Just This Night by Mari Madison Page B

Well, they kind of fucking hurt.
    Come on, Mac. Grow a pair. This is for the best and you know it. You got a pass, you lucky bastard. Take it and be grateful.
    I finished the note, signed my name. Debated on leaving my phone number and then decided against it. What good would it do? If she did call, it would only prolong the inevitable. Double down on my mistake. Sure, she’d probably think I was a bit of an asshole. Or a coward, maybe. In truth, she wouldn’t be wrong.
    She doesn’t want this any more than you do,
I reminded myself.
It’s for the best.
    I shook my head.
And this is why you need to stay clear of women,
I reminded myself as I set the note on the counter and headed for the door. I could feel Stephanie’s eyes still on me, a small smirk playing at the corners of her lips.
    I sighed. “See you later,” I said.
    She snorted. “I doubt it.”
    Yeah. Me, too.

nine
    BETH
    I opened one eye, then the other, squinting for a moment at the bright sunshine peering curiously through my bedroom window. Scarcely able to breathe, I rolled over quietly, not wanting to wake the sleeping man in my bed.
    The sleeping man in my bed!
    A delicious tingle of adrenaline wiggled through my stomach as my mind replayed scenes from the night before. Mac taking me into his arms. Mac peeling off my dress. Mac touching me in all the right places. Mac making me come like I’d never come before.
    Mac . . . who was not, it turned out, still sleeping in my bed.
    For a crazy split second I entertained the idea that I had dreamt it all. The mind-blowing sex, the postcoital cuddling. Drifting off into dreamland, cradled in warm, solid arms. Had that really all happened? I stuffed my face into the pillow beside me and breathed in deep. It smelled just like him and suddenly I knew it had all happened—just like I remembered it. And it had all been amazing.
    I lifted my head, scanning the room. My eyes fell upon an unfamiliar jacket, tossed over my desk chair. I let out asigh of relief. For a moment I thought maybe he’d taken off early, without even saying good-bye. But he was still here. I smiled to myself. Maybe he was out in the living room, checking sports scores on his phone. Or taking an early jog on the beach. Maybe he was even in my kitchen, right this very second, fixing me a big breakfast in bed.
    I hugged myself, grinning at the idea. Imagining him returning to the room clad only in his boxers, carrying a tray piled high. He’d straddle my legs and dip a fork into fluffy scrambled eggs (knowing somehow that they were my favorite), feeding me between tender little kisses. Then, once we were done eating, he’d put the tray aside and continue where we’d left off. In the end, we’d accidentally spend the entire day in bed, forgetting the world outside until Monday morning called.
    And maybe then I’d call in sick to work.
    I flopped back onto my pillow, staring up at the ceiling, unable to stop smiling. It had been far too long since I’d felt like this. Far too long that I’d put up with Ryan and his empty promises. If only I’d known what else was out there.
Who
else was out there. Maybe I wouldn’t have dealt with disappointment for so long.
    Seriously, I owed Stephanie a major thank-you.
    At last I shrugged off my sheet and swung my legs from the bed to the floor. Stretching my arms over my head, I let out a long yawn, then slipped my feet into my fuzzy slippers. I glanced over at my closet, debating getting dressed, then determined a robe was a better bet, to save Mac the trouble of tearing off my clothes again after breakfast. The thought made me giggle—and I felt my face flush. Seriously, it was like I’d been transformed into an entirely different person overnight. Ryan wouldn’t even recognize me.
    Opening my bedroom door, I headed down the hall, trying to muster up an appropriate greeting. What would Emily Post say about