2. Paige
CHAPTER TWO
Paige
The screen on my phone shows ten AM but I’m still in bed. Fuck, I can’t remember the last time I slept so late. I don’t want to rush to get up, but my temples pulse and my bladder is about to burst. With a loud groan, I pull the emotional support blanket off me and roll to the side.
My favorite monstera stares at me from across the room. She’s almost as tall as the ceiling, occupies the entire corner of my bedroom, and she’s absolutely stunning. Who could ever think of them as boring?
On my way to the bathroom, I fight hard to keep myself from throwing up, hoping to piece together the events from last night.
I was at Jordan and Emma’s. They wanted me to stay over, but I insisted on going home.
They helped me into a rideshare. Thank God we live in a small town where the crime levels are low, because I have no recollection of coming home.
I use the toilet, then strip before entering the shower. Some cold water would probably save me from this headache, but I’d rather die than take a freezing shower. I turn the faucet on hot and lower my head.
Yesterday wasn’t the first time Jordan suggested I should try dating again, but no matter how many times she says it, the idea still repulses me. The thought of letting someone in just to have him hurt me again… Goosebumps rise on my skin.
Just as I turn the water off, the doorbell rings.
“Coming.” It’s an attempt at a yell, but my voice comes out hoarse.
Getting out of the shower, I dry off in a rush and throw on a bathrobe, tying a towel around my hair.
I don’t look ready for visitors, but another ring followed by a knock tells me there’s no time to deal with that.
Sliding my feet into my slippers, I head toward the front door.
The blush walls in my hallway serve as a railing to keep me upright as I make slow work of walking, each step making my head spin.
Another ring. I am close enough to have it now echo in my brain, making me wince. “Fuck. I’m coming.”
Finally reaching the doorknob, I turn it and pull the door wide open. My gaze catches on the firm muscles of a spectacular ass in brown shorts that is now leaving my yard.
“Hi,” I call out, chasing after him in my bathrobe and slippers. “I’m here. Sorry for the wait.”
The man turns around, knocking the breath out of my lungs.
A set of broad, defined shoulders approaches me, giving his ass stiff competition in the hottest body part department.
Thick eyebrows frame a set of gray eyes which rise beneath his brown cap as a corner of his lips lifts, outlined by a neatly trimmed beard.
“Paige Simms?” Even his voice is hot—a deep, low rumble.
I swallow, my eyelids doing a couple of ‘deer in the headlights’ blinks. “Th-that’s me.”
“I have some packages for you. The address was misspelled, so I wasn’t sure I had the right one.”
“Packages?”
“Four of them.”
Recovering from the shock, my eyes drop to his hands, finally connecting the dots.
Blood rushes to all my extremities, embarrassment taking over me.
This very hot delivery guy is holding a set of four, yes four, sex toys that my idiot of a twin and her wife ordered for me.
The pink and purple phallic shapes stare at me from the packaging, as if making fun of me.
“Oh, it’s not… This is not…”
His face stretches into a full-on smirk, which would make my knees weak if humiliation hadn’t already incapacitated them.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.
” His words should be comforting, but there’s nothing comforting about the situation I’ve found myself in.
I guess he notices the fact that I’m mortified because he continues, “Trust me, I’ve seen more embarrassing stuff on my job. ”
“Have you?” I call his bluff, crossing my arms over my chest.
He lets out a low, hearty chuckle. “No, I can’t say I have. But hey, this”—he glances at the damn boxes—“is nothing to be ashamed of. Every woman should have a trusted toy… or four.”
“Ha-ha. Very funny.” I let out a forced laugh.
“I thought so. Anyway, here are your packages. Have a nice day.” His eyes land on the boxes one more time. He places them in my hands, and I’m still too stumped to do anything else but watch him walk away and enter the delivery van.
A minute passes before I realize I’m standing in front of my house with four vibrators on display for all my neighbors to see.
Not that it’s a busy street. My home sits on a cul-de-sac with only one house past it.
Still, my neighbor is an elderly woman who spends all her time at home and likes to know everything about everyone, so I’d prefer her not seeing what I just got delivered.
As if my thoughts summoned her, a voice breaks the silence of our peaceful street just as I reach the door to my house. I panic and drop the boxes in my hallway, rushing to close the door.
“Got some mail, did you?” Linda asks with a smile, glancing behind me to see what I’ve got.
Fuck, I’m lucky she didn’t come out earlier. As usual, she wears her Sunday best, even though I’ve never seen her leave for church and it’s not Sunday today.
“Yup. Just some things that my sister ordered for me.” My lips turn up shakily.
“I was surprised to see you open the door, given the time you arrived home last night.”
I suppress an eye roll. Nothing gets past her. Instead, I chuckle awkwardly, deciding to bluff. “Actually, I’ve been up for hours.” She narrows her eyes, but luckily, she doesn’t probe further. I use the moment of silence to say, “I need to get going. Have a nice day.”
“You too, honey,” she responds, finally moving from my driveway.
Letting out a sigh of relief, I enter my house, locking the door twice.
A glance at my sex toy-filled floor is enough to send bouts of rage through my bloodstream.
My temples still pulse as I march into my room with the boxes in hand.
Pillows scatter to the floor while I try to locate my phone.
I find it under the duvet and instantly dial my sister.
“Morning, Paige. How are you doing, sweetie?” Emma’s voice sing-songs through my phone, but I’m having none of it.
“Don’t you sweetie me. Where’s Jordan?”
“Jordan, Paige wants to speak to you.”
“I want to speak with you both,” I grit out, landing my ass on my now messy bed.
“What’s up?”
“What’s up?” I shriek. “What’s up? I’ll tell you what’s up.” I lift the closest package, waving it in the air as if they can see it, which reminds me that they, in fact, cannot. I turn the call to video and show them the box, my eyes psychotic in the tiny frame showing my camera.
“Cool, they’re already here.” Jordan shrugs, sending steam out of my ears.
“Cool? Cool?” Great, now I’m just repeating myself. “You want to know what isn’t cool? The fact that they’ve arrived loud and proud, and that the cute delivery guy had to hand me four dildos.” I show four fingers to emphasize my point.
“Only one of them is a dildo…” Jordan says, at the same time that Emma squeals, “A cute delivery guy?”
“Irrelevant. Both of you,” I scold them. “You are missing the tiny fact that I was and still am completely mortified. Haven’t you ticked discrete delivery?”
Emma scrunches her face. “No, we ticked same-day delivery.”
“URGH,” I groan.
“I’m failing to see the problem,” Jordan adds. “It’s just a vibrator. Everyone has them.”
“Not everyone, Jordan. I don’t have them.
At least I didn’t have them. And I definitely didn’t want my delivery guy thinking I’m a sex-crazed freak.
” It’s what my ex called me the one time I jokingly suggested trying one out.
We were only dating for a few months then, but I never suggested it again.
“This is what we were talking about before. Relax, Paige. Live a little. Don’t let everything and everyone else bother you and just enjoy yourself. Trust me, it will be worth it. Besides, you need to save your column, and this is the way to do it.”
Another groan escapes my mouth, as if I’m a rabid dog, but she has a point there. For a person who shares her life in a magazine read by thousands of people every month, I’m freakishly private. Sharing the words on the page is one thing, but my real life is a whole different ballgame.
My gaze lands on the dreaded boxes one more time. Doing pieces about sex toys might not be the reason I became a writer, but my job is the only thing I have going for me right now. If that’s what it takes to save it, then that’s what I’ll do.