“He trusts you with me.”
“I can’t help that he’s an idiot.”
“Maybe.”
“Is that what you want?” I ask.
“You?” Her blush deepens.
“Sex.”
“Oh.” Her eyes go to the almost empty cold brew. “Well… at some point, yeah.”
There has to be some way I can work with that. That I can help her lower her guard without touching her.
It would be a hell of a lot more fun if I did touch her.
But that isn’t happening. No sense in thinking about it.
“We can do that,” I say.
Her eyes go wide. “We can have sex?”
“Not we. But I can help you find someone.”
“You can?”
“Yeah.” Fuck, that’s it. “I have an idea.”
“Yeah?”
“For tonight. But before that, I—” My ringing phone saves me from changing the subject.
Or steering my brain to some place besides making her come.
I grab my cell.
“Where the fuck are you two?” Oliver asks.
“Chocolate museum.” I look to Daisy. “You ready to go?”
“Sure. I want to shower. Change.” Her gaze shifts to the phone. “Tell him we’ll meet him there.”
I do.
He mutters something about how Luna’s refusal to put anything over her bikini top is going to kill him. Hangs up. Tells me not to get home too quickly.
Like he thinks they’re going to make out in his bedroom.
No, Oliver wouldn’t do that to his sister. She’s the only thing he cares about. In the entire fucking world.
All right, he’s into his work—really into it—and he loves his dad. But that relationship is strained. Has been since their mom bailed.
Fuck, this girl has been through way too much. She needs someone like Forest. Who understands feelings, baggage, hurt.
Who knows how to be careful with her.
“You’re right. I maintain a certain…” I slide my cell into my pocket.
“Persona?” she offers.
“It’s real. That’s all there is.”
She shoots me a really look.
“Most of it.” I stand. Pull my stack of pesos from my pocket. Count the money. “You’re right, that I’m intentional in what I say. I like setting expectations. So I don’t disappoint anyone.”
“I hate that too.”
“Who have you ever disappointed?”
Her smile gets sad. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
Her eyes go to the table. “I won’t argue I’m not an innocent good girl. It’s probably as believable as your whole I only think about boobs and tattoos thing. But there’s a lot you don’t know about me. Enough to fill an ocean.”
There is.
And I want to find out.
I want to know everything.
I can do that without touching her.
Without falling for her.
Without hurting her.
Chapter Fourteen
Holden
I have to hand it to Oliver. The house is stocked. Not just with booze and mixers—though there are plenty of both—with enough food to feed an army.
Everything from frozen vegetables and milk to packaged Mexican candy.
The shower upstairs is running. Both of them, actually. I guess that explains where our co-vacationers are.
Daisy places her bag by the door. She moves through the modern living room, down the hallway, to the washer/dryer in the closet.
She places her towel in the washer, then she moves around the kitchen, grabbing the towels draping over the chairs—mine, Oliver’s, Luna’s—and puts them in the washer.
Fuck, she’s deliberate. It’s a good trait. But one that can—
Well, it’s not hard to see why she’s asking for my help. Besides the whole she wants to fuck me thing.
“You want to wash anything?” Her gaze flits to me. “Anything, sturdy, I guess. These need hot water.”
I shake my head. I packed just enough. And I know how to do my own laundry. Forest, Ariel, and I have been taking care of shit forever. Sure, I always gave Forest hell for assigning me chores. But I did them. Eventually.
She nods okay, carefully measures detergent, sets the machine.
It whirs.
Sends my head to dirty places.
Have you ever fucked on top of a washing machine, baby? The vibration will drive you wild.
“You owe me something.” She moves down the hallway. To me.
She’s still in her bikini.
Yeah, the cover-up is over it. But it does a shit job of hiding her figure.
When did she get so curvy?
A year ago, she was a skinny kid—tiny even. She’s still on the slim side, but her tits are full and her hips are round.
“Yeah?” I struggle to bring my gaze to her eyes. To push aside the shit running through my head. Is it an orgasm, baby? Take off your bikini and sit on the table. You need to come on my face. Now.
“A chai.” She motions to the clean kitchen. “Unless you have some excuse.”
“No.” I shake my head. “But I have a better idea.”
“Oh?” She rests her palms against the white tile counter. Then it’s her ass. She’s right across from me. Only three feet away.
It’s different, being close in this space. Real. Domestic.
Weird, actually.
I don’t invite women to my place. I always go to theirs. Sure, I fix them breakfast in the morning—if they don’t shoot me that hey, this was fun, but I have to go, so you have to go look—but it’s always their space, not mine.