I’m walking toward Sweetie Pies on my way home and Gigi suddenly charges out onto the sidewalk and shouts, “Ms. Milton, you forgot your change!”
An older woman across the street waiting by the bus stop waves a hand. “Oh, you keep it, dear. You do such a good job.”
Gigi smiles, but shakes her head. “You’re so sweet, but this is a… large tip. I think you may have left the wrong bill by mistake.”
The woman’s smile crinkles her face in a clearly familiar pattern of wrinkles that’s rather beautiful. “Oh, take the hundred dollars, sweetheart, and go buy yourself something nice. You deserve it. Your pie and sweet smile are the best part of my week.”
“Oh my goodness, well, thank you.” Gigi presses a hand to her chest. “Thank you so much.”
She’s still standing there with her hand over her heart as Ms. Milton’s bus swallows her up and trundles her away.
I wait until the sound of the engine fades before I say, “Boo.”
Gigi jumps and turns my way, revealing the tears shining in her eyes. Before I realize I’m moving, I’m beside her, resting a gentle hand on her back. “Hey, there, love. What’s wrong? I saw what happened with your patron. That wasn’t a nice thing to hear?”
“No, it was, I just…” She shakes her head, her chin trembling for a moment before she says, “I love that I’m the best part of her week, but I hate it too. People should have better things than pie in their life. You know? They should have people who love them and bring them joy.”
Brow furrowing, I nod. “Yes, they should. But we don’t always get what we deserve. For good or for ill.”
She sniffs. “No, but she should still have someone. Ms. Milton is wonderful.” She swallows hard and lifts her chin, meeting my gaze with a look I’ve never seen in her eyes before.
She’s so…serious.
And even more real and honest. And in that moment, I decide to do whatever it takes for her to trust me with this look again.
I adore funny, sexy, kinky Gigi, but this woman with her heart in her eyes is irresistible.
“Tell me,” I say softly. “Whatever it is. You can trust me, friend.”
“But that’s the thing. I don’t know if I can just be your friend,” she says. “And that’s…scary.”
“Why?” I ask. “I don’t bite. Not unless you ask nicely and tell me how hard you like it.”
She doesn’t so much as blink, let alone smile.
I cup her face, sobering. “I know. You’re right. It is scary. People do horrible things to each other when they’re dating, things they’d never do to a friend.”
“Right,” she says. “When it should be the other way around. You should be more kind and careful with the people who let you that close, not more awful.”
“Agreed. But I won’t do those horrible things, Gigi. I don’t play those kinds of games. I don’t play games, period, unless they come in a box. So, would you want to come back to my place tonight and play Scrabble with me? And let me make you dinner and show you that we can be friends who care about each other and have extraordinary sex and the sky won’t come falling down?”
She holds my gaze and everything in the background goes soft until her lovely face is the only thing in focus.
Finally, she whispers, “Monopoly not Scrabble.” She steps closer, then turns her head toward my ear. “And the winner picks the location for the main attraction.”
When she pulls away, her eyes look wicked, but sweet, too.
How is that possible?
How can Gigi be so vulnerable with her heart and so naughty with her mouth? But that’s the onion of this woman. And I happen to like onions.
I grab her hand, tug her close, and brush my lips to hers. “See you at eight.”
“I’ll be there.” When we break the kiss, the vixen of seconds ago has vanished. In her place is the woman who said people should be kind. That’s the woman who flashes me a nervous smile but then squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. “And if you invite me to spend the night, I’ll say yes.”
Answering her unspoken question isn’t hard at all. “You damn well better.”
17
From the texts of Gigi James and West Byron
* * *
Gigi: Guess where I am?
* * *
West: Since it’s 7:55, you’d better be five minutes away. Unless you’re naked in the bath and want to send photos. I will accept tardiness in