“Are you haunted by that day too?” I lean in a little because I know I shouldn’t be talking about this. “When you licked him, what did he taste like?”
Moobelle ignores that.
“Right. A lady doesn’t kiss and tell. You’re so right. I guess I’m just flustered this morning. I had these dreams…never mind. It’s not relevant or ladylike at all, and they weren’t dreams. They were nightmares—horrible ones. About Finn. He was…ugh.” I need to bang my head on the stall’s wooden wall to get the images out—images that make my nipples want to shred through my clothes, and my ovaries explode. They’re also images that make me tingle in the hoo-ha, which is not at all right or in line with what Henry wanted for his grandson.
Finn came here to experience something other than work and the city, but that something other isn’t me. If I’m that hard up, I need to go out and get a freaking buzzy little friend or something. Or put my fingers to better use. The thing is, I didn’t even notice I was hard up until Finn appeared. I really never even thought about it, but now, I can’t concentrate. Now, something is very seriously not right with me.
“Maybe I’m just being hormonal or something.”
Moobelle flexes her nostrils at that.
“Yeah, I know, I know. I’ll stop. It’s just that he’s so unfortunately-tempting. Not like he’d ever find me attractive, though. He’s probably used to New York women. Women who are blonde and lush and have big boobs and nice pert bottoms and long legs. Women who get their muscles from yoga and cycling class. Or powerful women. Maybe that’s more his type—lawyers or doctors. Or maybe it’s more like models or heiresses.” The thought is super depressing. Not that I want to be a contender, because I don’t, but who wants to think about themselves as not even being in a specific category. “I know I’d find a bump on a stump attractive right about now, so maybe it’s just that. Maybe he’s not really that handsome.”
But I know I’m dead wrong, though.
Even Moobelle knows I’m wrong. She cranes her neck around and gives me this cow look that is like code for you’ve got to be bullshitting—or cowshitting—me right now. Did you see his bottom? We both saw his bottom.
I finally stop talking and lean my forehead against Moobell’s warm side, but I can’t shut off the thoughts. I realize it’s about to get doubly as bad because Finn is going to be working side by side with me, which means more chances to notice his absurdly delicious, manly muscles and rock hard posterior.
Damn it! Damn it, Becki!
But it also means, with the two of us, we can get far more work done, and everyone will benefit.
There. I can be a proper adult and control myself. Woo-hoo! I can turn off my thoughts, and I can shut all the dreams out. I can also stop my eyes from wandering and my nipples from water diving and…ugh. Cheese and peas, I think this might be much harder than I ever thought it could be.
CHAPTER 9
Finn
When Becki doesn’t come in for lunch, I’m not exactly surprised. She seems to work on her animals’ schedule with the mindset that if she has to miss lunch or both lunch and dinner, then so be it. I’m really not sure what she runs on besides sheer willpower and hope.
I do my best in the kitchen to throw together a wrap that I think she’d like with what’s in the fridge—her groceries because I know they’re vegan and not mine—because I’m not taking any chances. I might not want to be a vegan, but I’m not about to feed Becki something she doesn’t want to eat. That would just be straight-up prick territory.
I cooked bacon and eggs this morning after she left the house, and I had to hurry to open all the windows and wave out the stench while crossing my fingers that she didn’t come back before I got it all aired out.
I take Becki’s wrap and a separate paper towel with the leftover pieces of bacon. No, not because I’m going to try and pull a fast one, but yes, it’s because I noticed the huge shaggy white bundle of fluff standing just outside the house.
Little Missy spots me as soon as I open the door. He waits patiently, tail wagging furiously, his pink tongue lolling out of his mouth. He runs up to me as soon as I descend the porch and goes straight for my leg to reintroduce himself to my jeans.
I don’t know if this is a dominance thing or if he really does just want to say hi.
“Not today, puppers.” I unravel the napkin with the two pieces of bacon and toss them both onto the gravel. Little Missy spins a complete one-eighty in the blink of an eye and goes bounding after the bacon while my leg is thankfully left unmolested.