The Hookup (Moonlight and Motor Oil #1)(69)

“Yeah.” He said that like he didn’t want to say it either.

“How’s Wednesday for dinner?” she asked.

“Works for me,” he answered.

She fell silent.

Johnny held her to his chest.

Into the peace, she said hesitantly, “You haven’t asked.”

“What?”

It took her a moment to say, “Nothing.”

He gave her a squeeze and reminded her, “Babe, we talked about this this morning.”

She didn’t reply.

“Iz, I haven’t asked what?” he pushed.

“About sex.”

“What?”

“Drinks at Home and dinner at my place and, well . . . you haven’t asked where we’ll fit in sex.”

And again, Johnny fought against getting pissed.

“You can take it as given I want that from you whenever we find our shot, Eliza. But since it seems I haven’t made it clear yet, I’ll do that now. That’s not all I want from you.”

“Okeydokey,” she replied quickly.

They fell silent again while Johnny continued to try not to be pissed.

“Uh . . . Johnny?”

“Yeah,” he grunted.

“So, um . . . well, just to say, I’d like to know when we’re gonna fit in sex.”

For a second, he went still.

Then he busted out laughing.

She turned in his arms, pushed up and looked in his eyes.

“That isn’t an answer,” she declared.

Johnny kept laughing.

She started to pull away.

He pulled her back and gave her an answer.

“After drinks, we’ll come back to my place and I’ll fuck you stupid. And after dinner at your place, I’ll spend the night and we’ll be quiet.”

She glared at him through the twilight.

“We got a plan?” he asked, trying not to sound like he was still amused but not succeeding.

“We have a plan,” she answered, not trying not to sound like she was annoyed.

“Now I need to take you up to the house before I take you into the woods and fuck you stupid there.”

She didn’t sound annoyed, she sounded back to disappointed when she said, “’Kay.”

Johnny gave her another kiss. He let that one linger. Then he brought them both to their feet, nabbed the blanket and walked her up to the deck with all three of their dogs trailing.

After a day like that day, goodbyes between all of them lingered too. But Brooks being asleep meant they eventually had to end, which meant with nothing but a peck on the lips, Johnny had to stand with Ranger sitting by his side and watch Izzy drive away.

When he lost sight of their taillights, he looked down at his dog.

Ranger looked up and tilted his head to the side.

“You like her, boy?” he asked.

Ranger got up on all fours, wagged his tail and licked Johnny’s hand.

“Yeah, me too.”

He slapped his thigh and moved to and up the stairs with his dog at his side.

They entered his house. Johnny got a beer, got his book and read with his dog lying at the foot of his chair until it was time to hit the sack.

He did that and he didn’t jack his junk thinking of Izzy.

Because he’d have the real thing tomorrow night.





Motor Oil and Kitten Fur

Izzy

“UH . . . SAY WHAT?”

The last two words Deanna said were practically shouted so I quickly got out of my chair, dashed across the room and closed the door to my office.

I turned back to her.

It was the morning after Memorial Day. We were back at work.

And I’d just filled Deanna in on all that had happened that weekend.

She hadn’t even sat down.

I probably should have waited for her to sit down.

“Deanna—” I started.

“You told me you were hungover, Iz. And just to say, we went to the festival. We heard the word going around. I knew you weren’t hungover. But when you got something to sort, I know you. You need space to sort it. And anyway, Addie was with you so I thought she’d have you until you got to the point you wanted to share with me.”

“I actually was hungover,” I told her. And added, “As well,” when her eyes narrowed on me.

“All the rest happened and you didn’t phone your girl?” she asked, her voice pitching higher and higher with each word.

“I was kinda busy,” I told her.

“Kinda busy having Johnny Gamble grillin’ meat for his family and your sister, but what about the rest of your family, Izzy?”

“You guys went to Charlie’s mom’s,” I reminded her.

“Charlie’s mom works my last nerve, you know that. An excuse to bag on spending Memorial Day with her, listening to her tell me I didn’t get the right amount of brown sugar in my beans and maybe I should work less and spend more time making and taking care of the babies I have as yet failed to give her son, I’d jump at the chance.”

I knew this and immediately felt bad.

She crossed her arms on her chest. “How are things?”

“They’re . . .” I hazarded a smile, “great.”

She nodded her head once. “Mm-hmm. And what’s next for you and Johnny Gamble?”