She stopped at the door and dug inside her bag for her keys. She was sure as hell sobered up now. “We’ve got Astrid’s wedding brunch in the morning at ten, so I need Ruby home by nine.”
“God, Astrid’s getting married?” Josh said, stopping with her at the door and leaning against the wall.
She flicked her eyes up to him. “I told you she was.”
He nodded, even though she knew he didn’t remember. “Poor guy.”
“Oh stop,” she said, but cracked a smile. Josh had grown up with all of them in school, so he knew Astrid was a lot. Particular, high-maintenance, wound tighter than even Claire, but poor guy wasn’t even nearly accurate in this situation. More like poor Astrid.
“When’s the wedding?” Josh asked.
“Two weeks.”
“Am I invited?” he asked, grinning.
“I wouldn’t count on it,” she said as she opened the door. He held it for her, his arm over her head, and she got a whiff of his familiar scent—clean laundry and mint from his aftershave. Even with all that makeup on his face, her knees went wobbly, just for a second. She’d loved this man once upon a time. He was her first kiss with a guy, first time with a guy, first relationship with anyone. She’d made out with Kara Burkes her junior year in high school, at a Halloween bonfire not long after she came out, but she’d never dated anyone seriously until Josh.
He leaned closer to her, his smell wafting over her even stronger. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she knew she had to get out of here now. She’d made this mistake too many times, sleeping with him on one of his trips back, the emotion and stress of having him reappear in their lives and what it might mean gathering like a storm until it broke and they tumbled into bed together. Not even Iris knew about that. The last time was over two years ago, right before she started dating Nicole.
“Claire,” he said, stepping closer, his voice like butter. This was why she’d desperately needed to get someone’s number at Stella’s tonight. She squeezed her eyes closed, Delilah Green flashing in her mind. That had certainly backfired.
“Look, I’m sorry about tonight,” he went on. “I didn’t mean to make it worse.”
“Didn’t you?”
Hurt filled his eyes. “No. Come on.”
She sighed and fiddled with her keys. “I know. It’s just . . .”
“I get it. I’m unreliable. But not this time. I swear it.”
She looked up at him, all their history growing thick between them like life-choking vines. He reached out and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She almost leaned into him. It would’ve been so easy.
“I’ve got to go,” she said, backing away and then slipping out the door before she could do something stupid like kiss him. She knew it wouldn’t go further than that, not with Ruby in the apartment, but still. She didn’t need the complication. She didn’t want it either. She was just horny. That was all. She knew she didn’t love Josh, not like that. But her skin was hungry. Iris’s phone number quest had sufficiently riled her up.
Or maybe it wasn’t only the quest.
When she got back to the small Craftsman she’d scrimped and saved for years to make her own, her body still felt electric, plugged in. Once in bed, she slipped a hand between her legs, desperate to get rid of the ache so she could sleep. But when her fingers started moving, it wasn’t Josh she envisioned. It wasn’t even some nameless fantasy woman she made up in her head for times like these. No, this person had a riot of dark curls and sapphire-blue eyes, tattoos vining up her arms like snakes.
Chapter Five
WHEN DELILAH FIRST opened her eyes, she had no idea where she was.
Chintz.
Lots of chintz.
Huge pink flowers swallowing her whole in a sea of quilts and pillows. Even the wallpaper bloomed like a spring garden. It wasn’t an altogether rare occurrence for her to wake up in someone else’s bed, but it’s not like it happened every day either. And the women she usually spent the night with were not the type to drench their homes in floral patterns.
A headache swelled behind her eyes, her stomach roiling as she sat up. She vaguely remembered mixing bourbon and wine last night, which was how her mind wrapped back around to Stella’s Tavern and the Kaleidoscope Inn in Bright Falls.
Jesus.
She fell back on the pillows—which smelled faintly of gardenias or some other cloying flower—and rubbed her temples before checking her phone. Just after nine a.m. She still had plenty of time to get ready and be on time to snap banal black and whites of heteros nibbling petits fours at Astrid’s brunch.