Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
She waves a hand at me. “Of course, but you can do that all by yourself. So, what’s the appeal of random hookups?”
“Are you mocking me?” I tease her, amused mightily that she brought this up.
“Not at all,” she replies lightly with a wave of her hand. “I’m genuinely curious. It’s not something I’ve ever done before.”
“Never had sex?”
Another roll of those gorgeous eyes that twinkle slightly at me. She thinks I’m cute for sure.
She clarifies her question. “Casual sex.”
“Only ever had true-love sex?” I ask with a grin.
“Something like that,” she says almost wistfully, and my smile slides a little. Little Josie Ives has been in love before, and I don’t know what it is, but there’s a story there for sure.
Rather than poke at her secrets, I try to explain myself. “Well, sex is good, right?”
“It’s great,” she says.
“Yes, great,” I agree as I prepare to launch into the benefits of casual relationships.
She stops me, though. “You didn’t say ‘great’ right away. You said ‘good,’ which leads me to believe your Barbie dolls are just giving you good sex and not great sex.”
“Dial it back a notch, Freud,” I say dryly. “That’s not what I mean.”
“You’re in a rut,” she says with a confident nod. “The headboard on the wall has been silent lately.”
She’s right about that. Last three days I just haven’t had the urge to reach out to my list of little-black-book women. I also feel strangely perturbed over the fact my life is so transparent to her.
“Want to go skydiving day after next?” I ask her. “That’s your next day off, right?”
“Change the subject much?” she counters.
I give a prissy, exaggerated sniff and sound offended. “I just don’t like talking about sex with strange women. It makes me feel shallow.”
Josie throws her head back and lets out a deep-from-the-belly laugh that’s husky and melodious all at once. When she looks back to me, she chuckles. “You’re anything but shallow, Reed.”
“You think?” I ask, puffing my chest out in an exaggerated fashion so she’ll throw more compliments at me.
She doesn’t oblige me, though. Instead, she leans toward me slightly in her chair. “You being shallow isn’t the problem. It’s that you’re seeing women who don’t have a lot going on upstairs to challenge you, so that’s why it’s unfulfilling. That’s why your headboard’s not been banging on the wall lately.”
Fuck, she’s called that exactly right. It’s the same conclusion I came to after watching the interaction at the pool between Josie and Kiki. Kiki was glorious in her practical nudity, jiggling tits, and airheaded ways, and that type of woman always guaranteed me entry into their panties. But that day, I had a hard time keeping my eyes and attention off Josie. She’s the one I wanted to sit with and talk to and ogle by the pool all day.
Not about to admit that, though, so I ask, “You make a fair point. Know anyone you can hook me up with?”
“Actually,” she says as her smile slides just minutely. Way too subtle for me to read anything into it. “I do have a few single doctors I work with. Do they have to be blond and have big boobs?”
“Boobs are overrated,” I say with a dismissive wave, and push away the slight disappointment that she didn’t offer to go out with me.
She smirks before taking a sip of her water. When she sets the glass down, she asks, “So…when are you going out of town? Do you need me to do anything here for you or just pick up the mail?”
“Oh, I’m not going out of town,” I say with a shake of my head.
“But you said—”
“I just wanted to get your phone number, and that was the easiest way,” I tell her honestly.
Josie blinks at me. Eyes all round and not comprehending.
“What?” I ask playing dumb. “You’re interesting.”
That eyebrow goes up.
“And smart.”
It arches higher.
“You’re not typical,” I add with a lopsided grin that I hope she finds charming.
“I’m a doctor who works too much and occupies her free time putting together kitten puzzles,” she says drolly. “It doesn’t get more uninteresting than that.”
I detect mostly humor in her voice, but I also sense a little inner self-loathing that she thinks of herself that way. I lean forward, put an elbow on my knee, and tell her, “You’re funny, unflappable, and sarcastic. You’re intelligent and you’re kindhearted. There are so many ways you could have handled Ditzy Barbie’s airheadedness—”
“Her name’s Kiki,” she admonishes.
“See,” I point out with a nod. “You’re sweet. And that was also atypical. That makes you inherently interesting because most women aren’t like that. You found her amusing, but she never knew that.”
“Fair points,” she says, giving me an acknowledging nod. “So, what…are we like new buds or something?”
“Sure,” I say easily. “Why not? In fact, I bought a puzzle if you want to work on it together.”