MoreThanWords Read Free

C, though we can
discuss how much sucking you should do another time. Regrettably, I have to go
to work.
    Calli grabbed a crossword magazine from the floor and fanned
herself with it while pecking at the keyboard. Sure. Thanks for the game.
    I’d like to play with you again.
    All the boys say that. Or they had in the sixth
grade, when she was the first girl to get breast buds.
    I bet they do. Who do they ask for when they call you out
to play? Give me a name to put with my memory of our first virtual date.
    She got as far as typing it in the window, then backspaced
the whole thing. You’re looking at it. C is my first initial and Ya is the
beginning of my last name.
    Thanks for nothing. Where are you, and don’t say Ontario,
I can see that much.
    Temptation licked at her fingertips. Travis seemed great
online, but she was no fool. Location is confidential. For all I know you
could be a nutcase, prowling the streets with a beaten-up Scrabble board tucked
under your third arm.
    His reply popped up instantly. So you’ve seen me around.
    This guy was awesome. And he was about to disappear. Don’t
you have to get to work?
    I do. I wish I could call in sick and do this all night.
    “Oh, me too.” Her fingers flew across the keys, not wanting
him to go before he read her message. So do it. Show me how dominant you
really are.
    You tempt me, C. Hairy mole and all.
    Um, I forgot to mention that I’m mostly toothless. Does
that change how you feel about me? She slapped her forehead. How he felt
about her? Good lord, she sounded like a cyber-stalker.
    But Travis came back with another cute and sexy line. I’ve
heard stories about what toothless women can do, so, no.
    You’re horrible. I like it. Why can’t you call in sick? Yes, she was totally fishing for information. Stupid as that was for so many
reasons.
    Because I’m irreplaceable.
    Me too, it’s a burden. To her customers and her dog,
if nobody else.
    If you won’t tell me your name, at least tell me what
your real job is. Some crumb to tide me over while I’m bored tonight.
    Calli took a minute to think. A little information, nothing
too specific, couldn’t hurt. And maybe Travis would give something in return.
    Truth—I work in a romance store.
    A romance store. What does it sell—flowers, lingerie, sex
toys?
    Pride in her business beat out her need to be secretive. The
works. Something romantic for everyone, for every time. That’s the tagline.
    So you’re perfect. A woman who likes both Scrabble and
sex toys.
    Perfect, her? Only in this corner of the internet. Such
assumptions. I only said I work there, not that I like the products.
    And here I thought we were the ideal couple.
    “Sure, if you’re a neurotic introvert like me,” she said to
the black rose on her screen. Her fingers said something entirely different. You
tell me what kind of job you’re irreplaceable at on a Saturday night and I’ll
tell you what I really think about sex toys.
    I’m working at a bar. Big one, nothing fancy and no
strippers, just rock music and dancing. Now spill.
    This secret chat was the most excitement she’d had in…oh,
her entire life. Telling intimate truths to a stranger was unbelievably
liberating. She started typing, feeling her cheeks lift with a smile her
mystery man would never see.
    I’ve tried a few things. All in the name of market
research, you know.
    For a horribly long minute, nothing new appeared in the chat
window. Oh shit, too much information. Way too much. Ten more seconds, then
she’d logout and never come back.
    I’m going to have a hard time focusing on music tonight.
Good thing we’ll be playing a lot of covers and I can hide behind my guitar.
    “Oh my god, he’s a musician.” The laptop nearly slid to the
floor, her legs were vibrating so much. Honestly, nothing was sexier than a man
playing a guitar. Except maybe a guitar player with kick-ass Scrabble skills
and a wonderfully naughty mind who also claimed to be the dominant type.