“I see.” Lucy nodded sagely. “In that case, you have nothing to worry about because I’m pretty sure I have a big amygdala. A massively oversized one.”
“Huge,” I added. “Lucy’s got a huge amygdala.”
“And if you did a brain scan on me, all you’d see is amygdala. I know this because a psychopath knows the words, but not the music. And I know the music.” Lucy injected conviction into her voice. “I hear the music. In my bones and in my soul, it resonates within me like the hills that are alive.”
“Interesting.” Adelaide’s gaze turned inward. “You’re right in the sense that a psychopath understands, intellectually, that what he is doing is wrong, but he doesn’t actually feel it.”
“Yes. And I feel it. I feel the sound of music,” Lucy said theatrically, as if she were one of the Von Trapp kids. “I feel it deep within me. And in my heart that beats like the wings of a bird that—”
“All right,” I cut her off. “We get the point now. Can we all agree that Lucy’s got a huge amygdala?”
“Guys.” Miguel blew out an exasperated breath. “If I had a dollar for every time you said ‘amygdala,’ I’d be a rich man.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” Adelaide set her mouth in a grim line. “You’d have ten dollars.”
“My sis is a brilliant scientist,” I explained. “She poops Pulitzers in her sleep.”
“Pulitzers are awarded to journalists and musicians,” Adelaide said lightly. “I think you meant to say Nobel Prize.”
“I did, but pooping a Pulitzer has a better ring to it. And pooping a Peabody.”
Ding-dong. The doorbell chimed and Lucy slanted her gaze toward the window. “Edric?” There was a tinge of concern in her voice.
“Yeah?”
“Why is there a pedo van in your driveway? Should I be calling Child Protective Services?”
“Oh, that’s just my Amazon delivery. I’ve got Amazon Prime and I always end up ordering so much through Amazon that—”
I was midsentence when Miguel and Adelaide dissolved into a spasm of giggles.
Lucy tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “What’s so funny?”
Miguel shook his head. “You two! You’re so...”
“Good-looking?” I offered.
“Wacky. And you truly are made for each other.” Miguel appeared somewhat perplexed by his own statement. “Lucy, you’re a true crime fanatic, am I right?”
“I am,” she replied.
“So is Edric,” he stated.
“So?” she countered. “Lots of people are obsessed with true crime.”
“No, it’s not just that,” Miguel said with befuddle reverence. “You two share the same wavelength. It’s like your brains are wired the same.”
“You’re right,” Adelaide acknowledged. “They do seem to share the same circuitry. But there’s something more... they’re so playful and it’s like they don’t have any boundaries. Like there’s no line they won’t cross.”
I felt that, too. There was something about Lucy. She was no shrinking violet. She had this big personality and she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. And it seemed we were always trying to see how far we could push that line. There was no holding back. No holds barred. Anything went, when it came down to us teasing and taunting each other.
Actually, Adelaide had hit the nail on the head. We were constantly doubling down on our efforts to cross that line. We lived for it. Thrived at it.
It was oddly refreshing. And quite entertaining.
“So you ship us?” Lucy asked, her expression cautiously hopeful. “You ship Ledric?”
“Shiiipppp,” came their enthusiastic reply.
Mission accomplished.
Although, I thought, this ship feels more like The Titanic than The Love Boat.
There are icebergs ahead and we keep moving forward.
Regardless, they were both fully on board this sinking ship. “So guys,” I said evenly. “No more matchmaking, are we clear?”
“We’re clear.”
“Good. Do me a favor and deactivate all my accounts. You’ve signed me up for what—a thousand dating apps?”
“More like a hundred.” Miguel walked around the island counter and set his plate in the sink. “But I’ll take care of that later tonight. Thanks for breakfast, man.”
“No problem.”
“Yes! Thanks, my dude.” Lucy slid off her stool, headed for the sink and turned on the faucet. “Since you cooked, I’ll do the dishes.”
“Sounds good to me, baby,” I drawled.
Miguel smiled broadly, pleased as punch. “Awww, Mom and Dad are getting along swimmingly, aren’t they?”
“I know,” Adelaide gushed, grinning from ear to ear. “It warms the cockles of my heart.”
“Mine, too,” he said sappily, “Mine, too.”
Now the two of them were positively glowing with satisfaction. “What are you doing today, Mom and Dad?”
Lucy answered like a doting parent, fully embracing her newly appointed role. “I’d love to spend the day with you kids, but I’ve got to get back to my horse. I could really use a ride to the stables.”
“Edric will give you a ride,” Miguel offered up my services. “He does nothing all day. He just kind of... hangs out.”
“Wait,” Lucy said suddenly. “He just hangs out all day in the house?”
“Sometimes he’s outside mowing the lawn, but mostly he just lies on the couch. Don’t mind him, he’s like Beethoven.”
“I’m like Ludwig?” Squaring my shoulders, I sat up straighter. “The German composer and pianist who was the defining figure in the history of Western music—I’ll take that!”
“God, you’re such a boob.” Lucy sighed. “Not Beethoven the deaf composer. He’s saying you’re like Beethoven the dog.”
“She’s right,” Miguel said astutely. “You’re like Beethoven the dog.”
“Huh?” I rubbed the back of my neck. “There’s a famous dog named Beethoven?”
Miguel’s brows shot skyward. “You mean to tell me you’ve never seen the Beethoven movies? The slobbering Saint Bernard that starred in eight films?” he cried. “Beethoven, Beethoven’s 2nd, Beethoven’s 3rd, Beethoven’s 4th, Beethoven’s 5th, Beethoven’s Big Break, Beethoven’s Christmas Adventure, Beethoven’s Treasure Tail.”
“Nope,” I said mildly. “Never heard of them.”
“EDRIC!” Lucy shouted.
“LUCY LLAMA DING DONG!” I shouted back.
“What went wrong with your childhood?”
“Nothing.”
Lucy rinsed off a plate and popped it in the dishwasher. “Well, obviously something went seriously wrong since you’ve never even heard of Beethoven.”
“I’ve heard of Clifford,” I retorted. “He’s a big red dog.”
“Pssh! Everyone knows Clifford.”
“Dora was my favorite,” Adelaide piped in. “And Swiper was my favorite villain.”
“Swiper no swiping,” I sang.
“Swiper no swiping!” Lucy carried the tune and I ended it with an, “Aw, man.”
“Okayyyy.” Miguel stared at us. “I think it’s time for me to leave the peanut gallery. My work here is done,” he said with great significance in his voice.
It was the same tone I used after I’d done some quasi-good yet utterly pointless deed.
“Miguel, wait!” Adelaide called after his disappearing back. “Where are you going?”
“Pet Smart.”
“I’m coming with you. I need to get food for my shrimp.” The barstool scraped against the tiled floor as she shot out of her seat, sprinting after Miguel. “Bye, guys.”
Finally! I can eat in peace now. I picked up a fork and started attacking my pancakes.
Lucy was bent over the dishwasher, rearranging some silverware. “Bye,” she said distractedly. Seconds later, her head popped up and she sent me a quizzical look. “Food for her shrimp?”
“They’re her research subjects,” I said by
way of explanation. “She has a whole lab set up in our basement.”
“Oh, so she works here?” she said with some surprise. “From home?”
“Yep.” I shoveled a forkful of pancakes.
“And what about you, Mister Venture Capitalist?” She rinsed a coffee mug under the faucet and stuck it in the dishwasher. “You work from home, too?”
“Mmph.” I grunted in between chewing.
“I thought so...” Her voice trailed off.
Humph. I didn’t like that tone of hers. “What are you implying?”
“Well, Miguel said you do nothing all day so to me it sounds like you’re a lazy unemployed sloth who gives himself fancy titles.”
“Excuse me?” I feigned shock and outrage. “I’m a serial entrepreneur and for your information, I always have multiple irons in the fire. Multiple. I let my money work for me. When I sleep, I’m making money. When I lie on the couch, I’m making money. When I eat”—I took another large bite to prove my point—“I’m making money. Baby, I make it rain daily right from where I’m sitting.”
“Are we talking tears or hundred-dollar bills?”
I wasn’t even going to dignify that with a response.
“Okay.” Her mocking smile turned into one of genuine amusement. “So you’re self-employed and successful. But you’re still a lazy sloth.”
“I’m not lazy. I’m content. There is a difference. I’ve got a Grand Slam title under my belt, I’ve made my millions and now I want to do as little work as possible and let my money make money.”
“Wow.” She gave a humorless laugh. “I wish my ultimate goal in life was to do as little as possible.”
“You should try it sometime. It’s a glorious revelation.” I took one last bite and groaned when I was filled to the gills. “Those were some good pancakes.”
“Plate.” She gave me a pointed look.
“Thank you.” I handed my plate over and sat watching as she rinsed it under the faucet.
As she bent over the dishwasher, I sucked in a tight breath.
Damn, girl! That ass was out of this world. It was so tight you could bounce a coin off it.
Must be from all that ass-clenching from riding horses.
Lucy slammed the dishwasher door shut and turned, her eyes sharpening. “You’re staring at me—why?”
“Just admiring your lovely face.”
“You mean my lovely ass?”
“Face.”
“Ass.”
“All right,” I admitted. “Ass.”
“Thank you for noticing. You have a nice ass, too, Edric.”
“Were you blessed with such a spectacular ass? Or is it ’coz horseback riding engages the glutes? Truly, light of my life, your bum is most bodacious.”
“Cut it out.” She laughed and smacked me across the arm with a dishtowel. “Now will you show me your horse property and then drive me to the stables so I can get Gouda and bring him over here? In that order.”
I gave a single nod and drawled, “Yes, ma’am.”
“After that show I put on back there, you owe me big time.” She wiped her hands on the dishtowel.
“My lady, I am forever in your debt,” I said with an air of gravitas. “That was quite a show. What was that you said again?” I suppressed a grin. “We complete us?”
She gave me a sunny smile. “You liked that, didn’t you? I had to dig deep into my Mary Poppins bag for that.”
“It was a bit overkill, but yeah, I liked it,” I said, surprising myself. “I actually did.”
Chapter Seven
Lucy
EVERYTHING IN THE FIELD faded to the periphery except for the red barn. “Edric!” I gasped. “You never told me that you had a barn on your horse property.”
“So this will do?” He kept his head down and scuffed his shoe back and forth in the grass. He looked almost boyish and hopeful, and it kind of endeared me to him.
“This?” I managed to pick my jaw off of the ground long enough to say, “Edric, this will more than do. Gouda is going to be so happy here.”
“Good.”
“So I can really board him here? Like today?” I was bouncing on the balls of my feet, giddy from excitement. “I mean, I know you said we should go out on more dates to convince Miguel and Adelaide we’re a real couple, but I’m pretty sure we closed the deal this morning. They bought it! They actually believe we’re actively boning. They fell for it hook, line, and sinker.” I was talking a mile a minute, yet it seemed I couldn’t talk fast enough.
“Hey.” His answer was swift and it was certain. “I already told you it was okay.”
“Yeeesssssssss!” My squeal took him by surprise but gave warning before I launched myself at him. “MWAH. MWAH. MWAH.” I rained kisses down on his ruggedly handsome face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Smiling, he gathered me into his arms and I felt the warmth of his body imprint itself to mine. Almost instinctively, I melted against his strong, powerful hold.
“You’re welcome,” he said.
Our eyes locked and I was keenly aware of his hard, solid chest pressing against my soft breasts, crushing my nipples.
As a dry wind whipped across the landscape, he dragged a thumb down my cheek, his sensual touch sending tiny little sparks racing through me.
We stood still, our faces so close, breathing each other’s breath.
He didn’t smile, only stared.
I feared I would drown in that gaze, but I couldn’t look away.
All of my senses sharpened. My nipples puckered, desire snapping through my body.
Swallowing hard, I pressed my legs together, feeling that familiar tug between my thighs, the sweet nudge in my clit every time he looked at me.
Smile, I told myself. Act normal.
I couldn’t.
I felt that pull, that carnal desire, that almost palpable hunger behind his stare, and I wasn’t willing to temper my own hunger, my own desire.
We were on this crazy collision course. The sexual energy, it was crackling between us, driving toward each other, seeking to smash.
To crash.
In the next breath, his hand slipped under my hair, cradling the back of my neck as he sealed his lips over mine in a searing, drugging kiss.
I heard myself moaning softly into his mouth and I lost myself in him—the warm grip of his hands in my hair, the wet slide of his lips on mine, the hard ridge of his erection digging into me.
As his tongue breached my lips, forged into my mouth, taking the kiss deeper, hungrier, I lost all control.
With every grinding pressure of his soft, silky lips and his sweet, destructive tongue, I ground myself into his erection.
Abruptly, he stopped the kiss.
He didn’t end it. Just stopped it.
Our hot breaths mingled in the ribbon-thin gap between our lips.
Then his eyes opened slowly, heavy-lidded, and he drew in an unsettled breath. “You horse girls are crazy.”
His eyes had darkened with confusion and though his words were directed at me, it seemed like a reminder to himself. A reminder to stay away from girls like me.
What just happened? I pulled in a shaky breath and forced myself to smile.
My pulse was still racing like a hummingbird, knocking against my ribcage.
I was supposed to stay away from fellas like him.
Alpha-male athletes are so not your type, I reminded myself.
While my head was spinning, Edric cupped my chin and brushed his thumb against my lower lip. “That was...”
“Hot.”
“But we should probably...”
“Not.”
When did I turn into Dr. Seuss?
“Right,” he said with a quirk of his lips. “That was a lot. My thoughts are now in a knot.”
A snort of laughter escaped me. When did he turn into Dr. Seuss?
“Let’s go get Gouda,” I said.
“So we can hear horse’s hooves trot.” He gave a self-satisfi
ed smile. “Nice riffing, by the way. Look at us now! We just came up with a haiku! On the fly.”
“Get the fuck outta here. Haiku my ass,” I scoffed. “Don’t try to act all deep and philosophical and shit. That didn’t even come close to a haiku.”
“Hai-yes, it did!” He karate chopped the air. “Hai-ku! Hai-yah!”
I stared at him, unblinking. “Edric?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“You’re crazy.”
“No, you.”
“You.”
“No—YOU!”
“YOU!”
“All right,” he said, settling it once and for all. “We’re both demented fools.”
“I’m so lucky,” I said dryly. “My new boyfriend’s a demented fool. A preposterous ding-dong.”
“Look.” All teasing fled his voice. “If we’re supposed to be dating, you’re moving in with me, okay?”
“Why?”
“I can’t have my girlfriend living in a truck. Besides, your horse will be here and it only makes more sense that you’re here, close to him.”
This was a big step. I bit my lip, considering.
“If we do this, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together. Will we fall madly in love? No,” he deadpanned. “Will we fight at times and get on each other’s nerves? Yes. But will we have one hell of a good time? Also, yes.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
“And,” he went on, “we’ve got some serious sexual chemistry going on here. Now will you be able to control yourself around me and fight that sexual attraction when it overtakes you? Probably not. But you’re gonna try and I’m gonna try if we want this to last. You think you can do that?” His words sounded like a dare.
I didn’t answer him right away. I gave his words some thought. And I realized I wanted this sham of a relationship to last—for Gouda, and perhaps even for me.
Sometimes life in this concrete jungle was just plain hard, and I needed a laugh, not a lecture. I needed affection, not aloofness. I needed a hug, not detachment.
And Edric, he gave me that. He gave me a break.
“Lucy,” he said. “I think you’re unapologetic, devious, and okay, I’ll admit it, quite a badass. And I think we’ll become good friends and even better roommates. So what do you say?”
The Good Mistake (Hemsworth Brothers #3) Page 9
