Full Package(56)

Yup. I know this dude. I can be this dude. As I put my feet on Max’s coffee table, I stretch my arms, my old self coming back.

He kicks off my foot. “Dude, this isn’t a frat house.”

“Josie let me do it,” I grumble.

He arches an eyebrow. “Josie doesn’t make the rules here.” He grabs the clicker and flicks on the TV, scrolling to HBO. “You seen the newest Ballers episode? This show kills it.”

I groan and slide my hand over my face.

“What? You don’t like the Rock?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Don’t tell me it reminds you of Josie.”

Busted.

“Maybe,” I mutter.

“You should text her. See her. You’re supposed to be friends with her. Be fucking friends with her.”

“She hasn’t texted me, though, except about keys and the apartment.”

He smacks the back of my head. “What are you? Twelve?” He grabs my phone from the table and shoves it at me. “Call her. Have a coffee or whatever you do with her that doesn’t involve keys or the apartment or household shit.” He sets his laser-beam eyes to high. “Or I’ll do it for you.”

That does the trick. I send her a note, asking her if she wants to have breakfast tomorrow. She says she’ll be leaving early for work, but suggests dinner or drinks in the evening.

We settle on drinks. And it’s weird—Josie and I were never the friends who went out to get drinks. We sampled food. We saw movies. We wandered in and out of bookstores. We walked and talked and tried her bakery goods.

I don’t want to get a brew with her.

But I do it anyway, meeting her the next day at Speakeasy in Midtown. She’s already at the bar when I walk in. Perched on a stool, her legs are crossed, and she wears pink sandals, a purple skirt with a candy pattern on it, and a white tank top.

My skin heats up, and I have to reel in all my dirty thoughts. Mainly the ones that remind me exactly what she looks like underneath those clothes. How she feels. How she tastes. How she moves, and moans, and groans, and for fuck’s sake, brain, have a little mercy on a man. Some things are not fair, like planting those alluring images in my head right now.

I walk over to her, and it’s awkward for a moment. Then she hops off the stool and throws her arms around me. “Hey you.”

“Hey you,” I echo and pump a virtual fist. We can do this.

She holds up a hand like a stop sign. “Before we order, I have this for you.” She reaches into her bag and grabs a treat.

Old times. Yes. We are back to the way we were. “Can’t wait.”

“It’s a mini cinnamon bun. It’s like a cinnamon bun met a cookie.”

“And they had babies.”

She laughs. “They totally did. They got it on in the oven and made delicious cinnamony, sugary children. Try it.”

“Bringing food into a bar. You scofflaw.”

She brings her finger to her lips. “Shhh.”

She hands the small treat to me, and it’s one of the sweetest things I’ve ever tasted. “Your mini bun is amazing,” I say, and I’m rewarded with her smile. “And yes, I do know that sounded dirty.”

“It did, and I’m glad you said it, and glad you like it.” She leans closer, a playful look in her eyes. “Confession: I’ve always had a thing for cinnamon.”

This is news to me, and I’m digging that she’s sharing pieces of herself, just the same as before. “That so? Tell me more.”

She shrugs lightly. “It makes me feel as if I can do anything.”

“So it’s like a good drug?”

“Exactly.” She pats my knee like she used to do. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Because some Josie is better than no Josie. “Hey, have you ever made a peanut butter brownie?”

“Like with peanut butter in a chocolate brownie?”

I tap my nose. “Yes.”

“I have, but not recently.”

“Put that on your afternoon special. That would be amazing.”

She mimes writing a note, and the bartender swings by to take our orders. When he leaves, we chat, like two old friends catching up. “How’s everything? How’s the place?”

“Actually,” she begins, taking her time. “I already moved out. After you picked up your things.”

“Whoa. That was fast. You don’t let the body get cold.”

“It just made sense.”

“Did you get a new place already? I’m jealous that your real estate mojo is that good.”

She shakes her head. “I moved some of the furniture to my parents’ storage unit. Well, Wyatt moved it, since he has a truck,” she says, and I feel like an ass that her brother helped her rather than me.

“Sorry I wasn’t there to lend a hand.”

A small smile appears on her face. “It’s no big deal. It was easy enough. And now I’m staying with Lily till I figure things out. Since she kicked out Rob, she’s got room for me.”

Lily and Josie. Two lovely single ladies living together. My radar goes off. “Are you dating again?”

She gives me a look that can only be read as you ass. “Seriously?”