Oakley stared at the open red package she’d set on her bed. It had arrived on her doorstep this afternoon with instructions not to open until she was alone, Pike’s slashy, masculine signature on the note.
She’d had no theories about what could be inside, but she definitely wouldn’t have guessed this. She’d thought this whole Pike detour had been effectively shut down. They’d worked together a few days this week at Bluebonnet and he’d been nothing but professional. He hadn’t so much as hinted at their late-night phone call or the run-in at Wicked. He’d respected her wishes to keep all of it confidential, and she’d figured he’d moved on just as she would’ve expected him to. He’d gotten a little something out of her and was over it. Bored. They could go on as co-workers.
Based on this box, she’d been wrong.
Inside were things from almost every aisle in Wicked. Vibrators of varying sizes, plugs, clamps of some sort, lubricant—the works. He must’ve spent a small fortune.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Hello, most inappropriate gift ever. What in God’s name was Pike thinking?
She removed all the items and dug through the black satin everything had been wrapped in. A card was tucked into the very bottom along with a longer envelope. She pulled them out and opened the card.
If all you want are fantasies, you should at least make them really dirty, well-equipped ones. Hope you enjoy what I picked out for you. Best, Pike.
She ran her fingertips over a dildo made of smooth glass, a shiver moving through her at the thought of Pike hand-selecting things that would bring her pleasure, things that would be inside her. What had he imagined when he’d picked out each thing? Her neck went hot and her sex pulsed with a dull ache.
P.S. There’s a key taped to the bottom of the box. You can lock this stuff up so Reagan doesn’t find it.
P.P.S. I included four passes to the show tomorrow. Don’t deny yourself the joy of watching me bang on things.
P.P.P.S. I did not include Mr. Pink. Unrealistic expectations are unhealthy.
She snort laughed and put her face in her hands. Who was this guy? She reached back, grabbing her phone off her bedside table, and typed out a quick text.
Oakley: Thank u 4 the gift, but u know I can’t accept this.
Pike responded within a minute.
Pike: No returns on that stuff—already licked each piece to make sure.
She snorted.
Oakley: U r a sick, sick man
Pike: PSA—silicone is not tasty.
Oakley: The more u know …
Pike: Tonight, on a very special episode of Family Ties …
She groaned and fell back against her pillows. He wasn’t supposed to be funny. Slick, she’d expected. Charming, yes. But funny was like her kryptonite.
She tried to think of how to respond to cut things off before they went too far, but he messaged her first.
Pike: U busy? I could come over after rehearsal and show u how they all work ;-)
She closed her eyes, breathed through the urge to be reckless and say yes.
Oakley: I’m always busy.
Pike: The scandalous night activities of Oakley Easton …
Oakley: You mean Sasha
Pike: I’m not interested in her. Is Oakley taking calls tonight?
Oakley: Good night Pike
A few long seconds passed before he responded.
Pike: Sleep well, mama.
She sighed and tapped the phone lightly against her forehead. This guy was good. And so … damn … dangerous.
She needed to shut this speeding train down because she was losing control of its direction. Despite her best intentions, she found herself flirting back with him, playing the game, encouraging him. He made it too easy to let down her guard. And that night on the phone made him too hard to forget.
But it was all fantasy. She had to remember that.
Pike was not some single dad down at the PTA meeting. He wasn’t some guy looking to date her and see where things went. He was a drummer in a successful band. A guy who toured the country and most likely the beds of many, many women.
She had to get that message through to her misguided libido. It was easy to trick herself into thinking Pike was some normal, dateable guy because she was seeing him out of his element. Hanging out at her house, eating in dive restaurants, volunteering at a charity. But this wasn’t his life. This was a small diversion in between his real-life activities.
This needed to be a strictly professional relationship. Tomorrow, she’d take Reagan to his concert. Reagan would love it, of course, but Oakley was going for herself, too. She needed to see the real Pike, remind herself what that world was like. This had already gone way too far. And it probably had less to do with Pike and more to do with the fact that she’d shut down this side of herself for so long.
Now that interest was stirring again, maybe she needed to open herself up to dating. Regular dudes. Guys who would take her to dinner and a movie. Ones who would bring her flowers—not send her a box of nipple clamps and butt plugs.
She inhaled a long breath, feeling better now that she had a plan, and sat up to shove all the toys back into the box. Tomorrow she’d fix the Pike situation. Tonight she’d take a necessary leap.
She grabbed her laptop from her desk and sat on the bed. She had a little while before she needed to sign in for her shift, so she opened up a site she’d never thought she’d visit. Perfect Match. She’d seen the commercials enough times to know it was a pretty popular one. Before she could let herself chicken out, she opened up an account, uploaded a pic, and filled out the profile information. When she was done, her finger hovered over the button that would make the profile active.
Nerves crawled up her throat. She’d never truly dated in the normal sense. The only long-term relationship she’d ever been in had been bent from the start. And after that, she’d been a teen mom. Not exactly the type who’d be hot on the dating market. She’d tried a few years ago to go out with a guy she’d met at the grocery store. Things had gone well for a while, but then he’d asked about her night job when her schedule kept interfering with dates. She’d been dumb enough to think honesty was the best policy. He’d been so disgusted, he’d left her in the restaurant to finish her dinner alone.
Hell, maybe she wasn’t even capable of sustaining a real dating relationship. She had no idea. But she only had five minutes before she needed to take a call, and this was how people did it now, right? She closed her eyes and hit the button. A perky dinging sound let her know her profile was live.
She kind of wanted to vomit.
But she didn’t have time for a full-scale freak-out. Work awaited. She closed the window for the dating site and signed in for her nightly shift.
Strangely, there was some comfort in putting on her headset tonight. This was predictable. Safe. Once she was on duty, the only men she needed to worry about were the ones who were paying.
They could be annoying and needy and misogynistic, but at least they couldn’t rip out her heart when the line went dead.
Oakley eyed the concert tickets she’d set on her bedside table as the first call connected. She’d take care of everything tomorrow night. Life would get back to normal.
Whatever that was.
Oakley