“Tell me about que Sera, Sera.”
Liam groaned. Stirling was a damn bulldog. Hadn’t he told her enough about his past? “You want to talk about that now?”
Stirling gestured to where they sat on the floor of the newly remodeled extraction room as they waited for Phil, the company technician, to return from the hardware store. “It’s not like we’re doing anything else.”
“Do you have that condom I gave you?”
“On my person? No. And even if I did, we are not going to fuck on the dirty floor, during the workday when a dozen employees could walk in on us.”
“It was merely a suggestion.” He whispered, “The floor isn’t that dirty.”
She laughed. “You are ridiculous. But remind me again why you believed this would be a great lunch date?”
Liam crossed his boot over hers. “You don’t think staring at a broken valve is fun? There goes my next date night idea where we watch grow lights burn out.”
“Liam.”
“Sorry I’m punchy. It’s just… It’s Thursday. We’ve only seen each other in staff meetings or in passing since Monday.” Great. He sounded whiny. Or clingy. Or both.
“That’s because my brother is a sadistic fuckhead. Granting us the machine we’d begged for. Warning us that we’d be working closely together. Knowing full well that we’re not allowed to exist in the same space at High Society for more than five minutes before one of your people needs you or one of my people needs me. It’s a wonder we had time to prank each other at all the past ten months.”
“It’s very telling that we both prioritized it. I didn’t realize how infrequently I actually see you on a daily basis until I wanted to see you.”
Stirling rested her head on his shoulder. “That’s sweet. Now tell me about your relationship with Miz Duck Lips-Fake Tits.”
No more avoiding this discussion.
“You said you worked with her at GreenTech. Was she a fellow lab rat?”
“No. She couldn’t cut the master’s program at Cal Poly. That should’ve been my tipoff since I earned my master’s in agriculture there in eighteen months.”
“Of course you have a master’s in agriculture. I should’ve known a doctorate in microbiology wouldn’t be enough. Anyway, Sera worked in…?”
“Client relations. I never understood what that meant except she traveled extensively and her cell phone was surgically attached to her hand.”
“Did she recruit you?”
“No. Her father, Sid Greenley, CEO and founder of GreenTech, approached me. At the time I still worked for the company that hired me after I finished my doctorate and I was ready for a career change.”
“How long did you work there before you started slipping Sera the test tube?”
“Jesus, Stirling.” He laughed. This woman was absolutely unlike anyone he’d ever met. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so much. “I’d been languishing in the lab for a year and a half. Because like you”—he angled his position and kissed the crown of her head—“I killed myself to prove to the suits in charge I was worth the investment. GreenTech was heavily allied with big pharmaceuticals. Insert boring details about secondary research I came across regarding real cannabis and not the artificial compounds we manufactured. I co-opted the information and worked on it during my down time. Anyway, my nosy coworkers were more excited than jealous that I’d isolated a specific anandamide—the natural endocannabinoid that our bodies make—and one of them spilled the seeds to management. That’s when Sera took an interest in me.”
“And the interest was mutual?”
How much was he supposed to tell her about his former lover?
Stirling briefly lifted her head and said, “No editorializing.”
Everything, apparently. “Sera had fake tits and duck lips. How could I not be attracted to her?” he teased.
“Funny. Go on.”
“We started fucking. Now I see it for what it was. We were together when she wasn’t traveling. She was fascinated by my research—or so I believed, in my arrogance. I wanted to impress her. And I did because her father visited me in the lab and asked to see my research.”
“Now I get why you were so resistant to sharing your notes.”
Liam bypassed that comment. “Sid made that project my priority. So by the time I’d been employed there two and a half years, I’d successfully cloned plant S219 twenty times, achieving a strain that will manage pain for a variety of ailments.”
Stirling got in his face. “I don’t need a biological breakdown of your work, Dr. Argent. I want to know how you felt about Sera. Did your heart race whenever you saw her? Was she affectionate to you outside of the bedroom? Did you smoke together? Did you buy her flowers and jewelry? Did she take you on business trips? Did you treat her to candlelit dinners? Did you indulge in long, romantic walks on the beach? Did your friends hang out with you as a couple? Did you make plans for a future with her?” Her eyes searched his. “Did you love her?”
“I loved fucking her. But that stopped as soon she’d gotten what she wanted, which was the millions GreenTech got paid for S219. She dropped me so fast it was more comical than pathetic. One weekend I’m fucking her in her bed and she’s screaming how much she loves my cock. A week later she’s screaming at me to get out of her office and calling me a dick. So no, I didn’t love her. But it still stung my pride to know I’d been used and discarded.”
Stirling had slumped back against the wall.
He looked at her. “What?”
“Never mind.”
Liam turned Stirling’s face toward his. “You forced me to tell you this, so you’re not allowed to be pissy with me when you don’t like what you hear.”
“That’s the thing. I didn’t hear anything except that you fucked her and she fucked you over.”
He stroked that stubborn jawline. “In retrospect, that’s all it was. We never were together in public. She traveled extensively, so I understood that she preferred to spend her weekend at home. I might’ve bought her Starbucks once. But anything else? Not even dinner. And que Sera, Sera literally recoiled when I brought out my stash and she snottily announced that she didn’t smoke ‘dope.’”
“I kind of hate her.”
“Me too. Maybe she and Nick the Prick will cross paths someday. They deserve each other.” He swept his thumb across her lower lip. “We deserved better. I think we’ve found it.” He slanted his mouth over hers. At the first touch of his tongue to hers, euphoria similar to a cannabis high rushed through his body. The more times they were together the more right it felt. The more he wanted this feeling.
Liam tried to keep the kiss sweet and reassuring, not let the fact he hadn’t kissed her since Monday drive it into I-want-to-fuck-you mode. But the uncertainty of when they’d be alone together again increased their mutual hunger. Need wouldn’t be denied. Once the kiss caught fire, no fucking way was he putting it out.
No. Fucking. Way.
Stirling made the sexiest noises when his tongue was buried in her mouth. What noises would she make when his tongue was deep in her pussy, licking her from the inside out?
His cock was on board with that plan.
Even when they paused to take a breath, their lips weren’t far apart. And he really loved how quickly she’d adapted to kissing a guy with glasses.
“Liam.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Will you come with me to the family thing on Saturday night at the ranch?”
Being around all those men who literally wrestled stock for a living… He wondered what kind of reception he’d get. He’d met Stirling’s parents before, but not in this state. Where every day he fell deeper in like with their daughter. That thought forced him to cowboy up. “One question. Do I have to wear chaps? Because mine are at the cleaners.”
She laughed into his neck.
He really loved that.
“No chaps, boots, hats, or spurs. But I do request you wear those jeans you had on the night you cooked for me.”
Puzzled, he eased back to look at her. “Why?”
“Your ass looks fantastic in them, Dr. Booty.”
“Can I tell you a secret?” He whispered, “My ass looks even better out of them.”
Stirling gave him a smacking kiss on the mouth. “Soon.” Then she stood and brushed off her pants. “I have a million things to do. You do too. But we can communicate through texts and Snap—”
“The next syllable had better be ing…not chat,” he warned.
“What do you have against Snapchat?”
“Nothing. As long as I don’t have to use it.”
She rolled her eyes. “How old are you?”
“Old enough to say no to pointless endeavors.”
“Fine. I’ll text you.”
* * * *
By “text” Stirling had meant carrying on entire conversations. Bizarre discussions, which should’ve been no surprise to him.
Thursday night’s texts began with them sending each other funny memes.
Then they shared links to strange scientific discoveries.
That led to snippets of their favorite songs, to discussion of overrated movies, to images of places they’d been and places they’d hoped to go, to food and sports.
The last image she’d sent was a selfie of her in bed, making duck lips.
ME: This is not a come-on, but what are you wearing?
SG: Pajamas, perv.
ME: Seriously, what are those things on your bottoms?
SG: Excuse me?
ME: Your pajama bottoms have cartoons on them?
SG: Not cartoons, animated characters.
ME: Aka—cartoons.
SG: No, the animated character on these is Mulan from the movie Mulan and her pet dragon.
ME: Why do you have them?
SG: Because they’re comfy.
ME: Stirling. Seriously. That is not a legitimate answer.
SG: Why, Dr. Freud… Are you attempting to psychoanalyze my pajama selection? Like it was a happy time in my childhood and I’m trying to find a connection to that happy child as an adult?
ME: You give me far too much credit. I never think that deep on a personal level. Sorry. Where did you get them?
SG: Why? Do you want a pair?
ME: Hilarious. So an old boyfriend gave them to you?
SG: NO! There is no special significance. I got them on sale at the mall, okay? In fact, I have three other pairs of pajama pants with animated characters on them. Belle, from Beauty and the Beast, and Winnie the Pooh and Woody from Toy Story. Satisfied?
ME: Yes, but those are some crazy pants.
SG: LOL.
ME: That would be a great nickname for you. Crazy pants. It fits on so many levels.
SG: DON’T YOU DARE CALL ME CRAZY PANTS.
ME: I won’t. At least not to your face…
SG: LIAM
ME: Kidding. I can’t wait to peel those crazy pants off you, hot stuff. Is that better?
SG: Much. Kissy faces to you.
ME: Get some sleep.
Liam had toiled a full day on Friday, wondering if he ought to back out of attending Stirling’s sister’s party since he’d fallen behind. But Stirling would be upset if he bailed on her, so he’d suck it up and go because she acted like she needed him.
His cell phone buzzed with a text message. He pulled it out of his lab coat pocket and removed his silicone glove.
SG: Let’s pretend we just met through an online dating service.
ME: Why?
SG: Because I have questions, dumbass. And I didn’t think you’d want to spend our rare face-to-face time together filling out an “Are you compatible?” questionnaire.
ME: I’m with Artie in stage-two grow. There might be a lag time between answers.
SG: LIAR. You’re in your lab. I should know because I’m closing the store with Jumanji.
ME: Wrong. I was in the lab. I’ve been out back for two hours.
SG: Whatev. This is how it’ll work. I’ll type in the question. Then we’ll both have thirty seconds to answer.
ME: Got it.
SG: Q1 – Growing up did you have a pet? If yes, what?
ME: No
SG: That wasn’t 30 seconds Dr. Cheater!
ME: Fastest answer always wins.
SG: Not in this case. Competitive much?
Liam chuckled. “You have no idea.”
Artie stopped checking the flow numbers on the drip system. “Sorry?”
“Nothing. I was just…” Like a dumbass he pointed to his phone.
“Sexting with Stirling?” Artie supplied with a grin.
Don’t fucking blush. “What makes you think that?”
“You’re walking around smiling despite the fact we’re working sixteen-hour days and stage-one grow ended up a total loss.”
“And?”
“And no pranks this week from either of you.”
“Maybe because we’ve both been busy working sixteen-hour days?”
“Or maybe because you’ve been too busy kissing boss lady in the break room,” Artie said and puckered his lips, smacking out kissing noises.
Never mind the fact Liam blushed as red as the Scarlet Fever buds, what the fuck was wrong with Artie? A grown man—a grandfather, for Chrissake—making kissing noises?
“Don’t deny it. Lexa saw you two earlier today. She’s a gossip hound.”
“Everyone knows?”
He shrugged. “Everyone who worked today. For what it’s worth… I think it’s great you two are bouncing the bedsprings. Love is what makes life worth living, man.”
“Yesterday you said weed makes life worth living,” Liam pointed out.
Artie just grinned. “Keep sexting with your lady. I got this.”
Jesus.
ME: The jig is up
SG: …the news is out…
Liam laughed again. For fuck’s sake. He’d fallen right into that one.
ME: …they finally found us. Yes, I’m talking about our employees discovering that—
SG: You and I aren’t currently fucking? Not news, L. In fact, it’s OLD news.
ME: I’m serious. Lexa saw us in the break room today. See if she put a note up on the employee bulletin board because according to Artie, everybody knows.
He watched that “…” for what seemed like forever.
SG: Motherfuck! Jumanji knows about us. He just asked if I wanted to take home a bottle of Foria sensual cannabis oil. Fair warning: I will smoke cannabis and ingest it, but I WILL NOT RUB IT ON MY VAGINA. My vagina doesn’t need to relax. My vagina needs to be on edge, tight with anticipation, quivering…
Liam groaned and clicked off his screen. A man could only stand so much.
Artie said, “That good, huh?”
Do not explain to Artie that Stirling is not sending you pictures of her quivering vagina.
“Look, Artie—”
Liam’s phone buzzed in his hand.
“Better get that,” Artie said with a wink.
SG: Are you ignoring me?
ME: Yes. No more conversations about quivering body parts. I mean it.
SG: Great! We can finish our compatibility quiz.
ME: Why? What’s the point?
When the “…” stayed on his screen for far longer than a normal message took to type, he braced himself.
SG: What’s the POINT? The point is we need to get to know each other. Because we are not IN A REAL RELATIONSHIP until you know a few things about me and I know more about you. Personal things. Stupid things. Funny things. Sexy things. NORMAL things that a man and a woman who have worked together for TEN MONTHS should know about each other, and we don’t.
ME: Is this about us going to see your family tomorrow?
Shit. More of the “…” and somehow he knew he’d screwed up.
SG: Liam…honey…baby…sweetie… Do you want to have sex with me?
He was so fucked. He’d better make this answer world class. He’d even use a fucking emoji if he had to.
ME: More than I want to take my next breath.
Please answer fast he said to the “…” on the screen.
SG: THEN YOU WILL TAKE THIS MOTHERFUCKING QUIZ TO THE BITTER FUCKING END AND YOU WILL TELL ME SHIT ABOUT YOURSELF AND YOU WILL ACT GODDAMNED HAPPY TO LEARN SHIT ABOUT ME. YOU DO NOT GET TO BITCH ABOUT IT ONE SINGLE BIT BECAUSE I DID THE FIVE THINGS FOR YOU TEST. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? OR ARE YOU PERPETUALLY GOING TO BE DR. NEVER-GONNA-GET-LAID?
“Fine, crazy pants. You didn’t have to yell,” he muttered.
“Bet you don’t call her that to her face,” Artie said.
“You’re right, because I like my balls where they are.”
ME: Where were we in the quiz? I answered that I didn’t have a pet. What was your answer?
SG: I grew up on a ranch so I had dogs, cats, horses. Once I even had a pet pig.
ME: Please tell me you named it MACON BACON
SG: LOL
As reluctant as Liam was to admit it, at the end of the two-hour quiz, Stirling had been right. They’d needed to learn the basic dating stuff about each other—not when they were high or working together.
ME: See you tomorrow afternoon. Feel free to bring your crazy pants to sleep in.
SG: Maybe I won’t sleep in anything at all.
ME: Even better. Then neither of us will get any sleep.