what? Paint the walls before the floors are sanded?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Turner asked his friend.
She smiled. “No, he’s right. I screwed up… I got too excited.”
“Then get too excited at Naughtie’s,” Ritchie said, sauntering over to put an arm around her. “You go downstairs to Turner’s place, get ready. I’ll help him finish up here.”
“Don’t you guys need to get ready too?”
Ritchie opened his arms to present himself. “This is me turned out, honey. You want clean cut, you’re in the wrong neighborhood.”
Her eyes cut to Turner’s. “Clean cut is definitely not on my agenda.”
“Good, then Naughtie’s is perfect for you.”
She couldn’t tell what Turner was thinking. Putting up too much of a fight to stay in an apartment that didn’t even have electricity might be suspect. She didn’t have anything better to do, but going out with Turner, drinking with Turner, it wouldn’t be a good idea.
“Rain check,” she said and retreated into the bedroom.
The only thing there was the bed. That and the rest of the bottle of wine she hadn’t drunk the previous night. Reaching around to her back, Poppy drew down her zipper and let the dress fall like a cloud to the floor. She stepped out of it. The floor was still covered with drop cloths, so she didn’t think Turner would mind if paint transferred. The drop cloths weren’t exactly pristine.
Picking up the wine bottle, she climbed onto her bed on her knees. Turner would lock the front door; she was sure he would. Not that it mattered, in a while, after the guys were gone, she’d go out and check… if the wine didn’t distract her.
“Babe, you should…”
Turner’s voice trailed off. She hadn’t expected him to follow her.
As she dropped down to sit on the bed, Poppy tipped some of the tepid, flat wine into her mouth. “You’re so lucky,” she said, doing her best to sideline the not so great taste of the wine.
“Sure am. How fast did you get naked in here?”
It hadn’t occurred to her that she was only wearing a strapless bra and thong underwear. To be fair to him, she reached for the top of the comforter and flipped it over her body to cover herself up.
“Better?”
He came over, stepping around the mound of her dress to sit on the edge of the bed. “You know that’s mine, I used to sleep under there. Thinking of you under my covers doesn’t take that image out of my head.”
Although the covers had always been clean, she pulled them up to her nose like maybe there was still a hint of him in the fabric. “I’ll be fine, you go out with your friend. You’re lucky to have a friend who cares about you so much.”
“Come,” he said. Somehow finding her leg beneath the covers, he gave her a squeeze. “Don’t drink that shit.” He reached over her to take the open wine from her hand. “Come over to Naughtie’s and I’ll buy you a real drink.”
“And walk me home?” she asked. “Did you forget what happens when I have wine in my system? I throw myself at you.”
“I can fight you off,” he said. “I don’t want to leave you here. Ritchie’s right. I should’ve been the one to ask you. Meeting people wouldn’t be a bad thing.”
“ ‘Cause then maybe I’ll give you some space?” Poppy shrugged. “Maybe.”
He squeezed her leg again. “You’re only allowed to talk to guys I know or guys I can take… And you can’t go home with anyone.”
“I live in the same building as you. Are you asking me to take a different route home?”
One side of his mouth rose. “I did almost end that on ‘anyone except me’ but then I’d be thinking about that all night.”
Raising her leg, she dropped back onto her elbows. What Poppy wanted to say was so inappropriate and over the line that she had to resist. But the thought was enough to twist her lips as they did their best to dam her laugh.
Obviously Turner saw her struggle because he crooked a brow. “Just say it.”
“Oh, it’s awful,” she said, laughing and clambering onto her knees. “I was gonna say we could cut out the middleman and forget the going out part completely.” Her head fell into her hands. “What is wrong with me? Why do I think of nothing but sex anymore?”
“Sex with just anyone?”
“Sex with just you,” she said, picking up her head to shove his arm. “You better not