Best Laid Plans

Cock. Cock. Cock. Cock-a-doodle-doo, indeed.

Gabe raises an appreciative brow. “No more blushing when you dirty talk, I see.”

“Cock.” I smile, showing off my skills.

“Speaking of, mine’s not of the cock-o-rex species. That variety has tiny little balls,” he says, wiggling his arms like a Tyrannosaurus rex’s little limbs.

“Perhaps it would work on your shaftceratops.”

Hot damn. I’m getting good.

His lips curve up in a playful grin. “Or maybe we could stick with names from actual dinosaurs. In that case, Giganotosaurus would be the way to go. Because . . . giant.”

I tsk-tsk him. “Are you forgetting there was a Megalosaurus once upon a time?”

“Dammit. You’re right. Mega is bigger. But my Diplodocus isn’t the star of the show today,” he says, tossing out one more actual dinosaur name. “Let’s go shop for you.”

He opens the door to his truck, and I slide inside. He joins me, turning the key.

“Hey, Gabe?”

“Yeah?”

“I know we’re not even at the sex toy shop, but you made it really easy already with the jokes.” Maybe that’s why I can rattle off these words with such ease.

He flashes me a grin. “Humor is my favorite lubricant.”

“I’m serious,” I say firmly.

“So am I.” He pulls away from the curb. “Also, I’m glad you’re feeling comfortable.”

“Me too.” I shoot him a friendly smile, my reassurance that I know the score. “How was your morning?”

“Good. Saw my mom and dad. Went for a run. Learned some quantum physics.”

That piques my interest. “Ooh, what did you learn?”

“That some things make other things move fast and hot.”

I laugh again. “Sounds like it stuck with you.”

“What did you do this morning?” He flicks on the turn signal at the end of my block.

“Perri and Vanessa held me hostage so I could be thoroughly tortured by the Pilates instructor. Those machines are insane.”

He shudders. “I don’t understand how anybody chooses to exercise on that crazy contraption. It’s like a modern-day torture rack. One time, we were called to a Pilates studio because someone was actually injured on the bench.”

I thrust my arms in the air. “That is literally all I needed to know. I’m going to share that with Vanessa and Perri, because I would do anything to get out of that class.”

“You need to be careful. Those places are like death traps.”

“What actually happened on the call?”

“Did you eat breakfast today?”

“Yes. Why?”

He turns down Main Street. “I can’t tell you because I just had the dashboard cleaned.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No. Yes. Maybe. Look, I’ve seen injuries from sex, and I won’t tell you to stay away from that type of exercise.”

I laugh at his designation of sex as exercise. “Pilates does make you flexible,” I add, a little flirty since that’s the name of the game today.

“How long have you been doing it?”

“Couple years.”

“Forget what I said. It’s not dangerous at all. Keep doing it. It’ll give you great flexibility in your sex life for years to come.” He winks at me.

“You’re so thoughtful. Looking out for my sex-leticism down the road.”

“Like a good coach.”

I raise an eyebrow. “And is running good for your sex life?”

He nods proudly. “Stamina, baby.”

And now I wonder how Gabe’s is in bed.

Stop. Just stop.

“How many miles did you run?”

“Eight.”

Oh God, he must have great stamina.

“That’s good cardio,” I say, deadpan.

“And I have great stamina.”

And I’m getting hot and bothered.

“And I’m flexible,” I add, and now this is it—I have to stop flirting. “But running. That’s basically a modern form of hell.”

“But how else am I going to burn off those coconut bars you’re making me?” He swings the truck to the right, and we head down a long stretch of road that’ll take us away from Lucky Falls.

“I’m making you coconut bars?”

“You didn’t think you were the only one getting something out of this? I’m happy to teach you, but I’m going to require some payment in the form of food.”

I laugh, only too happy to provide for him in that department. “How about some coconut bars and dinner sometime this week?”

“It’s a deal if it includes the striptease.”

Ohhhh. I picture undressing in front of Gabe, and it terrifies me. “Are you serious?”

He lifts an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Am I? I let the scene play out, returning to the image of stripping down to my sexiest La Perla panties and bra, and I no longer feel terror. I feel thrills. Or perhaps I feel both, and I like the cocktail, thank you very much. “Yes. I think I am.”

A grin that reaches halfway to Naughty Town spreads across his face. “You’ve got yourself a deal. But aside from the torture rack, did you enjoy your time with your girls?”

I love that he calls them that. Vanessa and Perri are most definitely my girls. “I always love seeing them. Is that kind of crazy? I’ve known them since we were five, but we still have something to talk about every single time.”

“It’s like that with great friends, isn’t it?”

I nod as we cruise past lush green hills rich with grapevines and billboards beckoning travelers to stop for wine tastings and to sample all sorts of grapes. “We’re like sisters. We went on a trip when we were younger—we were thirteen, and our parents sent us to visit Vanessa’s grandparents on their horse ranch for two weeks during the summer—and the security guard at the airport asked if we were triplets.”

Gabe chuckles. “The blonde, the redhead, and the brunette.”

“Exactly! And sure, we could be fraternal triplets, but then he said, ‘You all look alike,’ and I think it’s because we had that sister energy. That connection.”