Once Upon a Sure Thing (Heartbreakers #2)(36)

She shakes her head. “Sweetheart, I have you to thank. You made my day. In fact, you made two days. I guess you’re one of the benefits now too, and so are these Skittles.” She opens the bag and shakes a few into my palm.

I pop a red one in my mouth, savoring the cherry flavor. As I leave, I linger on that word, letting myself think about benefits.

All kinds of benefits.

Everything snaps into place, thanks to the power of red Skittles.





Chapter 20





Ally



I’m walking on sunshine today. I'm shiny and new. Forget these young adult novels that pay my bills. Someone ought to hire me today to model skincare.

I’m positively glowing as I read a toe-curlingly, heart-meltingly delicious first kiss at a prom scene for my sports-radio heroine. “As the pop music plays, and the lights flicker across the dance floor, Taylor sweeps his thumb across my cheek and brushes his lips to mine. He’s soft and gentle, but full of longing too. I soar to the sky from a kiss at prom.”

I exhale, stretch my arms, and tell Kristy I’m going to take five.

She pokes her head into my side of the booth, holding up a hand to high five. “You are on fire today, girl.” I smack her palm. “Can I have some of what you're having? I want that flow when I'm editing.”

“It's one of those lucky days.” I smile, as if I've got a secret, only I don’t even know what that secret is. Except maybe it’s that orgasms make you feel better about everything.

Or maybe it’s that friendship and fooling around can coexist. Miller and I danced so seamlessly back onto familiar ground this morning, and I’m pretty damn ecstatic about that too. Who said a little nookie would ruin a friendship? Not this girl. We are all good. We slid back to our roles like the path was lubed.

Though that might not be the best word to use.

Because now I’m thinking below the belt again. Truth be told, I’ve kind of been thinking with my lady parts all day long. As I slick on some lip gloss in the restroom, checking out my reflection, those parts are thinking of Miller.

What if we had one more time? One more night? To truly get him out of my system?

I close the tube of gloss, leave the restroom, and nearly bump into our receptionist outside the door.

“Hi, Ally. You have a little gift, it looks like,” she says with a conspiratorial smile and a curious glint in her eyes.

Frowning, I check out the padded envelope she hands me, but there’s no return address—only the words From M.

“Thanks, Meg. I appreciate you bringing this to me,” I say, then spin around since I don’t want to open this with an audience.

Anything from “M” has to be personal. Walking down the hallway, I reach inside and tug out a clear plastic bag filled with red Skittles and wrapped with a red polka-dot ribbon.

A shiver rushes through me as I snag the card tucked under the bow.



Red Skittles are my favorite. They taste like cherries. That gave me an idea. Call me.

M





I stop near the stairwell door and hit Miller’s name in my contacts. He answers immediately.

“Tell me more about this idea,” I say, setting my hand on my belly.

“Remember at the ice skating rink when you said people struck deals and arrangements?”

I remember every detail of that day—when I felt the spark and sizzle for him. “Yes. Why are you asking?”

“I did a little research, and I learned that one of those arrangements is a friends-with-benefits deal.”

My jaw comes unhinged, clanging to the floor. He’s asking me for this? “You want a deal?” I sputter.

“I enjoyed last night, and I thought you did too.” He hums a worried note. “Shit, Ally. Did I fuck up by asking this?”

I answer at the speed of light. “No. I just want to be sure I understand what you’re asking.”

And confirm it’s the thing I’m fantasizing about.

He breathes, sounding relieved. “Good. Because what I’m saying is this—what if we could keep the friendship and also enjoy some delicious red Skittles?”

“Courtesy to speak English.” I need to know I’m not interpreting him through my own wishes. My face is hot. My bones are humming, and I’m this close to running a hand down my breasts because I need touch.

He takes a beat. “I want you naked. I want you naked and under me. Naked and over me. Naked and coming. Again and again.”

There isn’t a thermometer on earth that goes high enough to record my temperature. It’s shot beyond the stratosphere. “That’s English,” I manage to say.

“What do you think?”

I think I’m an electric line and I could power a whole city. “Yes,” I blurt out, because I want that kind of benefit. “I say yes.”

“Can I see you later?”

I can’t even process what I’m doing in the next ten minutes. “I’ll text you when I’m done.”

I return to the booth, floating on a cloud of climactic possibilities. Sliding on my headphones, I open the book file on my iPad. I clear my throat, ready to tackle the next scene, when my phone buzzes. I need to turn it to silent.

But I catch a glimpse of the message on the screen.