The Good Girl (3 page)

Swallowing, I finally managed, “Ah, so the position is yours?”

Her head flew back as a
full-bodied laugh escaped. “Umm, no. Instead, she said that it looked like I had some competition.”

For the first time in a very long time, the smile on my face was real, all the way to my eyes.
I bit my cheek to hold back some. Despite my catastrophic evening, I was still in the running. That column could still be mine!

Once she dropped me at my car, I wondered over what to do next.
On the one hand, I wanted to drive far away as quickly as possible, on the other...he had my phone. If he brought it to work with him, I could get it, make a hasty escape, and be on with my life. I had research to do...years of lack of experience to make up for. Though I had no idea what time it was now, without a phone, I could see that Wyatt wasn’t here. He hadn’t passed us or pulled up. Somehow, even though the more practical solution would be for me to just wait around and accost him in the parking lot, I wanted to look amazing when he saw me again. Right now, I looked like I had just rolled out of bed...because I had, his bed.

Unlocking my car, I hopped in and drove back to my apartment. It was time to get my hot girl on. Since I had never tried it before, it was more than time. Suddenly I was wishing I had spent more time studying Molina in the car. She seemed to have it all figured out. Why couldn’t I be more like her? Funny, because a day before, had I been asked, I would have said that I wanted to be nothing like her. Now, a day later, I was realizing that she wasn’t all bad. In all honesty, she had several characteristics that were quite admirable.

For one, she would probably be able to walk into my closet and pull out something meh and make it look utterly spectacular.
Instead, as I parked the car in front of my apartment, I realized that in a moment, after mounting the stairs, I would be stuck standing here trying to figure this out for myself. So, I walked in and decided to face this next challenge by starting with something I was really good at: a shower.

Two hours later, I had run out of excuses, and patience. I needed that phone. It was my lifeline to the world, and though I still had my Macbook, I relied on my phone to connect, too. Saturday meant the weekly call from my mother. She would be wanting to know if I would join the family for brunch. There was never any acceptable excuse for missing, so I have no idea why I even bothered trying anymore. The tonsillectomy hadn’t been reason for my absence. Jetlag after returning from London and a semester abroad had been disallowed. I’m almost surprised that she hadn’t flown me home every weekend from Europe. Ah, those four months had been bliss.

Who knows who else might have called.
It was time to suck it up and simply return to the scene of the crime...City Tavern. I was feeling cut off from my life, and not in a good way. Normally, I charged my phone while driving and my phone synced with the car so that any calls could be made from the safety of the cockpit. Handsfree when driving was the way to be. Truly life changing.

When I parked minutes later just outside the restaurant, I stared helplessly at the door. Somehow, I felt like this could only go one way: badly. With all the confidence I could muster, I headed to the front door, entered the restaurant, passed by the hostess station and walked directly to the bar. Sure enough, there he was, smiling as I walked toward him.

“Hey, doll,” he said in that easy way he had of unnerving me. Slowly he leaned over the bar after pulling up a drink he already had poured. “Cosmo?” He chuckled. “It was your new favorite last night.”

Frozen in place, I paused before speaking.
Breathe, Willow. Head high, chin up, chest out. Stones don’t get thrown.
That was a paraphrase. My mother never would have spoken so informally. Her advice was sound, though. I pasted a smile on my face and headed to the nearest bar stool, directly across from him. “Good evening, Wyatt,” I said smoothly. “It looks like you’ve been expecting me.” Then I reached for the drink and took a healthy, stabilizing swig.

“Maybe just a little,” he responded with his classic wink. “I mean, how long could a type A like you survive without this.” He patted his vest pocket and after glancing about conspicuously, he pulled it open just enough to reveal the phone secreted within.

I could feel a squeal rising in my throat, it was all I could do to control the sound, but nothing could keep me from diving over the bar with my arm outstretched as I reached for my phone. Naturally, he had simply taken a step back and away from me while stifling a laugh.

“Sorry, doll,” he said while shaking his head. “Nothing in life is that easy. You should know that by now.” His blue eyes stared at me intently.

My stomach was doing somersaults. All I wanted to do was get my phone and go...maybe finish my drink. Instead, he was holding me hostage with it. “So now what?” I tried to project this relaxed and confident demeanor, but much like before, in his presence, I was doing a poor job of it.

“Well, I thought we might play a game. You’re fun, right?” He laughed at his cleverness.

“Oh, yeah.
I’m loads of fun, especially when I’m load
ed
...apparently. Again, I ask...now what?” My arms were currently crossed over my chest. He was making me good and nervous.

Once again, he leaned over the bar, “Well, I thought I’d ask you some questions...instead of Truth or Dare, we’ll make up our own game...Truth or Truth. I’ll decide if you reveal enough with your response. If you do, with each answer, you earn back a piece of your phone.” He studied me, watching for a reaction.

It was my turn to be calm and collected. I met him on the bar. We were practically nose to nose, separated by my martini glass. Stirring it slowly, I made him wait on my reaction. Then I took the cherry from the rim and popped it into my mouth. After devouring it while he watched, his eyes intense and hungry, I smiled. I had no choice, really. Wyatt had my phone and seemed determined to mess with me. I refused to let him win. Instead, I exuded confidence. “Let’s play.”

A waitress showed up at the end of the bar to place a drink order. Reluctantly, Wyatt walked away, but not before giving me his seductive smile and saying, “I’ll be right back, doll. Stay put.”

Naturally, I stayed. There was no way around it, if I wanted my phone. Oh, and I’d probably be lying just a little if I didn’t admit that he intrigued me more than a bit. The man was sex incarnate. If I could just get him interested in me, I might stand a shot at my dream job. Since the last thing I wanted was for him to see me sitting there waiting on him, I made sure that I looked busy. Of course, that would be easier to do...
if I had my phone.
Luckily, my last act before leaving the house was to print off a bit of research. My search had been simple. What did I need to know in order to be a successful sex columnist? Aside from the obvious: sex. From there...I tried all kinds of crazy keywords, but what yielded the most success: sex bucket list.

Would you believe that there really were lists for that?
And I’m not talking a list of ten, or twenty things that everyone should try before dying...fifty! Yes, before me was a lengthy list of fifty things to do sexually before dying. Guess how many I had done? One. Seriously...only one: #26. Sex with no kissing.

That wasn’t even really intentional on my part. I don’t think. Soon, I was super absorbed in this list, so absorbed that I didn’t even notice that he was standing before me once more, refilling my glass, adding extra cherries, and trying to peek at what was stealing his attention. “Hey!” I exclaimed as he tried to snatch the paper from me.

“Well, I know what my first question will be,” he said with a laugh. “Are you ready to play, doll?”

Frowning at him, I opened my mouth without thinking. “First, answer my question.”

He leaned toward me and smiled. “Have a cherry.” Pushing my glass towards me, he added, “Then I’ll answer anything you want.”

The cherry was just as tasty as the last, but my effort to eat it was less than seductive. I didn’t take my eyes off his. “Why do you call me ‘doll’? Do you not know my name? Is it your pet name for all the girls? What?” My irritation was obvious. Crap. I forgot that Stones keep their emotions in check.
Breathe, Willow. Just breathe…

“Whoa!”
He joked. “That was way more than one question.” He reached out and cupped the side of my face, a gesture that no doubt was meant to reassure me. It did, dammit. “You look like a china doll to me...those beautiful big green eyes, that long blonde hair. My sister had so many collectibles, but one of her favorites...looked remarkably like I imagine you did as a child. And I have never
ever
called another by that pet name.” Smiling at me warmly, he released my face. Standing suddenly straighter, confident that he had put my fears at ease, he spoke once more. “Ready to play?” He wiggled his eyebrows at me and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Fine.
I need my phone. Let’s get this over with.” Then I let out a huge sigh to show that I was treating this as a necessary evil. How could I admit that more than a small part of me was looking forward to his line of questioning? He was so...dangerous. Wyatt was everything that I had been warned against my entire life. Here was a man that was not for me. Yet earlier, I had wanted him if only for the afternoon.

Smiling widely, he asked his first question. “What is that paper you were so interested in?”

Apparently, he was serious. He really did want to know about it. My face was already flushing as I struggled to articulate the most truthful of answers. I needed that phone! “Well, I’m trying to get a permanent position at the magazine writing a sex column. That paper was a list of things that I should know about if I’m going to get a chance to fill that position and perform in a respectable fashion.” Slowly, I exhaled. That should do it. Bravely, I held out my hand, palm up, waiting for the piece of the phone. Reaching inside his vest, he fumbled for a moment before passing me the screw from the top of the Lifeproof phone case. “Oh, hell,” I mumbled. “This is going to be a long game.”

“You should know by now that anything worth having is worth waiting for.” He winked at me. “Ready for the next question?”

Seriously? I was still staring at the plastic gray screw rolling around in the palm of my hand. Looking up at him, I wondered aloud, “What’s your major?”

He chuckled. “Come on, that’s the college equivalent of ‘what’s your sign.’ I expected so much more from you, Willow.” He studied me for a reaction.

“Great. So you
do
know my name.” I sighed. “I genuinely need to know your major.” Crossing my arms on the bar, I prepared to explain. “If you are some kind of electrical engineering major, then I need to consider the phone a total loss and go buy another one. I’ll never be able to assemble it again. If, however, your major is just about anything else, I have a chance.” Raising an eyebrow, I repeated my question. “So, what’s your major, Wyatt?”

Smiling widely, he said in a low voice. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say my name. I like it.” He ducked his head as he answered. “Engineering.”

With a wave, I swiveled away from him on the stool and hopped down. Just as I started to walk away, he spoke once more.

“Wait! It’s
civil
engineering. I was just messing with you!” There was a desperate edge to his voice. Could he possibly be invested in our little game?

Turning slowly, I placed a hand on my hip. “So how many?”

He looked bewildered as he struggled to respond. “How many what?”

Closing the distance between us, I took one step after another as I spoke. “How many more questions before I have all the pieces to my phone?” Then I waited. He was making quite the show of calculating how many bits he could break it into. Wyatt counted on his fingers. He peeked in his pocket. Finally, he had an answer. Without saying a word, he held up his fingers. Four on one hand. Two on the other. “Forty-two!” I shrieked.

Shaking his head vehemently, he rearranged his fingers.
“No! Six! Six.” He laughed. “I only have six more questions for you...that you have to answer.” He looked up at me from his position leaning on the bar. I swear, if he were a dog, I’d be seeing his underbelly right now.

With a defeated sigh, I slipped back onto the bar stool.
“Well, compared to forty-two, six doesn’t seem so bad.” After composing myself, I gave him the go ahead. “Carry on.”

Shaking his head, he mumbled under his breath something about how I thought I was the queen of Sheba. Then he noticed the customer a few seats down, motioned with his head, and walked over to take the drink order. While he was gone, I couldn’t help but to consider that I liked our interactions. Was this banter? I was actually having fun. Even when he frustrated the hell out of me, there was something playful and harmless about it. Could I have him all wrong? He glanced my way and smirked. Crap. I just managed to get caught staring at him. Dammit. I probably even had some kind of stupid look on my face.

So, I pulled out the list once more. This should capture my attention. After careful examination, I realized that there was no rhyme or reason to the list. It started out pretty tame:

#1. Kiss a girl.

Then it jumped a little with:

#2. Have anal.

Come on.
I’ve barely had vaginal. Not only that, it wasn’t even good. I have never had an orgasm. Seriously. No threesomes (#3). No group sex (#4). No phone sex (#5). And, as a Stone, I had certainly never masturbated (#6). Maybe I should just start there. Maybe a person can never have decent sex with another if they can’t learn to satisfy themselves first. I mean, if a guy cared, how would I be able to tell him what I like, what feels good if I don’t even know myself? This was why Jacqueline was giving the column to Molina. There’s a girl who looked like she knew herself. Hell, there were probably a dozen guys who knew her, too.

“This list that you are so absorbed in...how many items are on it?” He was smiling at me over the edge of the paper I was holding up in my hand.

Looking him head on, I asked, “Is this my next question?” He nodded and I was momentarily distracted by the twinkle in his intensely blue eyes. “There are fifty items on the list.” Once more my hand shot out. This time I was rewarded with the front of the phone case. I set it on the bar in front of me and laid the screw inside it. Taking a deep breath, I feared that the easy questions were taken care of. He was like a dog with a bone. He had found something that he wanted and wasn’t going to let go. His grip was tightening. My only hope was to increase the pace so he wouldn’t have time to think about it.

“Are these like fifty things you should do...a sexy kind of bucket list?” He looked at me intently. Apparently this was my next question.

“Yes,” I said simply adding a shrug. I was already imagining the next logical question and dreading it. Before I could help myself, I had swallowed and was answering it...unasked. “And I’ve only done one of them: sex with no kissing.” It was all I could do to maintain the Stone family posture. The Cosmo helped. I picked it up and took another fortifying sip.

His head tilted as he surveyed my actions. “In my experience, sex with kissing is the best kind.” Then he reached over, covered my hand for a moment, and finally lifted my hand and kissed it ever so gallantly while staring into my eyes.

Somersaults. My stomach started doing them. Damn, he was good.

Before I could say anything, the back side of the Lifeproof case appeared on the bar. It made me want to cry, or run, or kiss him. “Quick,” I ordered. “Next question.”

Standing up, he looked at me seriously. “So, how many people have you been with, had sex with?” He asked me. The way he asked, the way he looked at me, I knew my answer was important. Somehow, I wanted to please him. My response...could make it go either way.

“Two. I’ve slept with two guys my whole life. One time each.” This time, being a Stone didn’t matter. My face fell. I couldn’t stand to see the look of shock or disappointment, or...what the hell
was
that look in his eyes? “What?!” I had to ask, since he was impossible to decipher.

“You...amaze me. You really are a good girl.” Then, before I could look down, his finger was under my chin, forcing me to look at him. “And I mean that in the best way.” He glanced toward the kitchen door where another waitress was bustling through to give him a drink order. After excusing himself, he walked over to her, leaving me to consider all that was happening between us.

This man, this guy from college was so different from what I imagined.
It was nice. So few people actually surprised me anymore. With all of our family obligations, I had been exposed to so many individuals from so many walks of life. Experience had trained me to recognize personality types and yet, I couldn’t seem to find a neat little box to stick him in anymore. Before, he fit so nicely into the man-whore one. Now, he seemed too big to be contained within those confines any longer.

Staring at the list, I realized how daunting it was, but maybe...just maybe with the right man...it wouldn’t seem so bad after all.
Certainly, some of these could be combined...like I could watch porn alone (#32) while learning to give myself multiple orgasms (#33). My mind was racing with the possibilities this list inspired. When I looked up, I saw him smiling at me warmly while drying a glass. “What’s that for?” I asked, hoping he’d explain what was going on in his mind.

Moving closer, he patted his vest pocket.
“Hey, I ask the questions around here, doll.” The color was rising in my cheeks, I could feel it. “So, you’ve had sex twice with two different people. Did you at least enjoy it?”

Thinking wasn’t necessary before responding.
“Not even a little bit,” I admitted sadly. “The first time...hurt. The second time wasn’t any better. And apparently I suck because...there were no repeat performances.” A sigh escaped my lips. “I mean, look, even you couldn’t get into it with me.” At that admission, I stiffened and glanced around conspicuously, worrying over who might have heard. No one seemed to have paid any attention to me. Typical.

His eyes were wide as he leaned closer. “That’s what you think? You think I didn’t want you?” Shaking his head, he started to speak but was interrupted once more. The bar was getting busier. “Don’t. Go. Anywhere.” For the first time since we’d actually started speaking to each other the day before, Wyatt looked completely serious. Despite his words, I slipped off the stool and headed for the restroom.

Once inside, I leaned on the counter and let my face cool against the marble tile wall. The door opened and a woman walked in. I barely paid attention as she glanced about the room, and walked back out.

“Thank you.” His voice was clear through the bathroom door.

Sighing, I slumped against the wall and even started to head into the nearest stall when the door flew open. He was there, in front of me. My first instinct was to protest his unwelcome presence in the bathroom. “This is the ladies’ room,” I hissed.

Instead of speaking, he pressed me against the wall, covering my body with his.
When he finally revealed his thoughts, he simply asked, “Are these the actions of a disinterested guy?” Then his lips were suddenly on mine.

God help me, I was responding, making out with a hot guy in a bathroom! Though I have no data to support that, I’m reasonably confident that no Stone has ever done
this
in a bathroom. His arms were around me, pulling me closer. I had one hand on his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart. With my other, I had captured his neck. If I had my way, it would have gone on and on. Then...I remembered where we were and who he was. “You’re going to get fired,” I murmured against his lips while our tongues battled.

“They can’t fire me, I turned in my notice two weeks ago.
This is my last night. I’m off at 10pm.” He paused and pulled back just far enough for us to stare into one another’s eyes. His look was so intense that it knocked the wind out of me. “I’m trying to distract you until then by holding you hostage with your phone.” He kissed down my neck before popping up to look at me once more. “How’m I doing?”

“Eh,” I joked.
“What time is it?”

“Just after 8pm,” he answered against my throat, where he was kissing and licking, nibbling and teasing.
Damn, this man was good.

“Crap. Two more hours of this?” Pushing him back, I stared into his eyes. “I need my phone.”

Standing up, he took my hands in his, held them there and just looked at them for a moment. “Well, doll. You know what to do…” With that, he lead me out of the bathroom, back to the bar, directly to my waiting stool. Sitting there, I watched him, wondering what he would do next. As soon as he stood before me, he spoke. “I think we need to raise the ante on this game. No more Cosmos for you. Shots.”

Gazing at him calmly, I asked, “Are you trying to get me drunk again? You know, if you want me to come home with you, you could just ask.” At the moment, I have no idea where that came from, what made me say that. Wyatt was not for me. He wasn’t my type in the least. How could I ever bring him home to meet the family? Only once I spoke those words, I realized I meant them. I wanted a second chance at going home with him.

“You mean it, doll?”
He looked almost hopeful.

Nodding, I assured him.
“Yeah. I do. Only, no shots. I want to remember everything, no blackouts.” I studied his reaction before I spoke once more. “Now, let me win back my phone.”

Shock. That’s how I would describe the look on his face. Or maybe it was more like...pleasantly surprised, because when we finally started speaking again, he was relaxed and controlled again. “Where were we?”

“I think we had just established my sordid past and utter lack of experience,” I said sarcastically.

“Ah, yes,” he said as he tapped his finger on the counter.
“Now, why is this
experience
so important to you?”

Confused, I tried to decide how to answer that.
“I want this column so badly…” I shrugged. “It’s expected that I do something with my degree and fast. Stones aren’t burdens on society…” My voice trailed off.

“So, you are battling a lifetime of expectations and family lectures about your station in life?” He smirked. “I know a little something about that.”

Obviously, I let that go because...how could he possibly?
Oh, but the house. “Who does the garage belong to...the one you live above?” Then I leaned over and waited patiently for a response.