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“You like teasing me, don’t you?”
“Depends.” She lifted the pitcher, turned around, and placed it on the counter.
“What does it depend on?” I asked.
“Whether you like being teased.”
“Oh, I like it all right. Just know that tonight, there are going to be some repercussions.”
Her eyes got wide. “Graham,” she gasped. “We can’t do anything tonight. We’re staying here, remember?”
I braced my hands on the counter on either side of her and leaned in. She smelled wonderful—honeysuckle and sunshine. I had no choice. I had to kiss her.
“Miss Laverne,” she breathed out just before my lips met hers.
Kissing Joy was like being on my bike and leaning into the wind at eighty miles an hour; loud, reckless, and exactly where I wanted to be. She tasted like mint and heat and something I couldn’t yet name.
She pulled away first, blinking up at me with flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips. “You’re my kind of trouble, Graham Wallace.”
I ran a thumb across her lower lip, letting it linger. “Doll, if you think I’m the trouble in this scenario, you haven’t looked in a mirror.”
“You’re good for a girl’s ego,” Joy smiled. “I’m thinking about keeping you.”
“That’s the plan.”
“Now let me get Miss Laverne’s lemonade poured.”
“I’ll do that,” I said. “You go out and visit with her.”
She stood on tiptoe and gave me a soft kiss. “Thank you.” Then she sashayed out of the kitchen, and I admired her ass yet again.
It took me more than a minute to find Miss Laverne’s tray for the lemonade, so when I got out to the parlor, I could tell something had changed. The air in the room was electric. I looked from Joy to Laverne, and I realized that Miss Laverne was oblivious.
“Here you go,” I said as I passed out the glasses of lemonade. I sat down next to Joy on the loveseat and put my arm around her. I could feel her trembling.
I looked down at her. It was clear she didn’t want to cause a scene in front of Miss Laverne, but fuck that noise.
“Joy, what is it?”
“I got a text,” she whispered.
“Is something wrong?” Miss Laverne asked as she placed her glass down on a doily.
“I don’t know,” I told the older woman. “Can I see your phone?” I held out my hand to Joy.
Joy’s hand shook as she handed me her phone. I read through the text.
UNKNOWN: Did you like the flowers?
JOY: Who is this?
UNKNOWN: Don’t be coy. You know me.
JOY: Tell me who you are.
UNKNOWN: Joy, stop playing. You’re making me angry.
Dots were showing, signaling that another text was coming in. As soon as I saw that, I stood up. I didn’t want Joy to see what this asshole was going to say next. She didn’t need the stress.
