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To her being bent over somewhere with that dress flipped up over her hips.
I shuddered and finished drilling the hole as my cock throbbed. “There. Done. It wasn’t hard.”
Rae let go of the drill and stepped away from me, her hair flicking over her shoulder as she turned her head to look at me. “That doesn’t mean I want to do it again.”
“Is that you telling me I should do it myself?”
“No, it’s me telling you that I’m not going to do it again.” She flashed me a flirty grin. “I’m going to make ice cream.”
She spun on her heels and strolled around the counter to disappear into the kitchen. I watched her go, moving up onto my toes to get a good look at her ass.
Damn it.
I couldn’t see it.
Talk about a downer.
***
I finished the drilling and by the time Rae walked out of the kitchen with a weird fucking multi-color sundae in her hand, I had all the holes ready for the lights to go right up.
“What the hell is that?”
Rae set the glass on the bar counter and held out a spoon for me to take. “Fairy Sundae. What does it taste like?”
“Like fairies and glitter and fucking princesses, looking at this.” I poked the spoon at the glittery, pink and red concoction she’d placed in front of me. “What is it?”
“A Fairy Sundae. I just told you that.”
“But what is it?”
She sighed. “Strawberry and raspberry ice cream with strawberry sauce and pink edible glitter. And a wafer cut into a crown. Does that answer your question?”
I looked at the sundae then at her. “Yes, but why are you giving it to me?”
“Because I want you to taste it. Jesus, you’re hard work.”
I grinned and dipped the spoon in. “What, you can’t do it yourself?”
“Yeah, but that’s like a chef creating a whole new menu and never giving anyone else a try before it goes on the menu.” She shrugged. “It tastes good to me, but that’s not the point. I need to know if it’ll taste good to anyone else.”
“Don’t you have Sophie do this?”
“Yes, but do you see Sophie?”
I looked around. “I don’t. I’d hear her before I see her.” I paused. “Why are you asking me? You know I’m not going to do anything but love this ice cream. I’m totally fucking biased.”
“Chase! Just taste the damn thing!” She slapped her hand against the counter, and the look she gave me had me shoving a mouthful of the ice cream in my mouth.
It was so fucking good.
I moaned, putting the spoon down. “Are you capable of making a bad ice cream?”
Rae groaned and leaned forward. “Why can’t anyone just tell me it’s crap?”
“Because it’s not. Has it occurred to you that you’re just that good at what you do because you care about it?”
“Yes, but not everybody likes everything, and—”
“Rae. If someone comes in here and doesn’t like your ice cream, then that’s their opinion. This is a foreign concept to you, but you can’t please everybody.”
“I know I can’t please everybody. I’m not a vibrator. Or a taco.”
“Not even tacos please everyone, babe.” I picked the spoon back up and got sucked in.
It really was that good.
Her lips tugged to the side as she watched me. “I thought you didn’t want to touch it because it’s pink and princess and fairy-like?”
“Yeah, but it tastes good,” I said around a mouthful of the ice cream. “Nobody is watching me eat ice cream. My male integrity is fully intact.”
“That fact that you think eating pink ice cream will ruin your masculinity is ridiculous.”
“It’s pink.”
She snorted and took the spoon from me. “If that’s all you’ve got, then you lose your man card for your inability to explain anything.”
“My man card is dependent on my ability to explain things?”
“Sure is.” She turned the spoon upside down and licked it clean, then pointed it out to the side as she leaned forward on the counter. “Your man card is issued for several things: stupidly arguing with women when you know you’ll lose, believing your cock is at least three inches bigger than it actually is, being a couch manager in any given sports season, and your uncanny ability to ignore any size of a hint.”
“That’s the weirdest insult I’ve ever been given.”
“Is it an insult if it’s true? I mean, that’s just kind of a truth bomb.”
“Sometimes the truth is insulting. Like, you are, on occasion, kind of a bitch,” I said, taking the spoon from her and digging back into the ice cream.
Rae sighed and flicked her hair over her shoulder. “It’s only insulting if you’re insulted by it. I’m not insulted by that at all. I know I’m kind of a bitch sometimes. But, that said, I’m only a bitch to people who deserve it.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me I deserved the bitchy treatment?”
