Cocky Notes - Leesa Bow Page 0,28

chuckles. “Why not?”

“Because I have to get through the day, and I can’t if I’m only thinking about you.” His eyebrows rise, and so do mine. “I mean—”

He places a finger on my lips and moves it to reach into his pocket. “I wanted to make sure only you saw this.” He hands me a folded napkin.

I start to unfold it, and his hand stops me. “Read it later.”

I ignore him and open it.

You’re on my mind when I close my eyes.

I’m not complaining because I like to see you.

In the dark you brighten my room.

A time where I imagine all the ways I want to fuck you.

I want to hear you scream my name when you ride my cock.

I’m looking forward to Tuesday.

R.

I refold the napkin. He’s right. I’m glad this didn’t fall into anyone other than my hands. “So, this is what you have planned for Tuesday night?” I ask seriously.

His tanned neck slightly darkens enough for me to notice.

“You don’t need to sign it. I don’t receive dirty notes from anyone but you.” I hand it back to him. “Fine words, R, but not poetry.”

He gapes at me, and his expression turns mellow. “I’m sorry, I thought I—”

“Don’t be. See you Tuesday.” I place the note in his hand and swivel on my heel and head out to the kitchen, ignoring the ache in my chest. I know what I am and stupid to think I could be anything more.

“You okay?”

I didn’t even notice Ava standing beside me at the sink.

“Yep.” I force a smile. “You know the feeling when you’ve swum too far out in the ocean and get caught in a rip and struggle to keep your head above water?”

Ava nods. “All too well, and it’s scary as shit, babe. But don’t give up. Let the rip take you deeper. Or you can swim sideways to be free. The choice is yours.”

I had already made my choice.

After work, I take Dad to the pool, and I swim laps. My style has strengthened. I relish the water pooling around my ears blocking out sound and the rest of the world to clear my thoughts.

I need to prepare for Tuesday night, shutting down the emotion choking me because it’s only sex. Nothing else. I’ve experienced enough hook-ups to know better.

Within twenty-four hours of focus, my walls are up.

“I have one of those work meetings,” I say to Dad. I hate lying to him, but the truth is worse. “I’ll be home in a couple of hours.” I place the old flip phone on the armrest of the couch. He knows what to press to contact me. “If you need anything, call me. There’s no problem in my leaving early.”

“I’m fine, love. I’ll watch a bit of news and probably head to bed. All this fitness is wearing me out.”

I chuckle. “Right.” I head out the door, the smile leaving my face, ignoring the sick lurch of nerves in my gut.

Chapter Thirteen

MACY

Screams of laughter come from the ocean. Daylight savings brings longer hours to play under the sun in the surf. Walking the esplanade path, the sun is low, reminding me of a giant ball ready to be swallowed up by the ocean.

Two hours is all I paid for parking, and it’s a five-minute walk from Reef’s penthouse block. The esplanade’s a five-minute distraction.

Preparing myself to meet the elevator gatekeeper, I stall when I enter the lobby near long, tanned legs in a chair. Legs I recognise.

Reef glances up from his phone and stands. His expression serious, business-like. It doesn’t suit him. Blond hair styled as though by the surf, blue eyes with flecks of yellow sparkle. It’s what first attracted me all those months ago. Months where we’d smile and share an occasional comment about the weather when he came to Lombardi’s. Months before I called him and his friends Losers.

I smile first. “Hi.”

In a few long strides, he reaches me.

“Oh,” I stutter when his arms wrap around me and squeeze as though I’m a long-lost friend.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he whispers in my ear. “I was sending you a message.”

“I didn’t think I was late?”

He takes my hand and leads me past the gatekeeper’s desk to the elevator. “You’re not.” He presses the button several times. “You look beautiful.”

My hand rises to my hair. No ponytail. It’s straight, hanging over my shoulders. “Thanks. And you look… edible as always.”

He chuckles. Fetches a note from his shorts pocket. “I wrote this for you to make up