Just Three Words

by Melissa Brayden

  PairUp.com, the dating site Savvy represented, kept Sam occupied for the next half hour. She’d added her profile a few days before on a whim and already received a handful of hits, or “smiles,” as they were called, from interested parties.

  It had been a month since her unceremonious dumping on regional radio, but Samantha decided to take life by the horns. Plus, there had been that notable reaction she’d had to Hunter a few nights back, and it was imperative that she find another place to rebound.

  The memory of Hunter that night had stuck with her. It had been something, taking in that raw emotion in her eyes, the way her mouth formed the lyrics to the song. It had seemed…sexy. But then, of course it was sexy. It was Hunter. And she was so not willing to be one of the millions of people who lusted after Hunter. Head heartbreaker in charge of all things charming—nuh-uh. And even if she was okay with that setup, there was no way she was risking the friendship just to let off a little steam. Even thinking about what she’d felt that night had her annoyed all over again. Damn it all. She took a cleansing breath to remedy that situation and refocused on the screen and her potential rebound-dating pool.

  Fortunately, by informing PairUp of her bisexual status, she seemed to have upped her number of smiles substantially. Once in a while there were perks to the fact that her attraction was specific to the individual and not simply their gender. She’d grown comfortable with her sexuality over the years, even if the rest of the world gave her a hard time for it. She was to the point where she was tired of apologizing to people on both sides of the fence. So kill her.

  “Who’s that?” Hunter asked, passing behind Samantha on her way to the kitchen. She and Elvis had returned not long ago from their walk with Brooklyn. She’d say she was jealous of her friends’ routine outing, but she’d been born with a keen aversion to exercise and anything that resembled it. And let’s be honest, that park was endless.

  She glanced at Hunter. “That is Howard J. from the Lower East Side.”

  Hunter made her way over and dipped her head over Sam’s shoulder to see the screen better. And if Samantha wasn’t acutely aware of Hunter’s proximity, her stomach made sure with the flip-flop thing it just did. No, no, no. No flip-flopping. “And why is he smiling at you on your laptop?”

  “A smile is when someone on PairUp wants to get to know you, take the next step. I think Howard J. wants to chat me up.”

  “Or something like that.” Hunter straightened. “How come he’s smiling at you? You’re online dating now?”

  Samantha took a deep breath and sat back in her chair. “It’s come to this. After my most recent catastrophe, I thought maybe I should try something new. Maybe if I go on a date, it will take my mind off Libby and what could have been.”

  Hunter narrowed her gaze at the screen. “And you’re into Howard J.?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Sam said defensively. “Maybe. He seems like a normal guy. Software developer is kind of a vague job description, but you never know.”

  “What if the J stands for Johnson? You don’t want to date a guy named Howard Johnson, do you? Mr. and Mrs. Howard Johnson. Think of your children. Don’t put them through that.”

  “I’ll have you know that I don’t care about such trivialities.”

  “Big word. I bet Howard will like it. I bet Howard will eat up the word ‘triviality’ and the way you pronounce it. Say it again.”

  Samantha stared at her, her mouth agape. “You are a mean and hateful girl.”

  Hunter smiled sweetly. “But you love it when I tease you. Remember when you poured coffee on your pancakes instead of syrup at that restaurant on Fourth? And then ate them anyway because you’re too nice to ask for new pancakes?”

  “No. I don’t remember that.”

  “You do, too. I brought you maple coffee to work every day for a week.”

  Samantha shook her head nostalgically. “You went to a lot of effort on that one.”

  “I did. And you laughed secretly. I know it. Just like you’re laughing inside now. Just look. The edge of your mouth is pulling and you want to smile so badly, it’s killing you.”

  Damn it. Hunter was annoying when she was right. Unable to stand it anymore, Sam gave into it, breaking into the smile she could no longer hold back. “Fine. I think you’re funny. Once in a very great while.”

  “Then it’s doubly tragic that I have to leave you alone with Howard now. A hot shower beckons.” She pulled off her shirt as she walked, wearing just a black sports bra underneath. Samantha stared after her and the expanse of olive skin now in plain view. With Hunter’s glorious curves highlighted for her to see, Sam’s mouth went dry in reflex. God, that woman had a fantastic body. She should have become a Victoria’s Secret model after college. Who needs graphic art? Think of the money she’d have made.

  Samantha rolled her eyes at how generic those thoughts made her seem, especially when there was so much more to her friend than just that.

  The shower turned on then and Samantha switched her mind off. Not gonna think about your friend naked in the shower. Not going to happen.

  “All right, Howard J. Where were we?”

  *

  Hunter blinked against the darkness all around her.

  She was disoriented as she glanced around at what she now remembered was her new bedroom. Sam and Brooklyn’s Soho loft. Right. The clock next to her broadcast 3:16 in bright green numbers. She felt Elvis, warm at her feet, just as a clap of thunder hit so loud she shot into a seated position, her hand clutching her chest instinctually to brace against the scare. Elvis raised his head in question, never one to worry much in the midst of a storm.

  She blew out a slow breath.

  The thunder had woken her, she now realized, as the ghost-like sound of heavy wind vibrated against her window. Her throat was dry. She turned to the glass of water she kept by her bed, but found it empty just as another clap of thunder hit. With a deep sigh, she raked all ten fingers into her hair and headed through the dark apartment. Still not fully awake, she walked with eyes half open in search of cool water. It wasn’t until she neared the kitchen that she registered the glow of a dim light. Blinking to allow her eyes to adjust, she realized it was the refrigerator light. Standing there, in pajama pants and red cami top, was Samantha. Her hair cascaded past her shoulders in lackadaisical waves. She looked like an angel right there in that kitchen.

  Sam turned at the sound of her approaching. “Couldn’t sleep,” she said in explanation, gesturing to the juice in her hand. “White grape juice.”

  Hunter didn’t say anything. Instead, she filled a glass of her own from the faucet and drank generously before turning back to Sam, whose eyes were luminous tonight. The green popped brightly in the slash of moonlight. Sam tilted her head and studied Hunter. She had the most awesome lips. “Storm wake you, too? Loud.”

  “Yeah,” Hunter managed to say, still transfixed by how beautiful Samantha looked. There seemed to be less air in the room, and she wondered distantly if the two things were related. She was also still wondering about Sam’s mouth. What it would feel like against hers, opening beneath it? What it would taste like? Maybe residual sleep had dulled her restraint, but she had to find out the answer to that question. In that moment, she couldn’t have stopped herself from kissing Sam any more than she could have stopped herself from breathing. As she stepped into Samantha’s space and dipped her head, Sam searched her face curiously.

  “Hunter, are you okay? What are you—”

  But that was all Samantha managed to get out before Hunter’s lips were on hers, seeking out what she’d so desperately craved for weeks now. Startled at first, Sam seemed to brace against the kiss and placed one hand on Hunter’s chest, pushing her backward. But it was only a second or two before the push disintegrated. Sam softened and met her there, giving herself over to the kiss in the most unexpectedly wonderful way. That hand on Hunter’s chest slipped up and around until it landed on the nape of Hunter’s neck and pulled her in. As Sam’s
mouth moved against hers, her lips parting to receive her, a tidal wave of need crushed Hunter’s senses. She moved her hands to Samantha’s face, holding her in place where she kissed her hungrily, slowly.

  And God, it was good.

  Better than she would have even guessed. It was like no other kiss really and she couldn’t get enough.

  The room around them lit up with a flash of lightning. A shock of thunder followed, but Hunter didn’t care. She was exactly where she had to be.

  Sam went up on her toes for better access, and in the process her breasts brushed against Hunter’s, sending her entire body to places hot and deep before it tightened with an aching arousal. She didn’t want to stop. She didn’t want to return to reality. But it was too much, the physical pull. Heat licked through her like an untamed wildfire and she had to take back control.

  Slowing the kiss, she ran her tongue across the bottom of Samantha’s lip, tasting the wonderful sweetness of the grape juice long forgotten. Finally, she pulled her mouth away entirely and instead caressed Samantha’s cheek with her thumb, now acutely aware of all the things Sam made her want to do. “God, Sam,” she managed before taking a step back. Samantha stared at her in wonder, probably searching for some sort of explanation. But without another word, she removed herself from the situation before she took actions she couldn’t erase. She would pay for that kiss later. Of that, she was sure. But it wasn’t like there had been any way around it. She needed that kiss as much as her body needed the water she’d set out to retrieve. So for tonight, she’d revel in the tantalizing exchange she’d shared with Sam in the kitchen. Dream about it. The world and its consequences could wait until morning.

  Samantha stood in the kitchen watching as Hunter disappeared behind the door to her bedroom, her mind struggling to catch up with the series of events that had her lips swollen and her body lit up like a Christmas tree.

  In her kitchen.

  In the middle of the night.

  Repeat.

  She’d just made out with Hunter Blair in her very own kitchen.

  As her breathing returned to normal, she touched her still-sensitive lips and stared blindly at the rain pelting the nearby window, but it offered no answers. And how could it? What had just happened was crazy.

  Her grape juice, still half-full, sat on the counter’s edge. She abandoned it and walked slowly back to her bedroom, her heart beating a fast-paced rhythm in her chest, her world wildly off-kilter.

  Sleep didn’t come easy. She lay there examining the encounter from every possible angle, struggling to make sense of what had been easily the most unexpected and hottest exchange of her life. To say her mind didn’t eventually shift to the kiss itself would be inaccurate, because Sam relived every second of that, too. She shifted uncomfortably as her body responded to memory. The softness of Hunter’s lips when they’d pressed to hers, coupled with the command of that mouth not long after. She could still feel its effects on every inch of her. Torturously awesome and horrifically wrong, all wrapped up in the same event.

  She blew out a breath and stared at the ceiling.

  It was going to be a long night.

  *

  When Samantha arrived at the Savvy loft the next day, Mallory looked like she was ready to kick a baby penguin. “Morning,” she muttered to Sam and dropped a file folder onto her desk with a thud. Well, wasn’t that the most cheerful greeting ever?

  “Morning, Mal,” she said tentatively. “Do you need any coffee? You look like you need coffee.” She was willing to make a Starbucks run if it would help Mallory not kill someone.

  “Nope. I’ll get some soon. Check your email.”

  “Will do.”

  Samantha glanced at her watch. Just past eight and no one else was in yet, which made sense, as she was fifteen minutes ahead of her own schedule. Possibly on purpose. She’d woken herself early that morning, gotten ready, and left the apartment without encountering…well, anyone. Avoidance was a lame solution, but it was all she had in her arsenal after the kitchen kissing. And God, she needed to talk about it with someone, but Brooklyn was the person she talked about those things with, and there was no way she could tell Brooklyn about the random kitchen kissing, or about the way her stomach tugged pleasantly every time she thought about kitchen kissing. This really shouldn’t be happening.

  Sam switched on her computer monitor and saw immediately that Mallory had sent an email to all three of them with instructions to pause all work for Foster Foods. Whoa. In other words, their biggest project. This didn’t bode well. She peered around her monitor and stole another glance at Mallory, their fearless leader, who in this moment sighed deeply and shuffled a few dozen sheets of paper around. Still in penguin-kicking mode, Samantha decided. Something was most definitely up.

  “Coffee delivery girl,” Brooklyn practically sang as she slid open the door. “I’m here to make morning dreams come true via caffeine.”

  “The coffee fairy didn’t forget us, Mal,” Samantha said as Brooklyn deposited a plain latte on her desk.

  “Yay,” Mallory deadpanned.

  “Morning, Sammie-Sam.” Brooklyn kissed her cheek with a smack.

  “And she’s in a good mood. Again.”

  Brooklyn inhaled and smiled. “That I am. Because I had a fantastic night.” Translation: She got laid and was all sparkly because of it. It had been a constant sparkle ever since she and Jessica had entered official couplehood back in December. It was cute at first. Not so much anymore. But maybe she was just in a bad place.

  “Almond latte for Mallory,” Brooklyn said, delivering the drink. “With your name spelled correctly. I didn’t even have to tell them.”

  “Aw, thanks,” Mallory said without taking her eyes off her screen. Brooklyn turned to Samantha with a raised eyebrow, to which Sam could only shrug back. Brooklyn pressed on. “A café mocha for me, and an Americano,” she stared at Hunter’s empty desk, “with absolutely no home. Your roommate’s missing. What gives? Did you murder her over mail placement?”

  “Absolutely no murdering.” Sam glanced behind her, feigning nonchalance as if she hadn’t noticed Hunter’s absence at all, when in reality she was acutely aware. “Huh. That is interesting. Probably on her way down.”

  “Probably,” Brooklyn said, dropping off said Americano on Hunter’s desk anyway.

  “Check your email,” Sam whispered.

  It wasn’t long before she heard a murmured “What the…” from Brooklyn’s desk. “Mal, are you planning to elaborate on this email?”

  Mallory swiveled around to face Brooklyn. “Just waiting till we’re all here, and then I’ll go over what I know.”

  “Go get her,” Brooklyn said, addressing Sam. “Drag her out of bed if you have to. I don’t care if she was out late.”

  Okay, the concept of walking into Hunter’s bedroom and throwing the covers off her barely dressed body didn’t sound like a wise idea at all. Not good for the whole avoidance tactic. Nope. The kitchen kissing had trumped any kind of expectation of rational, mature behavior. This was the panic zone, where it was every girl for herself. “She’ll be here soon. It’s just now eight-twenty. Relax, coffee fairy.”

  “I’m texting her.” Brooklyn fell back into her chair dramatically and the office once again lapsed into silence. Samantha busied herself in deposit slips, Mallory tick-tacked away on her keyboard, and Brooklyn stared at the wall, which meant she was doing that creative thing. At long last, the door slid open and Hunter made her way in.

  Brooklyn stood. “Finally. Can we discuss this now?” she asked Mallory.

  “What are we discussing?” Hunter asked easily. “Morning, guys.” Her hair was in a low ponytail and she sported an army green button-up that she’d left untucked atop black leggings and lace-up boots. She looked fresh and chipper, as if she’d just had the most restful sleep of her entire life, which just irked Samantha further, as she’d clocked maybe forty-five fitful minutes.

  “We’re discussing why we’re halting all work o
n the Foster account,” Mallory said, already heading into the kitchen where they could meet around the table.

  “Well, that’s news,” Hunter said, dropping off her stuff and picking up the Americano. She held it up in Brooklyn’s direction questioningly.

  “You’re welcome,” Brooklyn said sweetly, heading to the table before stopping and regarding Sam curiously. “You’re in my seat. Why are you in my seat? This is strange. You like everything to be exactly the same.”

  The reason for the seat switch was that her own seat was across from Hunter and the concept of staring across the table at her during the meeting, or the opposite, forcing herself to look away, was too daunting to deal with and too difficult a problem for this morning. But she wasn’t about to explain that to the room. Instead she shrugged. “I’m trying something new. Spontaneity.”

  Her friends exchanged looks. Hunter sent her a small smile and shrugged in a way that seemed to say, “Good morning. Last night was no big deal.” But that wasn’t a sentiment she shared. Because while she wanted the world to go back to normal, desperately she did, one cannot simply unkiss her best friend. And as her thoughts began to take off on a panic-laced tangent, Mallory’s words roped her back into the here and now.

  “Foster Foods filed Chapter Eleven late yesterday.”

  Samantha ran that sentence back through her brain one more time. It still didn’t add up. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “No fucking way,” Hunter said, leaning back in her chair. “So they’re done. Gone?”

  Brooklyn placed a hand over her mouth in devastation. Mallory held up one finger. “Not exactly. Apparently some really bad business moves have dropped them on their ass financially, but Royce Foster isn’t going down that easily. They’re working on restructuring their debt.”