“We made dinner together last night.”
“Sounds romantic. Like a first date?”
“No. Like roommates cooking together. Although we kind of had a moment while we were beating some chicken.”
“Is that a euphemism?”
I giggled. “No. I was pounding out some chicken for chicken marsala, and he came up right behind me and grabbed my hand in his and showed me how to hit the chicken properly.”
“Jesus. I’m horny just thinking about that body right up against mine.”
“Right? Then his voice was all low and throaty and right against my ear. He backed off a second later, but I kept replaying that moment.”
She sighed.
“And then I got wine drunk and told him he was hot.”
“Fucking wine.”
“I know. I was mortified.”
She shrugged. “He has to know he’s gorgeous.”
“Doubt it. He’s so humble that I really don’t think he realizes how great he is.”
“Someone’s smitten.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Someone is. But he’s being a good friend and I’m not going to ruin that. Besides, I already told you, I can’t just hop to the next bed. I haven’t even filed my divorce paperwork yet.”
“Details, details. So how’d he react when you told him he was hot?”
I blushed. Damn red cheeks always gave me away.
“Spill it, sister. What happened?”
“Nothing.” I glanced away.
“Your tomato face says otherwise.”
“Fine. So I told him he was a catch. I told him he’s a good cook, he works with kids, and he’s hot as hell.”
“Hot as hell?”
“Shut up.”
“Accurate,” she nodded, taking a sip of her tea.
I nodded. “Well, that turned into another moment.”
Her eyes widened. “Go on,” she said, dragging out the word “on.”
“He told me that I was a catch, too, and then he said that I was beautiful.”
Quinn squealed. Literally. Again. Her reaction was so high pitched that I’m pretty sure she woke a few sleeping dogs in the next town over.
“How’d he say it? Exact words.”
“He said, and I quote, ‘You’re so goddamn beautiful that sometimes it hurts to look at you and know that I can’t have you.’”
Her eyes widened. “Holy hell that’s hot.”
“Tell me about it,” I said dreamily. And then I snapped back to reality. “But it had to just be the wine talking.”
“Only you would find a way to deny that he wants you after what you just told me he said.”
I shrugged. “He doesn’t want me, Quinn. We both know that he’s not the relationship type.”
“So what? Who says you need to get into a relationship? He said that it hurts to look at you and know he can’t have you. So what’s stopping him from having you now that you’ve left Richard?”
“Me, for one.”
“Why?”
I looked away. Why was certainly the question of the hour. “Because I just can’t. I don’t feel right starting something with someone when I’m still married. And besides, there’s Carly and Allison.”
“Who the fuck are Carly and Allison?”
Shit. Me and my big fucking mouth.
I hadn’t meant to say anything about Allison, but there it was, out in the open.
“Carly is some girl that called him awhile ago and he ran out the door to see her. And I’m not sure who Allison is. I just know there’s an Allison.”
“How?”
I glanced at her. I knew how this was going to go over. Her number one turn on besides facial scruff was tattoos. “He has a tattoo.”
“Oh my fuck.”
“But it’s a tattoo of another woman’s name,” I protested.
“So what? I’ve seen it before. Tats are permanent and sometimes it’s just more work to get them removed than it’s worth. He can easily turn Allison into Veronica.”
I laughed. Quinn really was something else. “How?” I finally challenged.
She pulled out a sheet of paper and handed me a pen. “Write out ‘Allison’ how it looks on his tat.”
I did as instructed, trying to copy it down from memory. I passed the paper back to her and she stared at it for a moment, and then with a magical sweep of her pen, suddenly “Allison” became “Veronica.”
She held it up and presented her artwork to me. “See? It’s perf.”
I giggled. “I taught Jesse ‘perf,’ by the way.”
“He’s going to be talking like us in no time,” she said.
“Totes,” I agreed, using our abbreviated version of “totally.” She laughed. “Enough about me,” I said. “Tell me about Caleb.”