If Zoe thinks she’s done with us, she’s going to learn the Wolf brothers aren’t so easily dismissed.
14
That’s The End
Zoe
I spend the day on an emotional roller coaster. One moment I’m angry, and the next I get a twinge between my legs and I’m overcome by lust. And then I remember the brothers’ high-handed tactics and get mad all over again.
But mostly, I try to suppress both feelings so I can concentrate on work. It’s a crisp autumn day, and our fall clothing is selling like gangbusters. What with keeping an eye on the sales staff, customers, dressing rooms, presentation, and inventory, there’s more than enough to keep me busy.
When I take a very quick mid-morning break, there’s a text from Megan on my phone. How was your night last night? Did you make it rain?
How to respond? I have the weird feeling of not wanting to disappoint her with my twin tale of woe. But she’d say that was silly, and she’d be right. Emergency summit, I text back. José Domingo’s, 1 pm. Bring Tara.
Are you okay? she sends back, and I love that her main concern is my well-being and not the juicy details. She’s my bestie for a lot of reasons, but her big heart is one of them.
Yes. Give you details later. Megan knows how things can get at the boutique, so she won’t mistake my brevity for rudeness. I go back to work feeling a little better, armed with the knowledge that my friends will have my back.
When I get to our favorite Mexican restaurant, they’ve already snagged a booth. I slide in and eye Tara’s margarita. “Damn. I wish I could have one of those.”
“Here.” Tara hands me her drink, and I let myself enjoy one sparing sip. Mmm, delicious.
“Lucky you,” Megan says, patting her baby bump with a grin. “The guys are so protective of me. I love them, but sometimes I want to bust loose and do everything they think I shouldn’t.” When I slide the margarita back across the table, she continues, “So. You, hot guys, last night, emergency summit … what gives?”
Tara’s eyes get big. “Wait, what?”
I guess Megs didn’t fill
her in. “Last night I got frisked by a couple of super hot guys.”
“Why did you get frisked?” Tara demands. “What were you doing?” She also knows me too well.
“Using the men’s room because there was a huge line for the women’s.”
She frowns. “And for that they frisked you? Doesn’t sound right.”
“They have a security firm,” I explain. “They were working the match because one of the fighters has a stalker and they were trying to find her. But they didn’t explain any of that to me at the time. They just … got frisky.”
“And then?” Megan prompts.
“We ran into each other on the way out and they invited me for a drink.”
The girls lean in. “And then?” Tara says in a hushed voice.
“I spent the night with them.”
“Ohmygod! What is it with you two?” Tara claps a hand over her mouth and looks from me to Megan. “Sorry, Meg; you know I love your men. But one guy at a time is trouble enough.”
I snort. “You got that right! I was looking for two times the fun, and I got two times the frustration.”
Megan doesn’t say anything. She’s watching me, carefully, understanding maybe better than anyone on earth the range of things I could be feeling right now. “What happened?” she says quietly.
A waitress comes over and I ask for an iced tea, promising myself that I’ll have a drink later, right after work. “Are you ready to order?” I ask my friends. “I don’t have much time.”
We’ve been here so many times, we don’t need menus. We all order our favorites, and as soon as the waitress walks away, Tara and Megan’s eyes are back on me.
“To be fair, I had a great night. It was extraordinary, actually. I have never had so many orgasms—”
“Zoe!” Tara scolds me as she looks around to see who might overhear.
“I beg your pardon,” I say in an overly proper Mary Poppins-type voice. “I have never had such a superb night. It was truly delightful.” Tara laughs.
It was a hell of a night, I admit again to myself. All those hands on me, two mouths on me, all the stamina … I sigh.
“But…” Megan prompts.
“But this morning they turned into assholes, trying to tell me I couldn’t leave.” Come to think of it, they were way too bossy when I first met them. I should have known better.
My friends are looking alarmed. “Wait a minute,” Tara says. “They didn’t want you to leave? Were they trying to make you their live-in sex slave, or something?”
“No, they’d made breakfast, and they got all bent out of shape when I said I couldn’t stay and eat with them.”
“They made breakfast?” Tara sounds almost awed. I’m reminded then of her crappy ex-boyfriend Neil, who often rushed out of her place after they had sex, and never seemed to want her to stay over at his place. Compared to that loser, maybe she’s thinking my story doesn’t sound too bad.
“Making breakfast was fine. It was nice of them. But then I told them I needed to leave for work, and they literally blocked the door!” I explain.
Megan is looking at me with an arched brow. “This all sounds strange. What aren’t you telling us?”
“Nothing,” I say as the waitress delivers my drink. “That’s what happened.” But that’s not exactly right, and as soon as I think it, she senses it.