Muffin Top

“Oh hell yes.”

“Damn skippy,” she’d said, grinning back at him, and then she’d glanced back down at her screen. “And are you dazzled by her charms?”

He’d given the older woman his best wouldn’t-you-like-to-know sexy smirk. “Without a doubt.”

“Then here it is, the ranunculus.” She’d put her iPad down on the counter between them, faceup so he’d been able to see the bright red flower with tightly wound petals that formed a big bloom. “It says they are sexy and sassy. Plus it gets bonus points for its meaning.” She’d tapped the text under the picture of the flower.

Meaning: I’m dazzled by your charms.

Yeah, that just about summed it up. “Mrs. Campher, you are a goddess among women.”

Her snowy eyebrows went up in the universal sign for no shit, sonny. “And don’t I know it.”

And that’s how he’d ended up standing in the living room feeling like he’d become a cast member in some time travel movie where he’d gone back and gotten stuck in a younger version of himself. He hadn’t had this much anticipation about seeing a woman since Alice Evers had slipped off her bra and shown him the first real-life boobs he’d ever gotten to see. In that moment on the bus on the way back from a school field trip to Harbor City’s Natural History Museum, it was like getting a glimpse of a whole new world that he’d never known about before. It had knocked him six ways to Saturday and changed his whole perspectives on things.

That moment was nothing, however, compared to seeing Lucy walking into the living room in a tomato red dress that would have been simple in its design if it wasn’t for the woman in it. The sleeveless dress had a deep V-neck that showed off the beyond generous curve of her breasts. The fit followed the lines of her body down to her waist, where it flared out into a skirt that ended right at her knees, showcasing those fucking amazing legs that had been wrapped around his head out on that floating dock.

“Wow.” Yeah, not his most brilliant line ever, but he’d never meant it more.

Lucy did a little spin, sending her skirt a few inches up in the air and making him forget how to breathe. She glanced down at the ranunculus tied together with a silver ribbon and let out a small gasp.

“Did you get flowers?” Her eyes went wide with pleasure. “Why did you do that?”

“Just to see that expression on your face.”

She stopped mid-step toward him, her hand going to her chest. He could practically read her emotions like she had a news ticker on her forehead. It went something like oh shit. She’d been more than plain last night. Commitment wasn’t realistic. Skeptical, that’s how she’d put it. He’d been right there with her for most of his adult life. Then he’d sat down at a table in Marino’s across from a woman who busted his balls while sharing her french fries and making him laugh his ass off.

Not surprisingly, because Lucy was never thrown off her game for more than a second or two, she broke the moment.

“Frankie,” she said, making his name sound like a plea and a promise, then punctuated it with a little chuckle. “You’re going to ruin me for other men.”

He was really beginning to hope so. Not that he was going to say that out loud and freak her out, but yeah, it was there. The idea that maybe there was more to this had definitely taken root.

Continuing his innate sense of when to cause absolute, joyous chaos, Gussie picked that moment to come sprinting into the living room on one of those unexplainable canine runs. The dog barreled right toward Frankie in what had become his signature move—leaping into the air and aiming straight for his balls.

Jealous because you don’t have any?

Frankie made a raised-leg-twisting move to protect the family jewels while lifting the corsage up in the air. After Lucy’s reaction, there was no way he was sacrificing the red blooms at the altar of a fat-tongued, pint-sized demon dog.

“Gussie, no,” she hollered, rushing over to him and snagging the dog in midair as it bounced off him like he was a human bounce house. “You are such a naughty boy.”

“He’s just protecting his sister,” Tom said as he walked into the living room.

Tom looked between her and Frankie before nailing him to the wall with a look that really did make him feel like he was picking up a date for the high school prom. Good thing Tom was carrying a phone instead of a shotgun. The man might be a sex therapist, but Frankie couldn’t shake the feeling that that didn’t mean he was okay with his daughter doing the deed.

“I just want to get a couple of pictures before you two leave,” Tom said.