Then I could feel Zach’s eyes on me, and his chuckle joined the chorus of voices down below. The arguing young couple, the two older women on the other side of the Whispering Gallery, the single man muttering to himself while he jabbed his phone screen with his thumbs, composing a message.
It was a strange feeling to be surrounded by so many voices of strangers I didn’t know but who all sounded so close.
And Zach’s laughter was my favorite sound of them all.
I’m in trouble.
Chapter 19
Zach
“Who are you calling?” Jonah asked from where he sat near the window in the hotel suite. He had a bottle of water in one hand and his trusty notebook in the other.
I held up a finger to silence him as Senna’s voice filled the speaker of my phone. “Thank you for calling Lily Living. This is Senna.”
“Hey,” I said.
“Hi there, how can I—” She paused, and I waited. Then, in a suspicious tone, she asked, “Zach?”
“How’d you know?”
“You have a very distinctive voice.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“I don’t know. It’s not a bad thing. It just is. Why are you calling me?”
I ran my fingers through my hair. “Well, I had a good time yesterday. And after our little chat, I was hoping you’d have time to spare to keep me company. Like, just the two of us.”
“Um, I don’t know, Zach.”
“Let me take you to dinner tonight.”
“I can’t tonight. I have to do inventory after I close the shop before I pack up my summer merchandise.”
“You can’t put it off?” I asked, feeling a little desperate and a lot unlike myself. Jonah seemed to think the same thing because he arched an eyebrow at me. I waved him off and turned my back on him.
“No, I can’t. It’s important.”
I sighed. “All right. I get it. Rain check?”
She made an unsure sound.
I laughed. “Just pulling your leg, Senna. Good luck with your inventory count.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
She hung up the phone.
I slid mine into my pocket. Jonah was smirking. I didn’t even have to turn around and look at him to know the fucker was smirking. “Shut up,” I growled.
He started snickering. “Dude, you got shut down. She rejected you like it was her full-time job.”
“Shut up.”
“I can’t. This is gold. What chick has ever said no to you asking them out for dinner?”
“None since junior high.”
He chortled and slapped his knee. “She’s your equal, man. I think I like her.”
“Yeah.” So do I.
I felt like a fool standing on the sidewalk with a bottle of red wine in one hand and a paper bag full of Thai takeout food in the other. I was standing in front of Edith’s shop, where Senna couldn’t see me from where she was working away in Lily Living.
What the hell was I doing?
It didn’t matter. I was there now, and there was no harm in taking one more stab at this.
If it blew the deal, then so what? At least I’d given it my all. I went to the door and knocked.
The usual retail lights weren’t on, but the ones in the back room were, as were the ones above the register and near the changing rooms. Senna appeared from behind a clothing rack, holding a black scanner in one hand and a clipboard in the other.
When she saw me on the other side of the glass door, her eyebrows drew together. Then I held up the bag of takeout and the bottle of wine, and she smiled.
Maybe all hope was not lost, after all.
Senna unlocked the door to her shop and held it open for me to step inside. She bolted it when it fell closed behind me and then turned with her hands on her hips and a skeptical smile playing on her pretty, full lips. “What are you up to?”
“I thought I’d bring you food. Inventory sounds like a bitch. And I was lonely in my room.”
“Hmm,” she said, her expression still cynical.
“I’ll help you if you join me.”
“Now you’re speaking my language,” she said. Then she pointed at the area rug between the fitting rooms and the two chairs. “Take a seat. I’ll grab some cutlery and paper plates. I think I have some cups kicking around in the back room too.”
That was easier than I’d been expecting.
I sat in the middle of the plush, cream-colored area rug, crossed my legs under myself, and began unpacking the takeout boxes from the bag.
I’d ordered Pad Thai, red chicken curry, ginger beef, and yam wontons. The aromas that wafted out of the bag were rich, savory, and spicy. I set all the dishes in a row and untwisted the cap off the wine. I was glad I hadn’t gone for one with a cork. We might not have been able to get into it.
Senna joined me on the rug with two plates and two ceramic coffee mugs. One was a powder-blue color with the words “Girl Boss” written in gold lettering. The other was white with a picture of an elephant on it. The corner of Senna’s mouth twitched, and she handed me the blue one. Predictable.
I poured us each a coffee mug of wine while she popped the lids off the containers. Then she used the plastic spoons she’d grabbed from her back room to scoop some of everything onto her paper plate.
She sat back and watched me do the same.
Before we ate, I lifted my mug. “Cheers.”
“To what?”
I shrugged. “To whatever you want.”
She rubbed her lips together. “Cheers to not being out more than fifteen units at the end of the night.”
I nodded. “Cheers to that.”
We dug in.
I had to admit, Texas did food right. Every meal I’d had since arriving in Austin had been more than delicious, and the Thai food was no exception. The flavors were rich, fresh, and exploded all along my tongue with each and every bite. Senna seemed to enjoy her meal as well. I’d noticed when we were at Via 313 that she was a slow eater. She savored every bite, took a sip of wine in between, and took her time skewering her food with her fork.
She had a very calming aura.
It was refreshing compared to the hustle and bustle of being surrounded by corporate suits like me, always in a rush to get to the next thing, check off the next box, or hit that next tier where they felt more fulfillment and happiness was waiting for them.
It never was. And we never learned.
When Senna finished eating, she set her plate down and stretched her legs out in front of her. She leaned back on her hands, licked her lips, and let out a contented sigh. “That was so good. Thank you for thinking of me. I would have worked straight through until I was done and probably skipped dinner altogether.”
“That wouldn’t do.”
“I hate inventory. I just want to get it over with.”
“Then what do you say we finish this mug of wine, push through so we can finish your count, and then celebrate by finishing the other half of the bottle?”
She studied me. All that bristling anger I was used to seeing in her was not there tonight. Instead, she was at ease and much less angry. “Deal.”
I’d done my fair share of inventory counts back in my cellphone sales job. I’d hated it then, but this wasn’t as bad. First of all, there wasn’t a douchebag manager peering over my shoulder, doublechecking all of my numbers. And second, I had Senna for company.
And that made everything just peachy.
We chatted as I scanned the barcodes on the sales tags, and she recorded the count of each unit on her clipboard. We moved quickly, and I could only imagine how late she would have been here had I not been there to help.
“How long does this usually take you?” I asked around nine o’clock when I moved on to the last rack of clothes.
She flipped the page over on her clipboard and held her pen poised above it, ready for my count. “It varies depending on the size of the count. But something like this would usually take me a minimum of four hou
rs. And if there was a mistake somewhere along the way, that amount of time can double.”
“So, you might have been here past midnight?”
She nodded. “Very easily. I’m glad to have help. Now, chop chop. No slacking on the job.”
I chuckled, and so did she, and I scanned the last rack of clothes for her to record. Once we were done, she set the clipboard aside and indulged in a stretch, reaching her hands above her head. I couldn’t help but stare at the strip of skin that peeked between her jeans and white top.
Then she leaned forward and down, pressing her hands flat to the floor as she stretched the back of her legs.
She was flexible. Very flexible.
God damn it, the voice in my head growled. My cock was suddenly coming alive in my pants, and the very last thing I wanted was for her to see how turned on I was by her mini-yoga session in the middle of the store.
So I put my back to her and poured us each another glass of wine, which turned out to be just a long enough distraction for her to finish stretching and for me to regain control of my manhood.
I turned to her and held out the mug.
She smiled. “Thank you.”
“Bottom’s up.”
We held gazes over the rims of our mugs as we drank. After a long sip, she lowered her mug and sank down into one of the chairs. I took the one beside her. “Where’s Lily tonight?”
“With Edith. They spend every second Saturday night together, and she sleeps at Edith’s house. It gives me some time to myself to get things like this done. Or to just read a book in the bath and have some time alone with my thoughts.” She drummed her fingers along the side of the mug. “Do you think that makes me a bad mother?”
“What?”
She repeated the question and stared imploringly at me. “Be honest, please.”
I frowned into my wine. This was uncharted territory for me, and there was a big margin for error. All it would take was for me to say one stupid thing.
I sat up a bit straighter. “No, I don’t think it makes you a bad mother. I think the best thing for a child is having a happy, healthy, balanced parent. And achieving that requires time to yourself. You know, to refill the well.”
“Refill the well?” she asked.
I nodded. “It’s something a buddy of mine says all the time. He’s a writer. A ‘creative,’ as he likes to call it. And he says resting is equally as important as producing. And I think that applies to all things. Does that make sense?”
“Yes,” Senna whispered.
Suddenly, the air between us had changed. I couldn’t explain it, but it felt thicker somehow. Like there was something there that neither of us could see, something that beckoned us to lean in close, elbows resting on the armrests, hearts pounding in our chests, wine sloshing to the edges of our mugs.
Senna’s lips were inches from mine.
“Are we…” I trailed off.
“I think so,” she whispered.
“Is that all right?” I tried to look into her eyes as I spoke, but my gaze was glued to her lips, which were full, slightly parted, and oh so delicious looking.
Chapter 20
Senna
“Is that all right?”
Zach’s questioned tumbled around in my brain. The fact that he’d asked turned me on more than his closeness. He was a gentleman after all. A true stand-up guy who knew better than to assume a kiss was what I wanted just because we were this close. He was giving me an easy out, a chance to bail, an escape.
And there wasn’t a single part of me that wanted to take it. So I leaned in, closing the space between us, and pressed my lips to his.
Zach drew in a sharp breath of surprise. Then, within half a second, he relaxed, and the kiss deepened. My lips parted. His tongue slithered between my teeth to explore my mouth with gentle yet relentless curiosity. I yielded to his search before performing one of my own, even going so far as to lightly pinch his bottom lip between my teeth.
He let out a low, primal sound in the back of his throat that opened the floodgates in my panties.
Holy shit. This is happening.
I broke away and stared down at the floor between our chairs. Our breathing was the only sound in the room, and I didn’t dare look up at him.
Zach spoke first. “I’m sorry. Was that—”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Don’t be sorry.”
He placed two fingers under my chin, coaxing me to look up at him. “It’s all right.”
“I haven’t done this in a long time,” I whispered.
He nodded almost knowingly. “And you don’t have to do it now. Let me get you home. We’ve both had too much wine to drive.”
I didn’t want to say yes. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay here, just me and him, caught up in each other, our greedy desire, and our need to be touched where other people hadn’t touched us in a long time.
Well, I hadn’t been touched in a long time. I was sure he got attention frequently enough. For me, it had been years. Since Lily’s father. When I’d finally gotten the nerve to tell him to get the fuck out of my life, the man actually listened, packed up his shit, and left without ever looking back.
Good riddance.
Zach stood up and offered me his hand. I took it. Then we packed up the leftovers, cleaned up the space where we’d sat to eat, and let ourselves out. He stood back as I locked the door, and when I turned around, he gestured to the Land Rover parked across the street.
When we got in the back of the car, Bob was snoring. Zach gave his shoulder a shake and asked him to drive us to my place when he was ready. Bob shook his head, cracked his window, and yawned before returning to his normal lively self. I gave him my address, and he headed toward my house, chatting our ears off about a crazy cousin of his who was getting married soon.
Neither of us cared. I spent the drive staring out the window, acutely aware of Zach’s closeness—and the fact that I wanted him even closer. Like on top of me close.
Bob pulled into my driveway shortly before eleven o’clock. I got out and so did Zach, after offering to walk me to the front door.
I fumbled in my purse for my keys, fished them out, and struggled to slip them into the lock I’d been using for the last five years.
When I finally got the door open to my little three-bedroom bungalow, I turned toward Zach. “Thank you again for tonight. I had a nice time.”
“Surprised?”
I shrugged. “A little.”
He smiled and rubbed the back of his neck almost bashfully. “I had a nice time too, for the record. Much better than hanging around my hotel room by myself.”
I looked at my feet, then up at him, and then back at my feet.
He put a hand lightly on my shoulder. “Have a good night, Senna. I’ll see you around.”
He turned.
“Wait,” I said, and then, before I even knew what I was doing, I grabbed the fabric of his shirt near his side and pulled him back to me to plant a desperate kiss on his lips.
Zach braced himself with one hand on the doorframe above my head. I tightened my grip on his shirt as his tongue plunged into my mouth. He tasted like wine, and the smell of him flooded my nose—pine and musk.
I pulled him over the threshold and inside my house. He shoved the door closed behind him, but it didn’t latch, so he kicked it closed. I giggled into his mouth as he walked me backward down the hall into my living room.
“Nice place,” he mumbled into my mouth.
I broke away. “It does the trick.”
We stumbled over some of Lily’s dolls, and both of us winced, hoping nothing was broken. Then we skirted the area of toy debris to move down the hall toward my bedroom. I nudged my door open with my hip, and we tumbled across the carpet, drunk on each other’s kisses, and finally made it to my bed, which unfortunately was unmade from my restless sleep the night before.
“I know it’s a mess,” I muttered, looking around as my cheeks started to burn. The last four bo
oks I’d read were piled up on my nightstand, and a bra was draped over the lampshade. A couple empty water glasses were scattered over surfaces, and there was a plate on my dresser that I’d had cookies on the night before. I had to sneak them into my room and eat them there so Lily didn’t see me breaking the “only two cookies a day” rule.
“It’s not a mess,” Zach said. “It’s a home. And I like it.”
He picked me up by the waist and dropped me on the bed.
Then he pushed me backward by my shoulders and loomed over me, boxing me underneath him with his size. I gazed up at him, equally as scared as I was excited, and he caressed my cheek. The gesture was so intimate and unexpected that I closed my eyes and leaned into it.
I couldn’t remember what it felt like to have a man touch me with affection. And damn, it felt fucking good.
My soul sang with relief, and I hooked a leg around his to keep him there. I rewarded his touch with a kiss and then another, and soon, we were sucking face as ravenously as we had been at my front door.
Zach ran a hand up my hip, under my shirt, up over my stomach, ribs, and breasts. He traced the line of my underwire with his thumb and reached underneath me to snap the bra open with a flick of his fingers. As we kissed, he returned his hand to my chest, massaging my breasts, caressing them, reminding me what it felt like to be a woman and to be desired.
I lifted my hips and rolled them against his.
Zach grabbed my right hip and pushed me back down to the bed before letting his hand wander to the fly of his jeans. He popped open the button and undid the zipper. I waited, feigning patience as my body thrummed with anticipation.
Once his jeans were undone, he inched my shirt up until my breasts were exposed. Then he pulled it up and over my head, followed by my bra, and I was in nothing but my jeans, feeling surprisingly confident in my own skin.
Zach paused to soak in the sight of me. His eyes wandered down to my C-section scar running along the top of my jeans. He traced it with a feather-light touch and then bowed over me to plant kisses along my stomach. While he dotted my skin with his lips, he undid my jeans and masterfully worked them down my hips and thighs. He pulled them off and playfully snapped the waistband of my black thong.
Good Luck Charm: A Single Mother Romance Page 12
