Page 29 of Playing With Forever

“What—”

“How about you get to work on the carpet in that bedroom before you have a problem with mold? I’ll move the furniture when I get back.”

He’d move the furniture. Of course, he would.

I remained silent but vowed to move the dresser by myself.

“Fuck, this sucks.”

I felt my spine stiffen. “What sucks?”

Evan tipped his head close, but not close enough that I lost focus on his eyes.

“Sucks that I’ve known you for years, but I don’t really know you. Sucks that if my head hadn’t been lodged up my ass, I would’ve made my play a long time ago, which means we’d be at a place where I could tell you that if you move that dresser while I’m gone, you’re gonna go to sleep tonight with my handprint on your ass.” I felt my whole body shiver, but Evan saw it. “But since we’re not at that place, and as much as I’d like to see my handprint on your remarkable ass, I’m gonna have to settle with telling you I have a good memory, so keep that in mind when you’re thinking about dragging that dresser out of that room by yourself.”

I was thinking the vow I’d made to myself was now set in stone, and I hoped his memory was as good as he said it was, because suddenly and inexplicitly, I wanted to wear his mark.

Thankfully, Evan ended the conversation without my further participation. “Be back.”

I watched him walk through my house, then out the front door.

I stood there wondering how irritated I should be he’d gotten his way. It only took a few seconds for me to realize I didn’t really care he was buying an inexpensive hose or dinner. Thus, I went to my room to change into knockabout clothes.

I had water to vacuum up.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Water heater repaired.

Cleanup done.

Pizza consumed.

And somehow throughout this, I’d been able to keep my hands to myself, even though Josie had changed into a pair of cutoff jean shorts that most twenty-year-olds couldn’t pull off. That was to say, they did the impossible and made her long legs look longer and even more spectacular. They were also short, frayed at the bottom, and faded.

Now, however, we were relaxing on her couch, and she was telling me about her boys. The way she talked about Kane and DJ was downright gorgeous. But with her calves draped over my thighs and my hands resting on her bare skin, it was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate.

“I think DJ and Carrie are talking about starting a family,” she told me with a smile.

For some reason, my gaze dropped to her toned and tanned legs as I asked, “Yeah? You ready to be a grandma?”

“That was cruel,” she muttered. “I think maybe I’ll have my grandkids call me MiMi, or one of those other hip new names that women who don’t want to feel old use.”

There was nothing about Josie that hinted at her being old.

“I think Hot Grandma suits you best.”

My gaze shot to Josie’s face when an unexpected burst of laughter filled the room.

Damn. Top to toe, Josie Lark was utter perfection. But when her face lit up, she was downright unadulteratedly beautiful.

“Yes, well, I’m not sure how DJ will feel about having his children call me Hot Grandma. When he was twelve, he punched a kid for calling me sexy.”

“Good man,” I mumbled.

“He was suspended for two days,” she informed me.

“As I said, good man.”