Fireworks
Page 31
Now I groan happily as I roll over, but my knee smacks into the wall. “Ow.”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “This is a small apartment.”
She’s not lying. “And a small bed.” It’s a double and mine is a king. “Not that I’m complaining.” I’m about as satisfied as a man can be right now.
“I’m still a little afraid to impose on you with my money troubles,” she says. “But I’m going to do it anyway.”
My heart lifts immediately. “Really? Don’t tease me,” I say, kissing her neck. “I want you to come home with me so bad. We’ll rent a U-Haul. Tomorrow.”
She laughs. “Can I have a few days? Jeez. My whole life is in this tiny apartment. And I need to show up for those interviews tomorrow. If I don’t show my face, I’ll burn those bridges.”
“Fair enough,” I grumble. “Can we move you soon?” I lift my head and look around the little bedroom. “You don’t have much furniture.”
“I don’t care about the furniture. Yours is nicer. But I have a lot of shoes.”
This makes me laugh into the pillow, and I don’t even know why. I’m just giddy. I can’t wait to finally move my girl into my apartment and lock the door on the whole damn world.
“You know, I think it’s time,” she says.
“For what?”
“For me to show you my penis video.”
“Really?” I pick up my head again. “You don’t have to. I was just trying to freak out that other couple at lunch.”
“I know, and that was super fun.” Skye smiles at me. Her cheeks are rosy, and her hair is mussed. My blood stirs again. Already. Because I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of her looking like that. “But it’s not such a big deal anymore. Let me get my phone.”
She slides out of bed and crosses the tiny room while I ogle her naked body. But when she gets into bed again a moment later, there’s a crease in her forehead.
“Problem?”
“No, not exactly. I have an email from Lane Barker. It’s kind of cryptic. ‘Call me. I have something for you, but it’s not exactly what you want.’”
“Are you going to call her?”
“Of course,” she says. “I hope it’s not the traffic and weather, though.”
“I’m pretty sure we don’t have a traffic report in Vermont, honey. Unless a herd of cows gets in the road, it’s pretty rare to have a traffic jam.”
“Good point.”
“Call her.”
“Not yet. Fair’s fair.” She taps on the phone to bring up a YouTube video. Then she hands it to me.
The screen fills with a shot of Skye in a sleek dress in midnight blue. She looks as poised and comfortable as if she’s speaking to Jenny in the living room. “Take care in the Lincoln Center neighborhood today, as construction continues to disrupt traffic southward toward Columbus Circle…” As she speaks, she’s drawing a diagonal line where Broadway meets the park.
Now, Broadway is a thick street. Nice and thick. And—holy crap—Columbus Circle makes a perfect scrotum. The first gurgle of laughter escapes my chest, but I choke it down.
“No, it’s okay,” real Skye says. “Let it out. Even I can find it funny now.”
But I keep my cool until she draws a mushroom shaped cap on the problem. Broadway is very excited. And I howl. Who could help it? “Oh h-honey,” I gurgle. “That’s…”
“Magnificent, I know. If you handed me a sketchbook and a fresh box of markers, I don’t think I could do as good a peen right now if I tried.”
“M-me neither.” I giggle. “Jesus.”
Skye gives me a kiss on the nose. Then she takes her phone out of my hand.
I roll my face into the pillow to try to compose myself. But for several long minutes, the little tremors and aftershocks keep shaking me. I want to punch every guy who ever laughed at Skye. But Jesus Christ, that’s a funny video.
She comes back into the room a minute later to find me smiling at the ceiling. I take one look at her freaked-out face and sober instantly. “What’s wrong?”
“Well, my mind is blown. Again. I called Lane Barker. And there is a job for me—but not one I interviewed for.”
I sit up fast. “What is it? They’re creating a traffic job for you?”
She grabs my chin. “You’re hilarious.”
“Well, tell me.”
“It’s radio. Green Mountain Public Radio needs someone to fill in on the news desk while one of their hosts is on maternity leave. The person they had backed out.”
“Public radio,” I say slowly. “They don’t do fluff. You might like it? Not as sexy as TV, though. Is that an awful idea?”
Her face breaks slowly into a smile. “It’s a wonderful idea. I’ll never have to worry that they only want to put my cleavage on camera. The executive producer is a woman. They share some content with WBTV.”
“So this is a good thing?” I’m a little confused.
“It’s amazing. Yeah, it’s only a temp job. But it’s a foot in the door. Lane seemed to think that this sort of stint leads to a permanent job pretty often.”
“Baby, really?” I grab her and hug her. “You’re going to take it?”
“I so am. And they want me to start as soon as I can get up there.”
“That’s amazing. That station is big in Vermont, you know. Everybody’s in their car a lot because it’s so rural. I can listen to you while I wait to arrest bad guys.” I palm her smooth knee, and then relax against the pillows. “So can we just get a U-Haul and move you to Vermont now?”
“Pretty much,” she says. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”
“Me neither. But I can think of one major problem with your cool new job.”
“What’s that?” She’s already distracted herself by running her knuckles up and down my happy trail.
“You can’t draw any male genitalia on the radio.”
“As far as you know.” Skye snorts. “Don’t forget that I’m uber-talented.”
We both start to laugh until I have to kiss her again.
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Copyright © 2018 by Sarina Bowen
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any res
emblance to actual persons or events is strictly coincidental.
Cover photograph by Sara Eirew. Cover design by Sarah Hansen / Okay Creations.
Editing by Edie Danford of Edie’s Edits.