I cringed and thought about just shoving the phone back in my pocket without answering. Hazel’s baking was notoriously bad. Even the damn seagulls in Hell didn’t peck at her food. When flying Satan spawn don’t want your cookies, you know it’s bad.
Lucy: Sorry, dear. I’m still breastfeeding Roxy and can’t chance odd ingredients giving her an allergic reaction.
“Ha!” I spat to the empty room. I knew for a fact Lucy was trying to wean Roxy off breastfeeding and that girl was healthy as an ox. She just wanted an excuse not to eat Hazel’s food. My thumbs flew over my screen.
Amelia: Hazel, sweetie, I love you, but I think your talents lie elsewhere. You know how your nose is like a superpower sniffing machine? You should use that. You could make a fortune off your nose.
Hazel: Why, thank you! But what can I do with my nose that will pay me the big bucks?
Finnie: Is there such a thing as a nose fetish? Because I’ve seen some weird things shoved up noses in the ER…
Lucy: If there isn’t, there should be. Nostrils come in a wide variety of lovely shapes and sizes.
Lenora: maybe we should include a nostril plug in our next sex toy subscription boxes at the Hardware Store…
Finnie: I see more urgent care visits in my future. Thanks for keeping me in business, Lenora!
Lucy: I know! I bet there’s a photographer out there doing a whole series just on the slope of noses. Hazel, you have the best shaped nose I’ve ever seen on a woman.
Hazel: *blush emoji*
Amelia: What the fuck, you guys? I meant Hazel should get a job where having a good sniffer is a plus, like being a police detective. Or working at a lotion laboratory formulating the various scents. I mean, you know the sniffer at Bath & Body Works had to have made a fortune with that country apple and warm vanilla sugar back in the day. Did you see they’re bringing back the retro ’90s scents again this year?
Lucy: I already preordered the shower gel, lotion, and body spray in country apple.
Lenora: The next subscription box is going out with the warm vanilla massage oil.
Amelia: Again, what the fuck, you guys? Why didn’t y’all tell me??
Lucy: Sorry, lady. I think that all happened when you were still with Douchebag. Speaking of him, are you and Titus friends again? ’Cause I gotta be honest…I’m getting real sick of seeing mopey Titus.
Amelia: What do you mean ‘mopey Titus’?
My heart rate picked up again at the mention of Titus. Which was weird too. Normally I got happy thinking of Titus, but not jumpy and nervous.
Hazel: Good Lord, the man was such a Debbie Downer while you were with Douchebag. He’s been a freaking ray of sunshine the last week or so, though. I’m assuming that’s because you’re back to being Ametus?
Amelia: Sigh….I’m afraid to even ask. What is Ametus?
Lenora: Well, we could have gone with Tilia, but that sounded super weird. Although Ametus is kinda weird too now that I think about it more…
Amelia: Girls. We’re friends. Not a couple. No need to blend our names.
Finnie: I diagnose “more than friends”…
Amelia: You’re not a freaking love doctor, Finnie!
Lucy: I’m not saying you’re a couple either, but I’d bet Bain’s left testicle (and you know how much I love the pair) there’s more-than-friendly tension there. Don’t kill the messenger…
Amelia: Whatever. And Lucy? That’s TMI.
I turned my phone off, shoved it in my back pocket, and got back to cleaning the room with more force than necessary. The text chat with my girls hadn’t done what I hoped it would. It only confused things more, because even they were seeing things between Titus and me. Things I didn’t want to admit or even examine.
Titus and I were friends.
Period.
7
Titus
After that almost kiss earlier in the week, I pulled back the flirting as much as I could. Which still wasn’t much because, damn, being around Amelia all day while I worked on the hotel was straight torture. She was everywhere. She was a good manager and Wayne was lucky to have her, but that meant I saw her constantly. She wore pencil skirts that hugged her curvy ass before leaving the rest of her legs bare to my gaze. She mixed it up with pants that also showed off her tight waistline before flaring over the curve of her butt and ended at high heels that made me think of what they’d look like resting on my shoulders.
And then there were the early mornings when I’d catch her still in that black silky robe. One of these days I wasn’t going to be able to tamp down all the hunger that gnawed at me until I couldn’t sleep at night. I’d grab her and tow her to her room for privacy, pull apart the top of her robe to bare her breasts, and then run my hand under the short hem to find her soaking wet for me. I bet she kept things bare down there and I couldn’t. Fucking. Wait.
“Titus?”
I slammed the hammer down on my thumb. “Fuck!” I dropped the hammer and stepped back, gritting my teeth against the pain. Amelia stood in the doorway, her eyes wide. Today was a skirt day.
“Hey, Lia.”
“You okay, tiger? That looked painful. Sorry to startle you.”
She walked in, those heels sinking into the carpet the way I wanted to sink my teeth into the globe of her perfect ass. Pretty sure those kinds of thoughts were not normal to be having for your best friend, but I couldn’t seem to stop them.
I sniffed the air as she got closer.
“You smell like apples.”
She smiled. “I wanted to see if you’d do a stakeout with me this weekend.”
I frowned, confused. “Uh…do you mean takeout?”
She chuckled and I stared at her lips. “No, I mean a stakeout. I want to follow the mayor and see if he’s up to something.”
A flash of warning had me focusing on what she was saying. “Amelia. I thought we talked about that. It’s too dangerous. Leave it alone.”
She frowned at me, brown eyes flashing. “You know, you used to be more fun, Jackson.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “And you used to be more sensible, Waldo.” I glanced up at the ceiling. “No. Wait. That’s right. You’ve never been sensible.”
She gasped, feigning offense, and punched me in the arm.
“Hurt your hand?” I smirked.
She narrowed her eyes and spun, dark hair flying. Marching out of the room in a huff, I watched her go, knowing she wouldn’t stay mad long. She was always up to no good and sometimes she just needed to be told no. Growing up in a house of five girls meant she got away with everything simply because her parents were outnumbered. Amelia had never learned when to walk away from danger, instead, facing it head-on with nothing but a shield of sass and false confidence.
I tapped my chin long after she’d left, her apple scent lingering. I’d bet my entire tool set she’d still do that stakeout, with or without me. Looked like I had plans this weekend: following Amelia while she followed the mayor.
“Good night, Lia,” I called to Amelia as I walked across the little lobby of the hotel. It was Friday night. I told her earlier when she brought me lunch that I had plans with Rip tonight. In actuality, I’d be following Amelia.