Dirty Pucker (Denver Bashers #2)

30. Del

Chapter 30

Del

“ M ore tea?” I ask Ingrid, who’s lying with her head in my lap as we watch a movie.

She smiles up at me. “I’m good, thanks. But I’d love some more gummies.”

“Bears or worms?”

Her eyebrows wrinkle like she’s thinking hard about it.

“Bears,” she says after a second.

I grab the package of gummy bears from the coffee table, rip it open, and hand them to her.

She smiles sweetly. “Thank you,” she says before shoving a fistful into her mouth.

I smile. Fuck, she’s cute.

This isn’t how I expected I’d be spending the evening with Ingrid, but I’m having the best time. Yeah, it would have been nice to end up in bed doing filthy things to each other, but I like hanging out with her and cuddling on the couch just as much.

She shifts her position on the couch and snuggles closer to me. When I feel her relax on my lap, warmth pools in my chest.

It feels really, really good to see her like this around me. She’s comfortable enough to let me hang out with her when she’s not feeling well. She’s comfortable enough to let me take care of her. Comfortable enough to tell me about her period cravings and let me shower her with snacks, takeout, and cuddles.

I think about what Ingrid said earlier, about how her exes never offered to buy her snacks or tampons or anything else she needed when she wasn’t feeling well.

That pissed me the fuck off. Maybe it made them feel uncomfortable or weird to do it, but they should have gotten over it. She was the one in pain, and suffering. Helping her should have been a hundred times more important than anything they were feeling.

They sound like assholes. Especially after she told me that they made her feel gross and ashamed about doing anything physically intimate during her period. That’s such a shitty thing they did. Having a period is natural and no one should be made to feel bad about it, especially not by their significant other.

God, some men really fucking suck.

I try not to think about that and refocus on Ingrid and the moment. I glance around her high-end condo. It’s a single-floor floorplan, but it has more square feet than my three-story townhouse. The open-concept space of the living room, dining area, and kitchen is massive. The dining table and chairs and hardwood floors are made of the same blond wood that adorns her office. She clearly likes a clean, cozy, and glamorous aesthetic. Her plush sectional is white, just like the white marble countertops and the fireplace.

Gold is clearly one of her favorite colors. There’s a gold vase of flowers on top of the end table, the frame of her coffee table is gold, and there are small golden decor pieces along the fireplaces. Even the photos on the nearby bookshelf are in gold frames.

I smile at the picture of Ingrid as a cute little kid, her blonde hair in a ponytail as she poses with her parents. There’s another photo of her and Maya hugging and grinning. They look like they’re in college. There’s another framed picture of her standing next to Theo when they were teenagers. He’s wearing a hockey uniform and she’s standing next to him. They’re both pulling goofy faces.

Ingrid’s place is so perfectly her: beautiful, elegant, and welcoming.

She smiles up at me and holds up a red gummy bear between her fingers.

I nod and she pops it in my mouth, giggling.

I bite down and wince. “God, that’s a lot of sugar.”

She laughs. “I forgot. You’re probably used to a super clean athlete diet.”

“Yeah. I can’t really handle that much sweet stuff anymore.”

“Yay. More for me.” She grins and pops a gummy bear in her mouth. I can’t help but smile at how cute she is. At how happy I am lounging on the couch with her.

When was the last time I felt this happy sitting on the couch watching TV with someone?

My brain comes up empty.

That’s gotta mean something.

It means that Ingrid is amazing and you like her. A lot.

Before I can think more about it, Ingrid grabs her phone and snaps a photo of the snacks on her coffee table.

“What are you doing?” I ask as she taps away on her phone.

“Adding some fun photos to your Instagram.”

She shows me the post. It’s a photo of the pile of snacks with the TV in the background. I read the caption.

Netflix and chill #vibes #relax

I run a hand through her soft hair. “You don’t have to work on my social media now. Not when you’re not feeling well.”

She sets her phone aside and hums. “That feels so nice.”

I gently massage her scalp. She closes her eyes, a sweet smile playing on her lips. After a while, she looks up at me. “You’re pretty sweet, Dirty Del,” she says.

Just then her phone rings. She grabs it and sits up.

“My mom is FaceTiming me,” she says.

I start to get up to give her privacy so they can talk, but she motions for me to stay.

She answers her phone. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

“Ingrid, darling, I need your expert opinion. We’re hosting a fundraiser in Turks and Caicos tomorrow night and I have no idea what I should wear. What do you think? The green gown or the blue one?”

I glance over and see a blur of green fabric on Ingrid’s phone screen, then a blur of blue.

“Definitely the green,” Ingrid says. “It’ll look so pretty on your skin.”

The fabric drops from the screen, revealing a stunning woman who looks like Ingrid in twenty-five years. I blink. Holy shit. Her mom is beautiful. She has the same hair color as Ingrid and the same soft blue eyes, delicate nose, and full mouth.

“You should wear gold jewelry with it,” Ingrid says. “You’ll look amazing.”

Her mom smiles. “Thank you, darling. You always save me when I’m in a fashion crisis. Hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

Ingrid chuckles. “It’s okay. Just stuffing my face with gummy bears, chips, takeout, and tea.”

“Oh goodness. That time of the month?”

“Yeah,” Ingrid groans. I chuckle. Ingrid elbows me.

“Oh are you hanging out with Maya? She’s always so sweet about bringing over your favorites when you’re not feeling well,” her mom asks.

“Um, no. I’m with someone else.” She bites back a shy smile as she looks at me. “His name is Del.”

Her mom’s eyes go wide. She beams. “Darling! Why didn’t you say you were on a date?”

Ingrid lets out an embarrassed laugh and covers her face with her free hand. “Oh my god, Mom.”

“Is he with you? Can I say hello?” her mom asks in an eager tone.

Ingrid’s face is red when she drops her hand from her face. “Mom, seriously?”

“I’m good to say hi, if you are,” I say to Ingrid.

Her brow lifts. “Really?”

I nod. Flustered smile on her face, she sighs and turns the phone to me.

“Hello, Mrs. Thompson.” I smile.

“Hello there, Del.” She’s beaming. “What a gentleman to call me Mrs. Thompson. What lovely manners you have.”

I chuckle. “My mom taught me well. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s lovely to meet you too. And listen, call me Amy. No need to say ‘missus’ now that we’re past formalities. It reminds me of how old I’m getting.”

“Well, you certainly don’t look old. You could pass for Ingrid’s older sister.”

Amy rests a hand on her chest as she laughs. “Oh you’re a gentleman and a charmer, Del.”

Ingrid smiles and rolls her eyes before scooting closer to me to talk to her mom. “He really is,” Ingrid says. “He’s the one who brought me snacks and takeout. And tampons.”

Her mom gasps. She shakes her head, like she’s in disbelief. “Darling, you’ve got a good one. Del, I already adore you.”

“You’re very kind. Thank you.”

“Jeffery!” Amy hollers to someone off-screen. “We’ve been married thirty years and you haven’t once offered to run to the store and buy me tampons.”

In the distance, I hear a male voice say, “huh?”

“Why have you never offered to buy me tampons?”

There’s a long pause before the distant male voice says, “Well, um, you never asked. But I’d be happy to, honey.”

“It’s a little too late now.” She turns back to look at me and Ingrid. “Menopause.”

Ingrid’s cheeks turn beet red. “Okay, Mom. We’re gonna go. Love you. Have fun at the fundraiser.”

“Love you too, darling! Bye, Del!”

I tell her bye. Ingrid hangs up and I burst out laughing.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. That was so embarrassing.”

“Don’t be sorry. Your mom’s hilarious. And really sweet,” I say when I catch my breath.

Ingrid shakes her head, clearly still flustered. “She’s great, but sometimes she has no filter.” Ingrid looks at me, a tender smile on her face. “She liked you though, you charmer.”

She tosses her phone onto the other side of the couch. “This isn’t how I planned for this night to go.” Her eyes are shy as she looks at me, like she’s embarrassed.

I grab her hand and move her onto my lap so she’s straddling me.

I swipe away a chunk of her gold-blonde hair that’s fallen into her face. “It’s okay. I’m still having a blast with you.”

Her eyes light up. “Yeah?”

I smile. “Yeah.”

“You’d honestly rather be eating snacks on the couch and talking to my mom on FaceTime instead of having hot, filthy sex with me in my bed?” she teases.

I mock-frown. “I never said that.”

She playfully shoves my shoulder. I rest my hands on her waist and pull her closer.

I gaze into those gorgeous soft blue eyes. “It doesn’t matter what we’re doing, sweetheart. As long as I’m with you, I’m having the best time.”

She looks at me for a long second. “Same,” she says softly.

She kisses me, then slides off my lap and lays down with her head in my lap, just like she did before. I flip the sound on the TV back on and hand her more snacks.

We stay like that for the rest of the night. When she’s tired and ready to go to bed, I kiss her goodnight and leave. The whole drive home, I’m smiling nonstop. It doesn’t matter if I’m cuddling, kissing, or just talking with Ingrid. I can’t get enough of her.