What's Your Sign?

by Lila Monroe

  We get stuck in, filling giant black contractor bags with trash and pulling huge tangled weeds from the dry soil. If I was holding on to any idea of Justin as a snooty rich guy, the sight of him merrily lugging dirt would put them to rest once and for all. He’s totally at ease; in fact, he looks like he’s having a great time: helping out, chatting to the other volunteers, and making himself useful to anyone who needs help. The end-of-summer sun shines brightly overhead, and soon, I’m sweaty from the work. Justin looks plenty exerted, too, and I can’t help imagining what he’d look like all hot and bothered in a different context altogether. I imagine peeling off his damp T-shirt, licking my way down his—

  Get a grip, girl. Preferably, on your hoe, and not the hot man beside you.

  “That’s some neat flower bed action,” I praise him, pausing to take a gulp of water.

  “I learned from the best.”

  I smile. Is there anything more attractive than a man who loves his grandmother?

  “So, your grandma was an avid gardener and astrology enthusiast who liked to play the ponies,” I say, desperate to distract myself from my own X-rated thoughts. “She sounds like quite a lady. Was she also a secret agent for the CIA?”

  “Nope,” Justin says, not missing a beat as he hauls a busted old tire over to the trash pile like it barely weighs anything at all. “She was a reporter, actually.”

  I blink in surprise. “What?”

  He nods. “For her local paper back in New Jersey,” he explains, “before she met my grandfather and he whisked her off into a life of luxury cars and charity galas.”

  I laugh. “You’re yanking my chain.”

  “Google her,” Justin says easily, reaching out to wipe a smudge of dirt off my cheek, the casual touch sending shivers all over my body. “She did a bunch of reporting on the Civil Rights Movement back in the ’60s. Won a couple of awards for it, even.”

  “Wow.” I wonder what other surprises the Rockford family holds in its staid, serious ranks. “She sounds incredible.”

  “She really was,” Justin says with a smile. “She thought curiosity was the most important quality a person could have.” He regards me thoughtfully. “She would have liked you.”

  I feel a glow. “Sounds like it would have been mutual.”

  Because there’s somebody else I’m liking. And while I would have more than enjoyed a first date with just the two of us, alone, I think I like this better: seeing Justin relax, away from work pressures and the stuffy expectations of the Rockford name. I’m discovering more about him every day, and what I’m learning is that this is a man with hidden depths.

  And I can’t wait to find out more.

  * * *

  By the time we’re finished, the lot looks incredible. We’ve transformed what was a messy, trash-strewn space into a lovely garden area, neat and tidy with rows of raised garden beds boasting flowers and vegetables, with shaded areas for kids to play and benches set out to chat. I can hardly believe it’s the same place we showed up to this morning.

  “This is amazing,” I tell April, turning in a slow circle as I take in the cheery geraniums and bright marigolds, which she’s planted strategically to ward off pests. There’s even a hummingbird feeder hanging from one corner of the chain-link fence.

  “Looking good, right?” April grins, pleased. “Turns out this place just needed a little love. And now, we celebrate!”

  We all head over to an apartment building not far from the garden, where some of the volunteers are hosting a BBQ for everyone to enjoy. Up on the roof, they have a grill smoking, music playing, and plenty of ice-cold beers for us all. The mood is full of triumph from our hard day’s work, and soon people are on the makeshift dance floor, having fun.

  Justin grabs me a drink from a huge ice-filled bucket and we make our way through the crowd to a quiet corner, overlooking the street.

  “April seems to know everyone,” Justin comments, nodding to where April is chatting up a storm.

  “She’s one of those people,” I smile. “Everyone who walks through the doors of her florist is a potential friend. I’ve known her since college,” I add. “I spilled coffee all over my pants right before a big presentation in class, and she just whipped off her skirt, gave it to me, and belted her shirt around her waist like it was always meant to be a mini-dress. After that, we were friends. Nothing bonds girls like a fashion emergency.”

  “And Poppy’s the letter-writer,” he says.

  “Letters, and wedding toasts, and dating profiles . . . Pretty much anything where people need a helping hand to tell someone how they feel.”

  “Especially if they’re feeling amorous.” Justin gives me a wink.

  I laugh. “What’s with all the questions, anyway? Doing a background check?”

  “No reason,” he shrugs. “I just want to know everything about you.”

  My heart stops. Coming from anyone else, it would seem like a cheap line, but Justin is looking at me like he really means it.

  I blush and look away, glancing out over the city. The afternoon is mellowing to a pleasant haze, and after the workout in the garden, I feel relaxed and content to just drink our beers and chat for a while longer, the conversation meandering all over: from the garden to our favorite bands to how fast the city is changing, to the dumb shows we watched as kids. He’s the kind of easy-to-talk-to you don’t run into very often, and as we lean even closer together I can’t help but feel like I’ve known him a whole lot longer than just a few weeks.

  As the dusk turns to deep blue twilight, the music goes down a notch: switching from energetic party songs to slower, mellow tracks. Justin offers his hand. “Want to dance?” he asks, setting his empty beer can down and tugging me gently out onto the center of the roof.

  And yes. I want to.

  Justin’s just as good at dancing as he is at kissing, which is to say, amazing. He wraps his arms around me, moving slowly to a Leon Bridges song that’s always been one of my favorites. I can’t help but rest my head against his chest and close my eyes as we sway, savoring the delicious pleasure of his body against me, the heat of him and the way his heart taps slow and steady next to mine. When the music stops, I open my eyes again, and I’m surprised to find him gazing back at me. Before I can say anything, he pulls me off the dance floor and back to a private corner of the roof, and then his warm, sexy mouth is pressed to mine.

  Mmmmm . . .

  The kiss starts chastely enough, but pretty soon it escalates, our tongues tangling together and Justin tugging me close. I muffle a moan as his hands slide over my ass, and I pull him against me, my back up against the wall and his mouth doing wicked things to mine. It’s intoxicating, a rush of adrenaline and lust and who-knows-what turning my blood hot and my knees to jelly.

  I don’t know how long we make out there, Justin pinning me back against the wall as I rake my short fingernails up his back through his T-shirt, his mouth on my neck and my collarbone and my jaw, and his body hard against me. Very hard. It could be five minutes, it could be an hour, until we surface for air, panting hard.

  “You want to get out of here?” he murmurs, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin where my T-shirt meets my waistband. Shivers ripple through me.

  “Yes please.” I swallow hard, more than ready for what’s coming next. “Let’s go.”

  14

  Natalie

  We take the subway back to Justin’s place, my heart beating louder with ever stop. And as for my other parts . . .

  There’s a part of me that can’t believe this is actually happening—that after all our false starts and do-overs and promises to keep things professional, we’re finally getting somewhere.

  His bedroom, I hope.

  Hell, I’m not picky, I’ll take his couch . . . the floor . . . a handy wall . . . My mind floods with the possibilities, and by the time we arrive back at his building, I can’t even think straight.

  “Mr. Rockford,” the doorman greets him politely, holding the door. The s
ound of Justin’s name brings me back down to earth with a bump.

  Rockford. Aka, my boss.

  Gulp.

  For a moment, I wonder if my mom is right, and I’m tossing my career off the top of the Empire State Building. What if it turns out this is just some horny fling, and it all melts away into nothing in a week? What am I risking by going through with it? We ride up to his floor, and I try not to freak out.

  You want this. And after a string of mediocre hookups and romantic disappointments, you deserve this.

  “Do you want a drink?” Justin asks casually, flipping on the lights and tossing his keys on the table.

  “Yes please!” I blurt, my voice coming out loudly.

  He crosses to the bar cart—because, of course, this guy has a vintage-style bar cart stocked with top-shelf liquor, instead of, you know, a box of wine in the fridge. He pours us both a drink, and I take a gulp without even registering what it is.

  Strong, that’s what.

  I splutter, feeling the burn down the back of my throat.

  “Easy, tiger.” Justin grins. He casually squeezes my shoulder. “You OK?” he asks, looking more closely at me.

  “Sure!” I look away. “We need music,” I decide, taking another sip. “You have a system for that, right? A place like this, you probably have it on voice command.”

  Justin chuckles. “Not quite. I prefer to keep things old school.” He nods to the record player in the corner beside a shelf of LPs.

  I go over and begin flipping through the records. What will drown out the voice of insecurity in my head, threatening to ruin what should be an orgasmic evening?

  “Prince,” I decide, smiling. Now there was a man who knew how to set a mood. I put it on, and let the needle gently drop. A moment later, a familiar sultry song fills the room.

  Much better.

  I wander over to the wide, floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out over the vista of the city. It’s amazing to see my crowded, familiar, occasionally-grungy hometown from this vantage, all of it suddenly sparkling new again. And that’s what it’s like to be with Justin, I realize—unexpected thrills around every corner, surprises where I never noticed them before. “This view is incredible,” I say, the last of my tension leaving my body.

  “Yes,” Justin says softly, and when I turn around he’s looking right at me. “It really, really is.”

  My pulse kicks.

  Prince is crooning, the lights are low, and the hottest guy I’ve ever known is staring at me the way I stare at a box of donuts. Really, what else can I do?

  I reach for him, and just like that, we’re all over each other. Justin’s mouth is on my neck and my jaw and my collarbone, his hands tugging my T-shirt up over my head. I take a moment to thank the universe I wore cute underwear under my gardening clothes today, just in case, but Justin hardly seems to register the satin and lace, pulling one bra cup aside and closing his mouth over my nipple. I moan.

  “I’ve been thinking about this ever since you sent me that email,” he murmurs into my ear as he walks me back toward the bedroom, his breath and voice and words sending shivers all over my body. “Before that, even. Since that day in the elevator. I swear, Natalie, I want you so much.”

  “I want you too,” I whisper—or at least, I think that’s what I say, I’m so busy trying to tear his clothes off and taste every inch of his body. I can barely think as Justin lays me out on the enormous bed, peeling my jeans and panties down my legs. He teases his fingertips along my legs from my ankles all the way up to my thighs.

  And higher still.

  “Oh my God,” I murmur, lying back in a blissful haze of pleasure.

  He chuckles. “I haven’t even started yet.”

  He hasn’t? I barely have time to process that before he dips his head, and licks up against me in one long, delicious swoop.

  I moan. Holy hell.

  I fist my hands in the duvet, holding on tight as Justin sucks and licks and kisses, working two clever fingers inside me and curling them in a way that makes me gasp for air. Damn, I knew he was good with his mouth, but this is unbelievable. He reaches up with his free hand, teasing and stroking my breasts, driving me crazy until I’m coming apart underneath his hands.

  “Oh my God,” I moan again, the words coming over and over like a litany. “Oh my God, come up here, I need—” I reach down for his shoulders and tug him upward, wanting him everywhere. Wanting him to do everything all at once. I pull his T-shirt over his head, pressing messy kisses along his chest and sternum; I work the button on his jeans with impatient hands.

  And then he’s naked. Dear God, is he naked. I take a moment to enjoy the view, but there’s no time to waste. I don’t just want to look at him, I need to feel him, too.

  Every hard, thick inch.

  “Condom?” I manage to gasp, even as his hand teases between my legs again, short-circuiting my brain with every stroke.

  Justin grabs one from the nightstand and smoothly rolls it on. Then he’s bracing himself over me, positioning himself between my thighs. He moves inside me slowly, giving me time to adjust to the delicious stretch, until he’s fully sheathed and I’m just about ready to explode with the feel of him.

  Goddamn.

  Justin groans against me. “Fuck, you feel amazing,” he mutters, rocking his hips and making me gasp.

  “So do you.”

  I clutch him closer, arching up to feel that slide, that friction, going in deep. We find a rhythm, our bodies moving instinctively together; I wrap my legs tight around his waist, not wanting any space between us, then he rolls us, bringing me down on top of him.

  I gasp, feeling him so deep inside.

  It doesn’t take long like that, Justin’s fingers between my legs and his cock thrusting hard, the orgasm building at the base of my spine until I can’t hold back. I come apart with a cry, as Justin shudders beneath me, holding my hips so tightly I know he’ll leave marks.

  Which is just fine by me.

  * * *

  We lie there, panting for air. My body feels boneless and my muscles are singing with delight. The afterglow buzzes like a drug through my veins. I think I could stay here forever, wrapped in Justin’s crisp white sheets, the thread count up in the thousands and the mattress like something out of “The Princess and the Pea.” Justin dozes beside me, his breathing deep and even as the city whirls on outside the windows.

  Eventually, though, I feel my stomach start to rumble—which is fair, I guess, seeing as how I did get a pretty rigorous workout. I slide out from under the covers, slipping Justin’s discarded T-shirt over my head before padding across the apartment to investigate the contents of his massive, restaurant-grade fridge.

  Amazing sex and great snacks? Yes please.

  I rummage through the fresh fruit and produce, nudging aside a mostly-finished bottle of cold brew and some frozen waffles before finally deciding on a pint of chocolate-chunk gelato and a bag of kettle chips.

  Perfection.

  I take my bounty over to the living area and snuggle up on the rug with a blanket, digging in to my midnight feast as I lean back against the couch.

  “Enjoying yourself?”

  I turn. “Mmnhhgnm,” I manage through a mouthful of chocolate. “Absolutely.”

  Even more now. He’s pulled his boxer briefs back on, which is a shame, but doesn’t keep me from taking in the rest of the view: the broad planes of his chest, the cut muscle across his stomach and the faint trail of dark hair disappearing into his waistband.

  Justin’s eyebrows raise as he takes in my spoils. “Are you eating—?”

  “Chips and ice cream,” I supply cheerfully, smushing another spoonful together. “And it’s delicious.”

  Justin smirks, dropping to the rug beside me. “I mean, if you’re an extra in Dude, Where’s My Car?, I’m sure it is.”

  “Spoken like someone who’s never tried it,” I protest. I scoop him a generous hunk of gelato, then crush a handful of chips on top like sprinkles and hand
it over. “If the Gazette really does wind up going under, I’m thinking of competing on Chopped,” I grin.

  “Uh huh,” Justin replies, then takes a bite. “OK, you win,” he says a moment later, his grin like a little kid at Christmas. “This is fucking delicious.”

  I laugh. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you!” I say triumphantly. “I can’t believe you’ve never had it until now. You’re lucky I came into your life to enlighten you.”

  “I was deprived,” Justin agrees.

  “Yeah, we should throw you one of those fancy fundraisers,” I laugh.

  Justin smiles, stealing another spoonful. “So is this your post-sex ritual?” he asks. “Potato chips and ice cream?”

  It’s been a long time since I had a chance to partake in post-sex anything, but I don’t tell that to Justin. “I mean, the real best after-sex food is doughnuts,” I tell him breezily. “The best anytime food is doughnuts, let’s be honest. But I’m trying my best to make do here, in these extremely rustic accommodations.”

  Justin smirks again, leaning closer—I can smell him, soap and sex and something else that makes my blood hum. “That’s very magnanimous of you.”

  “What can I say?” I ask—aiming for cavalier and missing, since his hand is currently creeping up inside my T-shirt, thumbing at my nipple in a way that makes me gasp. “I’m a magnanimous gal.”

  “A real Chopped champion,” Justin agrees, setting my bowl down before lifting me up onto the couch. He leans over me, spreading my knees gently apart. Hello. Suddenly, chocolate isn’t the only thing I’m craving. I reach down to stroke him through his boxers, finding him hard and straining against the fabric. Justin lets out a groan, thrusting into my palm.

  “Please,” I murmur, but by then he’s already kissing me, cupping my face in both hands and biting softly at the edges of my mouth. I spread my legs even wider, pulling him close. My T-shirt hits the floor, his boxers following a moment later as he fumbles with a condom that he was keeping who even knows where.