Modern Girl's Guide to Friends With Benefits (11 page)

"Let me go up with you," Peter said and gathered his things.

However, if he was trying to get her alone again so they could finish their talk, he was just out of luck. She raced upstairs while he was saying goodbye and grabbed her jacket, hoping to leave without much fuss, but she didn't get any farther than the porch. This storm was the first major snow for the area. She'd known it was coming, but Megan was counting on it to start later tonight. She'd gambled, driving her sports car, and lost.

There was already a good inch of snow on the ground and it was coming down hard. It was still possible for her to make it home, but the drive was going to be rough. She took a step off the porch and Peter grabbed her from behind.

"I don't think so," he said. "You'll end up in a ditch or worse."

"I can make it." She looked up the street, reevaluating the depth, and sighed. "Fine, you were right. I should have driven Bertha."

Peter, wisely, chose not to agree with her. "Mamá would skin me alive if I let you drive in this. Let me get my coat and I'll take you home. You can come back for the car tomorrow."

Megan looked across the lawn, which was already blanketed in heavy, wet snow, and slumped in defeat. There was no use arguing with the reality of her situation. He was right. She might have to leave Baby behind, but she didn't have to talk to him. "Okay, but I have one condition," she said.

"And that being?" he asked with some amusement.

"We don't talk about Vail."

"Why not? This would be the perfect time for us to talk."

"Because there's nothing more to say. I'm done. Please, let's move on." Megan crossed her arms and steeled her resolve. "That's my offer. If you don't like it, fine. Tom and Mary can drive me home. I could catch a ride with Jesse. Hell, I can even call a cab."

"Fine," Peter said through gritted teeth. "We won't talk about it on the drive."

The ride to her house was long and mostly silent. The roads were bad, and once they reached her house conditions had gone from poor to dangerous. When Peter finally pulled into her driveway, she let out a sigh of relief.

Her turn-of-the-century two-story brick building almost looked livable, whitewashed in a fresh blanket of snow. One day soon it was going to be spectacular. Sure, the building was a money pit, had been barely livable when she bought it, and was in a
transitioning
neighborhood, but she'd fallen in love with it.

But not everyone saw its charm. The car idled in the driveway, and she swore Peter was checking out the street like he was expecting a roving gang of criminals to pop out at any moment.

"You might as well stay the night. The roads aren't getting any better."

"Are you sure?" he said, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "You didn't seem too eager to spend time with me tonight."

"Get over yourself. I've kept my promise. I'm acting exactly the same as before. You don't have to worry about being alone with me." God, the man was infuriating. With a hand placed over her heart, Megan said in a monotone voice, "I solemnly swear not to molest you. Now get your ass inside."

Megan got out of the car and marched up to the door, not caring if he came or went. She was done with dancing around the issue. He was right. They needed to clear the air, or she was going to kill him. And right that second, she wasn't sure which option she preferred.

Chapter Seven

Modern Girl Tip #9 Keep The Line Of Communication Open:
Keeping things real with your friend is important. You should feel comfortable to speak your mind. Be open and honest about what you expect. The best thing about a FWB relationship is that it's relaxed and fun, rather than stressful and filled with expectations that are hard to maintain.

Peter wasn't worried about Meg molesting him. Quite the opposite. He'd been thinking about her offer a lot these last few days. And he was having a hard time convincing himself it was a bad idea. Her not-a-relationship best-friends-who-sleep-together madness might be just what they both needed.

It might also be the worst idea either of them could come up with. But at this point he wasn't sure he had much of a choice in the matter. He was going insane, one erotic thought at a time. He couldn't close his eyes without remembering her taste, the feel of her warm curves pressed against him. He wanted—no, he needed—to know if what happened in Vail had been real because it sure as hell haunted him.

Only, after the way she'd been avoiding today, he wasn't sure the offer was still on the table.

Peter looked back down the dark street. The tire marks the SUV had left just a few minutes earlier were already filled in. He knew the weather was just going to deteriorate as the night went on. Honestly, it was just a matter of picking his poison. Did he tempt fate and try to make it home, or push his luck and spend the night with Megan, hoping that he wasn't about to make the biggest mistake of his life?

He laughed at the thought. As if it were even a competition. He turned off the car and followed her inside.

It had been months since Peter had been here last. When she'd bought it in August, he was convinced that the turn-of-the-century monstrosity, with its wraparound porch, should have been condemned. But Meg loved it and promised to hire a contractor right away. So despite his reservations, he'd helped her move into what little livable space there was in the house.

Needless to say, he was shocked when he entered the house. The last time he saw the place, the entryway had been a mess of peeling wallpaper, moldy carpet, and bubbling plaster. Now it was surprisingly welcoming. The walls had been repaired and repainted and she'd added flat-paneled wainscoting that continued up the hall. The decaying carpet had been pulled, replaced with beautiful hardwood floors. Peter tossed his coat on the rack and continued up the hall, noting all the changes.

The living room walls were painted a pale blue, the hardwood floors refinished, and the woodwork stained a rich mahogany color. It was still just as empty as the day he'd moved her in, but as expected, the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were packed full. He was amazed at what she'd managed to accomplish in just under five months, and hated that he hadn't been there to help her.

A series of loud bangs came from the back of the house, and he followed the steady stream of profanities to the kitchen. All the renovations were amazing, but by the time he reached the kitchen, the state of the house had returned to the condition he'd remembered.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked. White puffs of breath formed with each word. The room wasn't much warmer than it had been outside and he wished he'd kept his jacket on. Megan ignored him and continued tossing large rolls of insulation out of her way, swearing. "Seriously, Meg, why is the insulation on the floor instead of the walls? It's a fucking icebox in here."

A loud yip came from under the plastic sheeting and a black dust mop slammed into his legs. "What the—"

"Benny! Down! Leave Uncle Peter alone," Megan yelled, just barely looking up from her task. "I know it's here somewhere."

Peter looked down at the mop of dark curls excitedly circling his legs, sniffing, and frowned. "What's this?"

"Finally!" Megan said in triumph and jumped out from behind the plastic sheeting that covered the cabinets. "I knew I had one back there somewhere." She held up a bottle of wine and a couple of red Solo cups. "God. It's really freezing down here," she said, looking around as if just now noticing the mess. "Now that I have the wine, we can go upstairs and have that talk you've been dying to have all night."

"Of course it's cold in here. You have no insulation on any of these walls."

"Brilliant deduction, Sherlock," she said, heading to the staircase in the back of the kitchen. "But don't worry your pretty little head—the upstairs is completely insulated. So are you coming?"

She disappeared up the stairs without Peter or the yippy dog. He surveyed the room one more time and swore a breeze coming through the walls shifted the plastic sheeting.

"Well, I guess we don't have much of a choice," he said to the puppy, who was licking the water off the top of his shoe. The dog tilted his head, cocking an ear, and gave him a confused look. "Come on, mutt. We'd better be good boys and follow her."

He was counting on having this conversation downstairs. If he remembered right, there were only bedrooms upstairs, and propositioning her for sex in the bedroom might be a bit presumptuous on his part. Hell, even the car would have been a better place.

Maybe it was for the best. This was Meg. He should forget about suggesting anything more than friendship, and just sleep in the other room.

The narrow stairway took him to the second floor and he made his way to her bedroom, but she wasn't there. The room was warm and furnished. But his indecision returned when he spied the king-size bed that dominated the middle of the room. It was rustic, with a dark wood and metal frame. It wasn't at all what he would have expected Meg to pick out. And looking at the sturdy posts, Peter was already imagining all manner of things he'd like to do on that bed. The puppy ran past him and leaped on the bed, circled once, and then curled up in the center of the mattress. And as if reading his thoughts, Benny eyed him suspiciously.

"Hey, I get it," Peter said to the dog. "You don't want me moving in on your girl, do you, furball?"

"Jealous?" Megan whispered in his ear as she passed, sending a shiver down his spine, straight to his cock. She strutted past and flopped on the bed, giving the dog an ear scratch. She'd changed out of her ugly Christmas attire and was in a tank top with the word Foxy written across her tits and fuzzy sleep pants with foxes on them.

Foxy, indeed.
Damn, how was he supposed to concentrate on not molesting her when she looked so fuckable? "Where's the rest of your furniture?" he said, trying to keep the conversation neutral. "I checked the guest room and it's empty."

"With all the renovations, I got tired of moving it from room to room, so I put some in storage and sold the rest. I don't need much. My bed to sleep. My desk to work." She pointed to a lumpy looking chaise in the corner. "And if I want to chill and watch TV, I curl up on the sofa. All the comforts of home."

"Well at least it's not freezing up here," Peter said under his breath.

"I've been dying to ask you what had Jesse's panties in a bunch tonight? Is there something wrong with the business?"

Peter let out a deep, exhausted breath and sat on the corner of the bed, trying to keep his distance. Jesse and his current predicament were as good enough a place as any to start this conversation. "She wants to finish college."

"That's good," Meg said, scooting to the edge of the bed with him. "You wanted her to finish school, so why don't you look happy?"

"She needs me to help out. Dad's threatening to come back to work so she can take time off to finish. Dad's doing better since his stroke, but he doesn't need the stress. Jesse wants me to take emergencies call and pull the weekend shifts while she's in class. It's not a problem, but January and February are some of the busiest months, with all the late-night snow removal. So just when I thought I'd get a lighter load, it looks like I'll be pulling double duty for a while."

"Oh, Peter. That sucks, but it's a good thing you're doing." Meg reached over and massaged his shoulders. The muscles twitched and tightened under her fingers, but that seemed to encourage her. "Wow, you're tense. You should come with me to the spa and get a good rubdown."

She swung a leg around him and straddled his back. Memories of their night in Vail came flooding back and his cock took notice. "Meg, stop. You've been dodging me all night and I—we need to talk."

But instead of moving back, she pressed herself against him, leaning her chin on his shoulder, and nonchalantly said, "Then talk."

"Well to start with, what are we going to do about tonight and your empty house?"

"What's the problem?" she asked. "If you're worried about the sleeping arrangements, don't be. You can sleep in the bed with me. I promise not to rub my lady bits on you. We've done it a hundred times. But if that's not good enough, the sofa's not too bad. I can get you a blanket and pillow. I'm not giving up my bed, even for you."

The problem was, he wanted to rub all her lady bits, but first he needed to know where she was on the whole sex thing. "Did you mean what you said? About being able to stay friends with me no matter what?"