Just a Friend

SAM

Evie was dressing up my Mercedes more than I would’ve thought possible, making it hard to keep my eyes on the road. She seemed frazzled from her fall, sure, but still beautiful as all hell. What I would give just to make out with her in my backseat…

That nickname I’d been using for her, “angel,” had started out as just a joke because of her tattoo. Now, though, it was something deeper.

I was surprised at how much I felt for her. I’d been separated from Carla for two years, but the divorce had only been finalized a few months ago; I’d never expected to move on so quickly.

Evie and I rode mostly in silence till I pulled up outside her house, lined with glimmering white Christmas lights. I wanted to help her to the door, but she begged me not to.

“Trust me,” she said, “my family would read way too much into it if I showed up at their door in a man’s arms.”

“Fine,” I said, giving in. “But I’ll come pick you up here tomorrow morning so you can take your car home. That is, as long as your ankle’s better. If it’s hurting too much, you can take a sick day.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Evie said. If I didn’t know better, I’d be offended at how determined she was to reject my help. “I can ask Saanvi to drive me.”

“It’s really no big deal. I’ll shoot you a text when I’m on my way.”

Her face did something complicated like she was trying not to smile. “Okay.” She reached for the handle.

I grabbed her attention one last time. “And Evie? Do your ankle a favor—as good as those heels look, wear some sensible shoes for a while.”

Evie shot me a smile, which only intensified mine.

As she climbed from my car, I tried to catch one last glimpse of her perfect little ass in that black dress, but her long wool coat made for an effective and disappointing shield.

It was for the best, I guess. I was her boss. I shouldn’t be checking her out. Maybe the hundredth time I told myself that, it would actually sink in.

I sat in the car watching till I was sure she’d made it into the house safely. Then, feeling a little lost about what to do with myself at ten o’clock on a Wednesday night, I pulled out my cell to give my mom a quick call.

The phone rang three times before her hoarse voice answered. “Hello?”

“Hey, Ma. Are you guys still up? I’m in the neighborhood.”

“Fernando isn’t, but I am if you wanna stop by,” she said. “I can leave the door unlocked so you don’t have to knock and wake your father.”

“All right. I’ll be there in a few.”

After a short drive through the housing development on Burberry Lane where I grew up, I parked in my parents’ driveway and headed inside.

I realized with a pang that they didn’t have nearly as many Christmas lights strung up as last year. Normally I tried to take care of decorating for them; neither of them was in the best of health, and I didn’t want them to hurt themselves falling off a ladder or something.

This year, though, between the divorce and the scramble to push this merger through at work, I’d barely had any time to help out around here.

They did have a tree and some colored string lights on the porch, so that was better than nothing. And despite my mother’s age, I knew she would insist on cooking one hell of a Christmas Eve dinner when the time came.

I entered the foyer, slipped off my shoes, and swerved into the living room, where my mother sat waiting for me in her leather recliner. Between the colorful spruce tree, Ma’s teal knitting needles, and her red yarn, the scene almost looked like a painting.

She was so thin that you could fit three of her in that armchair, but I knew she loved how much space it gave her for her projects. I noticed that the brown in her hair was darker than last time I’d seen her; she must have gotten it dyed recently.

“Sam,” she said, gesturing toward Dad’s rocker beside her. “Sit.”

I darted forward to give her a quick peck on the cheek, then did as instructed. I didn’t dare defy her. Seventy-five or not, she’d still whip my ass with a wooden spoon.

“So, how are things at the firm?” she asked.

“Well, I’ve got Lowry breathing down my neck to accept his terms for the merger.” I huffed, rocking in the recliner. “I wasn’t sure about it at first, but after talking it over with someone, I think I’m going to sign. I think it’ll be good for me to move forward.”

She smirked. “The only way I’ve ever seen you give up a penny is if there’s a woman involved.”

My forehead pinched. “Ma…”

“Is she someone we can meet?” she asked.

I shook my head. “She’s just a friend.”

Even though I wasn’t even dating the damn woman, Evie had me feeling a ton of shit I hadn’t felt in years—jealousy, excitement, an overwhelming lust that even my own hands couldn’t satisfy…

Not that I would dream of telling my mother about any of that.

“But I can see it in your eyes,” Ma said, oblivious to my inappropriate train of thought. “You want more than friendship. Don’t you?”

“Ma…” I did want to tell her about Evie, but there’d be no point. “Can we not?”

“I’m just saying, Carla’s flying in tomorrow evening. It might make you feel better to have your new girlfriend on your arm while you’re facing your ex for the first time since the divorce.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I clarified. But still…Mom wasn’t wrong. It ~would~ make me feel better to have Evie there. Carla always had a way of making me feel small, and I had a feeling Evie would counteract that.

“You think about it,” Mom said, reading the pensiveness on my face. “Just know, any…~friend~ of yours is welcome here at any time.” Her knitting needles clacked as she let me sit with the stupidly tempting idea.

***

After chatting with Mom a few more minutes, I headed back out to my Mercedes, letting her head to bed. But once I was settled in the driver’s seat, I didn’t bother turning the key.

Instead, I pulled my iPhone from my back pocket and went straight to my previous communication with Evie.

Sam

Hey, angel. How’s your ankle doing now?

After a torturous second of studying the bubbles at the base of my screen, a new message popped up.

Angel

It’s still swollen. My mother is so dramatic. She threatened to call Greg.

Why on earth would her mother call her ex-husband about a sprain? As my fingers glided along the screen, trying to find a way to ask, her next text solved it for me.

Angel

He’s a doctor. It’s like she thinks he knows my body better than I do.

I snickered, sending my next message.

Sam

In my experience, it seems like you know your body pretty well.

I could still see that pub mirror so clearly in my mind. Evie stood there with my dick inside of her, dragging my fingers to her clit, completely unashamed and determined to take all she could from me by the end of the night.

Angel

I don’t know about that. After your chivalry today, I might have to take some time tonight to get to know it a little better.

Sam

You’re so naughty…

But I fucking adored it. I liked that Evie shared my crooked sense of humor. I quickly typed another line.

Sam

Send me a video?

Angel

Lol. You wish.

Sam

Alright. Lol, have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow. Night, angel.

Angel

Night, Vázquez.

Honestly, I hoped she ~would~ think about me tonight in bed while she touched herself. Even if I couldn’t have her the way I wanted, knowing she was thinking about me while I was thinking about her might curb my sweet tooth.

Or…maybe it wouldn’t.