by Misti Murphy
“I know. And you’re lucky for it. Even with your mother’s lousy taste in men.”
She smiles. “I can’t believe you led her to believe we’re dating. You do realize she’s called me every day this week, asking about you, right?”
“Nope, didn’t know that, since someone isn’t speaking to me.”
Her cheeks darken while her gaze drops to the wooden boards at our feet. “Yeah, sorry. I needed a little time to come to grips.”
“We can fake our breakup anytime you’re ready. Just say the word. I only did it to give you some breathing room.”
“I know. I get it now. I just…”
Just what? Just wasn’t expecting that kiss? Just wasn’t expecting to think maybe, possibly, this chemistry between us might be real?
No wait, that’s all me.
“There’s the happy couple.” Cynthia’s voice trills from somewhere to my left, and I pull my gaze away from Ronnie. The grin on Mama Frost’s face is spread ear to ear, and her eyes are so shiny they practically light the way as she walks. Ronnie is the last of her children to find her happily ever after. She’s also the only girl, and it’s obvious the older woman is thrilled beyond words over Ronnie and I being together.
That’s a little bit interesting, actually. Me? I’m a layabout, a mooch; I have no future. I didn’t finish college, I’ve never held what someone like Mama Frost would term “a real job.” Hell, I don’t even have an apartment, let alone a house. Hadn’t she said exactly that about Jockstrap? “He’s a homeowner.” That’s what she listed as one of his many positive attributes.
So why is the Frost matriarch so seemingly happy over the idea that her one and only daughter is dating someone like me?
“It’s so wonderful that you’ll attend these family function as more than Erin’s tagalong best friend from now on,” Cynthia says when she reaches us.
“That’s rude, Mother,” Ronnie says, but the other woman looks confused.
“What is?”
Ronnie waves at me. “Calling him a tagalong.”
Mama Frost’s brows crease, and she looks as though she’s trying to figure out what she said wrong. Which is nothing at all, actually. What she said is exactly right.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, and I snag Ronnie’s hand and give it a tug. “Let’s go grab a steak before Garrett eats them all.”
Instead of guiding her toward the group of people gathered around the grill, I veer left, into the house. Ronnie stumbles over the threshold, but she follows as I head through the kitchen, into the dining room, and then to the foyer, where I turn her and press her against the wall at the base of the staircase.
I slap a hand to the plaster on either side of her head while she lifts her face, her eyes wide, her lips slightly puckered, and I almost forget my intent and kiss her again.
But I manage to clear my throat and say, “We need to clear the air.”
She nods, her hand straying up to touch my shirt. I can barely feel the weight of her fingers as they trace the row of buttons, and yet my dick swells, my brain goes fuzzy, and I’m leaning closer than is necessary for simply conversing.
“Ronnie…”
“Uh-huh.” She isn’t listening to me. She’s too busy slipping her hands underneath the hem of my shirt and then raking her nails over my abdomen. I suck in a breath and bite my bottom lip. What the hell is she doing?
“I’ve wanted to know what you feel like for longer than I should probably admit,” she whispers, her gaze on my shirt.
We’re right around the corner from where the rest of her family is gathered. If someone has to go to the bathroom, they’ll walk past us to get there. If she doesn’t want them to believe we’re together, feeling me up while we’re leaning against the wall in Paynter and Chloe’s foyer is probably not the wisest move.
“Feel all you want,” I croak.
She strokes her hands higher, over my pecs, my hardened nipples. This had better not be a prelude to an intelligent conversation, because I can’t concentrate beyond, Please, more, more, more.
“But only if I can too,” I add before cupping her thigh and then sliding my hand up, under her skirt.
“Oh please, yes,” Ronnie whispers, her gaze on my face. She widens her stance, and I cup her ass, my fingers teasing between her cheeks. Her thong is drenched. Her breath is coming in short pants, and she’s clutching my bicep so tightly she’s probably going to leave bruises.
Caution, reality, reason—it’s all tossed to the wind. I have no interest in talking anymore. I want action. And based on the way she’s looking up at me while clutching my arm and rocking her hips, we’re on the same wavelength.
No way can I deny this woman.
Slipping my fingers underneath the sliver of material, I glide them through her wetness until I reach her clit, and then I swirl ’round and ’round until she whimpers and her knees buckle. I wrap the other arm around her waist to hold her up while relentlessly finger-fucking her. She’s riding my hand, her hips moving like we’re having sex, and God, I hope this is a prelude to that, because I would give damn near anything to feel that tight, wet pussy wrapped around my hard cock.
Her eyes are squeezed shut, she’s biting her bottom lip, and then she gasps and says, “Danny. Danny. Danny.” Hearing my fantasy woman chant my name while she comes all over my fingers is enough to make me damn near explode on the spot.
Instead I keep pumping, slowing my pace while she gradually comes down from her orgasm. That’s when I notice something is rubbing against my leg. Not Ronnie. It’s soft, furry, and—“Hey!” I glance down at Spot the goat.
He’s nibbling at the hem of my shorts. Ronnie’s utterly clueless, still basking in the afterglow. But somehow, my brain manages to function, and I know that where there’s this goat, there’s a…
“Spot! Spot, where are you? Uncle Paynt says you’ll eat the afghan if you’re in here alone. Oh. Hey, Uncle Danny. Why’s your hand underneath Aunt Ronnie’s skirt?”
CHAPTER SIX
RONNIE
Oh God, this is awkward. Almost as bad as that time when I was fifteen and Dad walked into the kitchen to find me in a similar position with Bobby Kimmel. No, this is worse. Because my bright-eyed niece is both intuitive and too little to understand how to keep a secret. Which means in about five minutes, my entire family will hear about how she caught Danny with his hand under my skirt. Garrett’s going to kill either me or Danny. No, definitely me. Because up until now he probably believed I had some common sense.
“Well, um...” Danny peels his hand from between my thighs and shoves it into the pocket of his shorts. “I was trying to help Auntie Ronnie find...” He glances at me for help.
“A spider.” My pulse is still racing, and I can’t get my breathing under control. It’s not all because Abby’s staring at me. It’s not all because I just orgasmed around Danny’s fingers. Which, by the way, wasn’t what I anticipated when he suggested we talk. Was it what he expected? No, I started this. I haven’t been able to put that kiss out of my head since it happened. I couldn’t keep my hands to myself. His shirt is still bunched tightly in my fist. I let it go, but the material is creased so I try to pat it flat.
“Right.” His eyes crinkle. “There was a spider.”
I shrug. It was the first thing I thought of. “It crawled up my leg and under my skirt and Uncle Danny was just trying to help me catch it.”
“Was it big?” Abby runs up to me and grabs the hem of my dress, lifting it. “Can I see? Erin doesn’t like spidees. They make her scream. But I like the way they wiggle. They’re so funny.”
I clap my hands down on the skirt of my dress before she can hike it over her head. My panties are still askew. “Um, no. It’s not there anymore.”
She turns her attention to Danny. “Did you catch it? Can I see?”
“I caught it.” He grins and winks at me.
“Show me. Show me.” Abby squeals and claps her hands while she bounces on the balls of her feet. “I
want to see the spidee.”
“Sorry, Abby girl, it escaped me.” Danny glances around as though searching for it. “It’s probably around here somewhere.”
“Wait until I tell Erin about the spidee.” Abby spins around, Spot on her heels, and races around the corner as fast as her little legs will carry her.
“Dead.” I cover my face with my hands. “I am so dead. Garrett’s going to revoke my auntie privileges. I can’t believe—”
“That you did that with me?”
I drop my hands from my face to find him staring at me, his forehead between his brows bunched tight. I started it, so it makes no sense that he would assume I regret it. Although I have been avoiding him, which isn’t easy to hide when we work together, so I guess I can see the logic. Hell, up until the moment I saw him tonight I had every intention of ignoring the attraction blossoming between us. Even if I haven’t been able to get my mind off it since the kiss. I told myself I was only going to act like we were together enough to keep my mother off my back, but my reactions to him are all real. “No. That we did that here. That we got caught.”
“He did what?” Garrett’s voice booms through the open door.
“Caught a spidee up Auntie Ronnie’s skirt,” Abby sings.
“I think that’s my cue,” Danny says. “Unless you need me to stick around.”
I could go with you. We could continue where we left off. Make a night of it. Perhaps that’s all we need. Because we’re not actually dating. Then we can get back to the pleasant business of hawking him out to other women without the complication of me gritting my teeth every time I set up a new date for him. I’ve never been this involved in a guy’s life before. It’s disconcerting.
“Danny?” Garrett hollers as he moves closer. “You and I are about to have some serious words about what is not appropriate in front of my daughter.”
“Go.” I push at Danny’s shoulders. Garrett’s focused on Danny, so the rest of them will be too. It isn’t fair when I’m as much—no, more responsible. “I’ll talk him down.”
“You sure? Because I have no problem with pointing out why telling us off would be hypocritical.”
“Yes.” I push at him again. “You’ll only make things worse.”
“Kiss me first,” he says.
“We’re not dating,” I whisper, before I glide my lips over his. “You know that, right?”
“Oh, I know.” He grins, striding over to the door and opening it. “But I’m still going to use this situation to my full advantage while I can.”
He disappears, the door closing behind him. Danny’s the kind of guy who makes the best of any situation, and I don’t know if that’s good or bad. On the one hand, he has no expectations, and on the other...
“Should I assume he ducked out?” Garrett huffs as he joins me.
“Yes.”
“I don’t know what you see in him,” he says. “He’s so...”
“Adaptive? Genuine? Goal-orientated?”
Garrett stares down at me like I’m having a stroke and am saying random words like toaster, spank, blackboard. “I was going to say irritating.”
“That, too.” I rub my fingers across my lips. Like an itch that only gets worse the more you scratch it. One I don’t know how to ignore.
***
Shoes dangling from my fingers, I stumble into Garrett and Erin’s backyard. They came home a little while ago to put Abby to bed, while I had a couple of drinks with Paynt and talked website design. I didn’t tell him about Rent-A-Danny though. I’m not ready to get into the fact I’m pimping out Erin’s best friend. Especially now, while we look like we’re dating.
There was a light on in the foyer, but the backyard is dark. I could have asked them to turn a light on, I suppose, or walked through the house, but dinner was awkward enough with Abby telling the spider story over and over to anyone who would listen and Garrett glowering every time she mentioned Danny. The fact that I’m older and theoretically wiser than him somehow went unnoticed.
There are no lights on in the basement. He wasn’t expecting me. I didn’t plan on showing up at his door like I’m mooning over him. He might not even be here.
Drawing in a breath, I raise my fist and knock. I just want to talk about what happened earlier. Unless he wants to do more. Like kiss me again. Touch me. Okay, I’m so freaking horny right now. This is crazy. It’s like one stupid little kiss flipped a switch inside me. I’d managed to ignore this attraction for more than a year. Now I can’t shut it off.
There’s no movement inside. No sound of footsteps or lights turning on. I knock again just in case. He might be a heavy sleeper. He might not be alone. He might be using his free time to meet women who aren’t fake-dating him. I’m an idiot.
I turn around and pick my way through patio furniture toward the stairs. If I were him, that’s what I would be doing. And I’m here knocking on his door like this is real. Like there’s more than just some amazing chemistry between us. I’m forgetting that I don’t let things get complicated with men because I like to be in control of my own life, and giving up an inch to a guy is asking to be screwed over.
I have to cover my mouth to hold in the sarcastic laugh that threatens to bubble up. I’m a little too tipsy to be acting practically. If Danny had been home, I’d probably be getting screwed right now. Hard. Against a wall. Or the floor. And I wouldn’t even be thinking about the long-term ramifications, like what will happen with Rent-A-Danny if we continue down this path and it ends badly. For the first time in my life, my career isn’t at the mercy of a man. Well, it still kind of is because without Danny, I wouldn’t have this opportunity at all, and I have ideas about how to make Rent-A-Danny bigger than just the two of us. If I don’t wreck it first.
Pulling out my phone, I order an Uber and make my way around to the front of the house to wait the ten minutes it will take to arrive.
By the time I reach my apartment, I’m sober and tired. My phone went off three times with women begging for emergency rentals. I turned down two of them on the spot since it was pretty clear they were only after a hook-up. I sent the other one’s details to Danny, told him it was up to him if he wanted to book it. He didn’t respond. Which is fine. I’m not his keeper outside of work hours. He can do whatever he wants with his free time.
I turn down the hallway to my apartment and almost miss a step. Danny’s leaning against the wall by my door, his hands thrust in his pockets, completely nonchalant, like it’s perfectly normal for him to be waiting outside my apartment after midnight. My heart skips a beat, and the tiredness that made me long for my bed disappears. Damn. Seeing him shouldn’t put a smile on my face. It shouldn’t quicken my step.
“Took your time.” He grins. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming home.”
“I went to see you.”
His eyes widen as he stands. “You wanted to check out Danny’s Love Den?”
I roll my gaze as I locate my door key. “Calling it that isn’t reminiscent of a seventies porn film at all. There’s no way you’ll ever get me to step into your love den.”
“That’s fine with me,” he says. “Your place is better.”
I push the key into the lock and turn around. “What are you doing here anyway? You didn’t answer your phone. I sent you a job, and you didn’t respond.”
“My phone died. They really don’t make batteries strong enough to take the hours of games it requires to wait for you.” He brushes his fingers against my hip and then turns the key in the lock. “And I was waiting for you because I figured you’d come home after dinner, not go to my place, and I wanted to pick up where we left off.”
“Hunting for spiders?” My breath catches as I search out the door handle. My skin buzzes at our close proximity, and I should probably be using my head, but my brain is traipsing off to Tahiti with both suitcases packed full of images of his lips.
“Clearing the air,” he says. “Didn’t want you to stop talking to me again. Figured if you did,
it would be for a hell of a lot longer this time, so I thought I’d make sure you had to talk to me.”
“That’s smart,” I say, taking his hand and dragging him across the threshold before pushing the door shut. “So thoughtful.”
“Well, we do have a business to run. It works better if we can communicate.” He wraps a big hand around my hip, and I wind my arms around his neck.
“We should definitely talk about that.” I glance from his eyes to his mouth to his chest and back again.
“Set some ground rules,” he says.
“The same for my family. I don’t want to scar my niece anymore than we managed this evening.”
Maybe we don’t need to talk about us. Not now. Not when this isn’t anything.
He crooks a finger under my chin and tilts my head back as he lowers his. My pulse is racing; my lips tingle. My hands scope out his shoulders, run down his pecs as he sweeps inside my mouth with his tongue while his hands explore the outside of my thighs and under my dress to my ass.
We move backward into the room, glued together at the lips and waist. The hard bulge of his erection bumps against my belly. I pluck the last button on his shirt undone and shove it off his shoulders. He lets me go long enough to rip it over his wrists and toss it. His gaze stays locked on me while I hike my dress over my head and let it drop to the floor.
He rubs a hand over his face and pinches his bicep. “Ouch.”
“What is it?”
“I knew I was good, but not that good.” He runs his gaze over my body and the red panties and matching bra I’m wearing. “This is like every one of my fantasies. Except you’re still wearing a bra.” He closes the distance and slides a hand around to the hooks that hold it together. “But I can rectify that.”
“One-handed. Nice,” I say while he drags the straps down my arms and runs his lips along the side of my neck. It makes me shiver and reach for the belt threaded through the loops of his khaki shorts. The buckle gives with a yank, and I pop the button and drag down the zipper.
He shoves them off his hips and they pool around his ankles, leaving us both naked except for our underwear and shoes. He kicks his off, and I bend to undo the straps on my heeled sandals.
