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I don’t know if he’s indirectly referencing me and the way I guard myself around him, especially with what he said about his family. These seemingly innocuous revelations give me so much more insight into who this man is. I wish I could be more like him, able to let people in, to give more of myself so I can have more of someone else in return.
I cover his mouth with my palm. “You need to stop.”
He grips my wrist gently and flips my hand over, pressing his lips against my knuckle. “Stop what.”
“All this romantic nonsense.”
“It’s not nonsense. It’s true. She’s alone. Her family isn’t here, and they don’t visit very often because they all have young children and it’s not as easy to travel. People want to be heard. They want to feel like they’re important and cared for.”
“So it has nothing to do with seeing an opportunity and taking it.” It would be so much easier to maintain some kind of emotional distance with him if he fit my original perception of him, but he’s proving to be the opposite.
His expression hardens and softens as quickly. “Do I want this house? Yes. I can see the value where her family won’t, like you can. But I’ve been coming here long before Muriel even thought about selling.”
“Is that why you’re wearing this? Trying to seduce the elderly?” I gesture to his ridiculous body and his even more ridiculous lime-green Speedo. I’ll do anything right now to avoid making this serious. “You’re shameless.”
“You don’t think Muriel deserves to have nice things to look at?” He runs his hand down his chest.
This is what I need, this version of Pierce, fun, silly, the joker. The serious one is more than I can handle. “You’re lucky Muriel’s in good shape, otherwise you’d have done all that listening for nothing. She probably has heart palpitations every time you show up. If she had a pacemaker, you’d be wearing the battery out.” I gesture to the front, where the outline of the ridge is visible through the bright-green fabric. “She made comments about you and Trip being twins.”
“Twins?”
“She inferred you’re both tripods.”
That ridiculous grin of his appears. “And did you confirm that for her?”
“As if I need to. She can see exactly what’s going on behind there.” I poke the head.
“You sound a little jealous, Rian.” He moves quickly, planting his fists on the counter on either side of me.
I roll my eyes. “What exactly do I have to be jealous of? A sixty-five-year-old?”
“You said it yourself, she’s in good shape.”
I push on his chest. “That’s wrong on so many levels.”
“I’m kidding. Obviously. I knew you were going to be here today. Usually I show up in board shorts. I wore the Speedo for you.”
I frown, aware I’d kept this meeting to myself on purpose. “How’d you know I was coming here?”
“Muriel mentioned she had a friend coming by to bake with her. She also showed me the fruit bowl in her kitchen and said it was from the same friend. I put two and two together.”
I glance at the fruit bowl I brought by the other day. “Anyone could’ve made that.”
“It looks like your style.”
“Don’t make fun of my pottery.”
“I love your pottery.” He runs his nose up the side of my neck, lips following behind. “You know what else I love?”
“Showing off your junk in a Speedo?”
He slips his hand under my sundress and finds the seam of my panties. He trails the edge, easing a finger under the fabric. “Knowing you’d be wet by the time I touched you.”
“How do you deal with your ego?” My breathlessness makes it sound less snarky than I intend.
“I’m right, though.” He nips along my jaw.
“Well, look at you.”
“Don’t try and make it so basic, Rian. You know as well as I do it’s more than that. Chemistry trumps compatibility every single time, and we have both, even if your test scores tell us differently.”
He’s right, but his time in the Hamptons has an expiration date. I can’t allow myself to get more involved than I already am.
“Where’s Muriel?”
“In her lounger, half asleep. I came in to get her a glass of ice.”
“Don’t you think you should do that, then?” I put my hands on his chest, but instead of pushing him away, I grope a little.
“When you’re finished with the cookies, are we having dinner?” He nibbles my bottom lip.
“Not if you’re dressed in this Speedo.”
“I might need your help with something at sixty-nine before we eat. It’s currently empty.” He leans into me.
“Does that something happen to be contained in lime-green spandex?”
“Why would you think that?” He rolls his hips and I fight a moan. He’s so hard. I’m so glad I can hide my reaction to him better than he can hide his to me.
The sliding door opens and Pierce steps away, but he’s tenting his Speedo and there’s no way to camouflage it.
“Ri-anne? Are you in the kitchen?” Muriel calls out.
He mutters a curse, rushing past me and disappears into the bathroom down the hall.
Muriel peeks her head in as the oven beeps. “Oh! It smells delicious in here! Where’s Pierce disappeared to?”
I point a thumb over my shoulder. “He’s in the bathroom. Can I get you anything?”
“I think I might need to take a wee nap. All that sun and those vodka-lemonades have made this little old lady tired.”
“I could make you coffee.”
“Oh no. I’ll have a glass of water. And maybe one of those cookies when they’ve cooled enough.
It’s another few minutes before Pierce comes out of the bathroom, his problem apparently solved. He sits at the table with Muriel, accepting a glass of milk to go with the fresh-out-of-the-oven cookies. Once they’re all baked, Muriel insists that Pierce take half of them home.
He helps clean up and tucks the Tupperware box full of my cookies under his arm. “I’ll return this in a couple of days.” He bends to kiss Muriel on the cheek.
Her smile is ridiculous. “Thanks so much for all your help today, Pierce, and thank you for the cookies, Ri-anne.” She walks us to the door. Hugging me, she murmurs in my ear, “Offer to drive his fine ass home.”
I choke on a laugh. I love this lady. She winks and closes the door, leaving us alone.
I shoot a glance at his crotch. “Looks like you took care of your issue.” I admit I’m a little disappointed it’s not currently available for use.
“It’s resolved for now. Thanks for your concern.” He follows me down the driveway.
“Would you like a ride? Probably safer than you wandering down the street dressed like this. You’re liable to cause an accident otherwise.”
He opens the driver’s side door for me and saunters around the front of the car, grinning all the while. He drops into the passenger seat, spreading his legs wide in the confined space. I back out of the driveway and head for sixty-nine. I’d like to say I’m not distracted by the lime-green Speedo, or the way it highlights his assets, or the fact that we’re in this small car and he smells a little like cologne, sweat, and pool water, but that would be a lie.
