Paris Masters stared over at her best friend and worried she’d not heard her right. They were playing the music loud, but she was certain Sara had just said she was hooking up with this guy for the first time—ever in real life—today.
“You’ve never actually been in the same room with this guy?” A flash of that Craigslist stalker did a quick rewind through her head followed by every warning she’d ever heard about strangers.
“What? Don’t look so shocked, Paris. Come on, you mean you’ve never hooked up with a guy on the first date?”
“No. God, no, I mean, don’t you watch Criminal Minds?” she demanded then put her eyes back on the road. It was snow covered, and even though it was a highway, it was still dangerous.
“Life is not a television drama, no matter how many episodes you watch,” Sara said and lifted her bare foot up on the seat to finish her pedicure. The fact that she could actually paint her nails fire-engine red while Paris drove was amazing, but that was Sara—always successful.
“I know life isn’t like the movies, but the newspapers and such are real, right? I mean, come on, how do you know this guy doesn’t have bad breath, or can’t put a sentence together?”
“We Skyped and chatted on Yahoo,” Sara said, as if that was good enough. “He’s hot.”
“That’s it? You talked to him online and he’s hot?”
“You were with Greg too long,” Sara grumbled then perked up. “But this place, it might have another guy there, you know? You could see.” Sara left that dangling out there like it might entice Paris. “You can take a few days off, come on.”
“Uh, no thanks, really, I’ve had enough of men to last me a long time. Besides, I have taken a few days off.” The drive alone to Wyoming from Canada took a day.
“Sweetie, Greg was an ass. You are such a catch. Any man would be crazy not to keep you. And he just what?” Sara asked. “Had you and cheated on you!”
Paris couldn’t argue with that, not really. Sara was right. Greg had turned out to be a slimy cheat. What he’d done, though, was nothing compared to Alexander. Life was much more complicated than Sara would admit but really, Paris didn’t want to rehash her mistakes, she just wanted to move on. Again.
“Paris, are you listening to me? You can’t—”
“You’re right, you are, he was a disgusting pig, but don’t you get it? That’s why,” she muttered and caught her breath. “That’s why I need a break. I just didn’t get it. Not with him, and I didn’t get it with Alexander, either.”
At the mention of Alexander, the car turned uncomfortably silent. Any reference to Alex did that, but she’d grown beyond the pain and betrayal, or she thought she had.
Sara brushed her auburn hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear to frown at her. “Alexander was insane, Paris. No one knew he was capable of such a thing. No one. How could we?”
“No, I knew better. You nailed Greg, but I ignored all the warning signs. I stayed with him, even knowing it wasn’t good. I got on that ice with Alex knowing, deep down, knowing it wasn’t safe. I did it anyway. It was like my brain and body went on autopilot. I ignored Greg’s excuses and late hours. I ignored the warning tingle that Alex wasn’t all right in the head.” She stopped to catch her breath and barreled on. “That’s why I’ve taken a break from men, Sara. That’s why. I had no idea how to stop myself.” She was ashamed to admit it to Sara, but it was true. She needed help—something to stop the cycle she fell into with men.
Sara had been her friend since they’d been kids, but she’d gone off to university while Paris had put school on hold for her chance with skating. Now Sara was back and seemed happy dating one guy after another. Sara had to know something that would help.
“I had no idea at all he was cheating, not really. I didn’t allow myself to think about it. I just accepted his lies. I never questioned his business trips or late nights. Not once. Two years. He was cheating all that time, from the first,” she added, that sick, depressed feeling rising up to swallow her along with her tears. “Alex did the same thing to me, Sara. He stared me in the eye, right in the eye, and told me everything was all right between us. I went on the ice with him sure I shouldn’t, but unable to stop. There’s something wrong with me. Something I have to fix, you know?”
“Oh, Paris, don’t think like that!” Sara cried. “Look, Alex was insane. His suicide after what he did to you is proof. How could you know a person you’d skated with for years would suddenly decide to drop you on purpose! And Greg,” she muttered. “Don’t even get me started on him. He was a class act, full of dodges and shadows. He talked in circles and wore you down with his complaining. You are beautiful. He is a jerk. You shouldn’t take a break—not for three years—because of him. You should dive in and have some real, honest-to-goodness orgasmic sex with the first hot guy that draws your eye.”
Paris laughed again, but knew she wasn’t about to do any such thing. Not with a complete stranger. She wasn’t sure how Sara did it. How could she reveal so much to a man she didn’t know? Sex was intimate. It left you wide open and vulnerable.
“Just stop thinking about it as some holy grail of intimacy and let your brain turn off. Feel, enjoy, experience life without that big jerk.”
“You make it sound like I’ve been sitting around moping over Greg and I haven’t. I just haven’t.”
“Okay, what have you been doing?”
Paris made a face. “I’ve been doing a lot of things I want to do, like my own thing,” she finally said. “Building my student list and taking care of my uncle without him knowing it.”
“All right,” Sara said, laughing. “You’re right. Both of those are hard, your uncle the trickier of the two, but that’s not living.” She motioned to the truck stop sign up ahead. “I know you know that, too. You can’t hide away from men and relationships because your first real one was horrible. Alex doesn’t count. He was your skating partner. He never loved you. And you didn’t love him. I bet you didn’t love Greg either. So, now you’re free. Look deep, figure out what you want, but until you do, why not have some fun along your way to Mr. Right?”
“You make it sound so easy,” Paris grumbled.
“It’s not,” Sara agreed. “But you have to give some lucky guy a chance, sweetie. I get it, I do. You take a break and I’ll drive. My toes are dry enough. But think on it. I know you’ve got a drop-dead gorgeous body, Miss Skating Queen. Until you have sex—real, hot sex—you’re always going to battle whatever that jerk fed you to keep you with him.”
“Sara, it isn’t that, I just don’t want to have sex—meaningless sex—with some stranger I’ve never even talked with over coffee,” she huffed. “I had that for years, huh?” she added in a whisper.
“Oh, sweetie,” Sara laughed. “You have never, never had sex the way I’m talking. If Greg had been able to give you that, he’d never have had to play such a number on you. Believe me, when you have your first orgasm, your first earth-shattering, scream out loud enough to wake the neighbors climax, then we’ll talk. Until then, trust me, it’s not the same.”
My first orgasm. By the sound of it, Sara’d had more than her fair share of those. Paris couldn’t say the same. But with a stranger? She peeked at Sara’s profile and wondered. Sara was willing to travel from Canada to Wyoming to have sex. Maybe Sara did know what she was doing. Or the man did. Either way, she’d talked to Sara because she’d wanted help. Could she the advice?
Can I take it?
Sara set her bag down in the back and tugged on Paris’ hair. “And who says it has to be one night? Or just one man? I read the hottest story about a woman who had fun with two men. Maybe what you need is a ménage à trois. You’d forget about Greg, and get a very, very hot experience to treasure for the rest of your life.”
Paris laughed. “Oh, really? I thought that was every guy’s dream? Having two women? Not a woman’s idea of a great time.”
“Whew.” Sara fanned herself. “You obviously didn’t read this book. But, just see, if you find some guy—or more than one—and they interest you, see where it goes. Don’t put limits on it before you need to, okay?”
Paris frowned, but turned off at the truck stop.
Meet a man and just…let things happen? With a stranger.
Well, she didn’t want to do anything with any of the men she knew, so maybe a stranger was the only logical option.
But two? No freakin’ way.
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