Free The Unidentified Redhead (1) by Alice Clayton

ever said to me,” he stated.
    “Well, I say hot things when I have poo-hair,” I acknowledged with a smile, trying to diffuse the situation. I was still struggling with my iPod.
    “Can I help you with that?” he asked, trying to help.
    “I can't get this into the little hole,” I answered.
    “That's what she said,” we both said, at the same time. We were stopped at a stoplight, and we stared at each other.
    “You might be the most perfect girl I have ever met,” he chortled, looking at me in amazement.
    “Perfection will cost you pretty boy,” I said brightly, as I sped back into the city. He selected a song and we danced in our seats the rest of the way home.
    ***
    When we got back to Holly's place, I turned into the garage and Jack directed me towards his car. It was an old MG that looked like it was held together with a string.
    “Aren't you glad we took your car today?” he inquired, nodding his head toward his car.
    “Well, I suppose. Although, other than the seagull poo, this was a great day. Whose car we took wouldn't have changed that,” I replied, as I allowed myself a small moment of honesty. He leaned up in his seat, turning his entire body towards me.
    “It was a great day. I'm so glad we did this…no jokes. It was great,” he allowed as well. The structured walls of our banter were coming down and the deafening roar of pheromones was beginning to seep through. You can't fight chemistry.
    “So, you had a date with your gay, if I heard Holly correctly?” he asked.
    I shook my head for a moment, trying to remember. “Oh, my gay! Yes, we're going out dancing with Nick. You remember Nick from the other night right? He's head of your West Hollywood fan base. You know you're hot when you cross over into that crowd,” I teased.
    “Yes, that's what I hear.” He laughed. We were quiet for a moment, seemingly at a loss for words. I was thinking of that kiss and whether I had the right to ask for another one. I needed another hit of Hamilton. I didn't want him to go and he didn't seem to want to either. However, I knew I needed to get home and get ready for tonight.
    “Call me tomorrow?” I asked tentatively. His fingers came up to brush my cheek. I leaned into his hand without knowing I would do it until I did.
    “You can count on that, Grace,” he answered, letting his fingers sweep softly over my lips. I kissed his fingertips lightly and then smiled.
    “OK, now get out of my car, snatch,” I joked as I watched his face fall.
    “You will be the death of me, Sheridan. I can already tell,” he sighed, unfolding his long legs to get out of the car.
    “Yes, but it will be a good death. I'll be gentle. You won't even know I'm coming.”
    He turned back and grinned. “That's what she said.”
    Perfection.
    “Oh, and Grace?” he continued, walking towards his car. He stopped when he reached it and leaned back against the door. “I will definitely know when you're coming. And so will you,” he said, biting down on that lower lip.
    Fucking Perfection.
    I found my chin somewhere in my lap and attempted to drive home. I ran two stop signs and almost hit a Pomeranian.
    ***
    When I arrived back at Holly's house, it was almost six and I wanted to make us some dinner before going out for our ass-shakery. She had a fantastic kitchen, with a professional range and Sub-Zero fridge. I indulged my inner chef whenever possible.
    She wasn't home yet, so I put two glasses in the freezer to chill for cocktails. I paced between the pantry and the fridge, taking out everything I needed. Opening a can of San Marzano tomatoes, I drained them into a colander and then put a pot of water on the stove to boil. Then, I rinsed off some fresh spinach and dumped it into the salad spinner to dry while I sliced and grilled some good Italian bread, rubbing it with garlic for crostini.
    When Holly walked in, I was frantically chopping onions on the cutting board with tears streaming down my face.
    “Grace, it's fine.