Authors: Anna Cruise
THREE
ABBY
The phone wouldn't stop ringing.
Every time I answered a call, another line would ring. I tapped a blinking button, asked the person to hold, then returned to the first caller who was waiting. I was working part-time at my parents' real estate office, answering phones and doing general office work for them. A combination of factors had led me to finally caving and signing on. One, their part-time office assistant had moved shortly after we'd returned from our vacation in Arizona. Diane's husband was in the Navy and they were being transferred to Hawaii. She only worked ten hours a week and I knew that, in the past, my parents had simply picked up the extra work themselves when they'd had no one else on staff. But with mom going through treatment and their business busier than ever, I knew I'd have to do more than just help out around the house. I'd have to help out at work, too.
I'd anticipated the workload. I knew what they'd need me to do. What I hadn't counted on was liking it. And I did—a lot.
My dad marched into my small office. He wore a blue button-down shirt and a pair of khakis, a thick manilla folder in his right hand, and I knew instantly that he was heading out for showings. He waited until I was finished with the call before speaking.
“Everything under control?” he asked, a frown creasing his forehead.
“Yep.” I motioned to the blinking lights on the phone. “Two calls waiting.”
“Anything urgent?”
I shook my head. “No, I don't think so. Carmen has a counteroffer that she's going to email. She has some details she wants to go over. And John just finished his home inspection with the buyer for the Baker Street house.”
He nodded. “Okay. You can handle all of that?”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course. How long have I been doing this now?”
He pursed his lips together. “I know,” he said. “But you've been sick.”
“That was a week ago.” I lifted my hands in exasperation. “I've been back in the office for three days. Am I screwing things up?”
“No
—” he began but I cut him off.
“I'm fine, Dad.” I looked pointedly at the blinking lights on the phone. “But Carmen and John might not be if I don't get back to them.”
His expression cleared. “Oh. Right.” He glanced at the silver watch strapped to his wrist. “I've got an appointment with a client. Showing a bunch of houses in La Jolla. I probably won't be back until after dinner.”
I nodded. “No worries. I'll close up here.”
He nodded, tucked the folder under his arm, waved goodbye and left.
I dealt with the first phone call, jotting down notes for my dad. I heard the main door to the office open and I craned my neck to see who was there. West peeked around the corner and I smiled, holding my finger up while I finished the last call.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
He crossed the room and slid into the leather chair parked across from the desk. His dark hair was pushed off his forehead, a sloppy, tousled mess. I itched to run my fingers through it. “I can't just stop by and see my girlfriend?”
I gathered the papers strewn across the desk, stacking them into a haphazard pile. Organization was not my strong suit. “Of course you can,” I told him.
I stood up and stretched, then came around to the other side of the desk. I perched on the wood surface, directly in front of him. He extended his legs and rubbed my shin lightly with his bare foot. I looked down. He'd slipped off his flips, kicking them under the chair.
“When are you done here?” he asked.
“Soon.” His toes ran up and down the lower part of my leg and I felt my skin prickle with goosebumps. “Why?”
“I dunno. Thought we could grab some dinner. Take it back to my place. Eat. Have sex.”
I laughed. “Oh, really?”
He grinned and nodded. “Yeah. It's been two weeks. I'm starved.”
I knew he wasn't talking about food. “Not two weeks,” I said, frowning. “My room? Hello? Or was it so uneventful that you've forgotten?”
He dug his toes into my skin. “Shut up.” He reached for me and pulled me into his lap. “Not what I was talking about and you know it.”
“You just said
—”
He silenced me with his mouth, crushing his lips to mine, kissing me hungrily. “You know what I mean,” he whispered against my mouth. “I mean this kind of sex...” His voice trailed off and he shifted me so I was straddling his lap, my sundress pushed up to my hips, his arousal pressing against the thin fabric of my panties.
I raked my hands through his hair, my fingers wrapping around those silky strands and pulling gently. He moaned and shifted his hands to my breasts, cupping them through the filmy fabric of my dress.
“Maybe we should eat now,” he said, slipping the bodice down and yanking at my bra. He lowered his mouth and fastened his lips over my breast and it was my turn to moan.
“West,” I said, trying to pull free as his mouth ravished me and his hands roamed every inch of exposed skin. “Not here. Not now.”
He dragged his mouth away from my breast and looked up with half-lidded eyes. His expression was harsh and he swallowed a couple of times, trying to steady his breathing. Finally, he nodded, his hands loosening on my skin, a gentle caress instead of an urgent need.
“Okay, okay,” he said. He repositioned me so I was sitting on one knee, much like a kid would sit on Santa's lap. He laid his head against my shoulder and breathed deeply. “Just wanted you to know I missed you. And want you.”
“Point taken.” I kissed his hair and stood up. I took a deep breath, trying to get myself under control. I straightened my dress, smoothing the creases in the skirt. “I need to file some of this stuff and send a couple of e-mails. Oh, and check on a virtual tour, make sure it uploaded.”
“How long?”
I shrugged. “Twenty minutes? You can wait or I can meet you at home.”
He shook his head. “Nah. I'll wait.”
I sat back down in the cushioned office chair and clicked the mouse, bringing the computer screen to life. I felt West's eyes on me as I tapped away at the keyboard, sending messages and checking the agency website to ensure the virtual tour had been uploaded to a client's listing. At one point, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through something but otherwise, he kept his gaze firmly planted on me. It wasn't disconcerting and it didn't make me squirm. I liked it. I liked that, two years later, my hotter-than-hell boyfriend still looked at me the way he did. Still desired me. Because I felt the exact same way about him.
I powered off the computer and reached into the bottom drawer of the desk to dig out my purse.
“Done?” West asked.
I nodded.
“Thank God.”
I stood up and rounded the desk and he reached for my hand, pulling himself into a standing position.
“Hungry?” I asked. I flipped the light switch off, activated the security alarm and we both pushed our way through the front door.
“Yep.” He lifted the sunglasses off his head and slipped them over his eyes. “For food. And for you.”
I smiled and squeezed his hand in response. “Mmm. Me, too.”
FOUR
WEST
Griffin, my roommate, was sitting on the couch, a bottle of Heineken in his hand, when Abby and I got to my place. His massive frame was stretched out across both the couch and coffee table, his eyes glued to the television. A surfing competition overseas, one I didn't know about. Not that I didn't love to surf or follow it anymore; I just didn't have time.
He peeled his eyes from the screen. “Yo.” His eyes drifted to the greasy paper bag I was holding in my hands. “You bring dinner? Sweet.”
“Yeah,” I said, tossing my keys on the dining room table. “For me and Abby.”
“What the fuck, man?” He frowned. “Since when do you go to Alberto's and not bring me rolled tacos?”
Abby slipped past me, heading down the hallway and into the bathroom. I set the bag down on the table and pulled out two foil-wrapped paper boats of rolled tacos and a smaller, grease-stained paper bag filled with tortilla chips. I opened this, grabbed a chip and popped it in my mouth. “I dunno,” I told him. “How about never?”
He shook his head and sighed “Low, man. Way low.”
I opened the fridge and grabbed a diet Coke for Abby and a beer for myself. I found the bottle opener, popped the cap and took a long swig.
“Looks like she's feeling better,” Griffin commented.
I flipped a dining room chair around and straddled it, facing the television. “Yeah. Think so.”
It had been a week since Abby had been sick but she hadn't been by my place. Classes and work had taken priority. She'd been on spring break from Mesa during part of it but she still had reading to catch up on and a paper to make up. And I'd been busy, too. With classes and baseball practice and games.
“Still,” Griffin said, his eyes lingering on the wrapped food on the table. “She probably doesn't have her appetite back yet. You could probably snake me one of those tacos. She won't even know.”
Abby poked her head around the corner. “You trying to steal my food again, Grif?”
He grinned at her. “Guilty.”
She sank down in the chair next to me and unwrapped her boat of tacos. They were loaded with guacamole, smothered in cheese. She grabbed one, set it on a napkin, then walked the other two over to Griffin.
He held up his hands. “Dude. I was kidding.”
She held it out to him. “Take it. I'm not that hungry.”
He looked her up and down, frowning. “Yeah, well, you need to eat. Looks like you dropped five pounds since the last time I saw you.”
Abby looked down at her stomach, her thighs. I didn't think she was skin and bones but she did look a little thinner. I was planning to check things out later, intimately, to see just where she might have lost those pounds.
She shoved the paper boat at his chest and he took it grudgingly. “Fine,” he muttered. “So damn pushy. Just like that friend of yours.”
Abby joined me at the table, a smile lingering on her lips. “Speaking of,” she said, picking up her lone taco. “How is my best friend? Talked to her lately?”
Griffin and Tana, Abby's best friend, had met at the end of last summer. In true Griffin fashion, he'd made an impression. A good one, since Tana had agreed to go out with him. They managed a few more dates before she headed back to school in San Luis, then stayed in touch via text and email. Nothing exclusive, but there was something there. Tana had come back to San Diego during Christmas break and, with Abby's mom done with treatments, we'd found a little time to double-date. Tana was exactly what Griffin needed, could balance him and stand up to him and drive him as wild as Abby drove me. Except she lived five hours away.
He bit into one of the tacos she gave him, cutting it in half with his teeth. “Yeah. Got back from her trip last night. She said she tried calling you.”
Abby nodded and the tip of her ponytail touched the taco, dipping into the guacamole. I handed her a paper napkin and she dabbed at her hair. “Yeah, she did. Texted me, too. I fell asleep early.”
“She's coming down next weekend,” Griffin said, his mouth full. He took a swig of beer. “Said we should all go out or something.” He took another huge bite. “I told her no.”
I raised my eyebrows. “What?”
Griffin chewed and swallowed. “Dude, I haven't seen her in a month. Last thing I wanna do is hang out with you two. Know what I mean?”
I saw Abby try to hide a smile. I knew exactly what he meant. Abby and I didn't talk about it much but we knew our best friends were into each other. I was cool with it and Abby was cool with it. And I didn't begrudge him one bit that he wanted some alone time with his woman. Because it was exactly what I wanted with mine.
Within five minutes, I'd polished off my tacos and drained my beer. I put my trash back in the bag and wadded it up. Abby was picking at the remaining chips, nursing her diet Coke.
“You ready?” I asked her.
She looked at me absently. “For what?”
“For a run?”
Her eyes widened and I thumped her knee. “Duh.” I lowered my voice and squeezed her thigh. “For sex. Because I need you. Now.”
Her cheeks reddened and she nodded her head. “Ohhhh.” She smiled. “You're so subtle.”
I stood up and walked the bag over to the trash. “I really am. It's gotta suck for you, trying to figure me out. What I want and stuff.”
“Yeah. You're a total mystery.”
I reached for her hand and pulled her up and, without a glance or word to Griffin, led her down the hallway and into my bedroom. I closed the door behind her and pushed her up against the frame, my hands braced against the wall as I leaned in to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around my neck, her mouth open and moving against my lips, her tongue tangling with mine, teasing me. I lowered one hand and ran it down the length of her, grazing her tits, my fingers splaying against her belly before dipping lower, hiking up the skirt of her dress.
She pulled me against her, tried to grind into me. “I don't want to wait,” she whispered, her voice thick with desire.
She didn't need to tell me twice. I grabbed her around the waist and picked her up and carried her to the bed. I reached for her ponytail and pulled the elastic out and her hair spilled down her shoulders, a brown silky mess that I wanted to bury myself in. I unzipped her dress, slipped it off her, unclasped her bra and pulled down her panties. She writhed underneath me, desperate to be touched, to be kissed, to be fucked.
And I didn't disappoint.