8. Naomi

Iona had disappearedwhile I'd been out with Colder. It wasn't exactly surprising since I'd somehow been gone for over two hours. Her job didn't have a typical schedule.

I paced the kitchen with a glass of wine.

It was far too early for wine. I wasn't sure it was five o'clock anywhere, but I'd needed the golden liquid courage.

I took another gulp and stopped in front of the kitchen table where my laptop sat open.

I probably didn't even have the file anymore.

It had been over four years since I'd touched it.

It probably sucked.

It was probably corrupted.

I finished the glass and set it down next to my laptop. If it wasn't there, it was a sign that I should just let this go.

Colder and Iona were both encouraging bad behavior.

Irresponsiblebehavior.

I leaned down and clicked on my long-ago online storage site. I'd adapted to using the Apple cloud for everything, so I hadn't logged in…for four years. I tapped my finger on the track pad on my laptop and moved the arrow to the profile icon.

I probably didn't even remember the password.

But as if it were some muscle memory fugue state, my fingers flew over the keys on the login screen and there it was.

A single folder.

The only manuscript I'd kept from so many false starts and frustrated stops in my creative writing.

I straightened up and brought my glass back to the kitchen island to the half empty bottle. Now a quarter full after this glass. I took another long drink then took the two steps back to the table and sat down.

"It probably sucks. I was a different person then." I set the glass beside my computer and rolled my neck. "Just get it over with. You'll see how stupid it is to even contemplate this."

I clicked it open, and the Word document loaded.

The familiar font I used for writing filled the screen. Nostalgia and a startling wash of emotion hit me like a punch. This was the Naomi before Trent, before Webster Publishing, before responsibilities had swamped me.

The one who wrote late into the night like her life depended on it. The Naomi who couldn't wait to put her headphones on and lose herself in the epic battles over love and creation.

I started reading.

The wine glass sat undisturbed as daylight slowly faded. I was so engrossed in the story that I didn't even realize the room had gone dark until Iona gave a startled gasp.

"What are you doing sitting in the dark, you weirdo?"

I blinked away from the low glow of my screen. I hadn't even heard her come in. "What?"

"Why are you sitting in the dark?" She dropped her bag and coat on the couch, then turned on the lamp.

"I didn't realize it was dark."

She put her hands on her hips. "Wine without me too? You aren't job posting in the dark, are you?"

"Um, no." I started to close the laptop and she crossed to me.

"Let me see."

"Iona, I wasn't—" I sighed.

"Oh, that's not a job site." She turned the screen toward her. "Not at all. It's your book!" Her amber eyes glowed out from her smoky eye makeup. She pulled me into her. "It's your book!"

My face was smashed into her very fragrant décolletage. "Iona!"

"Sorry." But she hugged me again. "I'm so happy." She released me and hurried around the kitchen island to the fridge. "This deserves more wine." She dug into the fridge and I heard the clink of bottles. "And now I know why you were drinking early." She leaned back out. "Stay with white?"

"Do you have any rosé?"

"Can do." She pulled a bottle out and bumped the door closed. "You wouldn't believe the day I had. I thought I was just stopping over to a popup in Rochester and Frankie made a surprise visit. Dumped about fifteen dresses on me to sell for her fall line. I haven't had even a breath of summer yet and I have to think about wool blends. The only thing that sucks about my job is rushing through seasons."

I swiveled the laptop back to me and hit save then closed the cover.

"Don't think I forgot what I was reading," she said over the whir of the electric bottle opener.

I winced. "It's no big deal."

"It's a very big deal." She shrugged out of her short jacket and tossed it on the back of the couch that sectioned off the living room from the postage stamp dining room then set a fresh glass in front of me. "I'm starving. I was going to stop for food but it's freaking Friday and everywhere was jammed."

I rubbed my stomach, suddenly realizing I was just as hungry. "What time is it?" I didn't even know where my phone was. Still in my bag?

"It's eight."

"Eight?" Horrified, I stood up and realized my bladder also was making a showing. "I'll be right back." I rushed to the bathroom then made a pit-stop in my room to throw on comfy clothes. I was pretty sure the creases of my jeans were now embedded into my skin.

I'd been at it for at least six hours straight, maybe more. I quickly tossed down some ibuprofen to combat the wine and splashed some water over my face. By the time I returned, my laptop was open again and Iona was reading with her wine.

"Hey!"

She looked up, her face unrepentant. "You left it."

"I closed it."

She shrugged. "This is good. Like really good. I'd pay for it."

My stomach flipped and nerves jittered along with the rumbles of hunger. "Stop it. You're just saying that because you want me to write."

"No, I'm saying it as a reader. You know I inhale tons of books on my Kindle. I fell down the rabbit hole with all the super sexy reads that are out there." She went into the kitchen and opened the slim pantry cabinet. "How does mac and cheese sound to you?"

"I could go for that."

"I always have—aha, here it is." She rooted through a cabinet and then shook the blue box of our college days' diet. "Never lets me down. Now the question is if my milk is in date."

I went to the fridge to check. "I think we're good. Even have butter. Look at you adulting."

"Shut up." She bent to one of the lower cabinets and found a pot. "I usually eat take out, but sometimes I crave a damn bagel with all of the butter. I have very good ones in the freezer, by the way."

"Good to know. Speaking of, we should probably figure out groceries now that we're living together."

We laughed around the mundane topics of best places to shop, picking out food we both liked, and owning up to what we'd actually cook while we scarfed down pasta. After we ate, we took our wine glasses into the living room and put on our emotional support TV show for background noise.

"Don't think I've forgotten about your book, Nay."

I leaned my head back. "You aren't just saying you were enjoying it to make me feel better, are you?"

"God, no. If it sucked, I'd?—"

"Lie to me?"

"No." She toasted me with her glass. "I'd encourage you to find a job and keep working at it." She laughed. "I swear, it's really good."

Still unconvinced, I tried not to get my hopes up. "I was only gone for five minutes. You couldn't have read much."

"You'd be surprised. I have limited time for reading and consume fast." She grinned behind her glass before she took a sip. "That Prince Novak dude sounds hot. Tell me why Kierra isn't climbing into his bed at every spare chance. The sexual tension is like whoa."

I scrunched down on the couch, resting the glass on my midriff. "Tension is easy. Ruins the story if they get laid."

Lies.

All of the lies.

Iona sat up and set her glass down. "So it's gonna happen at the end? How far did you get?" She padded back into our small dining area and came back with my laptop.

"Hey."

She gave me a bland stare and opened the laptop.

"How did you get into my laptop, anyway?"

"You always use the same password," she said absently as she scrolled.

Clearly, I'd have to rectify that.

I brought my glass with me as I moved over to the couch with her. I needed my emotional support wine to go with the FBI special agent explaining the gruesome serial killer they were tracking. I wasn't sure what was so soothing about Spencer Reid's voice, but it instantly relaxed me.

I needed it as Iona scrolled through my novel. It was only seventy percent done. I'd been re-reading it all day and found myself fussing and editing as I went, but not nearly as much as I'd expected to. I'd been swallowed into my fantasy world of dragon shifters, kingdoms, and war between regions.

"If they're so worried about their race dying out, they obviously need to be making babies." Iona glanced at me, then she narrowed her eyes, glanced down at the document then back at me. "I'm at the what…eighty-three thousand mark and no one is naked."

I gulped. "Slow burn?"

"Is it going to be three books?"

I took a bigger sip of my wine. Oops, I'd finished. I popped up and went back for a refill.

"Nay?" She set the laptop aside and followed me. "I know exactly what you read since we swap book recommendations. You definitely aren't afraid of sexy books. In fact, that's all you really send me, you hussy."

I ducked my head—and my flaming face—into the fridge. "Do you have something chocolate in here?"

"In the freezer."

I moved to the other half of the side-by-side doors. Bingo, gelato. It didn't really go with wine, but I didn't care. I needed something cold for my throat. "Want?"

"Yes, but don't change the subject."

"Look, I have a hard time writing those scenes."

"So watch porn like everyone else. I have some links." Iona grinned and hopped up on the kitchen island as I handed her a coffee mug full of the dark chocolate gelato. Another bit of nostalgia there too.

How many times had we done this exact thing back when we lived together? Usually while talking over Iona's latest boyfriend…or girlfriend. She'd tried them all in college.

Me? Not so much. Trent was not the first dud I'd dated in my life.

"I've tried that." My face felt way too hot. Why did it embarrass me so damn much? I shoved a bite of gelato into my mouth and spoke around it. "But the scenes always suck. I end up deleting every single one."

"That's what a good editor is for. Besides, you have a great imagination. I can see that with the rest of the story."

I sighed. "Not about that. I'm pretty sure the only one who has given me a decent orgasm is me. And even that was sad."

"First of all, you should definitely be able to do things on your own. Put some hot music on—I highly advise BANKS if you need to get in the mood." She fanned her face. "That girl has some beats. Or Hozier can definitely get you there if you have a gummy and some wine."

I laughed. "I'll remember that."

"Look, I'm on the road all the time. You'll have plenty of alone time in here without me if that's what you're worried about."

I stabbed my spoon into a chunk of fudge. "Maybe. But I don't even know how to get myself in the mood half the time. How sad is that? I'm twenty-seven and have barely had a good enough orgasm to talk about it with one of my best friends."

Iona licked the back of her spoon. "Well, you are in a brand-new city. Sign up for one of those apps."

"God, no."

"Don't knock it." She hopped off the island and rinsed her mug, sticking it in the dishwasher. "Bet Colder could help you out." She gave me a sly smile. "I saw how he was looking at you. I mean, you need to know what you're getting into, but there's no bad with him. He doesn't have any stalker, asshole vibes."

I toyed with the frayed drawstring on my sleep shorts. "He did almost kiss me today."

"And you didn't lead with this earlier?" She leaned on the counter, her wine glass in her hand, her attention solely on me.

"You kinda stole my laptop, remember?"

She rolled her eyes. "I feel like this will actually fix two things here."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Okay, first of all, it's not ridiculous. You're stupid hot," she waggled her fingers at me, "especially with that girl next door thing that makes men all frisky."

"I don't think anyone has been frisky for me or even overly interested in years."

"Oh, they are, but you're so damn oblivious. At least four guys checked you out last night. Another reason why Colder kept coming back down to our end of the bar."

"Stop. He was not." I scraped the last bit of gelato out of the bottom of my mug, then I rinsed and put mine in the dishwasher, as well. I was a natural tidier when I was nervous. I pulled out a cloth and started wiping down the counters.

"Sure was. Now tell me about this kiss."

"There was no kiss. There was almost a kiss."

"And how did that happen?"

I told her about our afternoon at the Library Café and how we walked to and from in the rain. How easy it had been to be around him and how funny he was.

"And you don't think he's into you? What guy does that without an end goal?"

"He's got player status all over him. I get it, especially wearing those gray sweatpants. Dear God. I know people have talked about them on the internet and all that, but seeing a guy actually wear them?" I lifted my wine glass for another sip. "Yeah, criminal."

Iona refilled both our glasses. "Tell me more."

"He's got muscles everywhere, Iona. Like everywhere."

Her lids lowered as her mouth slid into a wide smile. "Which muscles are we discussing here?"

I nibbled on my lower lip. "I wasn't rude enough to ogle." Much. Except when I'd had my hand on his chest, and goodness, there was a lot going on under that ancient T-shirt.

"Be rude. They don't mind ogling us, that's for sure."

I couldn't believe it didn't occur to me before, but I had to ask. "Um, do you know exactly what's going on there?"

Iona's eyebrow arched. "Like did I get Colder naked?"

Could a face flame harder? Or a neck? "I mean, he's right next door and very hot."

"True. No, not sure why we never did to be honest." She shrugged. "Then it was just weird that we hadn't made a move on each other and now he's firmly in the friend zone."

I glanced at my rapidly dwindling glass of wine. "I'm sure you could change that."

"I suppose I could if I wanted to. I don't think he's into someone like me."

"Who's not into you, Iona?"

She laughed. "Oh, you'd be surprised. But that's not the issue at hand."

"I mean, if you wanted to, I wouldn't…"

"God, no." Iona snorted. "I'm not into him, anyway. Definitely not now that he's been giving you the eye or the tongue."

"No tongue yet. Not that I'd know what to do with it," I muttered.

"Then you definitely need to hit that."

I rolled my eyes. "You sound like a guy."

"Look, sex is fun. And I really like it. Even more importantly, you should at least have one wild fling with a guy like Colder. He'll teach you a lot about yourself." She took a sip, then she narrowed her eyes. "Why didn't you kiss him, anyway?"

"We got interrupted by another one of our neighbors."

"Oh. Bad timing. Alexa, play ‘Meet Me in the Hallway' by Harry Styles."

I laughed. "You're such an ass."

"I'd meet Harry in the hallway." She waggled her eyebrows. "Talk about a moody, sexy song. Rawr."

"Pretty sure no one would say no to Harry—at least not a girl with a pulse."

"Damn right. So who interrupted you? Do I have to kick their ass?"

"Eric…no, Eli."

"Oh, our hottie lawyer. He has that stern look about him that makes you wonder what's going on under all those expensive suits." She swished the last of her wine around in her glass. "I do appreciate his fashion sense, though."

"I didn't notice. I mean…vaguely, I saw he was tall and dark and probably handsome, but I was so embarrassed, all I did was run down to our door."

"You ran?"

"Again, shut up."

Iona cackled as she refilled our glasses. "What we're going to do is get drunk and watch Criminal Minds. Then we're going to devise a plan to get Colder naked."

I had just enough wine in me that her suggestion sounded like a very fine idea.