have a conference there next week.”
“At Arlington Hall?” Abbie hits the slow button on her treadmill, stepping onto the sides and grabbing her water.
“Yes,” I confirm. “It was supposed to be at the Hilton, but they double-booked.”
“So now the company is dragging everyone out to Oxfordshire?”
“Yeah.”
“Oohhh, take your bikini. You might steal a chance to dip into a steam room and sweat it out with the God again.”
“What are the chances of him being there?” Charley asks.
The thought is annoyingly thrilling. Yes, what are the chances? But still, I saw him first in Oxfordshire and second in London. I’d say the chances of bumping into someone in two separate counties in two days were pretty slim.