–Me: No. He went home, and I started working. I have a deadline. The bet, remember?
I wasn’t going to tell my friends I’d pulled back from that logic-vaporizing kiss because the intensity of my need had scared the hell out of me. Sex was supposed to be pleasant and generally pleasurable. But feeling like I’d die if I didn’t have him? That wasn’t normal. It only happened in romance novels, between the heroes and heroines.
Then there was Killian’s parting shot.
Two hours.
Actually, he’d said at least two hours.
What could a guy do with two hours? Stuff like that only happened in romance novels. In my experience, a girl was lucky to get thirty minutes.
Still, part of me wanted to know what Killian was imagining that would take so long.
Stop thinking about that! He probably said it because he read your books. All your heroes do it like they’re getting a Cialis IV while they’re fucking.
I frowned at the possibility, displeased that I’d forgotten that critical detail. Men lied about their prowess all the time in order to get laid. The prime exhibit—my dad. Ugh. Now I needed to throw up.
–Lucy: Aren’t you ahead of schedule? You could’ve taken a little time to explore the attraction some more. Especially if he was yummy.
–Skye: Exactly. I love my husband, but I need to hear those first attraction spark stories. Keeps me revved up for books.
–Me: Work comes before play.
That had always been my motto. It’d made me good at my career, and I wasn’t going to change that for a fling.
–Lucy: Yeah, but YOU could come before work!
–Skye: Beat me to it.
I loved my friends. But I needed to explain.
–Me: Sleeping with him would be a terrible idea. The worst. He’s a neighbor, but he isn’t type to stick around.
That was the least of my objections, but it sounded pretty good.
–Lucy: How come?
Because he’s a rock star? But I hesitated to share that detail. I hadn’t seen any crazy tabloid people out here yet, and I was certain that had something to do with people of Kingstree being discreet about Killian’s whereabouts. I didn’t think Lucy or Skye would shout it to the world, but it seemed prudent to keep the fact under wraps, especially since Skye had a gossipy daughter.
–Me: He’s only here to take care of his grandmother’s estate or something. I’m sure he’ll leave as soon as it’s done because he has a career elsewhere.
–Skye: That sucks.
–Lucy: Don’t let that stop you. If you decide that he’s The One after getting to know him better, you could go with him. It’s not like you absolutely have to be in that town to write.
–Me: No, thank you. Kingstree is perfect for an introvert like me. I’m not giving up my little hermit haven for any man.
Especially not a rock star who was used to the spotlight and being surrounded by pretty young things. I could make myself presentable when I was attending a conference or book signing, but I generally didn’t bother to do much. A shower and brushing my hair were about the extent of my daily self-beautification routine. I didn’t want to change that for what was essentially a fling, and I also didn’t want to be compared to younger, prettier women who probably worked out all the time to maintain their firm and toned size
-two bodies.
My idea of exercise was typing, occasional stretching and going to the kitchen to grab more water or beer. I sometimes ran, but only when I was blocked. The torture worked wonders, because if I forced a choice between running or writing, my mind always chose the latter.
–Me: Anyway, I gotta get back to the manuscript. I’m sending it off to my editor today, even if it kills me.
And Killian wasn’t getting in the way.
–Lucy: Okay then. Ciao.