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She looked at Pres, who had an exasperated expression on his face. “I’ll see you around,” she said, her voice soft.
“Yeah, you will.”
She wasn’t sure if that sounded like a promise or a threat, but either way it worked. Gemma grabbed her bag and slid out of the booth to join her, saying goodbye to Delilah and Presley before they reached the door.
As soon as they stepped outside she felt the warmth of the sun blasting down. Cassie didn’t bother putting her jacket on, letting the balmy air caress her skin. The door closed behind them and Gemma put her arm through Cassie’s.
“So, what did he text you?”
“Sorry?” Cassie blinked.
“I saw him on his phone. He was messaging you, right?”
Her cheeks pinked. “Um, yeah.”
Gemma’s grin was huge. “That man has the hots for you like nothing else. You should have seen him looking at your ass as you walked to the counter.”
“He was looking at me?” She felt a little breathless.
“All the damn time. Like he wants to do all the dirty things to you.” Gemma sighed. “I remember those days. The heat, the excitement. Don’t get me wrong, married life is good, but… that early passion. Man, there’s nothing like it.”
“I told him I want to blow him in his suit,” Cassie said.
Gemma almost choked. “Give a girl a little warning before you start with the dirty talk, will you?”
It was hard not to smile. “You asked what he texted. I thought I’d give you the short version.”
“That suit though,” Gemma said, fanning her face with her hand. “It really did look amazing on him. He’s great in jeans and engineer boots but…”
“But there’s something about a suit.”
“Damn right there is. I might have to ask Riley to put his on later.”
“For what?”
“For a blow job.” Gemma rolled her eyes. “Of course.”
Cassie laughed. Damn, she was laughing a lot these days. Life was good and she appreciated that. Between her teaching, the band, and friends like Gemma she felt truly blessed.
And maybe add a hot grumpy single dad in there, and it was almost perfect.
How did she get this lucky?
It was Sunday evening and they’d cleaned up the dishes from dinner, and Presley, his dad, and his brothers were sitting in the den, having been thrown out of the kitchen by Delilah and his mom who insisted they wanted to watch the live action Beauty and the Beast in there.
Not that being in the den was a hardship. When their parents had this house built a year before his mom had gotten pregnant with twins, they’d future proofed it for a family. When they were kids this had been their playroom. Full of plastic toys and coloring books and tiny little instruments that they learned to play on.
And then when they’d all moved out, his dad had it remodeled into his man cave. It had a pool table and a fuss-ball set, along with a bar that stretched the length of one wall. On the wall opposite was the biggest damn television you’d ever seen. And the four of them were sitting on the sunken leather sectional sofa, watching the ball game.
“Your mom was happy you came to church today,” his dad told Pres, as the game went to commercial.
Pres shrugged. “Delilah wanted me to be there. It’s no big deal.”
“Of course it’s a big deal,” Marley said. “You made us all go.”
Pres met his brother’s eyes. “If I have to suffer, you do too.”
“I know that,” Marley said grinning. “The story of my damn life.”
