Seduction and Snacks (Chocolate Lovers #1)(28)

Claire jumped to her feet, her knee slamming into the coffee table and knocking over the two beer bottles. Thankfully they were already empty.

"I think I heard the timer go off on the oven. Liz, did you hear the timer go off?" she asked.

Liz shook her head casually. "Nope. Definitely didn't hear the timer," she said with a smile.

I watched as Claire turned her back to us and faced Liz.

"The timer definitely went off. You just didn't hear it because you weren't paying attention. We need to go check on the food. Because the timer. It went off."

"Hey, Liz," Drew said. "I think she's trying to tell you the timer went off!"

He laughed at his own joke and I reached over and smacked his arm.

Watching her go from horrified to embarrassed to nervous was fascinating. She was like a beautiful train wreck and I couldn't stop watching.

Liz sighed and finally stood up, smiling at Drew and me while she excused herself and followed Claire into the kitchen.

Drew leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Did you see the way Liz looked at me? I think I definitely banged her."





9. Claire’s Coochie Kills


Oh, Jesus Christ. Oh, f*ck. Can a person die from humiliation? Shitf*ckdamn.

"I think I'm having a heart attack. Or maybe a stroke. Which is the one that makes your left arm numb?"

I've lost all brain function. This is it. I'm dying. Tell my folks I love them.

"A stroke," Liz said in a deadpan voice as she followed me into the kitchen.

"Shit. I'm having a stroke. Feel my pulse. Does it feel weird to you?" I asked, thrusting my arm out to her.

Liz smacked my hand away. "For f*ck's sake, Claire, get a grip."

"Carter. His name is Carter. And he has no idea who I am," I whined.

Fuck, I hate whiney girls. I'm turning into an insecure, whiny girl. I'm going to have to kick my own ass. Liz bent down in front of the oven and took a peek at the lasagna cooking inside. She stood back up and crossed her arms in front of her chest, leaning her hip against the front of the oven.

"You think you have it bad? That f*cktard Drew thinks he slept with me. I can see it in his eyes. He's trying to remember if he knows what I look like naked. Like I would ever let my lady bits near someone who wears an "I pooped today" shirt. He doesn't even remember hitting on me that night or how close he was to having cock and balls permanently drawn on his face. I wonder if he remembers the hex I put on his dumb stick? He really believed I was a witch that night. What an idiot."

"Really Liz? You're comparing the fact that a guy doesn't remember telling you he'd make out with you because you had nice tits to my sperm-donor'ing one-night-stand sitting twenty feet away and not know who the f*ck I am? Really? Is that what you're doing right now because I just want to make sure I understand this correctly and didn't accidentally hit a bong full of bad crack on the way over that I don't know about," I ranted.

Liz rolled her eyes at me. "Jesus, Cranky VonHyperAss, simmer down."

I put my hands on my hips and gave her my best "I'm gonna f*ck you up look".

"Okay, so this isn't the most ideal situation for meeting back up with your baby daddy, I'll give you that. But it's done. He's here and there's nothing we can do about it now. After all these years of wondering, you finally know who he is so you can tell him about Gavin. So pull up your big-girl thongs and get your ass out there."

We stared at each other blankly for a moment.

"I know what you were going for with that but it didn't work so well," I told her.

"Yeah, I realized that as soon as I said it. Next time I'll just stick with big-girl panties."

I started pacing back and forth across the kitchen.

"What are the f*cking odds, Liz? First, he shows up in the bar out of the clear blue and now he's here. In your house. And he's talking to me like I'm some new chick he just met that he wants to get to know."

"Well, technically, you are some new chick he just met," she said with a shrug, like it was no big deal. "I know we wondered last night if he just didn't recognize you because he was drunker than Mel Gibson when he called his wife a pig in heat, but I think it's safe to say, he really doesn't remember who you are. It’s time to face facts, Claire. Your vagina just isn’t that memorable."

“Fuck you,” I mumbled.

“Not tonight dear, I’ve got a headache.”

It wasn't her fault she could be so nonchalant about this whole thing. I never really told her just how much I actually thought about him over the years. She had no idea how much that man sitting out in her living room had occupied my thoughts and dreams. In all the scenarios I made up in my head about someday finding him, they always began the same way. He remembered me and everything about that night immediately and apologized for never trying to find me. We would kiss in the rain, jump hand-in-hand together into a pool and ride horses together along the beach.

Or maybe I've seen one too many tampon commercials.

Seeing him again, knowing that he had no clue about the night we spent together, sucked big time. Especially since I was raising a reminder of that night and had to think about it every time I looked at my son.

"How am I supposed to even begin telling him about Gavin when he has no idea who I am? He is never going to believe me. He’s going to think I’m some nut job who’s looking for child support,” I stopped my pacing and moved to stand next to Liz by the oven.