The Hookup (Moonlight and Motor Oil #1)(19)

We’d head out Saturday morning.

And I was sure he’d bring condoms.

But if you camped, you didn’t do it just for an alternate place to have sex.

You did it to spend time with nature.

And whoever you were with.

“I’ll change dinner,” I told him.

“Great, babe. Now I’m gonna let you go.”

“Okay. I hope, well . . . whatever you’re doing, I hope it brings you some peace.”

He didn’t say anything for long moments before he said, “It never does, but that’s still sweet, Izzy.”

“Sorry, Johnny,” I whispered, then knowing he wanted to let me go, I finished, “Take care and see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, Iz. Later.”

“’Bye.”

We hung up and I stared at my beautifully crocheted throw.

We were having dinner tomorrow and then spending the weekend camping.

I wondered if he’d let me bring Dempsey and Swirl.

I’d still have to ask Deanna and Charlie to look after the rest.

Another thank-you dinner.

That wouldn’t be hard.

And Johnny wanted to take me camping.

He’d probably camped with Shandra.

However, next weekend he’d be camping with me.

Maybe I was an idiot.

But I didn’t care.

He hadn’t asked me to mother his children and he hadn’t made any promises of any sort, except that he’d be there tomorrow and we’d be camping next weekend.

I could live in the moment.

I had the info I needed.

I could enjoy Johnny.

And I could let him enjoy me.

I was Eliza “Izzy” Forrester, daughter to Daphne, sister to Adeline, and if my mother and sister taught me nothing (and they didn’t, they taught me a lot, good and bad, but mostly good), they taught me to enjoy everything I could.

So I needed to stop obsessing, ordering, thinking.

I needed to just let things . . .

Be.





Unicorn

Izzy

“SO CAN YOU do Friday instead of Saturday?”

I was in Deanna’s office and had just told her about camping with Johnny.

And after I finished talking, I studied her face. She was a couple of years older than me, but at times she felt decades wiser than me, and I was trying to get a lock on what she thought of this latest development.

“That boy isn’t playing any games,” she replied rather than answering my question.

“Sorry?” I asked.

“Charlie said the same thing yesterday when I told him what was going down. Said if this guy was playing you, he’d not be coming to dinner tonight. He’d be calling you two days from now at around nine thirty and setting up a booty call. Now he’s called you and set up a whole weekend together on top of dinner. So yeah . . . this boy isn’t playing any games.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” I told her.

“That’s ’cause you had a long dry spell before Kent, and also ’cause Kent was a successfully disguised psycho, so when you met him neither of us saw he was a successfully disguised psycho and we just thought he was into you. But, you’ll remember, we met Charlie at that bar and I gave him my number, and he made me wait three days before he called. When he did, I didn’t pick up. I waited two days to call him back, and when he answered the first thing I said was, if he pulled that crap again we wouldn’t even get to our first date. He didn’t pull that crap again. He was a player and he admitted it to me on our first date. But he saw what he wanted in me and the games ended. This Johnny, he’s not playing games right off the bat.”

I wanted that to feel good.

Instead, I said, “I don’t think it matters.”

“Uh . . . what?” she asked.

“He wants me for sex.”

She stared at me.

“And I’m good with that,” I told her.

She kept staring at me but she did it this time looking freaked.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” I continued. “He likes me. But I’ve been thinking on things and he’s making it clear this might be about spending time together, but it’s mostly about having sex. He’s not giving me the wrong impression. He told me not to worry about tonight, he’d bring the condoms. He didn’t ask if he could bring a bottle of wine and he didn’t ask if maybe I might want to rent a movie to watch with him after dinner. He assured me he’d bring the condoms. So I know the lay of the land and I’m good with that.”

Her eyes narrowed and she asked, “You sure?”

I nodded. “Totally.”

She stared at me again and didn’t hide she didn’t believe me, and she did this by beginning to look alarmed.

“I’m not getting a good feeling about this,” she shared.

“I am,” I replied. “Because, listen, like I said, I’ve been thinking on things and after Kent, this is perfect. I mean, I get to feel pretty and funny and spend time with someone that doesn’t have feathers or fur or a mane or isn’t my best friend in all the world. I also get to have unbelievably good sex. When it’s time, he’ll move on and maybe we can still be friends and then maybe he’ll give me discounts on oil changes or something.”