- Margot -
y body felt light and airy on the way home, as if Landon’s touch had turned me into Marshmallow Fluff from head to toe, and as soon as I floated in the door, I ate every cheesy bite of his pasta bake, marveling at how deliciously flavorful it was.
Yet despite how impressive his culinary skills were, they didn’t come close to his carnal competencies. Never in my life had I felt so possessed by someone’s touch. He made me feel so sexy I completely forgot that he knew what a freckle-faced nerd I was growing up.
In his arms, I was all woman, and my mind spun with questions about how far I might’ve gone to prove it to him if that knock hadn’t come.
Would he have gone all the way with me? Just like that? Could I have found myself in a panting, naked heap on his kitchen floor, having finally felt him inside me the way I’d ached for since I was a teenager?
I mean, he was already inside me. His voice, his friendship, his childhood memories. I’d internalized so much of him as it was.
But the physical piece was missing, and its absence was tangible.
However, just because I wouldn’t have said no to him didn’t mean I was ready to go there. Not tonight. Not without warning. After all, I wanted everything to be perfect when—if—that happened. That way, I could savor every moment…instead of being distracted by my lack of preparatory grooming, for example.
Not that I’d be thinking clearly in that situation regardless.
Even when I was leaving his apartment after that kiss, I felt like I’d been spinning with my eyes closed and then set free. My vision was blurred, my legs were unsteady, and I felt on the verge of falling for ages, a sensation that filled me with a mess of butterflies and trepidation. A sensation I couldn’t tell if I liked.
Of course, I couldn’t investigate it further. Not only would it mean risking my job—and his—but it would seriously rock our family dynamic. I mean, as far as Matt and my parents were concerned, Landon was blood. He’d practically lived at our house growing up. He’d vacationed with us in the summer. All of that could be called into question if we became…
Which is why I wasn’t completely disappointed by Christophe’s untimely arrival. If anything, it was good for me to have a chance to breathe and think things through. Because while it was one thing to habitually want Landon with every fiber of my being, it was quite another to discover he might actually want to undress me and pull my hair.
Or ask me to stay the night.
I rolled onto my side and fluffed my pillow beneath my head. What was it that Christophe had said? That Landon was super picky about women? If that were true, it would go some way towards explaining why I’d never met a girlfriend of his, though for years I’d assumed it was because he preferred promiscuity.
Then again, sleeping around doesn’t mean someone is easy to please. All it means is that they enjoy sex, which isn’t something I’d hold against anyone.
That being said, I knew better than to think we could be friends with benefits. We’d known each other too long, too well. It was impossible to imagine him fucking me and not calling. He might do that to other girls, but surely he wouldn’t do that to me, right?
I threw the covers off and stood up, suddenly aware that I was never going to fall asleep with so many thoughts tickling my mind like fuzzy caterpillars. I needed a distraction, something to help me get outside myself. I pulled some jeans and a sweatshirt on, grabbed my phone, and headed out into the night.
It was thrilling for a relatively sheltered girl like me to walk through sketchy alleys in New York City, and by the time I reached the homeless shelter around the corner, my adrenaline was running so high that kissing Landon was a million miles from my mind.
The large cafeteria space at the front of the building was warm and smelled like chicken noodle soup. I was careful not to stare at any of the diners as I made my way towards the volunteers behind the counter.
“Hi,” I said to no one in particular. “I was wondering if you could use an extra pair of hands?” I pulled them from my pockets and lifted them up with a shrug.
A woman in a purple hairnet smiled. “We’re almost done serving food for the night,” she said. “But we can always use help with the washing up.”
I raised my eyebrows and awaited further instruction.
“Grab that container there,” she said, nodding to a plastic tub full of dirty plates. “And take it in the back.” She pointed a gloved hand towards a door at the end of the counter. “Ask for Ella. She’ll get you sorted.”
I rolled my sleeves up, hoisted the heavy tub off the counter, and headed towards the open door. As soon as I walked in the kitchen, a pretty woman in a red apron approached me. She had the loveliest shade of brown hair I’d ever seen, and I couldn’t be sure, but the slight bulge in her belly made me think she might be pregnant.
“Hi,” she said, gesturing for me to put the tub down on one of the silver sink tops. “I’m Ella.”
“Margot,” I said. “I thought I’d come help out for a bit, if I can be of some use.”
“Of course. Can I ask how you heard about the place?”
“I just moved in around the corner. My roommate told me about it.”
“Oh great,” she said. “Who’s your roommate?”
“Izzy Jennings?”
Ella smiled. “Lucky you.”
“What can I do to help?” I asked.
“Just give these a scrub,” she said, patting the edge of the tub I’d carried. “Then set the plates on the drying racks over here. Bowls go on the left.”
“Sure thing.”
She pulled a pair of yellow gloves from her back pocket and handed them to me. “If you don’t mind me asking, what brings a young woman like you to a place like this on a Friday night?”
Something about her doe eyes made me feel like I’d known her forever. “I just needed to get out of my own head for a while.”
“Well, this is the perfect place for it,” she said, laying a manicured hand on my shoulder. “But if you’re in real trouble, you can talk to me. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
“Thanks,” I said, slipping the gloves on. “But it’s nothing like that. I just can’t sleep.”
She squinted at me. “Because…?”
I pressed my lips together, took a deep breath, and sighed. “I think I might be in love with my brother’s best friend.”
Her expression softened. “I see.”
“And we just started working together, so he’s more off limits than ever.”
“You never know.” A sly smile graced her face. “Sometimes office romances work out.”
I grabbed a plate, faced the sink, and reached for the oversized faucet. “I don’t know.”
“Trust me,” she said. “Stranger things have happened.”