Juno is no longer a tiny child.
Which means when we pull up outside Jess and River’s house, and both girls are passed out like sacks of flour in the back seat, there is no way I can carry Juno to the doorstep.
Truthfully, I’m not even sure I could get myself to the door right now. Not to toot my own horn, but I’ve written sexual tension that could peel wallpaper, and none of it comes close to the last twenty minutes in the car with Connor.
“I’ve got her.” Connor ducks around me, bending to unbuckle Juno’s seat belt.
His thighs flex beneath his jeans and his shoulders strain against the soft cotton of his new T-shirt as he easily lifts the floppy kid from his back seat. “I really don’t think my ovaries can take any more,” I mumble.
He turns, adjusting her weight over his shoulder. “What’s that?”
I cough delicately into a fist. “Clear night, don’t think there’s rain in store.”
Connor looks skeptical, but seems to trust that if I’m filtering myself, it’s probably a good thing. He turns and heads up when I gesture that he should lead the way.
The door opens as we approach. Jess stands in the frame, backlit by a warm, golden glow, and seems to entirely miss the mental flare gun I repeatedly fire into the air. River comes up behind her, reaching to take Juno from Connor, who murmurs a soft “Got her?” as he passes her off.
My heart launches itself out a tenth-story window.
The little girl reveals her level of consciousness by snaking her arms around her dad’s neck and mumbling, “Thank you, Mr. Prince.”
I get it together enough to frown in feigned offense. “Hey, what about me? Ticket hookup, hello?”
Her response is a sleepy grunt as she’s carried down the hall to her room.
With Juno situated and Stevie asleep in the back seat, Connor jogs down a couple of front steps, and then looks back at me expectantly. “Ready?”
I start to follow, propelled like there’s a silken rope connecting us, but hesitate. I think about the warmth of the car and the soothing mood of the music. I think about Connor’s big hands wrapped around the steering wheel, gripping it like it was a vine tethering him to the top of a cliff. I think about his forearms that are corded with veins and muscle, and how when he’s two steps below me we’re finally at eye level. I think about how his eyes lit up with joy tonight watching his daughter in her element, and I think about how his shoulders felt beneath my legs earlier when he lifted me. I think about the defeated growl of his My new best friend and I think about being in the front seat beside him for one second longer and I’m not sure I can do it. I am but a mortal woman after all, and once again I want Connor Prince III to crush me beneath him like a delicate flower under a fallen tree.
But sexily.
“I think I’ll crash here tonight,” I tell him.
“It’s not out of my way,” he assures me. “Really.”
“It’s not that.”
His eyes narrow. He gets it: I am very specifically not going with him because it’s not the kind of ride I want him to offer.
Instead, I am going to go inside and tell my best friend all about this suffocating chemistry between us.
“If you’re sure…” he says, smirking.
“Oh,” I say, “I’m sure.”
With the smirk still in his eyes, he says good night to Jess and then jogs his hot body back down the front steps.
We watch him, rapt, like it’s the final few moments of Squid Game, and then I exhale fifteen metric tons of air from my lungs. “Jesus.”
“You’re doomed.”
I follow her inside, kicking off my shoes. “I am not doomed. I’m awakened. I’m revitalized.”
“Sure.”
“Jessica, hear my words: Connor is a catalyst. A spark. An amuse-bouche for the libido. Aren’t you glad? I’ve been an emotional robot. That doesn’t make for interesting television.”
Jess collapses on the couch. “Do you remember when I fake-dated River?”
“Of course I remember. Every time he walked into Twiggs you looked like you were going to eat his face.”
“And still, I swore I wasn’t into him.”
I see where this is going, but I disagree with the parallel. “Yes, but you were delusional. You were already halfway in love with him.”
“Like you right now with Connor.”
“Absolutely not,” I reply. “You were falling for River. I just want to ride the hot producer’s dick.”
Having just entered the room to join us, River makes a quick U-turn at this, disappearing back into the hall. “Good night,” he calls.
“Come back! I value your opinion!” The only response I get is the sound of his footsteps echoing away. I grin over at Jess. “Whoops.”
She shakes her head in exasperation. “Why do you always insist everything is just casual sex?”
“Because my last relationship was with a dirtbag, and for the past three years I’d rather eat a literal bag of dirt than risk breaking up someone’s marriage again?”
“You say it like you’re joking, but it’s true. Rob was a dirtbag. He was the monster. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
It is true. I know it, intellectually, even if it took all this time to really feel the truth of it in my gut. I’m finally over the fatal sting of his duplicity (even if there will always be a fiery asterisk beside his name). I sit down beside her on the sofa. “I know.”
“Not every guy is a Rob.”
“Well, I certainly hope so, because I’m supposed to be optimistic that my soulmate will appear beside me on camera soon.”
She stands, crossing the room to the ornate bar cart and pouring us each a small glass of whiskey. “So you’re confident that Connor’s team has done a good job casting?”
“Seems like it.” I take the tumbler with a smile and sip, letting the heat trail down my throat and settle gently in my stomach. “I get the sense that he’s been very, very picky.”
“That’s good.” She swirls her drink. “He seems like a thoughtful guy.” A long, quiet pause. “I wonder how this is for him. I got the sense tonight that maybe he’s into you, too.”
“I mean, I think he’s attracted to me.” I tilt the glass, letting the light catch the amber liquid. “He admitted earlier that he didn’t turn me down because he wasn’t interested.”
“Of course not, look at you.”
“Now that I’m in Connor-free air and can think clearly again, I sort of wish I didn’t know, though,” I admit. “Knowing he’s attracted to me, too, has made me into a demon. I want what’s in his pants.”
She shakes her head at me. “Focus on the show. When does filming start?”
“Five weeks.”
“And did you settle on a schedule?”
Nodding, I take another sip of my drink before answering. “He sent it over this morning to see if I had any notes. The first week is coffee dates. We all do testimonials about how it went, then the show airs and the audience votes to eliminate two based on who they think I vibed with most, and so on. The final two contestants will meet my family. I’m pretending that part isn’t happening.” Jess makes a sympathetic good luck with that face. “After that is the finale, where we find out if the audience picked my soulmate as predicted by DNADuo. The winner of the audience vote gets $100,000, and then I get to choose who goes with me on a trip to Fiji. So yay.”
“Funny, that doesn’t sound like excitement I’m hearing.”
I dig around in my head and my gut, searching for a convincing reply. “Sure, I’m excited.”
“Fizzy, this is such a cool thing you get to do! You get to have eight romance heroes compete for your heart!”
“I know,” I whine. “But Connor’s thighs could crush me like a grape. I want that, just once before I meet a different kind of prince.” Jess laughs as I lean my head back against the couch, sighing. “I swear, I just need to get him out of my system.”
“That is literally your least favorite romance trope.”
Lifting my head again, I lament, “Yes, but who knew it was a real thing!”
“No one!” she yells back. “Because it isn’t!” She throws up her hands. “Okay, seriously. No more of these dates with him.”
“They aren’t dates,” I argue. “They’re joy excursions.”
“Fizzy. Be serious.”
“What! I am being serious! He does ocean conservation documentaries. I wanted him to know this audience.”
“Do you feel like he does now?”
A shiver spreads through me, warm but still unsettling. “He does, and watching him not only open his eyes to this side of the industry but also enjoy it has been… I mean, it’s been really nice. It isn’t just that he’s hot. I like being around him. He’s fun. He’s funny. And maybe my favorite thing of all is how he isn’t cowed by my shit. I daresay he might like it.”
Gross. Feelings.
“That’s important for a producer, too,” Jess says.
Groaning, I fall sideways into the couch beside her. “If he would just fuck me, I’d be over this already.”
Jess runs her fingers into my hair, scratching gently. “Actually, I don’t think you would.”
