Page 86 of High Water

“I’m serious. We can’t keep slipping up like that. It complicates things.” She accepts the whiskey when I offer it despite her earlier complaint, taking a quick swig before she hands it back to me.

“Honey, I’ve kept my hands to myself unless otherwise instructed. I’m at your beck and call. Which I think makes me innocent in all this. Seems like you’re the one who’ll have to hold the reins a little tighter if you want to avoid slipups.” I take one last swallow myself and cap it before I tuck it back into my pocket.

“Yes, well. Don’t worry. I have it covered now.”

“What does that mean?” She’s a woman of her word, so I can’t imagine there are other men involved.

“Bristol has a mini sex shop in the back of her antiques store.”

“I never thought I’d see the day Purgatory Falls got one of those.”

“Me neither. But I’m not complaining. She’s a genius. It’s honestly the perfect cover story for some of the women in this town who are too shy to admit they want one. They go antiques shopping and come back with a little antiques shop bag; none of the gossips any wiser to their comings and goings.” Aspen’s eyebrows pop up in amusement at her own pun.

“Creative,” I agree, until it hits me. “Didn’t you go there the other day?”

“Hence why I have things covered.” She grins brightly. “The next time I have the urge to slip up, I’ve got alternative solutions.”

“Unfair advantage in this if you ask me.”

“I thought you were just an innocent bystander at my evil beck and call?” Her brow lifts in playful accusation.

“What if I have needs to meet?”

“She has toys for men there too. Would you like one as an early birthday present?”

“If you’re giving me a birthday present, I can think of other things I’d like.”

“Don’t start.”

“Too late.”

“It can’t involve me touching you. We’re done with that. Pillow wall reinstated, effective immediately.”

“Watching you?”

“You’re—”

“Incorrigible. I know. Answer the question.”

“Maybe.” She shifts in her seat, her legs uncrossing and crossing again in the opposite direction as her eyes drift out into the darkness.

“I’ll let you watch me again first if you want. Give you a show while you play with whatever new toys you have.”

Her eyes snap back to meet mine, desire dancing behind the green irises as she studies me, trying to decide whether I’m serious.

“I can’t stop thinking about our wedding night. Or the night after. The way your eyes stayed locked on me.” I push my luck.

“You imagine things.”

“I didn’t imagine the way your thighs were shaking around my shoulders when you came on my tongue.”

“Like I said. It was a little lapse. It had been a while since—” She cuts herself off and grabs her bowl, standing and marching back into the camper without finishing her sentence.

I clean up the table, taking my time, watching her silhouette moving through the kitchen area, clearly agitated since I struck a nerve. When I walk in a few minutes later, she’s scrubbing through the dishes one at a time and stacking them in the small camper-sized dish rack. The tight space has me scooting past her, and in her attempt to let me pass, she’s practically bent over the counter as I reach to put my dish next to the sink.

“Did he not like doing that for you?”

“He liked it plenty,” she answers defensively.