Page 120 of Sugar

Early mornings were for birds… and serial killers.

My ass barely hit the cushion before Wren finished her thought. “So when did the lawyer finally let you out of his chamber?”

“I think that’s judges,” I pointed out.

“Whatever. You know what I mean.”

“This morning.”

“Either Easton gotverylost driving you home, or that ride home somehow turned into a walk of shame.”

“There was nothing shameful about it.” I puffed up my chest and grinned. “That was a ride of pride, baby.”

Her brown eyes lit with glee, and she looked ready to shake me as she muffled a squeal. “I knew it wouldn’t stay a business arrangement for long. You’re too irresistible, and he’s devilishly handsome—emphasis on the devil. And then when he showed up Saturday.” She fanned herself. “Greer and I were talking about it the whole ride home. Well, after we got tacos.”

I thought about Vic overhearing their drunken conversation. I didn’t care for me, but it might make things awkward the next time Easton saw him.

Correctly reading my grimace, Wren tacked on, “Don’t worry, we had the divider up. He said something about having just fixed it, and boy, did he look happy about that fact.”

“I’m sure VicandEaston appreciate it.” I knew how I felt about Easton, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want my trusty friends’ opinions, too. “What were you saying?”

“We thought that you’d skipped one of yourplatonic dates,” she snarked with air quotes, “and that was why he was there. Butlike his driver, that irritated expression just seems to live on his face.”

“I think of it as blank.”

“Well, I can tell you this much… He doesn’t look blank when he is watching you. And he was pretty much always watching you. And touching you. Like he can’t go two minutes without contact. That made us question if you’d already slept with him or if you would be doing it soon enough. So which is it? Because those are the only possibilities.”

“We weren’t sleeping together.”

“That is some beautiful past tense. A-plus.” She leaned closer. “Unless that was an accidental tense slip, in which case, I’m getting out my red pen and docking points.”

“You anticipating a lot of heavily edited kindergarten worksheets?” I asked since that was her dream grade.

“Of course. That pre-k nonsense won’t fly with me. Now tell me.”

Over a mediocre drink but still a delicious molasses cookie—Easton hadn’t ruined those yet by introducing me to something better—I quietly shared a bit. Not the dirty details, much to Wren’s chagrin. But that we were more than platonic event companions.

“This makes me so happy,” she said with a grin. It must’ve matched the one on my face because she clutched her hands at her chest. “I wish you could see how big your smile is right now. Gah, I’m going to have to call a ceasefire on my war on lawyers, aren’t I?”

“At least temporarily. But if you’re looking for an alternative, I met a skeevy real estate agent recently.”

She tilted her head. “I feel like Robert deserves to be set apart in my hatred, but I won’t rule out looping in his entire profession.”

Since she hadn’t heard a single word from her father in years, that grudge was well-deserved.

“Fine. It’s settled. I will now funnel all the spite in my short body toward realtors. Those bastards.” She took the last piece of cookie I offered. “Ohh. You can chime in on this, too, now that your virginity is no longer growing back.”

I whacked her arm—even though I’d had a similar thought when my body had been adjusting to Easton’s size. “It hasn’t been that long.”

“It has. But anyway, when he went down on you, did it seem to be obligatory?”

I choked down laughter at the thought. I wasn’t about to tell her how into it Easton had been. Not that she would judge. If anything, she would think his response was just as hot as I did. But that intimate detail was just for Easton, me, and the part of my brain that would hopefully carry that memory until my deathbed.

I shook my head. “He was very,veryinto it.”

She gave an approving nod. “We’re here for a man who eats and eats and loves a feast, but they are a dying breed.”

“Chris doesn’t dine at the Y?”