Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“Oh, I don’t know. How about the fact I have a full-time job and look after three nephews?” That clearly leaves little time for dating. Hell, it’s apparently not even enough time to sneak in a quickie with Bain this week.
Danica grins. “Oh yeah. I guess we’re in the same boat.”
Part of me wants to blab all to Danica right this minute and get her thoughts on Bain, but I’m hesitant. We’ve gotten close but we’ve never discussed our sex lives. Danica was widowed ten months ago and sex isn’t something she’s ever brought up. I don’t advertise my carefree, bang ’em and leave ’em ways because she might not understand.
Still, I should test the waters. My sandwich hovering before my mouth, I ask, “It doesn’t mean we can’t have booty calls, though. A little wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am is truly all we need.”
Danica starts choking and the fact I shocked her tells me what I need to know. “Booty calls? Seriously… who even says that?”
But I do know Danica is neither a prude nor judgmental, so I own it. “Me. I think booty call is a fabulous term.”
“Well, that’s not exactly something I would understand. Mitch was my one and only.”
A stab of pain hits my heart for her. “That’s right. He was your first boyfriend so that makes him your first…”
“Yep. I have never been with another man other than Mitch. Thus I’ve never had a booty call.”
I decide to poke at her, because Danica is most definitely not conservative or without confidence, so I would think she probably had a healthy sex life with him. “Did Mitch, like, ever come home from the arena for a quickie?”
“Yeah.” Her eyes go dreamy as if she’s recalling just such an occasion. “He did.”
I grin at her. “Then that was technically a booty call. A monogamous one, mind you, but a booty call all the same.”
Danica laughs as she sets down her sandwich and pulls a fry from under the bread. “I feel so progressive.”
“Well… I have perfected the art of non-monogamous booty calls so if you ever want advice, let me know.”
Although apparently I’m willing to give monogamous ones a try. At least I willingly went into that agreement with Bain, all because we made a mistake and had unprotected sex. While that ultimately turned out fine and opened the door for us to ditch the condoms, I do wonder if maybe the monogamy aspect has made this a little similar to a committed relationship and that’s why Bain and I haven’t been trying overly hard to make plans to get together.
Or, that little prick of my conscience says, You’re afraid it could turn into something more so you’re sabotaging this before it gets going.
“Have you had booty calls since coming to Pittsburgh?” Danica asks.
Heat prickles on the back of my neck thinking about my last one with Bain. Let’s just say he takes sixty-nine to a whole new level. “Yes, I have and it was fabulous.”
“I want to be like you when I grow up.” Danica sighs, but I’m not so sure I’m all that grown up. I avoid commitment like it’s a scaly disease and part of that is my inability to see past my own limited experiences. Not very mature, I know, but I’m comfortable with my decisions.
For the next half hour, I manage to put Bain out of my mind and instead slip into the ease of pure friendship I have with Danica. I tell her about Drake’s proposal to Brienne on the horizon and we bat around ideas to make it special.
“He should take out a front page ad in the Pittsburgh Times and ask her that way,” Danica says with a laugh.
It’s a running joke in this city that Drake has had a tumultuous relationship with the press. They dogged him relentlessly when Crystal made up false allegations about him betting on hockey and then he turned around and announced right on national TV that he was in love with Brienne Norcross—his boss.
“Oh God, that would be funny.” I laugh. “I’m going to suggest it to him.”
Danica shakes her head. “It really should be done privately. I can see Drake doing it at a family dinner with the boys. I know that’s more Brienne’s style and he’s going to make it perfect for her.”
“Nailed it,” I exclaim, because as powerful, wealthy and somewhat famous as Brienne is, she’d prefer to be at home with Drake and the kids rather than have some razzle-dazzle.
Danica puts her sandwich down and wipes her fingers on a napkin. Eyes laced with concern, she asks, “How’s your work going?”
I sigh, my shoulders slumping ever so slightly. “It’s good.”
Danica looks at me pointedly, not willing to accept that.
“Fine,” I say with a laugh, holding out my hands in surrender. “Work is fine.”
“But,” she prods.