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How the man jogged in only body-hugging sweats and a stocking cap in this Arctic cold was beyond her comprehension, not that she minded the view. He was built like a linebacker—the position he’d played from about six years old all the way through college—with sculpted thighs and biceps, rock-hard abs and pecs, and mouthwatering buns of steel. Watching him wash his prized 1978 Firebird, mow his lawn, and warm up for and cool down from his daily jog since early April had made her an expert on the physical perfection of an adult Beau Walters.
He'd also graduated from high school with her youngest cousin, Rich, six years after her. Lusting after a guy in his mid-thirties when she’d hit the big four-oh two birthdays ago still seemed like robbing the cradle, despite his very grown-up body and the fact that he was financially secure enough to buy a house.
He followed her into the kitchen and set his armloads on the center island. “I’ll put groceries away while you warm up. No run today. We’re supposed to have a winter storm Christmas Day, so I tuned up the snowblower and checked the generator. I’m all yours for the rest of the day if you need me.”
Damn, the offer was too tempting to brush off—not that she could take full advantage of it. Her vibrator sort of remedied that particular need on a regular basis.
After turning on the flame under the teakettle, she tugged off her gloves and hat and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet. “Well, actually, I have a huge favor to ask. It’s fine if you don’t want to, but I’ll gladly make it worth your while. Whatever flavor lasagna you want to last all of winter break, plus scones and my best tea blends every morning for breakfast for the month of January.”
“That’s a pretty enticing bribe. What kind of favor?” The crinkle and clunk of groceries being unpacked joined the faint hiss of the heating water. “You know I’d do anything for you.”
Anything?
An image of a shirtless Beau stretched out on her rumpled sheets took her breath away.
Get your mind out of the bedroom, Laurel.
“Vanilla mint, snickerdoodle, or cranberry amaretto?” She opened the cupboard where her tea lived and turned to face him, determined to avoid making things awkward. “This isn’t a heavy-lifting kind of thing.”
He shrugged as he added a package of goat cheese to the pile of items that needed to go in the fridge. “Doesn’t matter. Name it, and it’s done. Vanilla mint sounds good today.”
“Even if it means pretending to be my date for the party tonight?” She ducked her head and whirled back around to fill the tea balls. Her cheeks burned—and not from the stove’s heat. “Robin informed me yesterday that she and Jay arranged a blind date for me. I panicked and told her I already asked someone.”
Returning to unpacking the groceries, Bull swallowed the urge to come clean to Laurel about his discussion with their mutual friends. If he accepted her deal, he might finally work up the courage to reveal his true feelings for her. If he didn’t, she might not blow him off when she discovered who her blind date was—but he also ran the risk of her showing up with someone else, even with the short notice. What guy wouldn’t say yes to an invitation from a brainy and beautiful woman like Laurel Street?
Having emptied the last bag, he reached for the fridge handle. “So, um, did she tell you who she fixed you up with?”
“No, and that’s a big part of the problem.” The kettle let out a shrill whistle as she dropped the second infuser in her Science Nerd mug. Her kissable lips scrunched into a cute grimace as she poured the water into the first cup. “But Jay had this goofy look, like it was an inside joke or something. Anyway, I’d feel more comfortable with you than anyone else. You know, since we’re friends.”
Ugh. Relegated to the friend zone again. Unless…
No way could he let her think he’d twisted Jay’s arm to arrange a fix-up with her. Taking their friendship to a new level had to be as much her idea as his. “I’ll do it.”
“Thank you! You’re the best.” She hurried toward him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I mean it.”
Her coat did little to camouflage the pressure of her breasts against his chest, waking his dick from its constant semi-erect state any time she was near.
“You’re welcome. I’m glad to help.” He patted her back and eased away to keep from making the situation worse, even though he would’ve preferred a tighter hug and a kiss or two as an appetizer. “We better start cooking. What’s first?”
She blinked up at him with her mesmerizing green-brown eyes, frowned, and put more space between them. Then she pivoted toward the living room. “I have the list on my phone. Back in minute. I need to take off my coat.”
Shit, I bet she noticed the hard-on. Is that good or bad?
With several rounds, blocks, and half-horns of cheese stacked in his left hand, he opened the refrigerator to put away groceries. It was better than watching her walk away from the most embarrassing moment of his adult life. The blast of chilly air had no effect on the cold sweat forming on his upper back and neck or the ever-present lump in his sweatpants.
He might’ve blown his chance with her in every possible way and put their friendship in tricky territory, all because his dick had a mind of its own.
It’s only responding to what’s going on in my brain. I have to stop imagining a life where she’s my girlfriend—okay, sex-crazed wife—for more than a minute. Yeah, because that’s going to happen.
Still wallowing in a mire of lost opportunities, he placed the last of the vegetables in the crisper drawer and moved on to the pantry items. Footsteps and the weight of Laurel’s stare from behind challenged him to focus on the job.
“Let’s start with the desserts. We’re making lemon bars, shortbread cookies, and cheesecake bites.” Metal clinked against glass, signaling her standard three-minute steeping time was up. “Robin’s sister is handling the rest of the cookies plus the spiced cider. Jay’s baking the potatoes for the potato bar, but I need to take care of the toppings. I’m also in charge of the nacho bar and the charcuterie spread.”
“We, not you.” He snagged the ring binder of her favorite recipes on his return to the kitchen workspace, hoping she’d forget about his erection if he dove right into playing sous chef. “I’ll get the pinto beans cooking. Do you want me to work on mixing the filling for the cheesecake bites or slicing and chopping the vegetables after that?”
“Veggies. You’re much faster at cutting than I am.” She moved her mug to the island and opened the cabinet at her knees. “Did you see the gloves for slicing the jalapeños when you were putting stuff away? The store only had extra larges, but I figured that was better than nothing. They were in the bag with the tortilla chips, I think.”
“Yep.” Familiar with how she organized her recipes, he flipped to the right page almost immediately and then slid the binder toward her. “We made these for your Labor Day party. Good choice.”
