The Planner and the Player by Lainey Davis

Author:Lainey Davis [Davis, Lainey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lainey Davis

Chapter 23

Fletcher

After Abigail came out of PT, we still had an hour until Thistle’s mom was done with all her appointments. I convinced her to take us all out for sandwiches so she could give me all the details on picking up her car. And if I knew Thistle McMurray at all, I knew she’d make a damn checklist.

I can totally see how she ended up working with tax codes. That girl has always loved a list of rules more than anyone else I ever met. Maybe my assistant could spar with her about bullet points, but I doubt it.

We all place our orders and Abigail tries to pay, so then Thistle tries to pay for everyone and the cashier eventually looks like she’s going to kick us out, so I manage to slap my credit card on the counter. That gets a laugh out of everyone at least, and it’s kind of nice, sitting down for lunch with my brother’s wife…and my ex-girlfriend.

Abigail closes her eyes as she savors a mouthful of her milkshake. “God,” she says. “This is sinful. I had to watch everything I ate and drank when I was on bedrest.”

Thistle and I share an uncomfortable glance. Neither of us was around for that ordeal and, now that I’m spending so much time at home, I feel even more bad that I wasn’t here just to help diffuse the stress.

I wink at her and say, “Slurp it down, Abigail. You need your energy to march that baby of yours up and down the stairs this weekend.”

Abigail’s eyes go wide. “You’re leaving?”

I pop a fry in my mouth and shake my head. “Just for, like, six hours.” I nod my head at Thistle. “She’s gotta help her mom with all her appointments this weekend, so I’m going to get Thistle’s fancy race car from her garage in the city.”

Thistle chews on her lip and pulls out her phone. I am zero per cent surprised to see her open up a checklist app and start typing. Only Thistle would have a checklist-making app. Abigail takes another big gulp, eyes wide. “Thistle,” she says, “You have a race car?”

She nods, typing something and clicking the phone shut authoritatively. “I’ve always loved to go fast,” she says, and I don’t miss the intentional heat in her words. I’m not sure what the hell is happening, because I feel all the blood rush to my dick. This is the second time in as many months that someone has reminded me of that day we first kissed, but this time, instead of paralyzing me, the words make me want to pounce.

I’m like a werewolf at the full moon, feeling all the pent up emotion just throbbing beneath the surface. I’m not usually this insatiable.

Thistle breaks the trance when she says, “My assistant has been taking care of my apartment for me, but he can’t drive a stick shift and I wouldn’t trust him to move my car in the city anyway.”

“Hm,” Abigail says.

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