“But there’s a catch.” I wait for her to finish expressing all her frustration with glares and eye rolls. “You need to give me your number, and you can’t ghost or block me for a month.”
“I knew you were going to pull this shit.”
“For clothes, food and a shower, a month is all I ask.” I stop then bury my lips onto her neck, tickling her, “Or I can steal your David Bowie dog underwear.”
She glowers at me, “I can’t do a month.” She tries to shove me off her, but I go no bones and crush her. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
“You’re choice, Adams.”
She huffs, “It’s King.”
“Huh?”
“Alana King. Not Kinsley Adams, ok?” Wow, she had the balls to make fun of my new name, and yet she used her middle name. Talk about a lack of creativity.
“Two weeks,” she says annoyed. “I can give you two weeks.”
“Deal.” I roll off her to grab my phone. Begrudgingly, she snatches it out of my hand and types in her number. She grumbles something I can’t hear under her breath, maybe even in another language. Then kisses me on the cheek before leaving the bed. I lay there until I hear the shower going and then check the app for our food and clothes. It’s in the hotel, awesome. My phone rings. Maybe it’s Alana asking me to join her in the shower.
“Why the hell didn’t you check in this morning?” Darren yells. I pull the speaker away from my ear and walk into the living room.
“I’m at a hotel. I didn’t get The Knights of the Night script, but I got something way better.”
“A lightsaber?”
“No, a very special date.”
“Shit. You never do one-night stands.” The panic in his voice is almost palpable. “Stay there. I’ll get you an NDA and a new SIM card.” He’s right, I don’t do one-night stands or random hook ups, and I have a huge stack of blank NDAs at home. For a millisecond I think maybe I should have her fill one out. But she’s had enough ammo for years to ruin me, and she hasn’t.
“No.” I whisper into the phone. “I found her. Pen Girl. My high school girlfriend.”
“Wait, Pen Girl is the high school girlfriend?”
I nicknamed Alana Pen Girl a while ago. Back when we were dating, she had a rider added into my contracts—for every week I was on the top 200 chart, I would get a box of pens. Long story short, I’ve been getting a pallet of pens dropped off at my house in L.A. for years.
Pen Girl, because her name hurt too much to say.
“Yeah, she’s taking a shower, so please don’t show up and make it weird. Give me an hour.”
He hesitates, then groans, “Fine. But you need to stay in the hotel until I get there. Do you need clothes?” My suit pants are in a pile next to the couch, not exactly my typical attire but I’m more concerned about her than me.
“Yes please,” I say, feeling like a kid asking someone to get the cookies off the top shelf of the pantry. Darren huffs and says, “Stay there. I’ll give you an hour, and then you’re telling me everything!”
The shower turns off, and I tell him I need to go. As soon as I hang up there’s a knock at the door. Her breakfast and clothes, perfect. She comes out with damp hair and a terry cloth bathrobe hugging her body. Her skin was still pink from the hot water. She looks at the table and back at me.
“There’s only one meal.”
“It’s for you.”
“You’re not eating?”
I flash her a grin. “Oh, I’m gonna eat, but I want you to be the only thing I taste all morning.”
She side-eyes me and pushes her hair over her shoulder. “I’ve got a friend whose husband goes down on her whenever she eats cake.” Well, that wasn’t my plan, but I can pivot.
She sits on the edge of the couch and sips her coffee. The plate of French toast and berries is still warm, but she reaches for the chocolate donut because that’s always been her go to. I, however, sink to the floor, spreading her legs wide and flipping the bathrobe open. I press gentle kisses on her thigh while she eats. The smell of her mixing with breakfast is glorious. When I reach her center and give her one exploratory lick, she shudders.
“I’m not drinking my coffee while that’s going on, don’t want to burn you.”