Crazy Girl(29)

When I finally pushed him away, as I panted for air, I made myself take mental notes. I knew these moments weren’t rare for everyone or in the world of dating, I knew these kinds of heated moments between two people new to each other happened all the time, if you were lucky, but I wanted to memorize everything about it that I could. I would write about this one day, in some story, and I wanted to write as authentically and as real as I could. So I memorized everything I could.

Heart pounding.

Breathless.

He smelled like a mix of light, manly sweat, cologne, and baby powder.

His body was hard, firm against mine.

His hands in my hair.

His lips were soft, but the kiss was hard.

His beard and mustache tickled my face in an arousing manner.

My cheeks were warm.

I ached…down there.

I did all of this while he stared at me.

I began to relive the moment. “I’m sorry about that,” he’d managed after a beat, drawing me from my thoughts of memorizing it all. He was apologizing? Why? Because he thought I hadn’t wanted it? He’d definitely wanted it. I could see it in his eyes.

“Don’t be sorry,” I replied. Did he think I was the kind of woman that would just let something like that happen? I’d been an equal participant. “I was in it, too. I wanted it, too.”

“You going to give us some details, or just sit there smiling like a goon?” Courtney waved her hands in front of me to get my attention.

“We kissed,” I admitted.

All in unison, my friends’ mouths gaped into big O’s. “And?” Kate pressed.

Dropping my gaze to my wine glass, I smiled as I remembered the last kiss Wren and I had shared. It had been gentle and slow, but simple, too. I’d closed my eyes, cataloguing the moment, writing it in my head.

“He’s a great kisser. It was more than I expected,” I answered.

My three friends shared glances at each other as they grinned. “Anything else happen?” Kate waggled her brows.

I rolled my eyes. “Of course not. He said he’d call today, but I haven’t heard from him.”

I let out a sigh as Courtney glanced at her cell phone. “It’s only eight. He’ll call.”

I shrugged, trying to appear indifferent to it. I hadn’t really let myself think about it, knowing if I did, I’d end up driving myself crazy wondering. But it was there, in the back of my mind, like that first tickle of a sore throat that wasn’t enough to call off from work, but enough to bother you.

“Oh, he’ll call,” Kate added obnoxiously, her blue eyes lit with mischief. “He’ll call because he wants,” she paused as she held one hand up like she was holding someone’s ass and motioned her other hand like she was tapping it, then finished with, “dat ass.”

We all laughed. Kate was always the jokester and smartass of our little group. Luckily, the conversation moved on and I was grateful. Not only for the subject change, but for my friends. They meant the world to me, and out of everything I’d lost in the past year or two, I hadn’t lost them, and I knew I never would. And that meant something. It meant everything. They were my family. I didn’t know what I’d do without them. But I had a feeling I’d never have to find out.



My fingers tapped the keys on the keyboard of my laptop as I typed frantically, holding my lip in a death grip between my teeth. I was focused. Totally in. And it felt amazing. I didn’t exactly have a storyline in mind when I’d started writing, just more of a scene. A funny one. A scene where a woman goes on a terrible date and then maces herself in the parking lot. Courtney had been right…it did make for an excellent scene in a story. Perhaps my misfortunes would result in my comeback novel.

“What are you smiling about?” Taz asked as he poked his head in my office.

I hadn’t even realized I was grinning. In the story, my heroine had just looked at herself in the mirror and seen how awful she looked after the hero brought her home. “Just writing a funny scene,” I answered him as I hit save on my document.

“So the writing juices are flowing again, eh?”

I nodded. “At least for today they are.”

“Well keep it up.” He winked at me then disappeared, and I closed out my document and pulled up the Internet. I didn’t know what made me do it, why I even thought about doing it, but I Googled Wren. Maybe I did it because after our second date, which I thought had gone extremely well, he’d said he’d call me the next day. He didn’t. It was eleven by the time I’d crawled into bed after getting back from Deanna’s, and I’d just pulled the covers up when my phone had dinged. He’d sent me a text saying he’d had a crazy day at work and had just gotten home. I didn’t know how to respond. On one hand, he’d taken the time to text me and at least say something; on the other, he’d said he would call and he didn’t. If he could text, then he could have called as well. But I’d decided to not sweat it. At least not to him. I texted back, telling him I hoped he slept well, but I hadn’t gotten a response. So either he was weird, or I’d read the signs wrong and was hopeless.

The search engine revealed several links and photos and I raised my brows, surprised. I had assumed something would show up—links to his social media pages and address information, but this was beyond that. There was a plethora of sites and links all related to Wren. “What the…” I mumbled to myself.