She settles in next to me, her knee bumping mine, the innocent touch sending a blaze of heat up my thigh. Hers are not long legs, but they are toned and sexy—if I allowed myself to consider Cris “sexy” which I, of course, don’t.
“What are you looking at?” She examines her leg.
Unable to share that my thoughts have devolved into a visual of her back against the wall while I’m driving hard and deep into the heart of her, I shake my head. When she frowns, I think fast and poke a purplish splotch on the outside of her thigh.
“Ouch! Is that a bruise?”
“Appears to be,” I say. “How’d you do that? Are you a violent sleeper?”
“It’s my new WWE boyfriend.” She rolls her eyes. Wide, big, expressive. Innocent. There is a sweet, generous nature under the naiveté, but the naiveté is there all the same.
“If you have a boyfriend, WWE or otherwise, this better not be how I find out.” I suck down more water as a pleat forms between her pale eyebrows. It’s followed by a lip bite, and her eyes skitter away before landing on my face again. My Spidey senses tingle. She’s not the only superhero in this park.
“What was that about?” I can’t help asking. She shakes her head a little guiltily. I’m suddenly queasy and I don’t think I can blame it on exercising. “Tell me.”
“It’s just…” She seesaws her head back and forth twice before continuing. “I have a date tomorrow night.”
“A date.” I tried not to let that sound like an accusation. I’m not sure I was successful.
“I didn’t tell you because, well…” Her eyes are on her water bottle as she runs a thumbnail along the lid.
“Because well what?” Cris doesn’t date. Or she hasn’t dated since she started working for me, anyway. Now I’m frowning.
“I worried you’d lecture me. I don’t want a lecture. I want to go on a date without anyone offering their opinion. Except for Vivian. She helped me pick out a dress for tomorrow.”
That was the errand she ran today?
“You took her opinion,” I say, stung.
Further avoiding my eyes, she rests one heel on the bench and reties her shoelace. I’m still wrapping my head around her not mentioning—even in passing—having a date tomorrow night. It wasn’t as if I wasn’t standing right next to her in the kitchen this morning. She had ample opportunity.
“You go on lots of dates. I reserve comment all the time.” She holds up both hands in her own defense.
“You don’t have to comment since I can read your expressions. I know when you don’t like who I’m seeing.”
What might be panic briefly crosses her pretty face. “Like who?”
“Trish.”
“I liked Trish!”
“Your voice goes high and squeaky when you lie, by the way.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You laughed during the word ‘lying’ which further indicates you’re lying.” I stand and offer my hand. She slaps her palm into it and I admire the way we look together. Her small, pale, pink-hued skin against my large, long-fingered golden brown. A fierce protectiveness rears up inside of me before I can question it. Whoever she goes on a date with better be a gentleman or I will dropkick him into the stratosphere.
“Tell me about this dude—your date.” I let go of her hand and walk with her to the car, irked and not entirely sure why.
“I don’t know. I’ve only messaged him a few times on the app.”
“You used an app?” I regard the sky. “A little help?”
“Who are you talking to?”
I look at her. “The Universe. Have you recently consulted your spirit guides?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I do almost nothing but work and hang out with you.”