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Pippa
Pippa drained the last of her water before setting her cup and empty breakfast plate in the dishwasher.
Ding!
Pippa picked up her phone as she headed to the door. It was almost time to open the bookstore and get everything ready for their drag queen story hour later that day.
Sophia: Has he stopped by again? Called? Messaged?
Pippa shook her head. She’d filled her sister in on her interlude with Mason, and now Sophia wouldn’t shut up about it.
Pippa: No. Not to say I wouldn’t mind another mind-blowing orgasm, but this is just casual. He’s busy. This is not a relationship. So stop pestering me.
Sophia: Are you trying to tell me you aren’t the slightest bit nervous that he hasn’t reached out in a week?
Yes. Okay, just a little. But he was a busy man, and his daughter came first; he’d made that clear.
Pippa: I shouldn’t have told you anything.
She grabbed Lady’s vest and harness, then secured them to her dog as the phone rang. Sophia just can’t take a hint.
Pippa answered. “I swear, nena, que si no te callas, I’m going to tell Papi the truth about your trip to Canada.”
A low chuckle filled the other end of the phone and Pippa froze. Her eyes widened. That wasn’t Sophia. “Mason? I thought you were . . .” That was a close call. She thanked her lucky stars she hadn’t said anything about him.
“Nena is an endearment for sister, so I’m guessing you thought I was her?” The smile was evident in his voice.
“Si. Hablas Español?”
“Just a little from my time in South America. Not enough to really carry on a conversation,” Mason answered.
“I guess I’ll stick to English, then.”
“Actually, it’s pretty sexy when you speak Spanish.” His voice sounded rough, like he’d just woken up.
“Oh really?” A thrill shot through her as a wide smile broke out on her face. She deepened her voice so her words came out breathless and husky. “So if I told you no mezcle los blancos y colores en la lavadora, you’d get hot for me?”
He groaned on the other end. “Yes. What did you say?”
She giggled. “I told you not to mix whites and colors in the washing machine.”
He barked out his laughter before it dissolved into a low chuckle. “Well, if talking about the laundry gets me this hard, I can’t wait to hear about your grocery list.”
“Mmm, I think I could use some more juga.”
“Sugar?” He questioned as the rustling sound of blankets filled the background. She pictured him, lying naked in his bed. His big, calloused hands roving down his abs to the fine line of hair leading lower.
“Pip?”
“Hmm? Oh, no, juga is juice.”
A moment of silence passed before she cleared her throat.
“I was calling because I wondered if you wanted to join Aspen and me this weekend? We’re going to the seafood fest in town. Maybe you were already going, but I thought we could, you know, go together—with Aspen,” he clarified.
She bit back her smile. He was including her? Butterflies danced in her belly. “Absolutely.”
“Okay. We’ll be by to walk with you around one if that works?”
