My life couldn't get any more high school. Coffee with Beck turned into coffee with Beck and a newly reunited Stella. Her girlfriend stared me down like I was the devil incarnate until she realized I wasn't as gay as she'd originally thought...and that I hadn't laid a finger on her lover. Beck started to feel more like a little sister, even though she was technically three months older than I was, and Stella was pretty chill once she took her knife out of my back. After two cups of espresso, I was bouncing off walls but seemed to have permission to continue hanging out with Beck. They'd agreed she would stay at Collier's house until they were sure they'd worked out the kinks...which included Beck getting a job and holding onto it for ninety days. I wondered if she had run that plan by Collier before agreeing to it or just assumed he'd be down for her becoming a permanent fixture in his home. I put the top down on the convertible and dialed my bestie, whose other half answered the ph

I didn't have the courage to admit to her that I hadn't had any tongue action on either set of lips, yet. Instead, I nodded like I knew exactly what she meant."What about you? Worst date?" She wasn't asking about men, but I didn't really have anything to offer without outing myself, and that hadn't gone so well with Beck."Shannon Darby." Technically, Shannon was a dude I'd dated in my early twenties, but if I could keep from using pronouns, this wouldn't be a lie. "Notoriously would order the most expensive things on the menu but conveniently never had any money when the check came. Wallet was in the car or on the counter. Don't get me wrong, I have no problem taking turns paying the bill, but Shannon made scamming free shit off me a full-time job. That dragged on far too long before I called it quits."The waiter came back to the table for like the fifth time since we'd finished eating. We'd long since paid the bills-Dutch treat on this outing, which suited me just fine. We'd

Without another word, he closed the door to the bedroom and left me to myself. I needed sleep, but there was no way I was crawling into someone else's bed, even alone, covered in bar funk. After a quick shower, I curled up into the most fantastic cocoon of slumber imaginable. I'd just shut my eyes when the knock on the door came, and Brutus was back. "We need to go. Get up." There was no way it was morning already, but sure enough, the sun shone through the blinds I hadn't closed, and apparently, Beck's brother wasn't much of a morning person.I groaned my frustration when I tossed the blankets back and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The room spun, and nausea took over. I barely made it to the bathroom to empty what was left of my stomach into the commode. Clutching the cool porcelain with my bare hands, it took everything I had not to press my face against the rim. Today was shaping up to be miserable. "Giselle, move it. I'll be in the car."Jesus. He'd given me lik

Beck met me at the front door with a pitiful excuse for a swimsuit in hand. She led me to the first bedroom downstairs, the same one I'd stayed in last night, to change. I hadn't expected her to flop down onto the bed that someone had made since I was last here, while I stripped, but I figured this would be good practice for the real thing. My shirt came over my head, and I shimmied out of my shorts and panties. When I dropped my bra on the pile at my feet, she sat straight up. I might be thirty-nine, but I worked hard to keep my body in the shape of a twenty-five-year-old. Other than wine, I didn't partake of any indulgences-including carbs. And I ran every morning...well, except this morning because I was otherwise preoccupied, but any other morning, I didn't go anywhere until I logged five miles on the pavement. "Damn, Giselle." She had a girlfriend, and I didn't need her to elaborate. There was a difference in women who were naturally slender, which Beck was, and women like m

In my twisted psyche, the last seemed the best choice. I put on a black tank top and black jeans, threw my hair in a knot on top of my head, and found my darkest sunglasses. Because in my mind, dressed in solid black in broad daylight was less conspicuous than shorts and a shirt...coupled with the neon-yellow Camaro that screamed subtly, I proceeded in ninja-stealth mode. I slowed as I neared the entrance and saw the 911 right where I'd hoped it would be. But instead of pulling in behind him so I'd have to back out, I pulled along the edge of the property, parallel to the road. With the car idling, I jumped out and looked for witnesses. Seeing none, I ran up to the Porsche and tried the handle. Locked. With an obnoxiously loud and sensitive alarm system. I panicked. As if jerking on the handle would open the secured door, not only did I try the driver's side twice in my haste, but I also ran around to the passenger side and tried it instead of aborting the mission. When I h