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“CJ is awake. That’s my cue to disappear,” she says, but I’m not letting her get away from me that easily.
I hook my elbow with Aubrey’s and draw her away from the men. “Not cool, young lady,” I murmur as we walk closer to her little boy.
“It’s not me. It’s my husband,” she whisper-laughs her words.
“How much is in the betting pool?”It better be good.
“Well, I never! I am shocked you would think we—”
I roll my eyes. “How much?”
“You’re no fun!” She mock-sulks.
“Au-brey?” I bring us to a stop.
She crosses her arms, her face darkening a shade. “A filthy night of sex where the winner chooses the sexual positions”—she pokes me in the boob—“so I better win.”
“Ugh… now I have that to think about. Couldn’t you two have bet on money?”
“Where’s the fun in that? Now my son needs his mommy, and you better not have car sex while you are away with that hottie you have been keeping a secret from me.” She laughs, unhooking her elbow while walking backward.
I turn around, hoping Chance and Jensen heard none of that conversation. Luck is on my side, my blue-eyed friend is waiting by the corner of my brick home, but my cousin has a wicked grin on his face.
I pass by him. “You’re evil,” I hiss.
Chance gently grabs hold of my arm, bringing me to a stop. “Better the devil you know.” He gives me his television commercial-worthy smile while I hear a Kylie Minogue song start playing in my head.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t. But I did remind Jensen—now that he’s my friend too—that no means no.”
“I’m not sixteen. I do know how to defend myself.” There’s so much to love about my cousin.
“I know, but you’re alone out here, so I needed to say my piece.”
I give him a hug and whisper, “Thanks, but betting on my failure is not nice. And just for the record. Not once has Jensen entered any of my dreams,” I murmur, “so get ready to be dominated by your wife.”
He holds his arms out wide. “See.I’m in a no-lose situation. One day, Padawan, you will enjoy spicing up your love life”—he raises his voice—“so off you go on your get-lunch date with your handsome friend. I’m starving.”
Walking off, I shake my head.
I reach Jensen, who is wearing a confident shit-eating grin. Damn. He heard that last bit. “This isnota lunch date, Peterson!” I grind out.
I continue walking toward his black pickup.
“Never said it was.” I hear the laughter surrounding those words. “I sayaluminum”—he one-shoulder shrugs—“but you say ‘a-luh-mi-nee-uhm,’ and they are the same thing.”
I tug on my ponytail, releasing my hair while hiding my smile.
We walk in silence, but Jensen gets there before me and has the passenger door open, ready to assist me up into it. He’s got one of those jacked-up trucks with the lift kit and bigger tires, making it challenging for a short person like myself. I’ve only been in his truck a couple of times, and usually, I manage to haul myself up just fine.
Once we are both seated and before he can open that plump mouth of his, I get in first. “I will get the ingredients for lamingtons while we are in townifyou wipe that look off your face right now. I will make them this afternoon now that you have volunteered your services to Chance, and I will make extra for you to take home.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He starts the truck up.
I cross my arms, looking out the window. “Don’t call me that.” Ugh. I don’t want this friendship we have to flow into tricky ground.
We stay silent until the truck turns out of the bottom of my driveway.
