The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue #2) - Jessica Hawkins Page 0,5
that has amazing pizza. Seriously. You’d die for it.”
Sadie has a weird habit of saying she’d die for a meal. “I happen to like my life,” I say. “But I’ll think about it.”
“Ready?” Sadie asks Bell, taking her hand.
We say goodnight, and the two most important women in my world descend down the steps without me.
I shove my hands in my pockets, watching long after they’re gone. It’s a fifteen-minute walk back to Penn Station, but at the thought of going home to an empty house, I slow to a crawl. I’ll be on my own for an entire weekend—the first time since Bell’s mom left almost four years ago. I have an open invitation to go out with the guys at my shop, but most of the time I prefer to stay home with Bell. And on the rare occasion I get a sitter, at least I know I’m coming home to find Bell safe in her bed. Two nights without that comfort feels like the loss of a limb.
As I approach Sadie’s office on my way back to the train, my sight snags on the smoking-hot blonde coming out of the building before I realize who it is. Digging through her purse with one hand, Sadie’s boss, Amelia, stops a few feet in front of me. She’s carrying a small package, plus a laptop bag and purse over her shoulder, and both crooks of her arms are occupied by manila folders, magazines, and a coffee thermos.
I walk until I’m standing right in front of her. “Need some help?”
She keeps her head down. “No.”
I cross my arms at her curtness. “Just trying to be friendly.”
“Right,” she snorts. “In this city? Friendly means—” She glances up and squints at me. “Oh. You’re the plumber.”
“For the last time, I’m not a plumber,” I say. “I’m Sadie’s brother.”
The corner of her red mouth twitches as if she’s going to smirk, but she manages to contain it, which is almost worse. “Of course. My mistake.”
The thermos wedged in her elbow clatters on the ground. “Shit,” she says, trying to balance everything and go after it.
“Let me give you a hand,” I say, scooping it up. “Where are you headed?”
“I’m fine.” She takes it from me. Some papers slide out of the folder, dangerously close to falling out. “Just because you fixed my toilet doesn’t make me helpless.”
“I wasn’t implying you were.” Since my help isn’t wanted, I have to ball my hands under my pits to stop myself from saving the papers slipping through the folder. I glance at them, pages ripped from a yellow legal pad, hoping she’ll get the hint. The handwriting—hers, I assume—is messy, but I still make out the words assets and alimony.
“If you’re going to stare at my breasts, try not to be so obvious about it.”
“I wasn’t, actually,” I say and let my gaze drift a few inches over. Unless she’s wearing a bionic push-up bra, she’s got more to work with than her slight frame suggests. “But I am now.”
Amelia covers herself with the stack in her arms and one by one, papers start to flutter from her folder. “Goddamn it,” she says, dropping the magazines to the sidewalk with a smack. A breeze scatters the scribble-covered pages away.
I keep my arms over my chest, watching her scurry around in an attempt to recover everything. “Well, don’t just stand there,” she snaps, barely glancing up. “This stuff is important.”
I shake my head, chuckling to myself, and jog past her to retrieve the ones that skittered the farthest. I manage to grab them all, but not before a suit on legs with a cell attached to his ear walks right over them. “Hey, asshole,” I say loud enough for him to hear. He doesn’t bother to respond.
When I turn back, I’m greeted with a startling and welcome sight. Amelia’s bent over, piling the contents of the folder on top of the magazines. The chick has barely an ounce fat on her, but she’s got an ass like a couple of cantaloupes and I’m suddenly the kind of hungry that can’t be satisfied with pizza. There’s definitely enough for me to get a handful—and it’s giving her rack a run for its money.
I let my eyes travel down her sculpted calves—is she a runner?—to her thin ankles and high, high black heels. The sleeping giant in me wakes, as if my body knows I finally have a weekend with nowhere to be—a rare couple days without the all-consuming