sit there for an awkward second while she fiddles with the key in her hand. “So, are you two a thing?”
“Oh, uh . . .” I toy with how to answer her question. Honestly, Val and I are exactly what she heard. We fuck sometimes. We’ve known each other forever, and she’d probably like it to be more, but that’s not me. “We’re good friends.”
“Right.” Her tone is clipped, final. “Okay . . . well, I better get to bed.”
“Hey, Dani, I had fun tonight.”
“Me, too. Thanks for the pockets and beers.” She smiles and waves. I cringe when I see her almost bite it on the curb, but she saves herself and makes it to her door, turning around and waving one more time before she closes it behind her. When the light in her room comes on, I turn around in the gravel drive, thinking of Dani and her Chucks the whole way home.
Sheridan
CHURCH WITH THE LANDRYS IS not nearly as painful as I thought it would be. In fact, it’s quite nice, considering I’m fighting a bit of a hangover, but I don’t have any regrets. It’s been too long since I’ve had that much fun.
There’s a great quality, I’ve noticed, not only in the Landrys, but in Tucker and other people I’ve observed so far here in French Settlement. They don’t let things bother them for very long. They simply enjoy life—laugh things off, let it roll off their backs. What do they say here? Joie de vivre. I think that’s what Micah called it last night when I mentioned life seems like one big party down here.
Micah . . .
I’m not sure what it is, but something about him draws me in. It’s not that damn nickname he has for me, that’s for sure, but there’s something.
I quietly laugh at myself for thinking there’s only one thing I’m drawn to. Okay, so there are at least three things: that messy head of dark hair, those bright blue eyes, and that jaw that’s begging to be licked. And those are just the things found above the neck. Once I let my mind wander to what’s below . . . well, it’s hard to think straight.
In the few hours I spent with him last night, it became obvious that he’s smart and has great business sense. It’s also obvious other women find him attractive; they’d be idiots not to. The other thing I couldn’t miss was the fact that he seems to like the attention.
I shouldn’t waste my time thinking about Micah Landry. I’m sure he’s the playboy of all playboys—out for a good time and not making any commitments along the way. Of course, I could think about Graham, but who the hell knows what he’s doing . . . or whom he’s doing. I mentally scold myself and try to clear my mind. I shouldn't be sitting here thinking about any of this. I’m on a job, and I need to remain professional. To do that, I have to keep a clear mind, which means no Graham . . . and definitely no Micah.
I glance down the church pew at all of the Landrys and my eyes land on the one in question. He’s sitting with his arm around his mom, paying close attention to the message being spoken. The definition of his perfect jaw is on display as the fantastic lighting from the large windows pours in over him. I wonder if he’s ever considered modeling.
Focus, Dani.
Definitely no Micah.
He’s just a man, Sheridan. Get over it.
I feel like I’m channeling my granny with those words. It sounds like a piece of advice she would’ve given me, and I silently thank her and ask her to help me through this, because I have to focus on this job and doing my very best. Then, I need to focus on getting back to New York and figuring my life out. She’d probably have some wise words about that as well. These are times I miss her the most.
“You gonna go to confession after mass?” Deacon whispers in my ear, effectively breaking me from my thoughts. “You look like you’ve been countin’ up all your sins while we’ve been sittin’ here.”
“What? Oh, um, no . . . no confessions for me today, thanks. You go ahead, though, if you need
“Oh, uh . . .” I toy with how to answer her question. Honestly, Val and I are exactly what she heard. We fuck sometimes. We’ve known each other forever, and she’d probably like it to be more, but that’s not me. “We’re good friends.”
“Right.” Her tone is clipped, final. “Okay . . . well, I better get to bed.”
“Hey, Dani, I had fun tonight.”
“Me, too. Thanks for the pockets and beers.” She smiles and waves. I cringe when I see her almost bite it on the curb, but she saves herself and makes it to her door, turning around and waving one more time before she closes it behind her. When the light in her room comes on, I turn around in the gravel drive, thinking of Dani and her Chucks the whole way home.
Sheridan
CHURCH WITH THE LANDRYS IS not nearly as painful as I thought it would be. In fact, it’s quite nice, considering I’m fighting a bit of a hangover, but I don’t have any regrets. It’s been too long since I’ve had that much fun.
There’s a great quality, I’ve noticed, not only in the Landrys, but in Tucker and other people I’ve observed so far here in French Settlement. They don’t let things bother them for very long. They simply enjoy life—laugh things off, let it roll off their backs. What do they say here? Joie de vivre. I think that’s what Micah called it last night when I mentioned life seems like one big party down here.
Micah . . .
I’m not sure what it is, but something about him draws me in. It’s not that damn nickname he has for me, that’s for sure, but there’s something.
I quietly laugh at myself for thinking there’s only one thing I’m drawn to. Okay, so there are at least three things: that messy head of dark hair, those bright blue eyes, and that jaw that’s begging to be licked. And those are just the things found above the neck. Once I let my mind wander to what’s below . . . well, it’s hard to think straight.
In the few hours I spent with him last night, it became obvious that he’s smart and has great business sense. It’s also obvious other women find him attractive; they’d be idiots not to. The other thing I couldn’t miss was the fact that he seems to like the attention.
I shouldn’t waste my time thinking about Micah Landry. I’m sure he’s the playboy of all playboys—out for a good time and not making any commitments along the way. Of course, I could think about Graham, but who the hell knows what he’s doing . . . or whom he’s doing. I mentally scold myself and try to clear my mind. I shouldn't be sitting here thinking about any of this. I’m on a job, and I need to remain professional. To do that, I have to keep a clear mind, which means no Graham . . . and definitely no Micah.
I glance down the church pew at all of the Landrys and my eyes land on the one in question. He’s sitting with his arm around his mom, paying close attention to the message being spoken. The definition of his perfect jaw is on display as the fantastic lighting from the large windows pours in over him. I wonder if he’s ever considered modeling.
Focus, Dani.
Definitely no Micah.
He’s just a man, Sheridan. Get over it.
I feel like I’m channeling my granny with those words. It sounds like a piece of advice she would’ve given me, and I silently thank her and ask her to help me through this, because I have to focus on this job and doing my very best. Then, I need to focus on getting back to New York and figuring my life out. She’d probably have some wise words about that as well. These are times I miss her the most.
“You gonna go to confession after mass?” Deacon whispers in my ear, effectively breaking me from my thoughts. “You look like you’ve been countin’ up all your sins while we’ve been sittin’ here.”
“What? Oh, um, no . . . no confessions for me today, thanks. You go ahead, though, if you need
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