The Science of Loving (9 page)

With a shake of his head he just said, “Let’s roll.”

He guided me out with a firm hand at my back as I met Ashley’s eyes across the bar. I saw a flash of color. Mat reached past me, pushing open the door then urged me out before letting it swing shut behind us, muffling the music and loud voices.

He trapped my fingers in the crook of his arm, covering them firmly with his hand, glancing at me as we walked silently up the sidewalk. He lived just up the street. After all the teasing, touching and heated looks, a small part of me entertained some stupid possibilities that made me both hopeful and afraid—
would he invite me up? What should I say if he asks—
I wasn’t ready to say goodbye, and considering how physical he’d been with me in public, I wasn’t so naive not to know what would happen if I accepted. But I had a reality check when we stopped at my car. I stared mutely at my feet, realizing he must’ve been mulling over a polite way end this rather awkward date. He was beautiful and a celebrity. Why should he deal with my psycho mother and all that drama when he had a pair of hot twins ready to fall at his feet? Wasn’t that every guys’ fantasy? My fruit flies and I never stood a chance.

“Hey, I had a really good time today.

Liar—
I shook my head
—how stupid did he think I was?

“Okay, so maybe it wasn’t all good times, but I really enjoyed your friends.” He cradled my face, tilting it up. “And I really enjoyed spending time with you.”

He smiled down at me, his expression open. His teeth looked very bright under the amber streetlights. I search his face, feeling almost childlike as my hands clung to his thick wrists. His smile widened, and his warm eyes lingered on my mouth. He leaned down, tracing his nose down my face then back up, and I wet my lips, anticipating his kiss—but there was no kiss.

“Oh, sweetness the things I want to do to you,” he whispered, resting his forehead against mine, rocking back and forth, back and forth. Then he straightened, brushing his thumb across my lower lip. Shaking his head, he placed a chaste kiss filled with regret on my forehead. “But not tonight.”

It was hard to contain my disappointment when he helped me into my car, saying, “Drive safe Brown-eyes.”

The GT roared to life. As I pulled away from the curb, he raised his hand, bidding me farewell. I couldn’t wave back. His part in this fairytale was over. He’d dazzled the maiden, vanquished the witch. And my inner skank wept all the way home, at never knowing the taste of him, the feel his weight pinning us down, to never to lie next to him with his sweat cooling on our skin.

CHAPTER FOUR

Caffienated Goddesses

I one-eyed my clock—
what kind of asshole called at six o’clock on a Sunday morning—
I hit ignore and rolled over, only to have the phone ring again. Shit.

“Speak.” I stretched.

“Morning Biggie, somebody sounds grumpy. Didn’t get any last night?”

“Danny you bitch,” I said without any real heat.

“Last night. Angie. I. Want. Details.”

“I can’t do this without coffee,” I said hanging up. I figured I had about thirty minutes to shower before she showed up with coffee.

The water pounded deliciously, clearing away the last of my sleep. Angie… Everything about her pushed my buttons: dark hair, dark, bedroom eyes, ivory skin, rosy blushes, a Cupid’s bow mouth—
that mouth alone could fuel a hundred wet dreams
.

I dipped my head under the spray, rinsing the soap from my body. Danny was right about her mom though. What a piece of work. I couldn't imagine growing up with that. Christ, if I wanted Angie, she was part of the package. What was I supposed to do about that? Bob surprised me. I thought for sure he’d back Stephanie. But there was something about Angie that made you want to be good—no, you wanted to be good for her. I toweled off, wandering out of the bath.

I’d just dragged my weekend jeans over my boxers when I heard Danny’s obnoxious lean on my buzzer. Brat. She did it on purpose. I hit the door release and sent down the freight elevator, but Danny slammed through the fire door before it made it halfway. I’d kept the elevator as my main entrance when I converted the old warehouse into a loft. It gave the place a cool industrial feel and made moving in a snap.

“Be glad I love you; anyone else would get pounded for bugging me this early on a Sunday.”

She sent a kissy face my direction as she set down a couple paper cups then bounded over, wrapping me in a bear hug that briefly lifted me off my feet as she groaned, “Dude, you might want to lighten up on the lattes; you got some major tonnage.”

“All bought and paid for.” I smirked, slapping my belly. Deciding she needed to check for herself, she delivered a ringing blow of her own—
ow! Son of a bitch
. “I thought you had a boyfriend to torture first thing in the morning.” Still rubbing my stomach, I collapsed on the sofa and grabbed a coffee. I knew I was grumbling, but shit, that hurt.

She rolled her eyes. “Butch up buddy. He’s off doing his weekend warrior shit, so you get me all to yourself.” She added sweetly. “Besides, Sunday mornings are reserved for our Weekly Coffee Play Dates.”

“We’re gonna have weekly coffee play dates?” I raised my eyebrows enquiringly, taking my first sip of ambrosia.

“Not
we
, as in you and me, jackass,
we
, as in my home girls; including, but not limited to, one Angelina Martin.” Ah, the clouds clear.

“So spill, and don’t skip the good stuff.” She dug a paper bag out of her backpack, waving it under my nose. “I brought chocolate croissants.” Shit, my kryptonite. She knew me well.

“Yeah, you think you’re so smart.” I snatched the bag out of her hand, pulling out some flaky chocolaty goodness.

“Spill, spill, spill,” she chanted, bouncing on the sofa, threatening to upset my coffee.

“Peace! I’m savoring.”

She pouted.

“Not going to work.”

She made big puppy eyes at me.

“I am immune.”

Her lip started quivering.

“Okay. Okay, I surrender.” I laughed. I have no defense when it comes to funny. “So, Angie pulls up in this totally hot car wearing this God awful rag. I don’t know who dressed her, but they should have their heads examined.” I grinned.

“Yeah, yeah, funny boy.” She made this move it along motion with her hand. “Keep it up and I won’t tell you about the secret obsession hidden under that god awful rag.”

“She’s really a dude?” Danny glared at me. “Anyway, she takes me to this country club for the mixer—you know, one those fake aren’t we fabulous affairs with crappy wine and stale sandwiches that no one eats?” She nodded, taking a bite of pastry. “I could tell Angie was nervous. She was all tense, hanging back in the entryway. So, after thinking this just wouldn't do, I tossed her into the mix and jumped in right after.” I grinned. “I thought she was gonna faint for a minute there.”

“Jeez Mat, couldn’t you have eased in? It’s kinda like having sex with someone new. You’re supposed to go in slow at first, until you’re nice and deep, and
then
pound the shit out of each other.”

“Danny, there are some things an older brother should never have to hear pass out of his baby sister’s mouth, and anything involving, or related to deep, pounding sex, or any other kind of sex, is right up there at the top of the list. Besides, after pouring her into that red hot number, aren’t you being a little hypocritical?”

“Are you gonna get to the point before I turn sixty?”

“Impatient much? So, I met a few of her friends, who are pretty cool by the way.” She raised her eyebrows. “And then I met her mom.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet that was a Hallmark moment.”

“You have no idea.” I winced, shaking my head. “I had Angie in my arms, and next thing I knew, Mommy Dearest was hitting on me.”

Danny gaped. “No fucking way, I always knew she evil, but I never thought her capable of that level of depravity.” She tried and failed to keep a straight face.

“It’s not funny. It was like one of those bad horror flicks from the seventies: Soul sucking cougar mom stalking daughter’s handsome young suitor.” I shuddered. “So she started asking the normal questions, like, what did I do for a living?”

“That bitch!”

“—and I told her I was in architecture. I could almost see the wheels turning: Tattoos, cut bod. She assumed I was some hammer swinging grunt or something, like that’s a bad thing. Then Angie’s friend Larry—you should meet him sometime—put two and two together and realized I wasn’t just in architecture, but was an architectural rock star. Yeah, I just said it.” I reached out for a fist bump, only to have Danny smooth back her hair at the last minute. Brat.

“Any who, so Larry is all excited, going on and on, waxing poetic about my work, and people are noticing—not that I don’t stand out regardless—shit, he even saw that stupid documentary I made. So I move the conversation to Angie’s research and how cool it is.”

Danny was spellbound.

“Then her mom asked how I knew her daughter. So I told her she’d saved your life. Of course, Angie played it down, saying she just fixed your car. That’s when her mom started making snide comments about Angie, the whole time she’s looking at me like I’m a steak or something. You know the look.”

She nodded.

“But I drew the line when she put her hands on me. Shit, I had her daughter in my arms and she was fucking pawing me.”

“She felt you up?”

“Well, she didn’t grab my package or anything. She started with that petting thing chicks do to let you know they’re interested. You know?”

“Uh huh, so what’d you do?”

“I gave her my back. What else could I do? Angie was already a bundle of nerves and her boss was standing a few feet away.”

“Shit, I bet that pissed her off.”

“Yes it did. But wait, there’s more. It turns out a couple of Angie’s friends are into beer making. And my stupid ass had to go and mention Suds. So instead of getting our nasty on, we ended up at the bar for after party drinks.”

“When will you learn silence is golden?”

“I can learn right now if you’d like, Miss Smarty.”

“No, no, pray continue. Loquaciousness has its own appeal.”

“So, me, Angie, her friend Larry—my biggest fan—and this chick Leslie, whom I love in a testicularly shriveling manner—you don’t want to know—rode over together and waited to see who else would show. I was actually surprised when her boss and some suits showed up. And, of course, Mommy Dearest.”

“Shit.”

“Rock star babe. So we’re all ordering, and I ordered Angie an ‘Old Engine Oil Black Ale’, ‘cause you know, cars, and a blowjob just to make her blush. Of course, Les the Shriveler jumped all over that and ordered one too. And that’s when the fucking cunt called Angie a whore.”

Danny gasped, “Who? The Shriveler?”

“No, her mom.”

“What was the Shriveler’s mom doing there?”

“Angie’s mom you little shit. C’mere so I can hit you.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes, right in front of everybody. I came this close to going off on her ass. I only held back ‘cause I didn’t wanna upset Angie even more. As it was, I called her on her shit—Well, not all of it, ‘cause of Angie—” Danny nodded. “—and kicked her ass out of the bar.”

“You didn’t.”

“Fuck yeah I did, and I’d do it again.” I sat back. “So that was my night in a nutshell.”

“Wait, that’s it? You didn’t hit that? Why didn’t you kiss her all better?”

“What? You think I’d take advantage of your friend right after she’d been publicly gutted? You want me to be that guy?”

Danny had the decency to look shamefaced. “No, you’re right. I’ve just never met anyone like her, ya know? She’s not your usual bimbo.”

“Hey now, they weren’t all bimbos. In fact I haven’t ridden the bimbo express for quite some time now.” I toyed with Angie’s phone, spinning it on the coffee table. “So about this play date…”

I was hiding in the corner of our regular booth. The Sunday-Morning-Coffee-Play-Dates were Danny’s idea. She’d decreed after a Saturday night of hopefully, thorough debauching, we owed our inner goddesses a thorough, Sunday morning caffeinating. Unfortunately, my inner goddess was on strike due to a depressing lack of debauchery, thorough, or otherwise.