Damn it.
“I’m going to lunch,” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. It was completely irrational, but I couldn’t help myself. There was nothing rational about how I felt when it came to that man.
He was the picture of calm as he leaned back in his chair, interlocking his fingers and resting his palms on his flat stomach. “Everything all right?”
“Yep,” I snapped, the sexual frustration bubbling inside of me like lava. “Everything’s just dandy. I’ll be back when I’m back.”
With that, I whipped around and started for the door, hearing his smooth, velvety laughter on my way out.
I hadn’t really been hungry when I made my bratty declaration, my stomach too jumbled with nerves and anxiety to even consider food, but instead of going back to the office, I pointed my car in the direction of Drip.
Just as I’d expected, Monica was behind the counter as I walked in, smiling at the customer across from her as she slid a small paper bag, containing something I knew from experience was delicious, across the counter.
“Hey,” she greeted as I walked up. “How’s it going?”
I placed my purse on the counter and with a weary sigh. “It would be better if I had a coffee the size of my face.”
She gave me a scrutinizing look. “I can make that happen. Have a seat. I’m going on break in five and I’ll join you.”
That was perfect. I needed a friend at the moment if for no other reason than to help me get my head straight. I selected a table near the back, tucked into a corner for privacy, and waited. Sure enough, five minutes later, Monica sat down across from me, setting my boat-sized coffee on the table, along with two almond scones, one for her and one for me. “Those just came out of the oven,” she noted, breaking off a piece of hers and popping it into her mouth.
The sugary smell hit me in the face, and suddenly the idea of food didn’t seem so bad. Lifting the crumbly pastry, I bit off the edge and let out a delighted hum before washing it down with coffee.
“Thanks,” I said around a second bite. “I needed that.”
She raised her brows, her eyes dancing. “You want to tell me what has you all huffy today? You stormed in with this sour look on your face like someone had just stolen your parking spot and you were contemplating murder.”
I took another drink to stall for a bit so I could build my courage. When that didn’t work, I decided the best thing to do was just spit it out. I could trust her to keep it quiet. Gossip might have thrived in Whitecap, but friendship trumped the grapevine every day of the week. Unless I said otherwise, she’d keep this to herself.
“I had sex with Nate again. A lot of sex.”
She proceeded to choke on the bite of scone she’d just taken. I waited patiently as she coughed and hacked before finally pulling in a full breath and wiping tears from her eyes. “You mean to tell me you went back for seconds? You. You?”
I nodded gravely. “And thirds. And fourths and fifths.”
“Wow, that’s just... Give me a second to wrap my head around this.”
I waited again, nervously chewing on my thumbnail as the wheels in Monica’s head spun.
Finally, after enough time to make me sweat, she asked, “How was it?”
I dropped my head on the table with a groan. I wasn’t sure there was a word in the English language that could adequately describe how it was, but I had to give her something. “It was extraordinary,” I confessed. “I mean, I remembered it being good the first time, but I’d almost convinced myself I’d built it up in my mind to be better than it actually was, you know?”
“Ah, yes. I’ve done that in the past. Not with Sam, but with other exes. And when I went back for that ill-advised nostalgia bang, I’d been sorely disappointed.”
“Exactly! Well, I didn’t build Nate’s skill up in my mind. If anything, my memory was downplayed because it was so damn good my brain could not compute.”
She cocked her brows in question. “Then I don’t get it. If it was so great, shouldn’t you be in a good mood?”
“It’s sexual frustration,” I grumbled around the rim of my coffee cup. “Which shouldn’t be happening yet since I had more sex than most humans can tolerate over the weekend. My tank is topped off and then some.”
Monica nearly spit out the drink of tea she’d just taken. “Wow, babe. That’s colorful.”
“You know what I mean,” I mumbled. “Anyway, he tried to kiss me in the office this morning, and when I put a stop to it, he got all pouty and grumpy.”
“Wait.” Monica held her hand up to stop me. “I don’t understand. If the sex is as good as you claimed, why would you stop him?”
“Because we were at work,” I insisted vehemently. “There have to be rules. This isn’t a relationship, it’s just sex. We can’t just hook up at work whenever the hell we want or it’ll start to complicate things.”