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“Are you going to suck my blood?”
“Do you want me to suck your blood?” He smirks.
“Herb said you’re shy.”
“Did he? That’s interesting.”
I pull up my sleeve and lift my arm, scooting my bracelets away from my wrist while holding it close to his face. “It’s my newest blend: clary sage and vanilla with bergamot, ylang-ylang, and jasmine notes.”
He turns his hat backward and leans forward, taking a slow inhale. “What’s it called?”
“Oh …” I nervously laugh and slide my sleeve back down my arm while making my way to the back door. “It’s called Foreplay.”
“Is it now? That’s a great name. Who doesn’t love?—”
“Don’t.” I giggle, stepping out back and waiting for him to follow me so I can set the alarm and lock the door. I can’t look at him. “There’s no need to reply. I named it for the women who buy it, not the men who … you know.” When it’s set and locked, I turn toward him.
His lips press together for a beat. “So, what are your life’s aspirations?”
I like him so much. This slow burn is starting to feel like an inferno.
“Well,” I brush past him toward my trailer, “after we play fetch, I want to learn everything I can about welding so we don’t have to talk about me and my erotic concoctions on our date. But other than that, I’m pretty open to whatever life wants to send my way. I’m a proud underachiever.” I open my trailer door.
“If you need help with your welding research, call me. I can help you bone up on that before your big date.”
Koen’s quick wit and unyielding confidence are just two more things to add to the rapidly growing list of traits that make him irresistible. Just like my new perfume, it’s a perfect combination.
It’s foreplay.
“Come in,” I motion with my head.
“Scrotum and I will wait—” He stops.
He should have kept going. I might not have noticed his error. Was it an error?
I slip out of my Birkenstocks, keeping my eyes on him while he stands unblinking with half his body inside and half outside.
“Did you say?—”
He bites his lower lip and nods. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “I found him on a camping trip in Wyoming. He was tauntinga mountain lion. I’d never seen anything like it. Eventually, the lion ran off. My brother whistled and said, ‘That dog’s got big balls.’ When we found no identification or a chip on him, I brought him home. And my brother said I should call him Ballsy.” Koen bobs his head a few times. “And perhaps he was right. But I thought Scrotum would be a better name because … well, a scrotum has balls.”
I snort, cupping my mouth.
“I quickly discovered women don’t find the name quite so cool, so I call him Scrot for short.”
I have no words, so I duck my head to hide my grin while I shove my feet into my sneakers. “Well, he’s the most adorable Scrotum I’ve ever seen.”
“Is that saying a lot?”
While I finish tying my shoes, I glance up. “Are you asking if I’ve seen a lot of scrotums?”
Koen scratches the back of his neck and chuckles. “I might be.”
“I’ve seen a handful.” I roll my lips between my teeth while I step closer, and he backs out my door. Koen carries a rugged scent, one of those just-for-men soaps that go for a cedarwood but end up smelling like a mix of leather and campfire. He wears it well.
After I close the door behind me, he cups my wrist and lifts my arm.
“What?” I ask.
