Page 12 of Misadventures With The Mistaken Twin
Goldie tilted her head from side to side in consideration. “Fine then, the queens of sex.”
I tracked down the glow-in-the-dark condoms and opened a box. “We just talk the talk. We don't walk the walk.”
Goldie looked down her nose at me. “Speak for yourself.”
“Fine.Ijust talk the talk. I don't walk the walk. At least not lately,” I grumbled the last to myself.
“Isn't that what writing a romance is anyway? Just the talk? It doesn't say anything about walking the walk.”
True. She had a good point there. It was fiction. It wasn't a porn flick like those lining the shelves behind me. Books weremake-believe—in comparison to the make-believe ‘real-sex’ in porn.
“You're saying we should write a romance novel?” I wasn't sure if Goldie's idea was good or bad, or where she was going with it.
The customer brought up a bag of penis shaped candles.
“Birthday?” Goldie asked her as she rung it up.
The woman, mid-twenties, nodded. “My friend just came out of the closet a month ago so his partner and I thought this would be a riot.”
There had to be at least thirty candles in the plastic bag.
“Don't burn the house down,” Goldie said.
The woman laughed, thanked us and left.
“I think it would be fun.”
I'd found Arty's gift bag items and dropped some condoms inside to join the fingertip vibrator I'd demonstrated, peach scented body oil and a maid's costume, size small. “What, the gag candles?” I'd forgotten what we were talking about.
“No, the romance novel.”
“Oh, right.”
Goldie went to rearrange the handcuff selection. “We should each write one! This would really warm up those cold winter nights.”
I could think of better things to warm up my nights and it wasn't pen and paper. It was?—
Jack. Walking through the door.
“Jack Reid! As I live and breathe,” Goldie exclaimed as she rounded the BDSM display to wrap him in a great big Goldie hug. Smothering and oddly comforting at the same time.
He must've been by Violet's house as he looked freshly showered and shaved. I had to admit, the bit of scruff from the night before had been kind of hot. It seemed everything he did lit my fire. Just him breathing did it for me. He pulled the samegray cap from yesterday off his head, revealing his thick black hair. Hair that I'd dreamed about running my fingers through. To this day, I didn't know what it felt like. I guessed silky and soft and...wonderful. I could just ask Violet though to find out, I thought, still bitter.
Today he had on the same black jacket, zipped up all the way to close tightly beneath his chin. He wore jeans. This pair was equally broken in, cupping his ass just right, and had a slight fray at the knee. Same shoes.
Jack looked at me over Goldie's shoulder. Today his eyes, although equally blue, didn't have that hard edge from yesterday. They were softer now, more like the blue of a tropical sea instead of deep, frozen glaciers. Probably the headache was gone.
“Miss Goldie, you look the same,” Jack said, once he'd been released from the hug.
“A girl never denies a compliment.” Goldie preened and fluffed her poofy hair. “How have you been?” She eyed Jack as if he were under a microscope.
Goldie loved to grill everyone about their lives. Jack didn't cringe or panic at her question. Yet. If he knew what I thought was coming, he'd run for the hills. I stayed behind the counter and pretended to organize the freebie condoms in the little basket next to the register.
Jack tucked his cap into his coat, and then shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “I've been fine. Just fine.”
Oh, this was going to be good. Jack hadn't been around Goldie for a long, long time. She was better at cross-examination than the best of attorneys—and Jack was one. He didn't stand a chance.
“Your uncle told me you're a lawyer.”