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Because he wasn’t entirely certain he hadn’t missed some vital female subtext—again—he just grunted and mumbled something about hidden talents and Bob Vila. That had been the guy with the home reno show back in the day, right?
“Thanks, sis. I’ll enjoy this.”
Cass wiggled her fingers in a wave goodbye. “Tell Summer not to enjoy hers too much, okay?”
More subtext. He wasn’t biting. “Sure. See you later. Don’t lose any more weight or I’ll force feed you half a turkey at Thanksgiving dinner.” Her laughter followed him out of the store.
He met up with Summer by her sweet pink Caddy in the parking lot. He could never make up his mind if he’d classify it an eyesore or a classic. Probably both. “What’s the deal with you and this sauce?” he asked, pushing the second bag into her hands.
Summer offered him the same secretive smile as Cass. Disconcerting. “It’s just chocolate sauce.” She took his bag too, ostensibly to stick in her freezer while he worked on her menial tasks. “You like white chocolate, right?”
“You’re not supposed to know about that.”
“You’d be surprised what I know, Deuce.” She slipped into her car without giving him time to grouse about the nickname usage.
By the time they arrived at her place, he’d come up with a plan to combat their aloneness for the next hour and a half before they started the trek into the city. He’d nail her shutters or whatever and then he’d stand at her sink and scarf down the ice cream without making eye contact or conversation. That would succinctly convey his disinterest.
Or it might’ve if she hadn’t parked ahead of him in her driveway and rushed inside, declaring she needed to change. Hard to ignore someone who wasn’t paying you any mind.
He dawdled in his SUV, not wanting to spend any longer in her personal space than necessary. In and out—that was his motto. No entanglements, no drama.
When he knew he couldn’t stall any longer, he trudged up the wide plank porch steps to the door, noting the shiny urns full of thriving fall flowers and cheerful half moon welcome mat, and pulled open the screen door. He’d taken two steps inside when Summer bounded downstairs in a tiny ass robe that showed her legs approximately up to her nipples. Maybe even higher.
“What the frig is that?”
Slyly, she held out the object she’d hidden behind her back. “This, my dear Deuce, is a hammer. One uses it to nail…things.”
“I don’t mean the hammer. I mean that piece of clothing. Why are you practically naked?”
“I need to take a shower before my show.” She inched closer, the hammer still clutched between her perky breasts. And there was that word again. Perky. “You don’t want me to stink when I’m on stage, do you?” She lifted her wrist and sniffed. “I reek of—”
“Chocolate and vanilla and everything nice?” He barely resisted a snarl.
She smirked. “You seem stressed. Maybe you should sit down and eat your ice cream before you go play with my hammer.” As she stroked it, he shifted uncomfortably. If he didn’t have sex soon, he’d probably shoot off from the image of those golden fingers wrapping around the wood. Squeezing again and again.
Christ. He needed ice cream or a cold compress or something. Maybe he should stuff his dick in the pint of chocolate. Couldn’t hurt.
“I’m fine,” he gritted out. “Give me the freaking hammer. And go get dressed. We need to leave soon.”
“Oh, we have plenty of time.” The way she caressed the word plenty made his balls throb. Stupid balls. Stupid celibacy.
Like his pathetic truck trick, he took as long to mess around with her shutters as humanly possible. If they’d actually been loose, it would’ve helped. They weren’t. He still hammered and banged the outside of her house, hoping she’d feel guilty for driving him out into the cold and wind to avoid her numerous blatant sexual overtures.
They had been blatant sexual overtures, right? Sometimes he just wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered. His fish couldn’t be lured with pink, perky nipp—hooks.
When he came back into the living room, his hands ached from his vigorous needless pounding. Other parts of him ached because they hadn’t pounded anything in way too long. Seeing Summer all curled up in the corner of the couch with a spoon in her jar of sauce and his ice cream stuff spread out on the coffee table didn’t help with the latter.
“Hey. Thank you. You’re so sweet.” She leaned forward and her robe gaped almost to the point of indecency. She didn’t seem to notice. “Here, let’s eat. I’ll get showered and ready to go when we’re done.” She waved her dripping spoon. “I had paperwork to do,” she added, all blue-eyed and pink-cheeked innocence.
“Uh huh.”
He took the opposite end of the couch and reached for his melting ice cream. Instead of his plastic spoon, she’d given him a fancy dessert one with a long handle. “You didn’t need to go to any trouble. I’m not company.”
If she noticed his peeved tone, she didn’t react. She smiled around her spoon, currently hidden between her luscious pink lips. Then she slid it out, nice and slow. “No, but you are doing a service for me. Protecting my assets and all.”
“Uh huh.” That would now be his standard answer to everything.
“Come on, Chase. We used to be friends.” She stretched out her bare legs and nudged his thigh with unpainted toes. The surprising lack of artifice turned him to stone faster than any coat of passion red or whatever they called that crap. “Can’t we hang out and have fun?”
