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“But are you? Really?” Grinning broadly, he backed from the freezer so he could turn and triumphantly hold up a peach push pop.
My mouth fell open. “Where the hell did you find that?”
“Under a bag of frozen peas.” He winked. “Right where I stashed it the last time I was here.”
“Last time…” Scowling, I shook my head. “But it’s probably been a year since you were last here.”
“I know.” Unwrapping his treat, he wiggled his eyebrows mischievously. “Shows how much I know you don’t eat your vegetables.”
I mean-mugged him and mumbled, “It’s probably freezer burned by now.” At least, I hoped it was. That was what he should get for hiding one of my favorite treats from me so he could hog it to himself.
But as soon as he stuck one end in his mouth, he closed his eyes and moaned in delight. “Mmm. Nope, no freezer burn. It’s absolutely perfect. Mm-hmm.”
“You’re such a turd,” I groused.
“Really? Am I? Then I guess that means I should do this next.” He proceeded to slowly slide his tongue up the popsicle and back down again to rub his victory in my face. I would’ve called him another nasty name, except I got distracted, focusing a little too intently on the path of his tongue.
When my drunk brain went there, wondering what else he could do with a tongu
e like that, a flutter of awareness tickled me in the most startling places.
I jumped, not expecting that kind of reaction, especially since it’d been caused by him of all people.
Oblivious to my embarrassing response, he smirked and continued to suck on my push pop as he grabbed a chair across the table from me with his free hand, spun it around, and sat on it backwards so he could rest his forearms on the backrest as he ate.
Settling deep brown eyes on me, he sighed. “Alright now, spill it. What was your distress call about?”
I lifted my chin loftily. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on.” Lifting his voice to a ridiculous falsetto, which in no way resembled my actual voice, he mimicked, “Can you come over? Like, right now. I really need you tonight.”
“That is so not how I said it,” I ground out. “And besides, that call wasn’t meant for you.”
“Yes, I was always fully aware of that. But…” He shrugged. “Here I am. So you might as well talk.”
He licked the push pop again. My gaze followed the slow, languid path of his tongue, unable to look away until he popped the whole thing back into his mouth and broke the spell he had me under.
Dude, what was wrong with me tonight?
Mentally slapping myself away from lusty thoughts, I blinked my expression into a scowl. “If you knew I’d called the wrong person all along, then why the hell did you come over?”
He shrugged again. “Don’t know. Bored, I guess. And antsy. Anyway…” His brown eyes probed mine. “Why can’t I help you just as well as anyone else? We’re family; that’s what we do.”
I snorted. “Buddy, you and I are in no way related.”
“You know what I mean.” His voice was dry and unimpressed. “We’re part of the group. The inner circle. Our parents are closer than blood. Face it. We’s family, baby.”
He was right, so I just rolled my eyes and remained stubbornly mute.
Finishing the push pop with a satisfied sigh, he chucked the empty container remains across the room toward my open trash can. When he made the shot perfectly, he turned back to me, grinning proudly.
Until my glare caused him to falter.
“Come on, Bells,” he encouraged. “You can talk to me. I’m a professional, remember? It’s my job to help people.”
I snorted over his stretch of the term professional. But when he just kept gazing at me with that steady, unrelenting stare, I squirmed in my seat.
“I’m bloating and have horrible cramps,” I muttered, hoping that would scare him off-topic. “In fact, I might just be experiencing the worst period in the history of all periods. And stop calling me Bells. That’s a—it’s a stupid nickname.”
