When Margot frowned at her wrist, unable to knot the ends of the bracelet together with one hand, Olivia reached out to do it for her.
“It’s like, I don’t care about you less because I don’t want in your pants, you know?” Margot paused and lifted her eyes, a low creak escaping her parted lips. “General you. Not you specifically. Not that I’m not saying . . .” She turned her head to the side and chuckled. “Wow, I’m going to shut up.”
Olivia bit her lip, smothering her smile at how flustered Margot sounded. Whether Margot had wanted in Olivia’s pants had never been the question. Or it had been, but only until it had been answered. It wasn’t the prevailing question now. “I know what you were trying to say.”
“Do you?” Margot laughed, a flush creeping down her neck and disappearing where her slouchy crewneck sweater draped beneath her collarbones. “Because I think I got lost somewhere in there.”
Olivia finished tying the bracelet, but let her fingers linger, adjusting the way the braided rope and beads sat. Olivia’s thumb grazed the fragile skin over the inside of Margot’s wrist, making her shiver, and Olivia could’ve sworn she felt Margot’s pulse skip. “You value your friendships. It’s—it was always one of my favorite things about you.”
Margot’s throat jerked. “Yeah?”
Olivia nodded and went for broke. “I feel like a dork, but no one really teaches you how to make friends as an adult. Would you . . . maybe want to be friends? Again?” She laughed. “God, I feel like I should write this down on a piece of paper. Check yes or no.”
Margot rolled her lips together. “I don’t know.”
Olivia’s heart stalled, then sank.
“It’s not like we aren’t living together. I mean, hell, you’ve gotten acquainted with my, uh, my sex toy collection. I have some friends who can’t say the same.” Margot’s lips quirked and, whew, okay, joking. Relief flooded Olivia’s veins.
She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead and laughed. “This is true. Although”—her lips twitched—“acquainted is kind of an overstatement.”
And if they were going to discuss qualifiers of intimacy, there was the fact they’d slept together.
Margot’s teeth scraped against the swell of her bottom lip, her brows rising. Her flush had yet to fade. If anything, it had deepened, turning her dark pink from her hairline all the way down to where her soft-looking sweater met equally soft-looking skin. “Fair. I guess collection might be a bit of an overstatement, too.” The front of her throat jerked when she swallowed. “You’ve only seen one.”
God. Okay. It wasn’t like that was an invitation. Even if Olivia wished it were—no. She had no business going there, down that path. She’d been down it before, and look where it had gotten her. She’d literally just thought about how she’d regretted the complicated aftermath of their coupling, the consequences. “True.”
Margot smiled, all dark eyes and flushed cheeks, and Olivia tried to ignore the throb between her thighs, how everything south of her navel was suddenly hot and ached.
“So.” Olivia blinked hard and pasted on a cheery smile. “Friends?”
“Sure.” The left corner of Margot’s mouth tipped up in a smirk, erasing Olivia’s efforts at ignoring the ache between her legs. “Friends.”
Chapter Eight
What Wedding Cake Flavor Are You Based on Your Zodiac Sign?
Aries—Peanut Butter Cup
Taurus—Dulce de Leche
Gemini—Marble
Cancer—Lemon Poppyseed
Leo—Red Velvet
Virgo—French Vanilla Bean
Libra—Pink Champagne
Scorpio—Coffee Cream
Sagittarius—Tiramisu
Capricorn—Carrot Cake
Aquarius—Coconut
Pisces—Funfetti
The Sweet Spot, a perfectly innocent bakery with a very naughty name—or maybe Margot just had a dirty mind—usually closed at six, but had been willing to accommodate Brendon and Annie’s schedules, staying open late for their cake tasting.
A sampling of petit fours had been presented on pedestal stands, five of each of the six flavors Brendon and Annie had selected for tasting, flavors ranging from a traditional vanilla to lavender honey. Margot picked at the ultra-thick, sugary-sweet fondant covering a coconut—gag—mini cake and stared surreptitiously across the table while Olivia went to town on her pink champagne petit four.
A fleck of edible gold leaf clung to the center of Olivia’s bottom lip. Her tongue darted out, only managing to nudge the shiny fleck closer to the corner of her mouth. Olivia either thought it was gone or hadn’t realized it was there in the first place, because she scooped up another forkful of cake, bringing it to her lips. Her mouth closed around the fork, and her lashes fluttered softly against the smooth skin beneath her eyes. The tines of her fork made a gradual reappearance and a soft hum of contentment slipped from her lips as she chewed slowly, savoring the bite. Eyes open but lids low, Olivia lifted the fork back to her lips, lapping at the frosting that clung to the space between the tines.