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“Sorry to give you one more.”
She’s all smiles and warmth bubbles in my belly. I must be hungry too. But I’m not sure the steak will satisfy me tonight.
Lightning cracks and the electricity flickers. I race for the candles and create a glow from the middle of the table just as the overhead lights do their last twinkling dance and go out.
“Well, dinner by candlelight, I guess.” I rub the back of my neck.
“It’s lovely, Orion.”
I pull out her chair and she bats her eye lashes and those big orbs flash sparkles in the flickering light. “Such a gentleman.”
Peri tells me about the animals she serviced today as we dig into dinner. I’m a little distracted. In some ways, tonight feels like a date. Between Peri in an eye-catching dress, the home-cooked meal, the dimmed light brought on early by the storm, and the surfacing heat that overwhelms me when I’m around her… it feels like I’m on a date.
But probably not to her.
“Do you ever think about selling your shop?” I ask her casually.
She stabs the last piece of steak on her plate, narrowing her eyes at me. “Sell it? And do what?”
“Invest, move, start a new business?” I barely ask the question and she’s side-eyeing me, suspicion clear. She has every right to be.
“Areyouthinking of selling?” Her voice is dangerously soft and uncomfortably tight to my ears.
I take a long sip of my beer before I get the nerve to answer her. “I’ve been looking into it. A couple of folks from the city have inquired. This Silverstone Construction called and I’ve checked them out. They have a good reputation and sound like they’re quality builders.”
Peri pushes her plate aside. If it weren’t already empty, she might’ve said something about a lost appetite.
“But they’re not Welshes.” She blows an errant curl out of her face.
“Neither am I.”
“You might as well be!” She stamps her foot down. I suppose she sees me like a brother in that aspect. “My grandpa wouldn’thave let you take over if he knew in five years you’d be selling it to some city-folk you don’t know!”
“It’s just an idea, Peri,” I say calmly, trying to defuse the situation as my chest burns a little at the topic. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset,” she grumbles. She might not sound angry, but there are tears in her eyes, threatening to fall, and threatening to break my heart if they do. She hastily pats her cheeks and rockets out of her chair. The lights turn back on, and I can see her red face. And it almost kills me.
She grabs her bag. “Let’s get this haircut over with so I can get back home before the weather gets any worse.”
We set up the makeshift parlor on the covered porch, the rain a soft pattering background as it starts to sprinkle. The front porch lights illuminate a nice work area. I recline back in a wicker chair while Peri opens her bag of tools to shed me from grizzly bear to new man about town.
She mists my hair down and I shiver, self-conscious as I close my eyes to ignore the sinewy heat fighting its way through my bloodstream. She’s rough at first, tugging my hair this way and that, getting a feel for the length of it and combing it out. But she’s also awfully quiet, except when she chastises me to keep still.
I can’t help my fidgeting. The more she runs her fingers through my hair, the more heated I become. Blood rushes between my thighs as her nails dig in to check newly cut lengths.
It’s my turn to chastise myself.Stop it. Relax. It’s a haircut. It’s Peri.
That’s the main problem. ItisPeri. And I can no longer deny that these reactions are something other than just physical. I’m turned on by my best friend and if she has any clue, she’s not showing it.
I grip the whicker arms of the chair so tight they creak and crack from the tension. Her breasts press into my shoulder as she pops onto her tiptoes to reach higher.
“You’re tall even when you sit,” she critiques in a breathy whisper.
I open one eye and just about throw myself from my chair. She’s placing herself between my knees, trimming the hair that normally swoops over my forehead. She’s focused as can be, biting her plump bottom lip. Meanwhile, I’m drooling like one of her dogs.
In a small voice, she demands, “Stop looking at my tits.”
I wasn’t. I was fixated on the way her teeth dig into her lips and how I’d like to know how they might feel like against my own.
