5
Noah
The next day, I do it again. I find another shop, and I bring her another kale treat. I hand it to her in the break room.
“What’s this?” she asks, as if she can’t possibly believe it could be food. She holds it between her fingers.
I adopt my most serious tone. “We call that chocolate-covered kale.”
She coughs. “Seriously? Are you trying to turn me off?”
Ah, hell. I just can’t resist. I step closer. “No, I’m trying to turn you on. Don’t you get that by now?”
She doesn’t say anything at first, and I freeze, worried I’ve crossed a line. But she dips a toe over it, whispering, “Are you?”
“I definitely am.” I take a beat. “So, is it working?”
She holds up a thumb and forefinger. “A little.”
And I can work with a little. I can definitely work with that. “Excellent.”
“Just promise me you won’t ever bring me a kale smoothie.”
I raise my right hand. “I’m taking an oath. I’m not that cruel. But chocolate-covered kale is another story. Why don’t you try it?”
She takes a bite, considering. “What do you know? I don’t think that’s half bad.”
I pump a fist. “I knew I could convert you.”
She arches a brow. “I’m not totally converted. Now, in the future if you want to spoil me, chocolate and wine are the way to go.”
I pretend to type. “Filing that away.”
Leo strolls by, and I straighten. So does Ginny, almost as if we’ve done something wrong, and we don’t want the boss man to catch us.
I choose to take that as another good sign, so much that I drop off a square of chocolate on her desk before I leave. That night while I’m at the gym, she texts me.
Ginny: Now that was even better than the chocolate-covered kale.
Noah: Excellent. Did you finish all of it?
Ginny: I did finish it. I’m quite good at finishing.
Oh, that’s definitely a dirty euphemism.
Noah: I’m quite good at finishing too.
Ginny: What are you good at finishing?
Noah: Whatever I set my mind to. I have excellent stamina. I’ve finished marathons. I’ve finished races. I can finish whatever I need to finish.
Ginny: I love finishing.
And I’m on fire. Because she is almost certainly, most definitely, 100 percent all but sexting with me.
Noah: What are you going to finish right now?
Ginny: I’m having a soak in the tub.
Noah: You’re a mermaid, yowza. Do you have a bath bomb?
Ginny: I bow to the inventor of bath bombs.
Noah: Favorite kind?
Ginny: Honeysuckle.
Noah: Of course. And you smell like honeysuckle.
Ginny: You’ve been sniffing me?
No point lying now, so I tap out a reply as I climb the StairMaster.
Noah: Yes. You smell incredible. Your scent is the perfect finishing touch.
Ginny: All this talk of finishing reminds me that I ought to finish this bath.
Noah: And after that, will you finish other things?
Ginny: It seems possible.
I stare at the phone as I climb, sweat slinking down my brow. Holy shit. She’s a dirty girl.
We’ve jumped from electric toothbrushes to kale to wine to bath dirty talk, and I want to go over to her place right now and get in the tub with her, and I don’t even like baths. I mean, come on, baths are kind of dirty.
I’m a shower guy. But a bath with Ginny Perretti? Hell yeah.