“I’m paying,” she states, and sweet baby Jesus, I nearly rocket off my seat when I see her reach into her crop top.
“What? With your breasts?” I choke out, barely containing my slobber.
Madison bursts into fits of laughter as she produces a twenty.“No, with this.” She tosses the cash onto the counter.
Oh right, of course—she stores money in her crop top, and uses her breasts as a purse. Dear Lord. I eye the twenty, envying it something wicked.
Finally composing myself enough to construct a sentence, I protest. “No, please, I can’t let you pay. What kind of cheapskate do you think I am?” I dig into my pants pocket for my wallet, but it’s not there. I frantically double-check, but sadly come up empty.
I’m not wearing my jacket, therefore, the only place it could be is…Juliet’s. Looks like I’ll have to swallow my pride and allow Madison to pay.
“Next time, it’s on me,” I state—stupidly, for who says there’s going to be a next time?
I quickly zip my lips, and try to appear nonchalant as we both silently stand and exit our booth.
“I’d like that,” Madison says when we step outside.
“Like what?” I ask, shielding my eyes from the blaring sun.
“For there to be a…next time.”
My heart unexpectedly kicks up the pace, and I can’t stop the small smile that tugs at my lips. Out here in the huge concrete jungle of New York City, she appears so petite, so tiny, and I literally have to stop myself from reaching out and protecting her from the hustle and bustle of the city that never sleeps. I don’t know where this protectiveness has come from, and I stop myself from thinking crazy thoughts because they can’t be healthy for either one of us.
I realize Madison is looking at me, waiting for me to comment on her confession, and I quickly put her out of her misery. “Me too.”
“Yeah?” she says, the surprise clear in her voice.
“Yeah,” I reply with a nod, admiring the way her cheeks turn a soft pink.
I stand staring at her, and she stands staring back at me. The moment is simply perfect, but I suddenly realize she’s looking at me because she wants me to stop being a whimsical pussy and ask for her number.
Patting at my empty pockets, I realize I’ve also left my cell under Juliet’s sofa, no doubt. “I don’t have my phone on me.” Leering forward and pretending to look down her top, I ask, “You wouldn’t happen to have anything else hidden in there?”
Madison surprises me by cheekily throwing back, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” and winks, while I almost gag on my tongue.
“So, what do you suggest we do?”
Madison smiles, and the vision is simply superb. “Well, you know where I work. How ’bout you come in tonight? I start my shift at seven,” she casually says.
“Okay, I think I can manage that.”
Madison happily nods and then, this is when that awkward situation occurs. You know, where two people who are attracted to one another don’t know whether to hug, kiss, shake hands or wave to bid each other farewell.
I can see that Madison is also torn on what the right protocol here is by the way she’s biting her bottom lip, and subtly looking at me to make the first move. But the fact I can still smell Juliet on me has me shying away from hugging her. There’s no way I can kiss her for obvious reasons, and shaking hands or waving just feels so detached, like we’re strangers. So like an utter moron, I raise my fist and watch as Madison looks at it confused.
I too look at it, cursing my stupidity, but now that I’ve put it out there, I have no other choice but to follow through before I look like a complete douche.
However, Madison stuns me as she slowly dodges my raised fist, not interested in fist bumping with me, and stands on tippy toes to kiss my stubbled cheek. The minute she invades my personal space, my body sings, drowning in her vanilla scent.
“I’ll catch ya later, Dixon,” she says, pulling away way too quickly, and I nod, dropping my fist.
“Bye, Madison,” I reply, and watch as the most amazing girl walks away from me, hoping it’s not my last image of her.
Thank Christ I somehow managed to not lose my key, and the moment I get home, I have a long shower and fall face first onto my bed, not even bothering to dress. The only thing that wakes me is a loud, unrelenting knock on my door. Moaning and attempting to clear the fog from my brain, I turn to my right and see that my bedside clock reads 6:27 p.m.
Once the perpetrator makes it clear they’re not going away, and their knocking gets louder, I give in and throw on a pair of sweats. I don’t even bother with a T-shirt because whoever this person is, they’re most definitely not staying.
“What?” I bark as I open the door, but nearly fall flat on my face when I see Juliet standing before me.
It takes me a moment to fire on all four cylinders, but once I do, I coolly question, “What are you doing here?”
Juliet simply grins and holds up my wallet and phone, not needing to explain anything further.
The fact she went through my wallet to find my address feels like a slight invasion of privacy, but I really should be a little more grateful that she made the trip down here. But this feels too personal, too close to home—literally. A woman hasn’t set foot inside my home since Lily, but the way Juliet is currently looking at me, she wants to change that.
“So, are you going to invite me in? Or am I going to have to blow you in the hallway?”
If not for my acute hearing, I would say I misheard her, but I know there’s no mistaking her intentions as her eyes rake down my body, stopping at my ribs and focusing on my tattoo.
“‘We are never so defenseless against suffering as when we love,’” she says, reading my Freud-and Lily-inspired tattoo. “Well, well, Dr. Mathews, I would have never thought.”
I forgot Juliet never saw me fully unclothed, as due to our animalistic fucking, only the bare essentials were removed and we worked with whatever was left. That thought has me feeling like a complete bastard, so I open the door wider, permitting Juliet into my home.
The moment she steps into my abode, however, every pore in my body demands I kick her out because this feels so wrong. I have no other choice, so I close the exit behind me, feeling like I’m locking my own prison door.
I stand back as Juliet takes in my apartment.
“So,” she says, turning around to face me after a minute of scrutinizing my home.
“So,” I parrot, placing my hands into my pockets.
I have nothing I want to say to her because after this morning, I’m a little shocked to see her here. I made peace with the fact I’d probably never see her again. But here she is, standing in front of me, looking deliciously mouth-watering.
“Sorry about this morning, Dixon,” she says. “I had somewhere I had to be.”
I nod, trying my best to appear unaffected. “Thanks for bringing my things over. You can leave them there.” I gesture with my chin toward the kitchen counter.
“You’re mad?” Juliet says in part shock, part question, as she attempts to contain her surprise.
Am I?
Honestly, I don’t know what I feel. I’ve never had this happen to me before, so I guess my ego is a little bruised.
“To be mad would indicate that I care, Ms. Harte, and to be frank, I do not. Last night was fun, but that’s all it was. So the answer to your question is no, I’m not mad,” I reply sharply.
Juliet looks taken aback by my curt response, but recovers a second later. “It was more than just fun. It’s all I’ve been thinking about all day.” She sweeps her hair off her neck, revealing the huge red welt I inflicted with my teeth.
I remain impassive, although I feel like an animal. “Well, I’m glad I’ve provided you with images you can revisit, as that was the first and last time. Last night was a mistake,” I firmly state.
“You don’t mean that,” Juliet counters with a confident smile.
“Yes, I do. It was entirely my fault. I apologize for my inexcusable behavior. I take all the blame,” I say, using my professional voice.