Accidentally Amy

by Lynn Painter

He said, “I hated this shirt anyway.” She coughed out a laugh, relieved he wasn’t mad. “I did, too, but I didn’t know how to tell you. Hence the PSL.” He gave a little laugh. “Subtle, but effective.”

“I really am sorry. I’d be happy to get it drycleaned for you or something…? A better person would offer to replace it, but I have a feeling it’s out of my price range.” He did the half-bark, half-laugh sound again that Izzy could feel in her toes and he said, “What makes you say that?” “It’s soaking-wet and I still can’t see through it. That has to mean it’s quality.” “Were you trying to?” he asked. “What - see through your shirt?” He gave a nod.

It reminded her of the way Darcy said Mr. Wickham? and stepped closer to Elizabeth during his rain proposal in the hand-flex version of P&P, and Izzy thought she might faint dead away for the first time in her life.

Just take my heart now, you gorgeous wank.

“Lucky.” He couldn’t think of the last time he’d had fast food. “I had a Clif bar for dinner.” “As someone who recently dabbed your chest for an uncomfortable, yet not unenjoyable, length of time,” she said. “I can say with certainty that there is no way would your pecs be that spectacular if you filled them with trans fats and French fries.”

He reached for his beer and said, “The honest answer - and I’m only saying this because we will not be talking after tonight - is that you spilling coffee on me was a fucking lovely surprise.” Her voice was quiet when she said, “It was?”

She laughed again. “Shhhh. Number three--” “Number three. When you stepped into the elevator at Incite,” he interrupted, “I had an instant daydream about hitting the stop button and seeing what transpired. So when you actually did it…hell, it felt like a Big Fate kind of moment.”

Hi, it's Amy from Starbucks.

He texted: How close are you? Amy: I’ll be home in twenty. He responded with: Twenty minutes? He grabbed his keys off the coffee table and stood. Texted: Drop me your location. Amy: No - I’m fine.

“Do you want to come in for a slice of the hot pizza I will be ordering the minute my fingers thaw?” No. NO. Of course no, the only answer was no. He set the parking brake and killed the engine. He pulled the keys out of the ignition and said, “I’ll order while you drown in the hot shower. Deal?” “Deal so hard,” she replied, sounding pleased with his idiotic answer.

Izzy carried the pizza into her apartment, her stomach empty of food but also filled with butterflies. Because - holy crap - Mr. Chest was sitting on her couch, The Darkling in his lap, looking like the centerfold of a hot-guys-who-like-cats calendar.

Was it hot in there or was it just Blake?

She’d realized while they’d been playing trivia that it wasn’t just his good looks that made her a little swoony around him. No, it was the one-two-three punch of intelligence, confidence, and charm.

“That’s twice,” she said, quietly so no one else could hear, “That you’ve said my real name.” “Well, hop on and make me say it again when we win.” He didn’t mean that suggestively, did he?

“You’re telling me that if I called you, stranded on the side of the road, you wouldn’t save me?” She rolled her eyes and said, “You have a very nice car, Blake. You don’t need me because you have roadside assistance.”

She’d switched Pop Tart hands so she could hold up her arm and flip off the building. Blake: Not very HR of you.

Blake: Have a good afternoon, Starbucks Amy. Izzy: Same to you, Chestie McBestie.

I’ll do it, but I’m very afraid of falling in love with your cats. It took a few minutes for Blake to respond, and his words did something to her already riotous belly. Blake: Don’t be scared, Iz. Just take a deep breath and let yourself fall.

“But can I trust you?” He teased,

Not at all teasing

Izzy: You're not the boss of me. Blake: I am quite literally the boss of you.

“But Iz?” he said, his voice quiet and deep. “Yeah?” She shook out her fingers at her sides. “The way you kissed Tom Colicchio,” he said, his dark eyes hot on her, “Was fucking sinful.”

“Where were we?” “In your room,” she said, struggling to form words as he kissed her throat. “New bed.” He raised his head and looked a little wild-eyed. “Naked?” “So naked,” she said, and the look on his face when she said that told her they were about to have sex against her front door. And she’d never wanted anything more.

He looked down at her, grinning up at him with maximum nose crinkle, and he knew he loved her. It didn't make a damn bit of sense, but he loved her so fucking much that it terrified him.

“Want to stop for a PSL on the way, Amy?” “You know that I do, Chest.”