Groaning, I pretend to throw my laptop across my living room before gently setting it down on the couch next to me. I’m trying to work, but I’ve reread the same paragraph four times now, and I still can’t tell if it’s a run-on sentence, incorrect use of a semicolon, or written in Klingon. Ugh! Last night with Jackson has officially fried my mind. What’s left of my brain has crawled out of my head, down my spine, and is currently residing somewhere near my ovaries.
I don’t even know how I managed to walk out of his building last night, let alone find my way home and put myself to bed. Scratch that, I know exactly how I put myself to bed last night. Let’s just say it involved a lot of memory recall and I woke up with my sleep shorts on the floor. That beast of a man is totally screwing with my sanity. Which is why I am now sitting here having absolutely zero luck concentrating.
I haven’t talked, texted, messaged, or whatever, with Jackson today. He most definitely “made his intentions clear” last night, so I’m at least pretty sure that we’re dating now. Fairly sure. I mean, I know he wants me. He didn’t come out with a sheet of paper and a Do you want to be my girlfriend check Yes or No note. But he did climb on top of me, pressing his hard everything against my everything, so… yeah, still no idea what we are.
What I do know is that I need more coffee. It’s past lunchtime, but coffee is my drug of choice, day or night. If anything can help to sharpen my focus, it’s the sweet nectar of the caffeine gods. Deciding this calls for the big guns, I take out my French press and start the process.
I’m tapping my foot, waiting for the grinds to soak, when my phone rings. Glancing at the screen before answering, I grin.
“Hey, Izzy! How’s it going?”
“Hey! It’s going great! How was the rest of your evening?”
“Oh, uh, good. Yep, it was good.” I sound like an idiot.
There’s a beat of silence before I hear Izzy giggling on her end of the line. “Oh, it was good, was it?” she asks.
“Okay, not like that! I mean it was good, but I left just a few minutes after you guys.”
“Oh really?” Izzy sounds genuinely sad, which is sweet since just yesterday she was still hoping for a chance to date Jackson herself.
“Yeah, well with the early meeting they were having this morning we had to call it a night.”
Izzy hums a little. “I feel like you’re leaving something out… but maybe you can tell me over dinner Thursday evening? I talked to Daddy and he got us some great seats for the home game Friday night. I thought it might be nice if we could do dinner the night before, so I can meet your friend Meghan. That is, if she’s even interested.” Her tone turns uncertain. “She seriously can say no; I’ll totally understand. And she can of course come to the game even if she doesn’t want to help me with this business stuff.”
“Okay, hold up, Iz,” I interrupt her. “She’s totally in, so quit your rambling. I texted her already and gave her the super high-level overview. But she’s all about women owning their own businesses, so she’s jacked about helping you get set up.”
Izzy lets out a relieved sigh at this news. “Oh, thank god. I know we just talked about this last night, but I’m so excited already! Having someone point me in the right direction is going to be such a big help.”
“Just don’t praise her too much. That shit will go right to her head.”
“Deal,” Izzy replies with a laugh.
“Should I see if Steph is available for dinner, too?” I ask
“Yes, please!”
“Perfect. I’ll start a group text when we hang up and then we can figure out a central location to meet.”
“Thanks, Katelyn. I know we just met, but I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me already. I owe you.”
“Oh hush, it’s what friends do. Plus you’re totally getting us all seats for the game. And I’m positive I don’t want to know how much those tickets cost.”
“Well, that’s the perk of knowing a guy, I guess. Okay, I’ll hang up now so you can start the group text. Bye, Katelyn!”
As it turns out, everyone’s open for dinner Thursday, and we settle on meeting at the Mall of America. This should work out great, since I’d like to pick up some more Sleet clothing to surprise Jackson with, anyway. Obviously, I love the jersey he gave me, but if this thing with us is going to last for at least a few more games, I’d like to have some outfit options.
I’ve finally gotten myself settled back on the couch, laptop on my lap, cup of now nearly-too-cool coffee on the side table, when my phone chirps with a text. Resigned to the distraction, I pick up my phone, only to have my heart rate spike when I see it’s from Jackson.
Jackson: Kitten, I find that you have been very distracting today.
Melt.
I was hoping that he was at least partially as frazzled as I’ve been after last night, so this is a good sign.
Me: Is that so? I can’t possibly think of why.
Jackson: Do you need a reminder?
Me: Oh, I think I know exactly what you’re talking about. That sushi last night was to die for. I’m still thinking about it today too!
Jackson: Kitten, don’t make me come over there and drag you around by your feet. Again.
Damn. Is it hot in here? I feel like it’s hot in here. I should check to make sure that my thermostat is working.
Me: It’s coming back to me now. I do recall a declaration or two. But I’ll be honest, I’m not sure I heard much after that ear bite.
Jackson: Let’s call it a nibble. Saying I bit your ear sounds a little too Mike Tyson. (He’s from a different sport, FYI.)
Me: Wait, what? You’re not a boxer? Guess I’ll just call this whole thing off now. We had a good run.
Jackson: You’re lucky that you aren’t here with me. That comment would get you a smack on that fine ass of yours.
Me: Oh really? Then I’ll make sure to repeat it next time I see you.
Did I really just say that?!
Jackson: Fucking hell, Kitten. If I wasn’t about to get on a plane, I’d be at your door already.
Me: That’s right, you’re heading to Canada, eh? Get everything squared away this morning?
Jackson: Yes and Yes. (Or I should say Yeah sure, Yeah sure.) The game is tomorrow night.
Just knowing that he’ll be out of town makes me feel a little sad.
Me: I hope you don’t mind, I just talked to Izzy and she has tickets for us to attend your Friday game at home.
Jackson: Damn right I don’t mind. I need my Kitten cheering me on and purring when I score.
Jackson: Wink, wink.
Me: I don’t know if I should laugh or groan at that one.
Jackson: No groaning, sweet Kitten. Only moaning for you. (Like you did when I bit your ear.)
Me: Nibbled. And this is exactly why I haven’t gotten any work done today.
Jackson: I knew it! You tried to play it all cool, but – see? You’ve even distracted yourself.
Me: Yep, it’s all me. All my fault.
Jackson: Okay, I gotta go. Time to take off.
Me: Safe travels!
Jackson: Watch my game tomorrow?
Me: Of course.
Setting my phone down, I realize that my cheeks hurt. Touching my face, I don’t know why I’m surprised to find it stuck in the biggest grin ever. I’m glad Jackson can’t see me right now. I’m sure I look like such a dummy. But I can’t help it. He’s so sweet. And funny. And hot. And he uses proper grammar when he texts!
Okay, I need to snap out of it. Jackson’s on a plane, and I have work to do.
Distractedly taking a sip of coffee, I grimace. It’s now completely cold. Damn it.
